ok ok ok.

I lost my phone and had to replace it, but I still have the same number.

However, I do not have anyone else's number because, due to the value of saving numbers in my phone, I have not bothered to learn/memorize anyone's number.  So there.


Email me with your number: d.laferriere@gmail.com

I have had the worstfuckingdayofmylife. And, unless one of you can promise me the orgasm and backrub of a lifetime, I am going back into hiding, growling, and contemplating mass murder.

ps: hiding ends 2/21/07 when I WILL (goddamnit) get in my car and start driving south until I feel like stopping/hit water.  Probably, this will end in new orleans: anyone else in?

So, there once was this boy that I dated briefly while living far from where I live now, and said boy was a beautiful blues singer- well, a singer and pretty cute, and I like to pretend that he was a blues singer to make the whole thing a little less...scene.

Anyway, said singer was also the most romantic man I've ever dated, and I'm pretty sure that he could still send chills down my spine.  He's on the myspace, and has a personal account that he uses to only be friends with people he knows for real- friends, neighbors, relatives...real people; I am on the list.

All of that is back story to explain an interesting exchange of emails that occurred today.

Some fan of his (read: dyed black hair groupie with bright red lipstick) contacted me to ask why he doesn't reply to her emails from his personal account, and why he does not accept her invitation of online friendship.

I made a cordial reply saying that he reserves that account to keep in touch with friends and family who have relationships with him outside of the internets.

She replied something to the effect of having met him at a few shows- she had bought him a drink, didn't that count?

I got a little annoyed- it's been at least two years since I saw hide nor hair of that boy, and I barely even care that he's still breathing- so I  said that she was just a fan, and that if she had a problem with the way he managed his account, she should contact him.

She replied by copying her first email with the part about him not replying to her emails in bold.

What a fucking stupid bitch.  I looked at his band site, and sure enough, there were a hundred thousand fucking comments from this bitch adoring that boy- not to mention the swooning over his pictures.  j.e.s.u.s..c.h.r.i.s.t.

I replied that I can read, but that was the nice way of saying that she was probably just some kind of groupie twat, and that he, nor I, had time to deal with that kind of bullshit.

I figured that she would not reply.

Instead, I got a short noted asking "well, since ur in chicago and he's in *insert his town here* how do u know him?"

I gave a short and sweet reply:

"I hit that once."

She sent back some crap about I am such a liar and blah blah blah...I decided not to reply for the sake of my sanity.  I've never used the block function before, but I did today.

Anyway, I go to check his band's site a little bit ago to see if she left more adoration, and I find an email from the boy in my inbox. She had left a comment on his band's page giving a link to my account and saying  that I was spreading rumors about the band and that all fans should light me on fire or something.

Obviously, the comment was never posted (thanks, comment review option!) and I was able to have an e-laugh with the ex-boy.

That is all.





p.s. to stupid twat: I rocked that blood red lipstick for him way before you, and  I didn't have to e-stalk him or anything.

*grumble grumble* how is every one of my friends getting married and having babies while i'm still just fucking around? *grumble grumble*


no, really...is it time to grow up, already?


*grumble grumble* i'm wasting my fucking  time *grumble grumble*

Phone is OFF.  The account is paid, so you can leave a message, but I'm not checking those.  Email if you need something.












growl.

I've been grumpy, lately.  On the brightside, I've been fairly easy to please, and that seems to temper the psychobitch tendencies that I've had running through me.


I suppose that I haven't really posted anything because everytime I think to post something, I either run out of time, run out of motivation, or cease to care.  A few things have happened in the past year, so perhaps I'll take this time to do a year-in-review post.

A few things have changed, and the majority of things have stayed the same, so this should be a short post.

Last new year's eve was spent working in an animal hospital and modestly celebrating with the roomies.

I started this year living with two friends with whom I have lost touch, one of the four (FOUR!) cats living in the apartment was put down, the other three have been split between two homes after the three of us went our separate ways.  I took no cats with me, but stumbled into another apartment which housed yet another fucking cat.  I think a good way to describe this year is "fucking cats."  When DID these little bastards get so popular?

I retained my ability to be a cold and unfeeling bitch with a streak of extreme empathy, so I spent Valentine's Day in a self-induced isolation.  March brought fairer times and fairer weather.  April was completely forgettable, although I did wake up on the day of John's birthday and wonder what Sam did to celebrate- that made me wonder when Sam's birthday was, and what John did to celebrate- and then I stopped caring.  My mother still receives text messages from that boy- and that truly disturbs me.

May was spent planning for new living situations- the ex-roomies were moving into a bigger apartment, and the boy and I made the jump to living together.  Said ex-roomies have now gone in separate directions, jumping into the "living with significant other" situations of their own- twice on the part of the lady-ex-roomie.  Gentleman-ex-roomie even has a baby (not by his own loins) rooming with him, now.

June was spent moving everyone's crap to new locations- my crap merged with the boy's crap- and both sets of crap were set up in a new apartment.  the ex-roomies' crap was collectively moved to a new apartment, and then split so that lady-ex-roomie's crap could merge with the like of undeserving others' crap.

Perhaps the better way to describe this year "the relocation and distribution of crap."

July brought new employment which has lead me to surprising amounts of happiness- as well as a knee that gets pissy whenever I go down stairs or an incline.  I also bought Sadie, my trusty driving machine.

August was the month where nothing happened, and September must have been equally boring because I really can't recall a single thing about it- other than Erin moving to Chicago and becoming a very good friend.

October was a special month- the boy and I went on what should have been a relaxing vacation, but we spent the whole time fighting.  I think that was the beginning of our current relationship stage.  I like to call said stage "I can't tolerate much of anything anymore, so let's fight about it until someone cracks, we'll resume fighting in 72 hours."  By my estimation, we will resume fighting tomorrow at 10pm.

At some point, I realized exactly how bored I have been, so I took up the project of reading the "great books" from the St. John's College reading list- and that has helped re-energize my brain.

November was elections month and Chris Matthews ruled our television.

December was cold and isolated.  I realized that my apartment building looks like soviet Russia in the winter and I now refer to it as Chernobyl Estates.  I cut off all of my hair and dyed it brown- it curled up on its own, leaving me with some kind of a Shirley Temple thing when I left the salon.  The stylist said something to the effect that it would look really cute when I was fucking the boy because the curls would bounce.  I felt dirty because I thought I looked like a little kid with said hair.  So, I have it styled so it looks like adult curls and I no longer have to worry about looking like Shirley Temple while fucking.

I spent Christmas with my family- and that was surprisingly nice and low-stress.

I rang in the new year with Aaron, quietly sipping some coffee and mulling over exes and friends over a turkey sandwich.

I hope next year brings a little more happiness and whatnot.

Aaron says it has been 11 days since anyone posted.


I post now.


Nothing more.

Pretty much, I want to kill everyone.

No, not you, but that guy behind you?  Yeah, I'd like to take him out.

The boy keeps saying that I need to try harder to keep in touch with old friends, but I'm pretty sure that he doesn't realize that old friends are saying things he doesn't want me to hear.  I called one of those old friends today, and said things that I'm pretty sure the boy wouldn't want me to say.


But you can't monitor what I say if you decide to not be home on date night [and you certainly can't positively affect my feelings for you when you don't even leave a note to tell me where you are].

It was pretty much dead today at work and we were sitting around sharing stories about how we grew up.  While I previously had identified a few of my coworkers as bullshitters, a lot of my whims were cemented today.

First, I grew up as a Christian.  I know what it means to be a Christian.  And I know that the slutty girls who do drugs in the bathroom don't love Jesus.  They just don't.


Now, don't get me wrong.  I don't love Jesus, either.  But, I am honest enough to say it.

So, when one of the "Christian" girls asked me why I am not a Christian, I replied:


"While I could be considered to be a person who takes moral cues from the life of Christ in matters of importance, I choose not to identify myself with the club of delusional people who call themselves Christians.  If ever there was a group of people to advertise against Christ, it would be the people who live their lives under his name.  Frankly, I want to be the opposite of them."


And I walked away.  I find it completely disgusting that these people are willing to condemn "fags" to hell while they themselves are "sinning" in an equally egregious fashion.

If you are too stupid and weak to know your own faith and understand what Jesus wanted you to understand, then you should stop parading around in his name- and I'm talking to you, Moral Majority, Value Voters, Village Church of Gurnee, Baptists, Catholics, Hocketts, Norrises, Dollengers, Wheatleys...

Want to know why I'm not a Christian?  Because I find you to be holy [sic] disgusting.

mood: grumpy.


oh, and I'm rocking a side pony tail.






the brunch ladies are thinking of road-tripping to new orleans sans boyfriends.  i'm in! 


update- mood: not grumpy, excited for girlfriends roadtrip.


quotes from work today:

"i party with the white chicks- they know how to have a good time.  right, denise?  i see you in the corner, pretending you don't know what i'm talking about"

"erin, i'm going to say this in the most loving way possible: if you don't shut the fuck up, i will use these skewers to shut you up"

"brunch line!"  "brunch line?"  "brunch line, bitch."