It's morally wrong to think a gay man is really sexy, hmm? I think it probably is, if you're doing it in a non-abstract way that is specific to a person, and not like the disassociated, "gosh, Mr Moviestarwhoisgay is a real hottie". I mean, they're committed--even if it's not to another person at that very moment--so I'm sure it's hugely disrespectful of their thoughts, wishes, and rights. I'm sure of it actually, now that I think about it.
I'd better stop doing that then, yes? This morality thing blows goats, bigtime.
I spent this morning at Eviljob. Yay, that. Hmmph. But I think I have a new work-friend, which is cool. He's gay, but such a cutie. It's times like this that I wish that I were a six-foot tall lumberjack. Or maybe one of the Village People. Were I one, I'd want to be the Indian; that headdress totally rocks. Or I could live with being the biker, too. But I'd be happier being the Indian. I'd be a cool-ass toppy gay Indian with a lot of feathers, I tell you. And I would also like painting my face all up--that would be cool as hell. And carrying a big errr...thingy. The whatsit... Not an axe; I'm blanking out here. Ummm... Well, anyway, I'd whack people with it, and whoop and holler. It would be great! And I could learn to throw it skillfully, so that it would ploop! and stick in the wall just inches from people's noses, and really scare the bejesus out of them. And I'd also carry arrows, and a bow! And I'd push some filing cabinets down and pop up from behind them and boing! pop unsuspecting people in the keister with an arrow, just on principle. And I'd carry Squooshable in a papoose everywhere. I couldn't carry Romeo that way; he'd just get grumpy. I'd have to leave him back at the teepee.
...what was I talking about again? I forgot.
Anyway, so then I went to son-friend's hearing. Since yesterday, he'd had three seizures, probably from the stress. Obviously from all this he was a complete wreck, which I'm hoping will work in his favour. I went in and bore witness, and that seemed to go well enough. So after that, I had to drag him with as I went to fill out yet more travel paperwork that they'd just invented to annoy me. I tried to make it fast, but he became bored; by the time I came back to the car (he's not allowed access to the building I had to enter), he was blasting the stereo and playing a game on his cell phone.
Sigh.
Since I needed to get a pedicure anyway (I don't want everyone's first impression of me to be nasty feet at this thing, and I want to be able to wear sandals if I choose) and today's my last chance (I transcend being fully booked tomorrow), I told him he had to come with on that one, also. After that, we were going to go play trivia. I offered him a pedicure, and he declined. Fine, I said; you'll be sitting there doing nothing for a while. Once we arrived, just as soon as I'd started, he changed his mind. I think son-friend has a thing for Asian girls. Of course, he wants his toes candy-apple red. I'm of the impression that nail salons get this every once in a while. The ladies didn't seem to even notice. Son-friend just likes to be weird. Well, I hope he likes it, at least; he's not got much choice in the matter, 'cos he *is* weird. If you were to club Penn Jillette really hard in the head with a cast iron skillet, you'd have son-friend.
Sigh. If reincarnation, karma, and all that were to be true, about now I'd be pretty convinced that I was like, Adolf Hitler in a past life.
Butsoanyway.
He tried to talk to the girl who was doing him, but she doesn't speak a word of English. She's a nice girl, though. On the other hand, the lack of a common language might end up being a boon to son-friend; perhaps I should consider that further later. :-) They still have mail-order brides, I mean...I know they do, 'cos I know someone who has gotten one. Oh, that's a story in itself, but...
Butsoanyway; son-friend kept trying to talk to her and kept pestering me for help. And some of the other girls were trying to help her out, and with all of this the place was bursting with the most extremely cacophonous noise--it sounded like sixty cats were being dragged backwards through a hedge by their tails--all at once. And my massage chair was on the fritz. I kept trying to summon a waiter for a complimentary vodka and valium, but the son of a bitch didn't show, no matter how many times I yelled.
The next time I bring son-friend, I'm leaving him home. :-)
After, I insisted he take me home so that I could check on Squooshable before going on to play trivia; I'd given in to his persistent whining, and let him have the wheel again. Not ten minutes into our drive, he has another seizure.
Just fucking shoot me.
So at the light we trade off seats. He thankfully goes to sleep for a few minutes, and I get home. I tell him if he moves, I'll hunt him down and kill him. I run in to feed and water Squoosh, and dash back out. Oh, yeah--he's back asleep. Ok, fine. So I tell him no trivia, and he agrees. But he wants to hang out with me (Why me?!?!). Ok, fine. So we're going to eat, and then to the mall superfast to pick up a shirt I saw and want to buy for Meg; it's this gorgeous blue and green, will look faboo on her, and I've had the guilts for a week solid that I hadn't bought it before when I'd first seen it.
Dinner's uneventful. We get to the mall, and Meg's shirt is on sale! And a few others that I'd thought cute, but not at full price (that's my Inner Jew speaking). So I'm picking through, doing a 'needem, gottem', and son-friend wanders off. I end up buying basically only what I'd come for, sort-of, and go off to find son-friend. I find him upstairs, in Housecrap. He needs This, That, and The Other. Ok, fine. Fine. Sigh. Fine. They're having a sale, so ok. Plus, it's not like he can live with nothing he wants, ever. I have guilt like that. So I buy all the stuff he needs, plus a few things he wants. He's an expensive freaking son-friend. And no, I didn't make him feel bad about any of it; it's not his fault that he's got no money. I have to walk a thin line between being Miss Moneybags and a total meanie who will drag him off to shop when he needs things and buy nothing for him. Ten out of ten times, I err on the side of buying him everything, because I don't like saying no to him--it makes me feel horrible. I'm such a pushover mom-friend. And I made him buy a decent pillow. I tried to make him buy one for his girlfriend, but he insisted she loves her pillow and would hate a new one. I'm not really clear on how anyone could hate a $60 pillow (it was on sale), but ok, I'll buy that; after all, she's mental. Fine.
So we shopped and left. Then son-friend mentioned that he didn't have dog food, son-friend food, and other incidentals. Sigh. I wish this'd been brought up before the pedicures...I'd have skipped and done my own. In the telling, it sounds as if I'm just reciting examples of my largesse, but that's really not the case at all. I *am* actually trying to keep to a budget (especially now, with peculiarities occurring at Eviljob), and, well... I'm not trying to whine, and of course I didn't say this to him, and, well...
I'll just shut up now.
So then we went grocery shopping. And I had to buy a dvd of some movie for him. He likes movies. Plus, it's a particularly good bargain to buy movies for him, 'cos a week from now, he won't remember having seen it. That sounds cruel, but it's the truth; I'm hoping that if he gets Disability, he'll be able to get a neurologist to shuffle his meds around so possibly some of those memory problems go away. But in the meantime, he gets a lot of mileage out of a movie.
So then we parted, and I called him for his drive home, to make sure he didn't have another seizure. I'd tried to get him in as happy and stress-free a mood as possible (stress is usually what causes his seizures), and I guess what I did worked. He made it home just fine, and is now fast asleep (with new bedding, pillow, shower curtain, and...everything else). I hope he's ok. I really, really do. He's not a bad person. His girlfriend is a weirdass, but he's not a bad person.
So now I'm home, finally. I'm exhausted, but I needed to vent. About whateverinthehell it is that I've been rambling on nonsensically over.
And after everything, I still have to pack!
Sigh.
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