18-Dec-2006

Say one of your best friends tells you, "I'm not like you.  I can't just turn my feelings for people on and off."  Hmmmm... makes me sound like some sort of mutant creature devoid of emotion.  But who am I to argue?  I will say this, though.  For all of you now terrified (or eagerly anticipating) that I will one day cut you off when you, say, don't call when you tell me you're going to, know this:  I don't shut off my feelings.  I do shut people out of my life when they're treating me like shit, and there's a marked difference.  Why would I want to be friends with a liar?  Why would I want to spend time with someone who doesn't respect me (not that that's ever happened - everyone respects me, and rightfully so)?  So I don't.  If I feel like you've done me wrong so grievously that nothing but time can remedy said wounds, I will stop returning calls and emails.  If you push me, I will tell you that it's better if we don't talk.  You will argue, trying to get the last word, and I will not respond, and that will be it.  Eventually, we might be acquaintances again, but we won't be friends, and we most definitely won't be (if we ever were) hooking up, dating, or doing anything that might transmit a disease.  Because apathy is so much colder than hatred, and, if it's a weakness, I'm guilty of it.  That being said, if you treat me well but don't let me walk all over you, if you're loyal and entertaining, engaging, challenging, and I can trust you, then word.  Seriously.  I'll love you forever, because only about five of you people exist.  So I'm not SUCH a bad person, right?  Right, guys?

Now that that's cleared up, the weekend gets an A +.  Friday night, I did absolutely nothing.  Saturday morning, I went hiking, and I even ran two of the 7.3 miles.  Of course, then I almost fainted in the shower because I'd forgotten to eat breakfast beforehand, but I managed to drag my in-shape, toweled self to the kitchen for a bite of cheese, which tided me over until I had the strength to make an entire turkey sandwich.  Saturday was spent prepping for the skivvies party - the less clothes you're wearing, the more prep you have to do.  Around 10, I headed over to Cliffhanger's to meet up with her and her roommate.  She had to perform emergency bra strap surgery (I still haven't figured out how to tighten any of my bra straps), but then we were good to go.  And the party was fun, except for the psycho Bond Broker McNerdpants who followed me around for the first half.  Cliffhanger made several attempts to keep him away (re-tying the bow on the back of the bra hickadowhatsit I was wearing, shoving a pineapple pillow between me and said McNerdpants when he scooched onto the couch).  Luckily, he was soon preoccupied with the roommate, which was a good thing, because Kenny G was on, and God knows Cliffhanger can't pay attention to anything else when that saxophone clown is blowing.  Afterwards, we went to Swinger's for pie (Roommate's treat - thanks to him), then I arrived home to find rock star parking.  I only wish we'd gotten pictures.  Sigh...