My dedication to making this post was so strong that when I accidentally deleted it on my iphone, I got up from bed and turned on the computer. Why what I have to say is that fucking important, I do not know.
I just got home from the bar.... thirty minutes ago? I'm in my pajamas and have petted the poor wee cat that got her bits chopped today, so it may have been longer. Anyhoodle.
I have this to say: I fucking love my coworkers. The ones that drink with me. I mean, all of them for their own special little snowflake reasons, because I do have some fucking awesome coworkers, but my closing drinking buddies, who I went drinking with tonight even though I got off of work at 4:30, they've got a special place in my heart. (Said "mah hart," in case you're wondering.)
But, okay. So that guy from work I was obsessed with a bit ago?
incredulity and
causeways know QUITE WELL who I am talking about, but I know I've mentioned him on here too. Yeah, so cured of that. He's got a fifteen piece set of Luis Vuitton luggage in the form of the craziest girlfriend in the world. A couple of weeks ago she found out that he and I went drinking together IN A GROUP WITH OTHER PEOPLE and she THREW HER PLATE ACROSS THE ROOM and threatened to come down to the store and BEAT ME UP.
So tonight she finds out that we're friends on myspace (which apparently was not the best idea, since we haven't actually even used it to communicate with each other, since we don't actually ever communicate with each other outside of work, except for the aforementioned times we go out IN GROUPS to drink) and she sends me this message:
Hey there, I dont know you but i would like to introduce myself. I am Crazy Pants, Coworkers girlfriend and mother of his son Sonny Boy Jr. He is in a relationship, and I would like you to back the fuck up. He's TAKEN!
And, like, I know the best response is no response, because engaging the crazy is acknowledging the crazy, and I am in no way formulating a response. But when he told me about the plate throwing, my first response was an overwhelming, OMG, is she SERIOUS? Because I don't think I'm a hose beast, but I'm certainly not BOYFRIEND STEALING MATERIAL, you know? Boyfriend stealers are, idk, that stereotype of the skinny bitchy blonde/brunette/red head with the short skirt and the low cut blouse who probably has an std. And I? Am a few of those things, but certainly not boyfriend stealing material.
Psychologically, this also plays to the whole idea I have of myself that if you put me up against any girl on the planet, I would be lacking, but in this instance? I mean, yes, the crazy is certainly going to push him away, but without the crazy?
And now I'm wondering why I'm trying to find logic in the crazy, and I'm really just going to go to bed now.
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAWR. DINOSAURS.