He Was The Nazz With God Given Ass - David Bowie
I've sat here with the television on for most of the weekend, not doing much in between other than grocery shopping and going to the movies. Sitting in confusion and wonderment and irritation and all of that good stuff.
I talked to Ryan on Thursday night and we talked about this weekend, and he was really excited that I was coming up. I did laundry that night and got everything ready on Friday morning for my drive, made sure Keef was up for the drive, aired up the tires, etc. Found out that my paycheck was screwed up and wouldn't come until next Thursday (grrr!) but made do. Then when I was about to get on the Tollway, I called Ryan to tell him I was on my way. He answered cheerfully and we made small talk for a minute, and then he said "well I don't feel like doing anything. Why don't we talk tomorrow and plan for another time? I'll call you." and I hung up the phone feeling really numb and confused. I made it back home without crying and then dialed him up again, just because I wanted to know what was really up. He said he was sorry and that he just felt like staying in and still wanted to see me, but not then. I said fine, if you made other plans, I understand, I just would like for you to be more honest with me, I thought we were friends. And he said he was being honest, he just wanted to be by himself. And he sounded very distant. He said he'd call me in a couple of days and I said not to bother. His voice cracked about two octaves and said "WHY!?" and I said I didn't appreciate being shafted like that and I would just rather him be honest with me if he doesn't want to see me, rather than making a promise he's not going to keep. (Okay, I was a bit blunt with him, but I try to keep my intentions pretty clear with people as much as I can.) He said he DID want to call me and talk to me and we sat with a few akward silences before he promised to call later. I hung up the phone and cried most of the afternoon. Why, I'm not sure. I've dealt with a lot more than stupid boys for the past few weeks, and why I chose that opportunity to cry makes no sense. I know I'm stronger than that. I just really liked him.
So I slept later on and woke up, went to Waffle House with Amanda, and got some good salty Country Ham. Every time I'm downtrodden, I head to Waffle House and try to cheer myself amongst the white trash and Steve Miller on the jukebox. My first selection was Erykah Badu's "Tyrone" and Amanda cheered me on for it. Hmmph. That's right. Rather than get all Sleater-Kinney and TOO man hating, I opted for the girl power.
Although I did come to the conclusion that all men were assholes with the exception of a few: Nardwuar, Moogie, Slash, and Devo ("Are we not men? No! We are Devo!"). But I got over that man-hating phase after a few hours. Which had something to do with the fact that I went to the Duff McKagan show and a few men were very nice and on separate occasions bought Amanda and me drinks. And didn't even badger us afterwards for conversation. Free drinks and no small talk! Great! Sign me up for that sort of treatment! We met Duff afterwards (of course) and he got my email address -- looks like I'm going to be helping out with his website! So had I gone to Oklahoma City, I wouldn't have had my second Guns N Roses encounter. And he's a Neurotic Outsider too. One more "in" to the circle that John Taylor hangs out in.
And by the way, Duff is a sweetie. Why is it that most of these trash rockers that I meet are perfect gentleman, have manners, and are very personable, but most of the Indie/post-Britpop musicians I encounter are complete bastards? And include the fans in that grouping too. Although little Indie boys just make me go crazy with their cute haircuts and dark jeans, the trash rock fans are so much sweeter.
And perhaps that's just a realization that is going to make me not want to have anything to do with Ryan, if he IS being a jerk (I'm leaving room for a good excuse like biological problems or alien abductions here). He's got a total Bowie complex. Very much the Iceman instead of showing emotions. And that's what I'm so attracted to, I guess. It falls into that cats v. dogs sort of categorization. Men are either cats or dogs. The dogs are the ones that are the ones that shower you with attention and don't know when to back off, they're just cuddly and sweet but there's an overkill in there. And then there are the ones that are cats and are cuddly when THEY feel like it, but when they want to be left alone, well, screw you! And Ryan is the penultimate when it comes to cat men. I always end up running from those dog men and wanting my space, but feel left in the cold when I come across a guy that pulls something like what I usually pull. Serves me right. So to every ex-boyfriend out there, it looks like I've received my payback. You can all laugh at me now. Go on. I deserve it. Ha Ha Chrissy!
I'm pissed off though. I watched so much television this weekend and every fucking plotline seemed to revolve around some guy that was just head over heels over this girl that wouldn't give him an ounce of her attention. And then he finally wore her down and they fell in love and he treated her like a princess. Well where is my prince!? Okay, I don't know if I'm quite ready for him YET, but I would at least settle for a Duke or a Knight. Or a Jester. Yeah, where's my jester? (If you're reading this, email me.)
Last night I sat in watching more television and Hope Floats came on. I thought, Hey, this will be funny to laugh at Sandra Bullock for a couple of hours, why not? And dammit, I ended up bawling and really liking the movie. And I normally HATE stuff like that. It was just that I really identified with that little girl in the movie and her mom acted like my mom did during her divorce, and it just hit too close to home. And it made me want to just get out of this transition I'm going through in my life and get to the next level.
After that, I felt lame and went to the Dollar Movies by myself and saw Blast From the Past. Eh. Not as bad as I thought it would have been but it was nothing to write home about. (Or my journal, for that matter.) I still hate Alicia Silverstone.
I got to see the end of that Moll Flanders BBC production I was watching last week and at the end of it, the host of Masterpiece Theatre came on to say that the last 30 minutes of the movie wasn't like the ending of the book. WHY BOTHER!? Good God Almighty, isn't it easier to just stick to the plotline and maintain some consistency than to screw up the storyline to make it more easy for the viewers to follow? Very frustrating. Call me the Classics Purist. I threw a hissy fit when I saw that adaptation of Hardy's The Woodlanders last year. I guess I'm no good with that sort of thing.
Today I overslept until almost 3 pm. Egads. I felt even lamer for doing something that lazy. I am beginning to think that my friends have all left town and haven't bothered to tell me. Noone was home except for Amanda, and she was kind enough to go with me to get a cup of coffee at Denny's tonight. I went to Wherehouse Music this afternoon and the guy behind the counter told me I'd be cute if I pulled my hair into a twist behind my head. I just looked at him like he was crazy and left. What a weirdo. I did a little grocery shopping today too - I'm all set for sandwiches and coke until Thursday, when I'm going to binge at the grocery store and get everything I've ever wanted. How much do I hate not being paid? It's been at least a month since I've seen a paycheck and I'm about to lose my mind from being so broke. But the paycheck that I get will be GOOD. So I'm trying to be patient.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day. Whoop de doo. My family usually has a big cookout and do something very all-American, but I have no idea if anything is going on. I'll probably sit around watching more television tomorrow like I have for the past few days. Maybe I'll go see Payback at the Dollar Movies. I know Idle Hands is hitting the Dollar Movie this Friday, and boy, am I ever excited! The Offspring in their movie debut!? Uh-huh, uh-huh! Can't wait to see Dexter and Noodles in all their glory.
At the end of the month, I might go to San Antonio to see Marvelous 3 again. That's one thing to look forward to. Slug in his two-tone deck shoes! Jayce "drankin'" all day! And Butch! Ahhhhhhh! I feel like such a child for having a crush on him, but he's that Prince I would never turn away. But with my luck, he's a feline like the best of them. You know he's going to be a model in Calvin Klein's big ad coming up? Yes. A man that has kissed me is a CK model. I'm not bragging, I'm just saying that sometimes I don't understand how things work. And that ranks up there with the best of them.
So let me cheer myself up with thoughts of Snap into a slim jim guy tattoos and men who appreciate Cheap Trick. That's it! I need someone with the essence of Trash Rock in their personality, but one that will wear cute turn-ups and have cute shoes! BUTCH!!! There we go. Problem solved.
Alright then. Let me go live in my fantasy land and bid you all farewell.