Sunday, May 01, 2005

Going through Emotions

Well, Adam and I are on a break. It's really sad to think that work has successfully fucked up what would have been an otherwise nearly flawless relationship. Ideally, we'll get back together eventually, once we can get our priorities straight. I hope so. Otherwise, I'll just feel like a cheap whore, and it's all fun and games until someone feels like a cheap whore. But I digress.

I'm amused by this blog commenting feud that's taking place on Tabula Rasa. It's strange.

I now have an arch nemesis, or something to that effect. I've never met this kid, but apparently, he violently dislikes me, and I'm OK with that. It's flattering in a way. People have this weird misconception that hate is the opposite of love, but it's not. Indifference is the opposite of love. Usually, complete strangers are indifferent to me, but not this one. Sigh.

I've started smoking clove cigarettes. I like how they smell. It reminds me of a happy time. I don't have many of those these days, so I need alcohol and cigarettes to make getting out of bed worth it. Yes, my friends, this is rock bottom. As Jerry Maguire would say, "Jump into my nightmare - the water's warm." Actually, in my nightmare, the water would either be freezing or scalding. Warm sounds alright.

In other news, the powers that be insisted that ending my relationship wasn't enough, so I'm also carless. The starter isn't letting anything start, so I'm going to have to replace it. Just as soon as I can get to the bank to deposit my check. Yikes.

The only good thing about this is that I don't have to buy gas. At $2.08 a gallon (and that's the lowest it's been in a while), being carless isn't so bad.

To make matters even further beyond worse, they're having to cut hours at work, so my broke ass will most likely be just as broke next month. Somehow, I must pay my bills.

Formal is Friday, and I'm going with Adam. Define awkward. I'm really nervous about that, because it will most likely be the first time I'll see him post world crashing down around me. By the way he's been acting, he's paralyzed with not caring very much. Insert cheap whore comment here ... again.

I'd like to think that he just doesn't know how to handle his feelings, but I'm becoming more and more convinced that men don't have them.

I'm sure my arch nemesis will have tons to gloat about given the current shitstorm in my life, so not to be outdone, I'll beat him to the punch, ala Eminem in 8 Mile, although I'm not sure I can make it rhyme, and even if I can, I probably won't.

I have no man. Being a workaholic has ruined the relationship, and now with hours being cut at work, being a workaholic isn't what it used to be. I pretty much have nowhere I belong. I've started smoking, and I drink more than I used to (who knew that was possible?). My car won't start, so I'm stuck home and can't do anything. There are times I don't eat because I can't get out to get food, and even if I could, I couldn't afford it. As it stands, I can't afford to pay all of my bills for the month, so unless I come into a large sum of money, I'm going to have to make a withdrawal from the Bank of Misty (generous sister who understands being poor and in college). My date to my sorority formal is my ex-boyfriend, and I couldn't get laid in a monkey whorehouse if I had a banana.

For future reference, bear in mind I can rip on myself way better than anyone else.

On a positive note, I had a great close tonight, because I got to work with T-Money, the Gregmeister, and the Zach Attack. They gave me a MUG Award, and I, being overly emotional right now, almost cried because it's so nice that someone notices I do show up to work and, you know, work. Hard. Yikes, I just admitted to almost crying. That's embarassing.

The other night, I got chained to the Tina's bed, and some of us had little too much fun with the Liquid Love (warming flavored massage oil). It tasted like cotton candy. And that's all I'll say about that.

And the song of the day: "Chelsea" by Counting Crows. Just a friendly reminder that the only thing I fell in love with that didn't hurt me was Manhattan. And I have been to Chelsea. In point of fact, the last time I was in Chelsea, I was shopping for Adam.

I never go to New York City these days
Something about the buildings in Chelsea just kills me
Maybe in a month or two,
Maybe when things are different for me,
Maybe when things are different for you
You know all of this shit just sticks in my head

Is there anything different these days?
The light in her eyes goes out
I never had light in my eyes anyway
Maybe things are different these days

It's good for everybody to hurt somebody once in a while
The things I do to people I love shouldn't be allowed
Something about the buildings in Chelsea just kills me
Something about the buildings in Chelsea just kills me

Is there anything different these days?
The light in her eyes goes out,
I never had light in my eyes anyway
Maybe things are different these days

I dream I'm in New York City some nights.
Angels flow down from all the buildings
Something about an angel just kills me
I keep hoping something will

Is there anything different these days?
The light in her eyes goes out,
I never had light in my eyes anyway
Maybe things are, maybe maybe maybe
Maybe things are, maybe maybe maybe maybe things are different,
Maybe things are different these days

The light goes out
I never had light in my eyes anyway
Maybe things are different ......these days.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I saw the crap that jerk from the anti-Sidelines group posted on the post below. I don't know about some people, but kicking someone on their personal ground, while they're down, is about as low as someone can go. I won't stand for it, and I'm sure anyone who cares about you won't, either.

If I ever spot the guy, I'm going to smudge him into the asphalt. My car might only be a tiny little plastic thing, but it'll make a good go of things.

Besides, what's a little damage to my front bumper when it means that I'm helping a friend? ^^

Anonymous said...

(For the record, I believe this is the second time I have ever seen your blog, the first being the anti-anti-sidelines group blog.)
Whoa, that's completely unfair, You posted what I said on facebook, to you personally, at 7 AM drunk as hell and twisted it into a personal attack in the public square (although I don't remember talking shit about Hendersonville like that, but it's kinda funny nonetheless). Now that I have a disclaimer out, here's what I would say if I was going to put something out on the public square.


I am the evil Nemesis. Wow, I need to get a life right about now. But Wendy need not fret for I shall'nt degrade myself to using personal attacks in an ideological battle. besides, I'm always right so why would I need to? Seriously though, I am a complete ass, but I have better things to do than to try to make girls cry. It's amazing how many people have threatened to hurt me though, I'm flattered. If you really find the time to, I live at Sterling and I'm usually up until about 6 in the morning, and my phone #'s online.
Hell, I almost kinda like Wendy, she was good enough to write me back and all that stuff and unlike a lot of guys that I know she has the balls to challenge people. It's the paper that I don't like and empty threats on my life.

Wendy said...

Doesn't anyone read my blog during normal daylight hours? I mean, granted, I'm usually asleep then, although today I did wake up and go outside just in time to watch the sun start to set.

In reference to Robert Curtis (what happened to Fucking? I mean, it flowed so nicely), I am usually up until 6 a.m. as well, which, according to Matt (not Matthew), makes me "more debaucherous than I thought." Sweet.

Enough of the procrastination - I need to do my freakin' Risk Management final before the insurance gods insist I be sacrificed in some volcano, and as we all know, my biggest fear is volcanoes. Liquid rock. Yikes!
~Wendy Motherfucking Caldwell

Anonymous said...

Hey, I'm up during normal daylight hours. I just don't catch up with the online world until late...

Robert, early morning at Sterling? Neato. I could tape copies of the newspaper to my car, for maximum irony. (Would irony be correct to use there? Where's my girlfriend/copy editor when I need her?) Plus, I don't want to get blood all over the hood. Blood would eat paint, wouldn't it? No, that's frying an egg, never mind.

I'm glad my empty threat has entertained you. In all honesty, however, I could give a rat's ass about you, your ideological battle against Sidelines, or the funny hat you might be wearing right this moment. I just care about cheering my friend up, even if just a little. If brandishing my white, 1998 Plymouth Neon (voted most likely to fucking kill the driver several years in a row!) is what will do it, then by god, I shall.

I probably won't hit you though. I can't afford to fix my car right now. Oh, and jail time. Jail time would be bad too.