16-Nov-2005
Friday - The Honeybee and I go to see Saw II. It's so lovely having her in town. After all, she's the only person to whom I'd admit that that movie made me crave a hot dog like processed pork was going out of style. Which I think it already has... As we're leaving the theater, we proceed to have the following most boring conversation west of a retirement home:
Me: I sure do like mustard.
The Honeybee: Yep. Mustard's good.
Other people with whom I'm not so close would probably distance themselves from me after such a revelation, but that's the thing with the Honeybee. She doesn't mind my retarded, boring word vomit, and I don't mind her hearing it.
Saturday: I rush to the grocery, hoping to pick up some baking supplies before I have to let the maid in (the maid is always late). The maid is early. I curse her name as I'm searching high and low for bread crumbs, then curse myself for acting like a bored housewife who curses at the maid while she's trying to find bread crumbs.
Saturday afternoon: Sociology is in town, so she and I take a hike in Griffith Park with her pal Physics. Physics is cool, except he likes to skip. If you like to skip, and I don't know this about you, keep it from me. I will loathe you and your optimistic view of both the world and the gaits you use to travel through it.
Saturday night: The Designated Driver has a sex toy party in our living room. I drink way too much wine and eat way too much goat cheese, so much so that I contemplate buying a pyrex dildo named Lancelot who packs about the same number of inches in length as I do in height. I whisper my intentions to the Honeybee, who replies, "Oh, God no, you can't buy him. There would be blood everywhere!" Luckily, we are sitting in the corner where I can snort red wine through my nose unnoticed.
Sunday: God decides He loves me, bestowing an all-day Roseanne marathon upon my used-to-be angelic self. I seriously consider going to church. Instead, I eat some cheese.
Monday: I have only vague recollections of Monday, mainly because I was hurrying to get home to Season Three of "24." But I'm pretty sure I have that bird flu whatchamacalit after a conversation with my hypochondriac bosses. The need to ban Web MD on all of our computers. But no, they ban porn instead. Go fucking figure.
Tuesday: My father calls to see where the new laptop he ordered is. I remind him that I am not Dell, nor can I call there after I dropped the F-bomb several times during the month-long negotation with their service department when I was trying to get a new power cord. I'm pretty sure I'm on their "No-Fly" list. I wonder if "I will hunt you down and shove my five foot long Pyrex dildo up your ass" would have gotten me further....
Wednesday: It's Dawson's night with the Other Me!!! I must prepare for the hormones, the hype, and the high forehead. Wish me luck!
Thanks for the update...considering we live together and I never see you...now I feel whole again...:0)