8:32 p.m. - 2007-02-14
Dirty Old Men
I've been blocked in by the snow plow people. And not blocked in with snow, which I could kick around, stomp on or scoop away with a dust or frying pan, as I own no shovels or ice picks, but it is solid ice. A mountain of it, right behind my truck.
Sucketh, no?
So I worked from home today, and will do so tomorrow. And hopefully, I'll hear someone outside with an ice pick or shovel and grovel for a turn with it.
And I'll have to use oven mitts for gloves, because my gloves are at work.
Won't I look cool with my oven mitts and dust pan?
What a dreary V-day. I had two invites, but I can't get to either one. And my bookstore friend has been a clingy son-of-a bitch, so much so I had to tell him to back the hell off. I'm not his fucking therapist/mother/surrogate girlfriend.
The thing is, there are people who I will without hesitation go into the depths of hell with as often as necessary, because I love them and they don't seek to suck my life's blood from my veins. And they would do the same for me.
But this guy is seriously needy and as that normally goes, seriously whiny. He needs to get laid and no amount of conversation with me is going to help that, and it kind of grosses me out to tell the truth. He's 56 and has a penchant for painful infatuations with women under 30.
Eeeew.
