...And Then Everything Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

So does anyone have an opinion on this table? I realized that I need rectangular in the dining room instead of round. I have lost the ability to make decisions. It disappeared yesterday along with my slippers. Seriously, where the fuck are they? I'm looking everywhere...this is a small house...wood floors...they're freakin red for gawd's sake...

Yesterday I also came dangerously close to developing an enormous crush on the Puppy. He called me last night while he was out with friends - yes, a night apart - I can't believe it, either. And it was "that call." That silly, giddy, high school call where you know the boy is going to either ask you out or tell you - drunkenly - that he has a crush on you. I was just beside myself afterward, and went to work thinking, "Awww...Puppy."

It took an entire afternoon and two strong talking-downs from friends S and NYC D to snap me out of it. Yeesh. Tonight his son is at his place, and the Puppy is devastatingly sick. His cough sounds like a death rattle and the kid keeps saying "Bless you" every time the hacking begins, even though the Pup has instructed him that bless yous are for sneezes. I think the kid is afraid for his father's life. You should hear it.

Oh, and I have been struggling with my Internet radio again. I dialed in Queens of the Stone Age and now it keeps throwing me all this cheesy, growling metal where the first word of every band's song is "Woooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" It's like being trapped in a Gwar video. I can't hack it. Found a lovely band called The 6ths as an antidote. Anyone heard of them? They're like a cross between Siouxsie Sioux and Xanadu, the movie. It's genius. Like listening to sparkles. Sparkly, mind-numbing goodness. Ahhh...

And I suppose I'm still on the bitterness tip, despite the brightness of The 6ths. I got behind a minivan (my favorite) that had this bumpersticker: "God bless everyone on Earth. No exceptions." It made me throw up a little in my mouth.

So now the big question...should I have another beer? I already had one. I'm home alone. I'm exhausted. I'm looking down at a fat little pug, laid on his side with his legs straight out in front of him...and he's snoring. This must be a hint at what it feels like to have kids. I just feel like there is nothing cuter on the planet...and I hope he doesn't wake up.

Perfect.

So, New Year's Eve! I have no plans. Other than an epically fun drunk I got on in Telluride NYE 2000, and last year's humiliating (but saucy) champagne-fueled making out with L in front of a dozen people assembled for what they thought would be a low-key party, I haven't been out in a bar for NYE since 1994. I have always had a boyfriend (or a husband) who joins me in wanting to stay in and hump. Whee! The last two years with the EH have been like that - we got an organically raised filet, a good bottle of Cabernet, lit candles and spent the entire night in our pajamas. If the EH had been more of a conversationalist those evenings would have been picture perfect. And why is it that people who are bland always think they're the life of the party?

The Puppy is going to his friend's party. They play poker. He keeps asking me what I'm doing - and the answer is still this: Nada. I kind of want him to ask me along, but on the other hand, I totally don't! It would just be awkward, I suppose. What if he hit on some skank and spent 11:58-12:-02 making out with her? It's not right that I'm even thinking that.

He mentioned moving to Portland today. Not fair - that has been my plan for well over a year. And I felt sad. (That also needed a talking down from S and NYC D.) I would miss the Puppy.

Please, if there is a Higher Power, he/she will not let me fall for the Pup. He is a work in progress and I don't need to be around for the progression, since there will surely be some evil backtracking. Plus he doesn't like fat chicks, and that is sooooooooo my body right now. Haven't been to the gym in two weeks since I got the creeping crud, and I feel like Anna Nicole before the Trimspa - plump, boozed up and completely insane.

It ain't pretty.

// posted by Alisa @ 4:50 PM