It was a long weekend, y�all. Following what could be best described as a 48-hour freakout on my part, because I am apparently a great big bag of Crazy, May Day has requested that I give up stress for Lent. I agreed. Then I got in my car and got stuck in traffic on my way to a blind date with some guy I wasn�t even sure I wanted to go out with because he�s quite a bit older than me, and then my engine light went on (in my new car, people), and my low-gas warning light came on, and then I couldn�t find parking, and some old geezer stopped to watch me trying to squeeze into a tiny spot forty miles from the restaurant, because nothing is so funny as someone trying to parallel park in L.A. Yeah, I really gave up stress.
And let�s speak for just a moment about that engine light. Why the fuck is it on? My car is new! I just had the oil changed a month ago! There�s no reason for it to be freaking out on me! Please, car, don�t break down now, not when I need you most. Plus which, the light is actually a little diagram of my engine with a huge lightning bolt cutting it in half. That�s not particularly reassuring. Like, �You�re engine has been smote by Zeus. Please have it serviced.� My car seems to be running okay right now, but do I really want to take chances? So I have to drive it to the dealership after work today, and hope that it�s something simple they can just fix right there, so I don�t have to leave my car overnight. And then maybe they�ll give me a unicorn! Yay!
Also, the date itself was okay, but it�s not going to work. The guy is really, really cool, but he�s also seven years my senior, which is just a little too large a gap for me right now. It�s not a huge deal, really �- like, my parents are ten years apart �- but, sadly, I think I need someone a little less�adult. That sounds weird to say, but I guess I need to be dating someone in relatively the same boat as me. But now I�m not sure how to put that when I talk to him next. �Hey! Let�s not date anymore, because you�re too grown up for me!� Maybe I�ll just follow May Day�s advice and tell him I need to date someone on the same playing field as me. Which is hitting the nail squarely on the head.
And speaking of May Day and getting hit squarely on the head, I have been led to understand that she has started spreading some vicious rumors about me to the effect that I watch a certain show on CBS of ill-repute. Of course I am speaking of JAG. Now anyone who knows me knows that this is preposterous. I would never watch JAG! That�s when American Idol is on! But seriously, here�s what happened: May Day (who, I should point out, won�t allow me to watch Married By America) insisted that we had to watch JAG because she liked it and blah blah blah. After enduring it for about four months, she finally confessed that she�d actually only seen �a few episodes� of it before this season. She snookered me into watching JAG! JAG, people! She lied to get me watching JAG! And now she�s going around feeding people some nonsense about me liking it or something. No respect.
Also, it occurs to me that I ought to introduce myself and endeavor to make a few explanations about my origins and the derivation of some of the nicknames I toss about in here like so much confetti. First of all, you may refer to me as Dr. No. Of course I realize that my diary name is blofed.diaryland.com, but that was only a matter of convenience. I hate underscores, and �drno� just didn�t do it for me. As I started on the Bond thing, I decided it was only right to find appropriate monikers from the Bond-verse for those around me. My roommate, for example was named after the character played by Grace Jones in the 1985 Bond outing A View to a Kill. Sure, Christopher Walken is the deranged bad guy who wants to destroy Silicon Valley, but May Day is really the muscle of the operation, and Bond�s true foe. I thought my roommate would appreciate the comparison.
Hmmm. Some guy just gave me his phone number. Well, sort of. I mean, he and his business associate came into the office to peddle their wares, and I thought maybe he was checking me out. Wow, do I sound egotistical writing this. The point is that his associate (some chick) gave me her business card and he gave me the once-over and then they left. And then he came back so he could give me his card along with some flimsy excuse about�dude, he�s coming back. Like, again. Like, I see him coming up the stairs right now�okay, that was weird. Anyway, where was I? Oh! Flimsy excuse. Right. Anyway, he was all, �I thought I�d leave my card too, just in case. Because, you know, you could call either of us.� And I�m like, �Dude, I know all about making lame excuses to come back and give someone my phone number.� Well, I didn�t really say that. Anyway, then he left again. And just now? He came back to give me some kind of cake or something. I�m actually not sure what this is. It wasn�t like he came back with flowers and a proposal or anything -- he works for a catering company, so I think this is supposed to be sample fare -- but the point is that someone just gave me sugary goodness in a flirty way. These are really strange times, y�all.
I actually don�t know quite how to read all that, but because I�m in a fragile place right now, I�m going to construe it all as an attempt to hit on me. Oh look! My pride is feeling better already!
So, was there a point to this entry? Maybe not. But I feel better now.
