(no subject)
I went to a birthday party last night. It was for Mr. Shumate. I didn't give him anything. I doubt I will for some time. I'd rather keep working on what I'm working on than just buy him something lame. It's been a while since I've painted/decorated/ruined something for someone else. It was a surprise party. What was great was the way they got Chris to this party: Ryan called him and said he and Jeanine had a another fight; he'd finally hit her and really needed someone to talk to so he could calm down and clear his head. Chris agreed to go for a drive with him and they ended up at the scene of the party--the workplace of Chris' girlfriend, Meg, who happens to be Jeanine's friend.
There were lots of people there, Lynda being one of them. She's toned down her lust for me since Bill's come into the picture. Her husband was there, too. He told me I was really turning him on, but he said it in what sounded to me like, well, I was offending him. I looked confused and he said "that was a compliment."
Fawn was there. I was happy to see her.
Asshole Chris showed up as well. He's gotten into the habit of asking me to come over and hang out after gettogethers end. For some strange reason, though, I uh, am pretty sure that'd be something that may require more thought. Ehh, or maybe not. Though Bill's firm advice was, "Do not be alone with Chris Bennett," I'm pretty sure I could resist his, um, charm.
Asshole Chris is actually good people. He's just loud and obnoxious and will always be upfront about what he wants. That's all. He's really, really smart, which makes his humour even funnier, he just likes to stir people up a bit. A lot.
I have to thank Bill for waking me up this morning. He sent me a "good morning" text that pulled me from my slumber, which is excellent considering NEITHER MY CELL PHONE NOR MY ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF AS SCHEDULED. I totally would have overslept had it not been for that ish.
There are these two cats who sit in front of me in Serial & Mass Murderers in the United States. They're my two favourite people in the class, as they're intelligent, they're funny, and, well, they dress in what I find to be an aesthetically pleasing manner. One of them kind of looks like Big Tim from Requiem for a Dream, but I still manage not to be completely stifled by my fear because he's actually really, really kind. I do this thing where, even though I know what's right when Dr. White asks a question, I only actually say it out loud about one out of every four to six times; the rest of the time, I just kind of mumble them. I don't know why I mumble them, but I do. Well, Big Tim hears my mumbles apparently and turned around to whisper, "stop being scared." When we got up at the end of class, he shook his head and said, "knows all the answers but not speaking up." I told him I have performance anxiety.
I spent all of saturday in bed again. All of it. Lila was in the house, so, that was reason enough to not want to leave the room, but there was also the issue of my having rolled the night before with Jenny and a couple of her friends. Good times except for the teeth-grinding. When I got home, as was the case two weeks ago, Bill called just ask I was climbing into bed circa 10am and we stayed on the phone for THE ENTIRE DAY. Christ. Seriously. Christ. So, yeah. No food. No water. No leaving the room. No fresh air, really. Just Bill.
He spent some time online while we were talking, trying to find my livejournal. He was interested because Josh was interested. He searched for me at first by interest (I think the first one was James Spader - hah) and then by school. Eventually, he found me, something he's proud of because Josh could not. Then, he did something strange: he told me he wasn't going to read it. Then I did something strange: I believed him. What is that? He said, "Well, I'm not going to read it until you tell me to." I believed him at that point, and still do. However, I wouldn't be devastatingly surprised if he told me he couldn't resist the urge at work one day. Haha, Christ, even people who don't talk to me read this ish.
Speaking of people who don't talk to me... someone claiming to be Lech left me messages on AIM the other day while I was taking a nap. They said something to the tune of "I'd like to see you," and, "I don't know how you feel about me, but I'd like to get together and have a drink or coffee and talk about remembrances past," and, "if you're not interested, I completely understand."
I thought the same thing most of you are probably thinking. My actual thought sequence was as follows:
....What?
Whaaaaaaaaat?
Oh wow.
Wait, no, no... what?
There's no way that's actually Lech. That is totally not that cat's style.
Would Lech use those words?
Maybe he would. Well how would I know, anyway?
What if it is?
....it's likely it's not.
Yeah, what am I thinking.
Uhh... but if it is, this is.......... unexpected.
If it is, would I say yes?
What would that be like?
....
Well, fuck... why not?
But that's not him.
The only thing I'd established was that if it was Lech, I'd not ignore. What I wrote back was "you'll understand if I don't at all believe this is Lech" and "if it is Lech, he can call me, and if it's not, well, you'd better get right on finding more clever ways to spend your friday nights." Then I left for Jenny's. He (or she) was away by the time I sent the messages. I'll never know if they were replied to because by the time I arrived home the next morning, the computer was off due to a power outage. Still, weird eh?
There were lots of people there, Lynda being one of them. She's toned down her lust for me since Bill's come into the picture. Her husband was there, too. He told me I was really turning him on, but he said it in what sounded to me like, well, I was offending him. I looked confused and he said "that was a compliment."
Fawn was there. I was happy to see her.
Asshole Chris showed up as well. He's gotten into the habit of asking me to come over and hang out after gettogethers end. For some strange reason, though, I uh, am pretty sure that'd be something that may require more thought. Ehh, or maybe not. Though Bill's firm advice was, "Do not be alone with Chris Bennett," I'm pretty sure I could resist his, um, charm.
Asshole Chris is actually good people. He's just loud and obnoxious and will always be upfront about what he wants. That's all. He's really, really smart, which makes his humour even funnier, he just likes to stir people up a bit. A lot.
I have to thank Bill for waking me up this morning. He sent me a "good morning" text that pulled me from my slumber, which is excellent considering NEITHER MY CELL PHONE NOR MY ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF AS SCHEDULED. I totally would have overslept had it not been for that ish.
There are these two cats who sit in front of me in Serial & Mass Murderers in the United States. They're my two favourite people in the class, as they're intelligent, they're funny, and, well, they dress in what I find to be an aesthetically pleasing manner. One of them kind of looks like Big Tim from Requiem for a Dream, but I still manage not to be completely stifled by my fear because he's actually really, really kind. I do this thing where, even though I know what's right when Dr. White asks a question, I only actually say it out loud about one out of every four to six times; the rest of the time, I just kind of mumble them. I don't know why I mumble them, but I do. Well, Big Tim hears my mumbles apparently and turned around to whisper, "stop being scared." When we got up at the end of class, he shook his head and said, "knows all the answers but not speaking up." I told him I have performance anxiety.
I spent all of saturday in bed again. All of it. Lila was in the house, so, that was reason enough to not want to leave the room, but there was also the issue of my having rolled the night before with Jenny and a couple of her friends. Good times except for the teeth-grinding. When I got home, as was the case two weeks ago, Bill called just ask I was climbing into bed circa 10am and we stayed on the phone for THE ENTIRE DAY. Christ. Seriously. Christ. So, yeah. No food. No water. No leaving the room. No fresh air, really. Just Bill.
He spent some time online while we were talking, trying to find my livejournal. He was interested because Josh was interested. He searched for me at first by interest (I think the first one was James Spader - hah) and then by school. Eventually, he found me, something he's proud of because Josh could not. Then, he did something strange: he told me he wasn't going to read it. Then I did something strange: I believed him. What is that? He said, "Well, I'm not going to read it until you tell me to." I believed him at that point, and still do. However, I wouldn't be devastatingly surprised if he told me he couldn't resist the urge at work one day. Haha, Christ, even people who don't talk to me read this ish.
Speaking of people who don't talk to me... someone claiming to be Lech left me messages on AIM the other day while I was taking a nap. They said something to the tune of "I'd like to see you," and, "I don't know how you feel about me, but I'd like to get together and have a drink or coffee and talk about remembrances past," and, "if you're not interested, I completely understand."
I thought the same thing most of you are probably thinking. My actual thought sequence was as follows:
....What?
Whaaaaaaaaat?
Oh wow.
Wait, no, no... what?
There's no way that's actually Lech. That is totally not that cat's style.
Would Lech use those words?
Maybe he would. Well how would I know, anyway?
What if it is?
....it's likely it's not.
Yeah, what am I thinking.
Uhh... but if it is, this is.......... unexpected.
If it is, would I say yes?
What would that be like?
....
Well, fuck... why not?
But that's not him.
The only thing I'd established was that if it was Lech, I'd not ignore. What I wrote back was "you'll understand if I don't at all believe this is Lech" and "if it is Lech, he can call me, and if it's not, well, you'd better get right on finding more clever ways to spend your friday nights." Then I left for Jenny's. He (or she) was away by the time I sent the messages. I'll never know if they were replied to because by the time I arrived home the next morning, the computer was off due to a power outage. Still, weird eh?