I was at Super Tar-jay yesterday and was lured in by the Coca-Cola Blak display. Ignoring my irritation at both the intentional mis-spelling of “black” and the insane price — $3.99 for FOUR BOTTLES — I purchased a little carton of the “carbonated fusion beverage.”
Eh, it’s okay.
I usually drink diet pop, as I have enough crap in my diet without chugging down a few extra hundred calories in beverages daily. I drink two or three regular Cokes a year, usually when I have a bitch of a headache that I can’t shake; the caffeine and sugar does the trick (or gives me such a buzz, I don’t notice the pain). So if you’re a die-hard Coke fan, you probably won’t like this. But it has enough of that “Coke” taste plus a caramel-y taste that’s kind of yummy. And it only has 45 calories.
But if I want that coffee taste, I’ll take my refill mug over to the Speedway gas station and get a fat-free vanilla cappuccino for 59 cents.
Gluttony, check.
Sloth, check.
Lust, double-check.
| Greed: |
Medium
|
|
| Gluttony: |
High
|
|
| Wrath: |
Medium
|
|
| Sloth: |
High
|
|
| Envy: |
Medium
|
|
| Lust: |
High
|
|
| Pride: |
Medium
|
|
The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com
You ever have one of those weeks when you don’t know if you’re coming or going?
All week, I’ve been in a foul mood. I even was irritating myself.
Monday - bad mood.
Tuesday - bad mood.
Wednesday - bad mood.
Thursday - eh, slightly better.
Between work and my personal life, it seemed like I couldn’t catch a break. It’s been one uphill road after another. I found out I’m being transferred to another manager … but I can’t tell anyone. Supposedly, it’s not going to be TOO awful, but I’m not too sure. I applied for another job internally, plus a few more externally. I’ve screwed up more than I care to admit — just stupid mistakes, the kind I make when I have a bad attitude and am bitter and pissed off — and having to admit to those mistakes just makes me grumpier.
On the personal front, over the weekend I invited Scott to have dinner with me and my younger brother this weekend. He “passed.” No reason, no explanation. Just “I’ll have to think about it,” followed a few days later by, “I’m going to pass.” WTF? It’s my 24-year-old brother for Christ’s sake. Scott and I had dinner on Tuesday, and it just was weird. I just have the feeling that it’s over. We were both distant, and while we made out for about 20 minutes after one kiss, that speaks more to our attraction to each other than anything else. I sent him a text message yesterday during the workday and he sent back a response about the weather. Yes, it was a lovely day — upper 70s and sunny — but still. I didn’t reply.
I did reply, however, to Ryan’s persistant e-mails/text messages — yesterday was about the fourth consecutive day he had been trying to get laid. Feeling pissy about Scott — and his desire NOT to have intercourse; WTF is that about? — and newly emboldened by my blondeish highlights, I invited Ryan over. He stopped by after going to the NBA game downtown; we exchanged witty text messages — I guess he was sending his while he was driving, not the safest way to go — and then nearly tore each other’s clothes off as soon as he was in the door.
I seriously expected a nasty note on my front door this morning from the neighbors. I wouldn’t have cared. It was worth it.
There was one weird moment … Ryan knows about Scott, in that I mentioned Scott and I had gone on a “few” dates. (Let me say that after six weeks of dating, the words “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” or “exclusive” or “commitment” have not been uttered by Scott nor myself.) So, Ryan and I are lying in my bed, spooning, if you will, and he says, “So. How are things going with that other guy?”
What. The. Fuck.
I paused, then simply said, “Ryan, don’t be creepy.”
He apologized and made a joke out of it. Ha. Ha. A man doesn’t bring up ANOTHER man when he is lying in bed naked with a woman unless he WANTS to know what is going on with the “other guy.” Even then, there are better times to ask.
At this point, I don’t know what to do, so I’m not going to do anything.
If Scott misses me, he can call. (Oh, he was pissy my p-t job is starting up again next week. Just ’cause he’s sitting around doing nothing doesn’t mean I’m going to as well.)
My parents and brother will be here tomorrow from Michigan, anyway. I’ll have better things to do than sit around and drink the wine Scott bought me, wondering when the lingerie/FM heels I ordered with his money will arrive (probably when my mom answers the door, or something). Seriously, why give a woman $$ to buy lingerie if you don’t want to have sex? That’s just weird.
She got bitch-slapped today. Sigh.
It happens to the best of us, hon (although I didn’t even get a slap, I just got the boot.)
Send some traffic her way … surely that will cheer her up!
So last week I mentioned that the phone number of a former flame/co-worker popped into my head. I haven’t talked to him since Oct. 2004.
Today, my boss shrieked and came trotting over with a print-out of a press release announcing the former flame’s big-ass promotion. He’s now VP of Sales for some company.
Son. Of. A. Bi-atch.
I am what most people would call a pack rat.
I have Happy Meal toys from like 10 years ago, just because I used to keep them on my desk at my first job after college, when I was young enough to do shit like that.
I have books I read 10 years ago and haven’t looked at since.
I have shoes that I don’t even remember.
Bottom line, I have two very full closets, a very full garage — and two parents and a brother that will be here in less than a week.
I am in full-blown panic mode.
I just spent an hour tearing down boxes — why in the hell did I keep the box my vacuum cleaner came in? because I was too lazy to throw it out at the time — and filling up my apartment community’s dumpster with the remnants. Then I went through some of the half-filled boxes in my garage.
I set aside a plastic tub for things that I’m not ready to get rid of just yet but I don’t want around anymore — aka the box I’m going to spring on my parents to schlep back to their house. When my ex was moving out, I threw out a lot of stuff, including wedding photos. He took them out of the trash, which struck me as odd at the time — but somehow I ended up with them again!!!! WTF was that about??? Anyway they’re in the box, along with love letters and other assorted mementos. I don’t want to pretend like that part of my life didn’t happen, but I also don’t want the energy associated with those items dragging me down.
I kind of like this cleaning thing … but not enough to keep up with it, I’m sure. ; 0
One cool thing I found was a CD I bought a few years ago — Sara Osmer was a girl I knew in elementary school. Check her music out. The EP I have is “Dry Mouth,” but I’m looking forward to listening to her other songs, too.
Spent all day Saturday with Scott. We went to a touristy part of the state, about an hour’s drive away, to visit the shops (or shall I say, “shoppes” lol). I got to his place about 10:30 a.m. and left about 11:30 p.m., a pretty long time for a date. Needless to say, that much togetherness raised a few eyebrows for me.
Scott makes more money than I do and he almost always, always, always pays when we go out. I think, aside from the time/actual cost of the meal I cooked for him, the only things I’ve paid for when we’ve gone out were two sodas when we stopped at a gas station yesterday. On top of lunch and dinner Saturday — probably $50 total — he bought me two bottles of wine, a jar of feta-stuffed olives I wanted and a pair of Michigan State socks.
I know what you may be thinking, quit whining, Monique, and enjoy the free ride.
But there’s more.
So yesterday we were going at it, and he told me that he wants to wait before we make love. Which is all fine good — except, well, we haven’t been limiting ourself to the chaste kiss here and there. I asked him what the difference was, why there was a distinction between one form of sex and another, as actual intercourse seemed to be the dividing line. He said that he didn’t know why, but there was a distinction for him, even though it didn’t really make rational sense. If he made love to me before he was ready, he would feel horrible, and he didn’t want to feel that way.
Understandable.
But there’s more.
Scott has a fondness for pretty, lacy things — for me to wear, not him lol — and has mentioned this fondess more than once. Yesterday, soon after I got to his apartment, we were kissing, and he stopped and told me he had something for me. He went to his counter and came back with what I could tell were several $20 bills. He handed me the money and told me to buy some things for me to wear for him.
At that moment, it seemed sexy and crazy and cool.
Now it just seems weird.
Like, if he throws $100 my way, I’m going to do what he wants? Like I’ll be fine with him ogling me in lingerie — yet not giving himself fully to me — because he spends a lot of money on me?
But wait, there’s more.
So we were talking about stuff from our past, and he was telling me how his ex would ask him, when they went out to eat, if he had been to that restaurant with someone else. If he replied yes, she would become upset because she wasn’t “special.” He said that he felt like an infant when it came to dating again, and just wanted to spend time with me and see how the feelings we have for each other develop.
I asked him how he felt about what was going on with us, and he said, “I feel really good.” Then he proceeded to list off all these things that I haven’t done, like cause a scene in a restaurant, argue violently with him, talk about marriage on the third date — all things that the ex did, I presume. I said, “I certainly hope that there are things that I have done that you like,” and he seemed confused, then surprised at himself when I pointed out the gist of what he had just said to me.
I don’t know. I’m scared he’s still hung up on her — or at least his guilt over ending the engagement — and I’m just going to be his learning tool, and I’ll end up hurt again. On the plus side, he was very affectionate yesterday in a nonsexual way, taking my hand when we were out in public and putting his arm around me. He even drove yesterday holding my hand.
On the other hand, I told him I was taking my brother out to dinner next weekend and asked Scott if he’d like to join us. (The restaurant, which is one of my favorites, is literally a block and a half fro where Scott lives.) He said he’d have to think about it (???) then added that he thought I was going home to my parents. I said, no, they were coming here, and added I wasn’t trying to get all serious, I just thought he and my brother would get along well. Of course my first thought was, oh hell, he has a date with someone else, but nothing else gave me that impression. Actually, my first thought, after he said he’d have to think about it, was “F–k you.” I’m not going to bring it up again.
Morrissy has a new album. Yes, I still call them “albums.” Whatever.
I’m downloading “Ringleader of the Tormentors” from iTunes now. A former flame bought me his last CD. Speaking of, that jackass’s phone number popped into my head yesterday — I haven’t called him in 18 months. WTF is that all about?
To visit my fabulous renter, Andrena, this week! Show her the love, people!
Ugh, I hate the midwest in April. Nothing but gloom and rain, gloom and rain, with more thunderstorms than you can imagine. It’s going to be 75 degrees tomorrow — but a 70% chance of strong storms. The weather for Saturday? Sunny — and 50 degrees. WTF?
At least Scott is coming over in a bit and we’re going out to eat so my whiny ass can indulge in a margarita.
If you’re surprised that Eminem and his wife are divorcing again.
I almost feel sorry for the guy.
Almost.
