LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Expect more than a few questions throughout the day from colleagues, customers and friends. Your social energy is on point, and you’re almost certainly seen as the right person to ask.
Laura’s Log:
I hate drama. Even in movies. Give me “Devil Wears Prada” Meryl over “Sophie’s Choice” Meryl every time. The problem is women can be overly dramatic. Something happens when we hit fifth or sixth grade. Random comments become fodder for killing a friendship. And we never grow beyond that. Why can’t we be (a little) more like men, sit down, watch a hockey game and forget whatever the heck it was that pissed us off? Sure, I’d go crazy if my life revolved on memorizing players’ scoring stats but a dispute about Henrik versus Ovechkin, while intense, isn’t going to doom a relationship. (Talking favorably about the Toronto Maple Leafs is an entirely different matter when you live on the West Coast.)
Nadia and I hadn’t spoken since Sunday night when I mentioned that seeing her boyfriend Bradley once in a weekend was plenty, thank you very much. Best to take dumbasses in small doses. So when Nadia called during her lunch break today to INSIST we go for drinks—just me and her—I braced for an ugly showdown. Hard to focus on work the rest of the afternoon. (Thankfully, the office pace would have made a sloth on antsy as Carmen’s quadruple chocolate cake put everyone in a sugar coma.) While they crashed, I shook.
Women’s intuition is overrated. Or, at least, mine is. Might as well return the damn thing and redeem it for a complimentary packet of Starbucks instant coffee. I’d expected Nadia to attack me as soon as I saw her perched on a stool at the bar at Cactus Club. She’d already ordered my standard lime margarita, no salt, a kind gesture that set me off my defensive game plan. And then she startled me more with the first words out of her mouth: “Bradley’s an ass, isn’t he?”
Dem’s choppy waters we’re headin’ into! What do you say when a friend is down on her boyfriend? It’s always such a risk. I lost Gloria by agreeing with her when she started ragging Milo, her loser of a husband. In the moment, she was grateful for my honesty and support. For two weeks, we were best buds. Then they reconciled and I was unceremoniously shredded along with the divorce papers.
I played therapist, responding with “Why do you say that?” Thankfully, Nadia had plenty of her own evidence. So much so that it was pointless for me to jump in. Her examples were much more offensive. Bradley calls her into the bathroom when he’s taking a shit just to freak her out. (The fact he never flushes after either number was disgusting enough.) Bradley yells in her ear when she’s on the phone too long (in his opinion) with her mother. (The fact Nadia’s mom is going through chemo only makes his infantile Notice Me behavior all the more egregious.) Bradley is relentless about the five pounds Nadia’s put on since Christmas.
I wanted desperately to say, “So why are you still with him?” Instead, I asked, “What are you going to do?”
To my astonishment, Nadia said, “I don’t know.”
As we left, she hugged me and thanked me. And I felt like the worst friend ever.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
MARTY WAS HAVING A SLOW DAY SO HE CALLED ME FOR DRINKS AT 2. WE WOUND UP HITTING MALONE’S DOWNTOWN. SURPRISINGLY CORPORATE CROWD FOR MID-AFTERNOON. VANCOUVER IS NO TORONTO WHEN IT COMES TO WORK ETHIC. MARTY SEEMED DOWN, WHICH IS RARE FOR HIM. HE’S USUALLY THE ONE TRYING TO SNAP ME OUT OF A FUNK. STILL, IT WAS LIKE A GAME OF 21 QUESTIONS TRYING TO GET HIM TALK. MARTY’S ALL ABOUT SPORTS STATS, STOCKS, REAL ESTATE PRICES, WOMEN’S MEASUREMENTS. HE’S AN OPEN BOOK WHEN IT COMES TO NUMBERS. FEELINGS? NOT SO MUCH.
AFTER THIRTY MINUTES OF FISHING AND REELING IN NOTHING, IT CAME DOWN TO WOMEN. MARTY, THE GUY WHO STILL SCORES A COUPLE TIMES A WEEK, WAS TIRED OF ONE-NIGHTERS. “LAST TIME I DATED A GIRL MORE THAN A WEEK? COULDN’T TELL YA. I HAVE ONCE OR TWICE, HAVEN’T I? I WENT OUT WITH CONNIE FOR A WEEK AND A HALF OR TWO, DIDN’T I?”
“WHO?” WRONG RESPONSE. MARTY PUT HIS HEAD ON THE TABLE. I’D ONLY UNDERSCORED THE PROBLEM.
“I THINK I MIGHT PERHAPS POSSIBLY BE SORTA READY TO MAYBE START SOMETHING LIKE A RELATIONSHIP.” WELL, THAT WAS PUTTING IT ALL OUT THERE. HOW BOLD!
OK, BABY STEPS. HE’D ALWAYS SAID RELATIONSHIPS WERE FOR WIMPY-ASSED GUYS WHO MISSED THEIR MOMMIES. HE COULDN’T EXACTLY COME RIGHT OUT AND SAY HE ENVIED THE WIMPY ASSES NOW, COULD HE? THERE WAS NO CHANCE TO ASK ANY KIND OF FOLLOW-UP. MARTY SWITCHED IMMEDIATELY TO LAYING INTO ME ABOUT BEING “THE PICKIEST HEMORRHOID OF A CONDO CLIENT” HE’D EVER HAD. FROM THAT, WE WENT ON TO GIVING OUR SCOUTING REPORTS FOR THE CANUCKS GAME. STILL, BY MARTY OPENING HIS RELATIONSHIP WINDOW JUST A CRACK, I SENSED THAT MY FUCK ’EM & LEAVE ’EM PAL WAS LOOKING TO GROW UP, EVEN SEE WOMEN AS MORE THAN THEIR MEASUREMENTS.
IT JUST GOES TO SHOW, CHANGE IS ALWAYS POSSIBLE…EVENTUALLY.
Showing posts with label Henrik Sedin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Henrik Sedin. Show all posts
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
COMMUNICATING IN SILENCE
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your leadership skills are vital — and potent — today, so make the most of them! Your coworkers or family members need guidance or direction, and you can give it to them without getting bossy.
Laura’s Log:
Mom called shortly after two in the afternoon. I was in another friggin’ toilet paper meeting so naturally I took the call, for once happy to let Mom ramble on as much as pleased.
“I need you to come over.”
“What is it, Mom? I’m working. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Then come after work. It’s your father. You’re the one who understands him the most. He’s having an affair, I just know it. I confronted him at breakfast. Hid his Grape Nuts and refused to give them to him until he confessed. He just took a banana from the counter and stormed out. I think he’s fooling around with Betsy Ng. She once dropped off some homemade chow mein and your father loved it. You know how he doesn’t like any fancy food. But he loved it! I’ve always thought he had a thing for Betsy Ng. And ever since Ben Ng had a stroke, that woman’s been trying to take some other woman’s man. The way she laughed at Syd Zucker’s jokes, I tell you it was disgusting. And then she went—”
“After work. OK. I’ll stop by.”
“Thank you, dear. Did I tell you what your father did two nights ago? He got up at 11:30 and turned on Letterman. He doesn’t watch Letterman. Never! Now that he’s having an affair, he’s connecting to Letterman who’s a real sleazeball. And your father watched that golf tournament when Tiger came back! And I think he’d—”
Just once I’d like a conversation with my mother to end naturally. She gives me no choice; I always have to cut her off.
Dad having an affair. Ha! Absolutely implausible. Improbable. Impossible!
When I got to the house, I snuck into the garage first. Dad was sitting there, reading the morning paper. He was even less talkative than usual. I had to be blunt. “Why does Mom think you’re having an affair?”
“She needs excitement. She’s bored so she creates a little chaos. Been doing it the entire thirty-eight years I’ve known her.”
“But, Dad, an affair? She never goes that far. It’s always, ‘Your father likes the Starbucks scones better than mine!’ or ‘Your father’s getting the cheap gas again.’”
He looked down at the floor. Oh, god…was the affair real?! “They’re letting me go at the end of the month.” He said it in barely a whisper, but every word was clear. Thank goodness. It would have killed him if he’d had to repeat it.
“Does Mom know?”
He shook his head and then went back to looking at concrete. He sniffed and I hugged him. As I did, I felt his entire body quiver. It broke my heart.
I’d stopped by to console Mom and talk some sense into her, yet it was Dad who really needed me. I pulled up a lawn chair and just sat with him. Thirty seconds in, he leaned into me and bawled. No attempt to hide it. It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen him completely break. Within five minutes, he was on his feet, polishing a rake—because rakes really need to shine. “Those Sedins were really something last night, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. They were great, Dad.”
And as I made my exit, he tried his best to smile and said, “Thanks for stopping by.” And just like that, he went back into his shell.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
MY ROWING CLUB LESSONS W/TRAVIS ARE STILL A WAYS OFF &, W/ANOTHER POTENTIAL WEEKEND OF A JERRY-TRAVIS BLOWOUT PENDING, I DECIDED TO TAKE TRAV OUT ON THE WATER AFTER SCHOOL TODAY. KAYAKING, THIS TIME IN DEEP COVE. I DIDN’T GET FAR IN ASKING ABOUT SCHOOL. JUST A SERIES OF INTERCHANGEABLE RESPONSES: “NOTHING”, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS”, “I DUNNO”. ASKING ABOUT FRIENDS AND SARA GOT SIMILARLY EVASIVE ANSWERS.
ONLY WHEN I ASKED, “HOW ARE ETHAN, BELLA & RUDY?” DID HE OPEN UP. “BELLA’S AFRAID OF ME,” HE SAID SOMBERLY.
“WHY WOULD SHE FEEL THAT WAY?” I HOPED HE’D BE REFLECTIVE…AND OPEN.
“I DUNNO. BUT IT SUCKS. ETHAN’S THE SAME.”
WAS HE REALLY THAT CLUELESS OR JUST NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR OPENLY ENGAGING IN WWIII W/HIS PARENTS? POOR BELLA AND ETHAN WERE CIVILIANS CAUGHT IN THE LINE OF FIRE.
“SO WHAT’S UP WITH RUDY?”
“NOTHING. ’CEPT HIS FRIENDS ARE TELLING HIM I’M A DRUG DEALER OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”
“AND HOW’S THAT FEEL?”
“I DUNNO.” BETTER THAN HIM SAYING, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS.” BUT NOT MUCH.
ON THE WATER, WE COASTED BY A ROCKY LEDGE AS THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN HIT OUR AREA. WATCHING THE HUNDREDS OF JELLYFISH FLOATING AROUND US WAS MAGICAL. OR, AS TRAV SAID, “COOL.”
HOW IS IT THAT COOL HAS ENDURED? NOTHING UNCOOL ABOUT COOL. WE PADDLED ON AND, FOR FIFTEEN SOLID MINUTES ON THE WATER, DIDN’T EXCHANGE A SINGLE WORD. THAT WAS THE TIME WHEN THE BOND SEEMED THE BEST.
SOMETIMES YOU JUST CAN’T FORCE THINGS.
Laura’s Log:
Mom called shortly after two in the afternoon. I was in another friggin’ toilet paper meeting so naturally I took the call, for once happy to let Mom ramble on as much as pleased.
“I need you to come over.”
“What is it, Mom? I’m working. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“Then come after work. It’s your father. You’re the one who understands him the most. He’s having an affair, I just know it. I confronted him at breakfast. Hid his Grape Nuts and refused to give them to him until he confessed. He just took a banana from the counter and stormed out. I think he’s fooling around with Betsy Ng. She once dropped off some homemade chow mein and your father loved it. You know how he doesn’t like any fancy food. But he loved it! I’ve always thought he had a thing for Betsy Ng. And ever since Ben Ng had a stroke, that woman’s been trying to take some other woman’s man. The way she laughed at Syd Zucker’s jokes, I tell you it was disgusting. And then she went—”
“After work. OK. I’ll stop by.”
“Thank you, dear. Did I tell you what your father did two nights ago? He got up at 11:30 and turned on Letterman. He doesn’t watch Letterman. Never! Now that he’s having an affair, he’s connecting to Letterman who’s a real sleazeball. And your father watched that golf tournament when Tiger came back! And I think he’d—”
Just once I’d like a conversation with my mother to end naturally. She gives me no choice; I always have to cut her off.
Dad having an affair. Ha! Absolutely implausible. Improbable. Impossible!
When I got to the house, I snuck into the garage first. Dad was sitting there, reading the morning paper. He was even less talkative than usual. I had to be blunt. “Why does Mom think you’re having an affair?”
“She needs excitement. She’s bored so she creates a little chaos. Been doing it the entire thirty-eight years I’ve known her.”
“But, Dad, an affair? She never goes that far. It’s always, ‘Your father likes the Starbucks scones better than mine!’ or ‘Your father’s getting the cheap gas again.’”
He looked down at the floor. Oh, god…was the affair real?! “They’re letting me go at the end of the month.” He said it in barely a whisper, but every word was clear. Thank goodness. It would have killed him if he’d had to repeat it.
“Does Mom know?”
He shook his head and then went back to looking at concrete. He sniffed and I hugged him. As I did, I felt his entire body quiver. It broke my heart.
I’d stopped by to console Mom and talk some sense into her, yet it was Dad who really needed me. I pulled up a lawn chair and just sat with him. Thirty seconds in, he leaned into me and bawled. No attempt to hide it. It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen him completely break. Within five minutes, he was on his feet, polishing a rake—because rakes really need to shine. “Those Sedins were really something last night, weren’t they?”
“Yeah. They were great, Dad.”
And as I made my exit, he tried his best to smile and said, “Thanks for stopping by.” And just like that, he went back into his shell.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
MY ROWING CLUB LESSONS W/TRAVIS ARE STILL A WAYS OFF &, W/ANOTHER POTENTIAL WEEKEND OF A JERRY-TRAVIS BLOWOUT PENDING, I DECIDED TO TAKE TRAV OUT ON THE WATER AFTER SCHOOL TODAY. KAYAKING, THIS TIME IN DEEP COVE. I DIDN’T GET FAR IN ASKING ABOUT SCHOOL. JUST A SERIES OF INTERCHANGEABLE RESPONSES: “NOTHING”, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS”, “I DUNNO”. ASKING ABOUT FRIENDS AND SARA GOT SIMILARLY EVASIVE ANSWERS.
ONLY WHEN I ASKED, “HOW ARE ETHAN, BELLA & RUDY?” DID HE OPEN UP. “BELLA’S AFRAID OF ME,” HE SAID SOMBERLY.
“WHY WOULD SHE FEEL THAT WAY?” I HOPED HE’D BE REFLECTIVE…AND OPEN.
“I DUNNO. BUT IT SUCKS. ETHAN’S THE SAME.”
WAS HE REALLY THAT CLUELESS OR JUST NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT RESPONSIBILITY FOR OPENLY ENGAGING IN WWIII W/HIS PARENTS? POOR BELLA AND ETHAN WERE CIVILIANS CAUGHT IN THE LINE OF FIRE.
“SO WHAT’S UP WITH RUDY?”
“NOTHING. ’CEPT HIS FRIENDS ARE TELLING HIM I’M A DRUG DEALER OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”
“AND HOW’S THAT FEEL?”
“I DUNNO.” BETTER THAN HIM SAYING, “IT’S ALL RIGHT, I GUESS.” BUT NOT MUCH.
ON THE WATER, WE COASTED BY A ROCKY LEDGE AS THE LATE AFTERNOON SUN HIT OUR AREA. WATCHING THE HUNDREDS OF JELLYFISH FLOATING AROUND US WAS MAGICAL. OR, AS TRAV SAID, “COOL.”
HOW IS IT THAT COOL HAS ENDURED? NOTHING UNCOOL ABOUT COOL. WE PADDLED ON AND, FOR FIFTEEN SOLID MINUTES ON THE WATER, DIDN’T EXCHANGE A SINGLE WORD. THAT WAS THE TIME WHEN THE BOND SEEMED THE BEST.
SOMETIMES YOU JUST CAN’T FORCE THINGS.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
JILTED
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’ve got too much stuff going on right now, and it’s time to drop a few activities if you can. You can return to them in the near future, when your energy levels return to normal (more or less).
Laura’s Log:
We agreed to meet at Las Margaritas. Good to have The Talk in public. I walked there, deciding I needed the cool air and the time to figure out what to say to end a relationship that really didn’t have anything going for it other than a strong physical attraction and great sex. When I was twenty, that would have been a perfect combination. Considering all the clumsy geeks I encountered back then, Gabriel would have been the grand prize. But once I hit thirty, the standards for dating rose. Some people—namely, my mother—might say the standards should be lowered, given the smaller dating pool comprised of damaged goods. Yet somewhere in that decade of time I realized I could live independently and a man could make life worse as much as he could make life better.
I don’t know if it’s fair to say Gabriel makes my life any worse. And the sex makes my life better. What a relief to end the drought—and to do so with a bang! That’s what makes the decision to end things all the tougher. There is nothing wrong with Gabriel. He is not a total ass like Derrick. He’s not frustratingly non-communicative like Jeremy Welles. And he certainly isn’t a conservative, money-means-life dweeb like Harvey. A month had been a good run. If all I wanted was a fuck buddy, Gabriel could stick around. But fuck buddies were for Marella. She loved the simplicity, the specific focus. But I still had (faint) hope for a long-term relationship. While there didn’t seem to be a prime candidate waiting in the wings, prolonging things with Gabriel just wasn’t helping the cause.
So how to end it? How not to sound like a cliché? How to be honest without being hurtful? I could have walked all the way to Chilliwack and still not have any answers.
Of course, the place was packed when I arrived. Gabriel was already in the bar area. That was a plus. He was not the habitually late type like Harvey. Stop thinking of plusses. Not the time! “I ordered you a margarita,” he said after a quick kiss. Right on cue, the drinks arrived. I preferred no salt, but not the time to quibble.
We spent ten minutes catching up on our week’s events. He talked too long about iPads. It was only three or four sentences, but one would have sufficed. And then, after a gap in conversation when we both scanned the restaurant to see if any tables were opening up, he said, “Laura, you’re a nice person, but I just don’t see a future between us.”
It would have been so easy to say, “Me neither.” Unfortunately, I was too stunned. Oh, my god. Gabriel was breaking up with me! Oh, my god. Why was I suddenly feeling sick to my stomach? This was what I wanted and he was relieving me of having to lead The Talk. Why wasn’t I grateful? Why did I feel so rejected?
I even cried.
We never got a table. It was all over by the time a hostess came to seat us. Why sit through an awkward dinner with the shallow, heartless bastard who was dumping me? I used the hostess’ intrusion as my cue to flee. A dramatic exit. Ick. Worse, Gabriel spotted me walking down 4th, rolled down his passenger window and begged me to get in to finish the talk or at least to get a ride home. I waved him off and ran for cover into the convenience store. The poor attendant tentatively surveyed me before asking, “You okay, ma’am? Have you been hurt?”
Oh, god, it showed. I was hurt! Never saw it coming.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
GREAT GAME LAST NITE. HENRIK ROCKED! TOO BAD MARTY WAS SO EFFIN’ DISTRACTING.
HE BUZZED ME FIVE MIN INTO THE 1ST PERIOD. SHOULD’VE NEVER LET HIM UP. HIS EYES WERE ALL RED. I FIGURED MAYBE HE’D GONE BACK TO DOING POT. WISH THAT’S ALL IT WAS. HE’D BEEN CRYING. CRYING!
ALL THE TIMES HE MADE FUN OF ME FOR BEING SUCH A WUSS AFTER CLARA DUMPED ME & HERE HE WAS DISTRAUGHT B/C STELLA DUMPED HIM AFTER LESS THAN 24 HRS.
“SHE’S GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK,” HE WHINED. “I COULD’VE MARRIED HER.”
MARTY TALKIN’ MARRIAGE? DAMMIT, I HAD TO PUT THE CANUCKS ON MUTE. “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN. YOU ONLY MET HER LAST NITE.”
“YEAH. SHE COULD’VE BEEN THE ONE.”
“MARRIAGE? ARE YOU FUCKIN’ NUTS.”
HE STARED BLANKLY AT THE TV SCREEN. “THE SEX WAS THAT GOOD. WHO CARES ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE? I’DA MARRIED HER.”
I HAD TO BOGART MY BEER & START ANOTHER. OBVIOUSLY, I WAS THINKING TOO CLEARLY. “IT WOULDN’T HAVE LASTED.”
“COURSE NOT. A FEW WEEKS MAYBE. THEN WE’DA HAD IT ANNULLED. LIKE CELEBS DO ALL THE TIME. BRITNEY SPEARS, CHER. I HEARD LIZ TAYLOR’S GETTING HITCHED AGAIN.”
DAMMIT, THE FLAMES SCORED. STILL A COMFORTABLE 3-1 ’NUCKS, BUT LUONGO SHOULD HAVE STOPPED THAT ONE. MARTY WAS TOO LOVESTRICKEN TO FOCUS ON THE GAME. WISH I COULD’VE CALLED HIM A CAB & GOT BACK TO HOCKEY NITE IN CANADA, BUT I HAD TO TALK HIM THRU. “WHAT THE HELL YOU BRINGING UP LIZ TAYLOR FOR, MAN? ARE YOU HIGH?”
“LIZ TAYLOR’S HOT. AT LEAST UP UNTIL ABOUT 5 YRS AGO.”
“SERIOUSLY, MAN?! LIZ TAYLOR ONLY STOPPED BEING HOT 5 YRS AGO?!”
HE DIDN’T HEAR ME. HE GRABBED A PILLOW FROM THE SOFA & HUGGED IT. PRACTICALLY MAULED IT. TIME FOR A DRY CLEANING TRIP. HE ROCKED AS HE CONT’D TO GRIP THE PILLOW. “THE HONEYMOON WOULDA BEEN AMAZING!”
DIDN’T KNOW IF HE WAS STILL TALKIN’ LIZ TAYLOR OR IF HE WAS BACK TO STELLA. DIDN’T ASK. IT WAS SITUATIONS LIKE THIS THAT HIGHLIGHTED THE REASONS GUYS DON’T SHARE.
Laura’s Log:
We agreed to meet at Las Margaritas. Good to have The Talk in public. I walked there, deciding I needed the cool air and the time to figure out what to say to end a relationship that really didn’t have anything going for it other than a strong physical attraction and great sex. When I was twenty, that would have been a perfect combination. Considering all the clumsy geeks I encountered back then, Gabriel would have been the grand prize. But once I hit thirty, the standards for dating rose. Some people—namely, my mother—might say the standards should be lowered, given the smaller dating pool comprised of damaged goods. Yet somewhere in that decade of time I realized I could live independently and a man could make life worse as much as he could make life better.
I don’t know if it’s fair to say Gabriel makes my life any worse. And the sex makes my life better. What a relief to end the drought—and to do so with a bang! That’s what makes the decision to end things all the tougher. There is nothing wrong with Gabriel. He is not a total ass like Derrick. He’s not frustratingly non-communicative like Jeremy Welles. And he certainly isn’t a conservative, money-means-life dweeb like Harvey. A month had been a good run. If all I wanted was a fuck buddy, Gabriel could stick around. But fuck buddies were for Marella. She loved the simplicity, the specific focus. But I still had (faint) hope for a long-term relationship. While there didn’t seem to be a prime candidate waiting in the wings, prolonging things with Gabriel just wasn’t helping the cause.
So how to end it? How not to sound like a cliché? How to be honest without being hurtful? I could have walked all the way to Chilliwack and still not have any answers.
Of course, the place was packed when I arrived. Gabriel was already in the bar area. That was a plus. He was not the habitually late type like Harvey. Stop thinking of plusses. Not the time! “I ordered you a margarita,” he said after a quick kiss. Right on cue, the drinks arrived. I preferred no salt, but not the time to quibble.
We spent ten minutes catching up on our week’s events. He talked too long about iPads. It was only three or four sentences, but one would have sufficed. And then, after a gap in conversation when we both scanned the restaurant to see if any tables were opening up, he said, “Laura, you’re a nice person, but I just don’t see a future between us.”
It would have been so easy to say, “Me neither.” Unfortunately, I was too stunned. Oh, my god. Gabriel was breaking up with me! Oh, my god. Why was I suddenly feeling sick to my stomach? This was what I wanted and he was relieving me of having to lead The Talk. Why wasn’t I grateful? Why did I feel so rejected?
I even cried.
We never got a table. It was all over by the time a hostess came to seat us. Why sit through an awkward dinner with the shallow, heartless bastard who was dumping me? I used the hostess’ intrusion as my cue to flee. A dramatic exit. Ick. Worse, Gabriel spotted me walking down 4th, rolled down his passenger window and begged me to get in to finish the talk or at least to get a ride home. I waved him off and ran for cover into the convenience store. The poor attendant tentatively surveyed me before asking, “You okay, ma’am? Have you been hurt?”
Oh, god, it showed. I was hurt! Never saw it coming.
KEN’S JOURNAL:
GREAT GAME LAST NITE. HENRIK ROCKED! TOO BAD MARTY WAS SO EFFIN’ DISTRACTING.
HE BUZZED ME FIVE MIN INTO THE 1ST PERIOD. SHOULD’VE NEVER LET HIM UP. HIS EYES WERE ALL RED. I FIGURED MAYBE HE’D GONE BACK TO DOING POT. WISH THAT’S ALL IT WAS. HE’D BEEN CRYING. CRYING!
ALL THE TIMES HE MADE FUN OF ME FOR BEING SUCH A WUSS AFTER CLARA DUMPED ME & HERE HE WAS DISTRAUGHT B/C STELLA DUMPED HIM AFTER LESS THAN 24 HRS.
“SHE’S GETTING MARRIED NEXT WEEK,” HE WHINED. “I COULD’VE MARRIED HER.”
MARTY TALKIN’ MARRIAGE? DAMMIT, I HAD TO PUT THE CANUCKS ON MUTE. “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN. YOU ONLY MET HER LAST NITE.”
“YEAH. SHE COULD’VE BEEN THE ONE.”
“MARRIAGE? ARE YOU FUCKIN’ NUTS.”
HE STARED BLANKLY AT THE TV SCREEN. “THE SEX WAS THAT GOOD. WHO CARES ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE? I’DA MARRIED HER.”
I HAD TO BOGART MY BEER & START ANOTHER. OBVIOUSLY, I WAS THINKING TOO CLEARLY. “IT WOULDN’T HAVE LASTED.”
“COURSE NOT. A FEW WEEKS MAYBE. THEN WE’DA HAD IT ANNULLED. LIKE CELEBS DO ALL THE TIME. BRITNEY SPEARS, CHER. I HEARD LIZ TAYLOR’S GETTING HITCHED AGAIN.”
DAMMIT, THE FLAMES SCORED. STILL A COMFORTABLE 3-1 ’NUCKS, BUT LUONGO SHOULD HAVE STOPPED THAT ONE. MARTY WAS TOO LOVESTRICKEN TO FOCUS ON THE GAME. WISH I COULD’VE CALLED HIM A CAB & GOT BACK TO HOCKEY NITE IN CANADA, BUT I HAD TO TALK HIM THRU. “WHAT THE HELL YOU BRINGING UP LIZ TAYLOR FOR, MAN? ARE YOU HIGH?”
“LIZ TAYLOR’S HOT. AT LEAST UP UNTIL ABOUT 5 YRS AGO.”
“SERIOUSLY, MAN?! LIZ TAYLOR ONLY STOPPED BEING HOT 5 YRS AGO?!”
HE DIDN’T HEAR ME. HE GRABBED A PILLOW FROM THE SOFA & HUGGED IT. PRACTICALLY MAULED IT. TIME FOR A DRY CLEANING TRIP. HE ROCKED AS HE CONT’D TO GRIP THE PILLOW. “THE HONEYMOON WOULDA BEEN AMAZING!”
DIDN’T KNOW IF HE WAS STILL TALKIN’ LIZ TAYLOR OR IF HE WAS BACK TO STELLA. DIDN’T ASK. IT WAS SITUATIONS LIKE THIS THAT HIGHLIGHTED THE REASONS GUYS DON’T SHARE.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
OSCARS, I’M A GROUCH
March 7, 2010
OSCARS, I’M A GROUCH
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your brainpower is sparking new ideas today, so you should be able to get yourself in the right mode for almost anything. Share what you've got with those around you and move forward together.
Laura’s Log:
Whose Oscars are they anyway? Tamara, Nadia and I watched “District 9” last night and couldn’t wait for it to be over. Felt like it should have been a short. After the first ten minutes, it was really nothing more than a sci-fi shoot ’em up flick for boys, with a few teary eyed phone calls thrown in. I am having a hard time accepting the fact that “District 9” and “The Hurt Locker” got nominated over “A Single Man” and “(500) Days of Summer”. I’d be pissed if I were Tom Ford. (Apparently they really don’t like you.) Even the only halfway successful “Julie and Julia” would’ve been a better candidate. Too bad they didn’t edit the title to “Julia”. (Worked for Vanessa Redgrave et al. in the ’70s.)
Maybe I was in a bit of a snit after our foray to the Salsa Festival was a bust. We thought there’d be hour-long workshops, but no. Full day salsa immersion. Sorry, but apparently I have commitment issues after all. Should’ve checked the website. We wanted to see some of the pros rehearsing but we were denied. I was trying to convince an official to let us in, but then Nadia got lippy. Tossed to the curb. We never even got a glimpse of the male-male salsa pair, Eli and Yen. A YouTube clip is just not the same.
It may have been just the movie, but by the time “District 9” was over, Tamara, Nadia and I had had enough of each other. Katherine’s back from Puerto Vallarta and is hosting an Oscar party so I’ll head over there for a new social experience. (Katherine hates—or at least strongly dislikes—Nadia and Tamara so I’ll be forced to mingle.) Aside from my Oscar predictions, I’m betting Katherine will be dressed in something simple, yet elegant in white to highlight her new fab tan. What can I wear to minimize my year-round pasty look? Will there be any single guys in attendance? Desirable ones? How about her cousin Gabriel? He was off the market for much of last year, but then there was that unfortunate breakup just before Christmas. So sad. He’s cleared the Rebound period, hasn’t he? I just hope he’s not a “District 9” fan. Or a “Hurt Locker” gusher. Or an “Avatar” advocate.
Suddenly it’s looking grim that I could meet a guy at the party. Damn you, Oscar!
KEN’S JOURNAL:
OSCARS, SCHMOSCARS. “THE HANGOVER” WAS ROBBED! YEP, I’M WATCHING THE CANUCKS INSTEAD. HERE’S HOPING LOU BOUNCES BACK IN NET. AND HENRIK REDISCOVERS HIS SCORING TOUCH.
REAL ESTATE SHOPPING YESTERDAY WAS A BUST. A SPACE IN A STRIP MALL IN PITT MEADOWS AIN’T GONNA CUT IT. I’M STARTING TO REALIZE THAT WE’RE GOING TO BUILD UP A MASSIVE DEBT B/F WE EVEN OPEN OUR DOORS. SUDDENLY EXCITING HAS TAKEN A BACKSEAT TO FRIGHTENING. WHAT R THE SIGNS OF AN ULCER ANYWAY?
MAY NOT BE SUCH A BAD THING THAT RAJ IS WAFFLING ON JOINING US. I DON’T THINK I CAN GO AROUND HOLDING HIS HAND WHEN MY PALMS R GETTING SO SWEATY.
I COMPLETELY REREAD OUR BUSINESS PLAN THIS MORNING. IT ROCKS. WE ROCK. GAWD, I NEEDED THAT REMINDER.
IT’LL ALL BE GREAT. AFTER THE FIRST 3 YRS OR SO. HEY, I LOVED KRAFT MAC & CHEESE IN UNIVERSITY. I CAN LUV IT AGAIN. ONLY NOW IT’LL COME IN A GENERIC YELLOW BOX W/BLACK PRINT. SAME THING,…RIGHT?
OSCARS, I’M A GROUCH
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): Your brainpower is sparking new ideas today, so you should be able to get yourself in the right mode for almost anything. Share what you've got with those around you and move forward together.
Laura’s Log:
Whose Oscars are they anyway? Tamara, Nadia and I watched “District 9” last night and couldn’t wait for it to be over. Felt like it should have been a short. After the first ten minutes, it was really nothing more than a sci-fi shoot ’em up flick for boys, with a few teary eyed phone calls thrown in. I am having a hard time accepting the fact that “District 9” and “The Hurt Locker” got nominated over “A Single Man” and “(500) Days of Summer”. I’d be pissed if I were Tom Ford. (Apparently they really don’t like you.) Even the only halfway successful “Julie and Julia” would’ve been a better candidate. Too bad they didn’t edit the title to “Julia”. (Worked for Vanessa Redgrave et al. in the ’70s.)
Maybe I was in a bit of a snit after our foray to the Salsa Festival was a bust. We thought there’d be hour-long workshops, but no. Full day salsa immersion. Sorry, but apparently I have commitment issues after all. Should’ve checked the website. We wanted to see some of the pros rehearsing but we were denied. I was trying to convince an official to let us in, but then Nadia got lippy. Tossed to the curb. We never even got a glimpse of the male-male salsa pair, Eli and Yen. A YouTube clip is just not the same.
It may have been just the movie, but by the time “District 9” was over, Tamara, Nadia and I had had enough of each other. Katherine’s back from Puerto Vallarta and is hosting an Oscar party so I’ll head over there for a new social experience. (Katherine hates—or at least strongly dislikes—Nadia and Tamara so I’ll be forced to mingle.) Aside from my Oscar predictions, I’m betting Katherine will be dressed in something simple, yet elegant in white to highlight her new fab tan. What can I wear to minimize my year-round pasty look? Will there be any single guys in attendance? Desirable ones? How about her cousin Gabriel? He was off the market for much of last year, but then there was that unfortunate breakup just before Christmas. So sad. He’s cleared the Rebound period, hasn’t he? I just hope he’s not a “District 9” fan. Or a “Hurt Locker” gusher. Or an “Avatar” advocate.
Suddenly it’s looking grim that I could meet a guy at the party. Damn you, Oscar!
KEN’S JOURNAL:
OSCARS, SCHMOSCARS. “THE HANGOVER” WAS ROBBED! YEP, I’M WATCHING THE CANUCKS INSTEAD. HERE’S HOPING LOU BOUNCES BACK IN NET. AND HENRIK REDISCOVERS HIS SCORING TOUCH.
REAL ESTATE SHOPPING YESTERDAY WAS A BUST. A SPACE IN A STRIP MALL IN PITT MEADOWS AIN’T GONNA CUT IT. I’M STARTING TO REALIZE THAT WE’RE GOING TO BUILD UP A MASSIVE DEBT B/F WE EVEN OPEN OUR DOORS. SUDDENLY EXCITING HAS TAKEN A BACKSEAT TO FRIGHTENING. WHAT R THE SIGNS OF AN ULCER ANYWAY?
MAY NOT BE SUCH A BAD THING THAT RAJ IS WAFFLING ON JOINING US. I DON’T THINK I CAN GO AROUND HOLDING HIS HAND WHEN MY PALMS R GETTING SO SWEATY.
I COMPLETELY REREAD OUR BUSINESS PLAN THIS MORNING. IT ROCKS. WE ROCK. GAWD, I NEEDED THAT REMINDER.
IT’LL ALL BE GREAT. AFTER THE FIRST 3 YRS OR SO. HEY, I LOVED KRAFT MAC & CHEESE IN UNIVERSITY. I CAN LUV IT AGAIN. ONLY NOW IT’LL COME IN A GENERIC YELLOW BOX W/BLACK PRINT. SAME THING,…RIGHT?
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