Thursday, August 11, 2005


Me ca. 1992 with Bitsy, too much Sun-In, melanoma, a bad attitude, and the clap.*

*Not really, but it makes this sound interesting.

I've been in a funk lately, like Funky Cold Medina, only far less sexy. Just kind of a half-assed one - not the kind where you don't want to get out of bed at all, even to pee, or not eat. You might say I have a very mild funk, like a lingering odor - you're not sure where it comes from until you look at the bottom of your shoe.

Yep, I know where this came from too, and it's just as fragrant. It smells like sour grapes mixed with dog doo.

The fact is, everyone I know, with the possible exception of the 300 lb. sweaty man, seems to be moving in a positive direction - or if not positive, their life is changing in some way due to their making what could be somehow construed as the next logical choice.

That is, their lives are progressing.

Me? I'm in a rut. Not to say I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I made more money, had more action, and I think I was smarter (!) when I was 17.

Sad. No one should peak at 17, with peroxided hair and half a brain and a penchant for dating Elvis impersonators.

Oh well. I'll get over my little snit as soon as my friends (even the crazy ones...ESPECIALLY the crazy ones) stop getting married and start getting divorced. Yes, I thrive on the misfortunes of others. I'm a bitch, but at least I admit it.

Just to show you what I'm experiencing of late, here are some of the wonderful folks about to tie the knot, or similar:

1) Bitch from Hell Drama Queen who made life like watching a Lifetime Television for Women snot-drooling tear-jerker all the damn time: already on her second marriage. I guess there's a market for this shit.

2) World's Most Boring Man, who categorically refused to stop wearing brightly patterned MC Hammer pants from 1986: also married.

3) The Evil Raisin: engaged. Self-explanatory.

4) Guy who Molested Me in my old apt. building, then stalked me by calling through the intercom, since I refused to give him my phone number...looks like a cross between Garfield (the cat) and W.C. Fields, except fatter: engaged.

5) Poop-Flinging Crazy Chronically Unemployed Anorexic-Bulimic 35-yr. Old Child With No Health Insurance just moved in with someone. This girl cannot hold a job any better than she can hold down food and once started crying like a cranky 2 yr. old just because I woke her up before noon. Chick has had herself committed to the haha house twice just to get some guy's attention. Once, I went into her apartment with a thing of Clorox Cleanup to battle the mold growing on her dishes, out of her sink, and up the wall. When she got back from Le Bin Loony she said, "thanks. I was just going to throw those dishes away."

She considers herself an artist, meaning someday, she'll be found smearing her own poo on the walls of her ghetto shoebox and calling it art.

I'm sure she'll make an excellent wife and mother.

Don't worry. I'll stop feeling sorry for myself out of consideration for people who have actual problems. This was just a bit much "good news" for one week.


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