Shitty People

I am decluttering the clusterfuck that is my life. This mostly includes reevaluating relationships that I have, thought I had, and/or ended.

You may recall a certain Couch and Mr. Potato-head. Couch has decided recently to be an asshole, make new friends and abandon old ones, in short he is turning into one of those party people. I find it pathetic, and he doesn't like feeling judged by me. Which is fine, no one likes to be judged by their friends, but if someone is truly a friend, I expect them to be, in the words of Lester Bangs, "honest and unmerciful." (Yes, I just made an Almost Famous reference, and yes, I am uncool.) So, I haven't seen him in a couple weeks, so I guess he's hanging out with his new friends in new, trendy places. I am uncool, so I will be staying at the old places with the townies and regulars who are all as uncool as I am.

Mr. Potato-head. Oh, Mr. Potato-head. He has done this really obnoxious thing over the past few months where, if he sees me, or hears about me being somewhere, he feels the need to text me. I ignored it for quite some time. And then when he almost ran me over a few weeks ago, I started entertaining him by responding. He texted me in what I can only assume was a drunken state and acknowledged this fact. He did not apologize for it, just acknowledged it, which is to be expected from him as he doesn't not properly apologize for anything.

I crashed a party at Mr. Potato-head's house on Friday. I didn't think he'd be there, and he wasn't because he spends about as much time out of Richmond as I do. But seeing as his all of his roommates saw me, he of course mentioned it on Saturday. Please note, that while I find situations like this entertaining, I typically avoid them as to avoid seeming spiteful. I am not spiteful, but a party is a party and no one really gives a shit who's there after the cops show up.

Anyway, he's been trying to convince me to see him for awhile now, and I keep refusing. Until Saturday evening. I woke up from a four hour nap, hungry, and with a body that was punishing me for combining-things-that-ought-not-to-be-combined, and I texted him, and told him that he could meet me at Chipotle in ten minutes or Sunday morning for breakfast. He agreed to breakfast at 10:30 am.

I suppose I was overwhelmed with the Christmas Spirit, or some other bullshit, but I was feeling nice.

I arrived at 10:40 am. And after a series of text messages where Mr. Potato-head told me that I was being unreasonable and stubborn, I ate, and left and he did not come. Because, he had yoga, and friends in town, and wasn't at home, and had to run by his house and drop off a key, and if I could wait until one, he could meet me, and traffic is bad anyway, and he wanted me to change my plans to suite his schedule. I probably would have met him later, had I not had plans. But I like having plans, though I am not the most punctual person, this is something I am constantly working on, but if I don't have plans I am always willing to make plans. Because I am awesome and uncool and OCD and slightly paranoid.

So, he doesn't show. I should have known. But I think he gets it now. I think he finally understands that I think he's an asshole, and that I feel completely vindicated in saying so after each time he has failed at redeeming himself.

And I'm not stubborn or stiff, I'm merely decisive and tired of people treating me badly. And can maintain my dignity while eating breakfast alone at a table for two in a full cafe. Breakfast was delicious, by the way. And I had a boy who let an entire bottle of Dr. Pepper go flat for me because he listens to me and takes note of the small things that make me happy, in DC. There were also Wes Anderson films and making fun of GW girls. And what started out as a shitty Sunday turned into a Funday with someone who treats me very, very well.

Good riddance to shitty people. One day, when I am president of the world, I will have a special place for them, in Southern California. And Minnesota.

I must suffer and cry for a longer time

I don't believe that black cats, or broken mirrors, or stepping on cracks cause bad luck. I am not usually supersticious. But as of October 5, 2009, something has happened. That day my thirteen month old Compaq computer fritzed out. It was exactly a monthy over warranty and fixing it would have cost the same as buying a new computer, so my daddy-who-loves-me bought me a Dell - the same computer I had requested a year earlier, but he bought the Compaq because it was cheaper...On that day in October my dad got a phone call detailing how upset I was (in addition to a thousand other things that had gone wrong that week). I proceeded to have a panic attack and sit on the loveseat for the next four hours.

Two weeks later my new Dell made everything better, until...

Halloween. I don't ever leave my Ipod in my car over night, and I never leave it visible in my car when I do leave it there. I have this weird feeling that I should never have all my "valuables" on me at the same time. Like, what's worse, getting mugged or having your car broken into? And if either happens, which is more likely? And how horrible would it be if I was mugged and had everything in my bag/car robbed and left everything in my car?

Anyway, Halloween, some friends and I parked and walked to a friend's apartment and I left my Ipod in my car, because I'm stupid and we hadn't been listening to it, and it was still in hiding, and I was preoccupied with a multitude of other things, like getting out of my blistering heels and into jammies. Though, I did make sure that all the doors to my car were locked. Fastforward to Monday morning when I discovered that my car had been broken into, and of course the Ipod was gone, as was the shitty adapter (I had been meaning to replace the adapter anyways). I spent the next few hours calling all the pawnshops, getting yelled at by the people that work in them (Really, you work at a pawnshop, who are you to judge me? Assholes.), and filing a police report. It ended with me on a friend's cathair covered couch watching christmas movies.

Then, last Friday, Black Friday, my brand new Dell Inspiron computer's hard drive went kaput. Six weeks. SIX WEEKS! That is how long I had it and it died. But, it was under warranty, and today I got the new hard drive in the mail, and was able to put in my computer myself. And let me say, Dell's technical support and generally how the company operates is so much better than Compaq. I still had to call Comcast to set up my internet, again, and the last three months have generally been a shit storm, but here's to hoping it's over.

Only some strange strike of horrible luck could explain this. I like to blame my Irish heritage.

And as a constant reminder of why something fabulous hasn't happened yet, the always wise Morrissey. This song fixes just about everything.