Better Living Through Absurdity...the Return of the Smack

So it's been a very long time since I did a Better Living Through Absurdity. And frankly, it took me a fair bit of pondering to figure out why that was -after all, this is ME dear readers -absurdity flocks to me, the ridiculous rejoices in my presence, and the weird, wacky and what-the-fuck always seems to swirl around me, no matter how much of a mundane personality I might try to cultivate. After much wondering at this state akin to writer's block, I realized that the true issue was that I hadn't really been able to process much of what had been happening in my life so therefore, I wasn't able to see it from a laughable standpoint. Following my eight month break from dating and a series of...disastrous...no...perhaps ill-fated is better...attempts at relationships, I found myself once again on the receiving end of a metric fuckton of discourtesy, inconsistency and idiocy. For all that I complain that I give far too much of myself without ever getting anything in return, I have to amend that to admit that I DO get things in return -of course, it's generally the more unappealing, baffling and at times, downright horrifying parts of people -but hey, perhaps some day I'll figure out how to "re-gift" all the craptasticness that has been bestowed upon me. In the meantime however, I'll attempt to give you as brief a summary as possible without forgetting to include any particularly amusing bits. Fair warning, this post might not be as lighthearted as some, but you may all consider this a sort of backlog and know that in the future, only verifiable posts of a laughable nature will be made.

Let's see, where to begin.

Well there was...

fuck that.

You don't need to know all the gory details -suffice to say, my sex life has been so-so, my relationships such as they are have been fraught with a complete lack of intimacy, a more-than-usual amount of shrieking headaches, a rather hefty dose of...performance issues (not on my part,) an appalling lack of courtesy and respect, and a general and overall increase in a "thanks but no thanks" mentality (on my part.)

I'm currently on a dating site. It's provided ample opportunity even if I can't say it's provided many stellar results. Still and all, it's better than nothing. And I try to maintain a positive attitude about it because I know full well that if I walk into it with a mixture of dread and apprehension and a certainty of failure, then it all becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. So -eyes open, legs closed. I forge ahead.

As we are all aware, last weekend was Valentine's Day. I can say with almost absolute certainty that I don't even need to give the rant about it being a corporate holiday and how if you're in a relationship you should celebrate every day in a loving fashion and not just one applicable day out of the year, how if these people really were truly all madly in love and lust they'd be home copulating with a fury that the Greeks themselves would admire....blah blah blah. See -I didn't think so. Truth be told, I'd love to celebrate Valentines Day. I'd love to have some cheesy, schmaltzy night on the town with excess amounts of cocoa-based products, sneakily intimate little gifts and suggestive conversation...yeah -I'd love to make it my bitch. But fate has not marked me for such a thing. After all, I'm the lucky girl whose ex gave her flowers on one occasion...and what an occasion it was. He'd worked a job out at this Victorian manor in the middle of a nature preserve -the place hosted weddings and receptions and fancy dinners and whatnot -and he'd gotten home super late. When he woke me up, I remember looking at the clock and thinking, "2:30am you ass -as if it's not enough I'm still pissed at you for driving my car while drunk the other night, now you wake me up at this hour and it's a safe bet it's not for sex. Jerk."

-A: "Hey baby, I brought you flowers."
-Me: (thinking he might be drunk again because he would never say that phrase of his own free will) "Really? Where?"
A: "Here, see?"
Me (having a moment of chastisement thinking that perhaps I'd misjudged him) "Oh, those are really lovely!"

They were too, at least from what I could tell in the dark -a large bouquet with a fancy ribbon and a crystal vase. And I began to have one of those moments of happiness that are doomed to be all too brief and quite likely to be totally accidental. And then it hit me, and in a highly suspicious tone of voice I said, "Wait a sec -didn't you work a FUNERAL RECEPTION tonight?!" For the first time I note that the fancy ribbon is black -a fancy black. A funeral black. Wealthy funeral, sure - but still.

A (in fine form and completely oblivious to the thin, black and quickly corroding ice he was on) "Oh don't worry hon -they'd already thrown them out!"

Me (in tired tone of voice, resigned to the fact that this guy was ever going to be an insensitive and imbecilic lout that would never give any holiday its proper due because he just couldn't be bothered) "Just put them in the kitchen and I'll deal with them in the morning."

So see, I'm right to feel like I'm jinxed before the race begins -of course there are times when it's a bit like putting the cart before the horse before it's even attached to the horse...but it's also never really proven me wrong. The nicest gestures in my life have come from friends -my fellow BBF'ers taking me out for my birthday and indulging my book fetish, the people who let me call and ramble, at times in a most incoherent and bizarre fashion about all manner of things, the people who send little messages that remind me that not everyone in my life is a facking git who needs destroying...and they never blame anything on the booze, the alignment of the stars, the full moon, their dog, their parents or the fact that I've got large breasts and a penchant for low-cut shirts. They simply accept. And it's because of them that the body count has remained fairly low.

Anyways, THIS Valentine's Day, I did indeed have an interesting time starting at just around midnight, (Friday night/Sat morning) when I kept hearing this odd sound out in my hallway. At first I thought one of the kitties was snoring because sometimes they do that, or they let out these breathy little sighs. But it kept happening -and when I glanced over at the cats, they were all staring at the door. So now I was very confused and very irritated. (I have a tendency to get that way if little noises keep niggling at my consciousness -plastic bags rustling being one of the things that will drive me to the point of batshit insanity.) Finally I decide to look out my peephole. Much to my dismay, consternation and revulsion, I discovered the source of the noise. A large black man, passed out in front of my door, fully exposed. After checking once more to make sure that the wine wasn't playing tricks on me, I texted my building manager Luke saying only, "Luke -there is a man passed out in front of my door. He is...shall we say...exposed. Please help."

I waited inside my apartment and then I heard the vestibule door open and Luke came up the stairs -the first thing he said was, "Oh sweet fucking Jesus." I watched from the peephole as he and his boyfriend and the upstairs neighbor attempted to wake the guy up -who is apparently my across-the-hall neighbor, though from that angle it was hard to tell. Finally they got him up and in his apartment and shut the door. Luke comes back out and I finally open my door and go into the hall to talk to them. The upstairs neighbor started snickering and pointed at my shirt which was an old time advertisement for Rye with a picture of a bottle with a smiley face and arms and legs...verrrrry appropriate. At one point Luke says, "Man, did you see how out of it he looked when he got up -he kept staring at me all strange-like!" and I laughed and had to remind him that the guy woke up with his pants down surrounded by three gay men...that's enough to give anyone pause. We finally disbanded and I went inside to call Adam who had been texting me -I had to relay the story to SOMEONE!

Valentine's Day evening -nothing too special -went to my usual place, got a lot of free booze, got flirted with by the new doorman who obviously was only doing it for two reasons -one, he's one of those naturally flirty "I like making everyone feel special -like they might actually have a chance" type people -and two, because he realized that I was friends with the owners and staff and obviously a regular. He kept doing this thing when I'd go out to smoke, telling me that I should have a camera following me around everywhere and that I looked so regal smoking -and then he did the Madonna "Vogue" thing like he was miming taking pictures...lame. I also got to babysit the VERY drunk friend of the bartender (he kept asking me if he was pathetic...you have no idea how good I was for not saying, "Yes, yes you are -pathetic, hopeless and frankly, a BORE!") And some guy who had been part of a group of people I'd chatted with earlier in the evening while we were all smoking hugged me goodbye and kissed me -and all I could think to say when he walked off was, "I just shared his DNA!" Wine and whiskey shots will do that to me -mistress of the keenly bizarre observation.

So thus ended my V-Day.

Well, after sending out a text stating that if I had to deal with one more happy couple I'd start drinking battery acid and starting fistfights, a sentiment that met with a great deal of encouragement.

Now you've gotten a bit of absurdity and I've got to be off to class -I'm taking a "Politics of Punishment" seminar (sounds way more kinky than it is) and I've got a presentation to do. I am however working on the next BLTA already -a foray into my recent experiences with chiropractors and acupuncture. I'll leave you with a little tidbit from that...

My acupuncturist, who as it happens is a lesbian, was taking my pulse and she mentioned that my pulse was rather high. Without thinking I just say, "That's because you're touching me."

Did I mention I'm also mistress of the poorly-worded explanation? No -well, there's your proof.

More soon poppets!!!