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I just received this from my little sister...
The wedding is getting closer and I can't wait to show you the pictures
that
I told you about in the last email. Please email me,do not, I repeat (
DO NOT
CALL) please. We may not be home. It is easier that you email me that
way
nobody has to find out. It could be our little secret that we are
emailing each
other. Why because everynight, basically everynight mom asks if we you
have
called lately and I don't want her to know that I have been keeping in
touch with
you. This will only last till Monday night. Call me Tuesday around 7:00
pm
that way you don't disturb us while we are eating dinner, okay. Also
what are
you getting for a wedding gift????????????????????
sue
WTF is that about? My patience is running a little short for a 13 year old's ideas of scandal and intrigue. My mother disowned me over the last wedding and I'm a little apprehensive about showing up for the next (especially with a friend in tow)...I don't need cryptic warnings four days before I arrive in LA.
*grinds teeth*
I've been on edge all weekend. It started yesterday with D. Saturday is my ONE day off and I tend to get rather cranky when I wind up wasting it in town. D and I slept in until eleven, went to lunch, and then picked up his daughter who was in a horrible mood. We had to put her down for a nap before we could go out to do anything. By the time she woke up, it was 4:00pm and I was roundly pissed (and further convinced that I should never ever have kids).
I left the house and bought the new Harry Potter instead (I figured it was a small consolation prize for having been trapped in _______ all weekend) and read half the book. Ironically, having read that much of the much-anticipated book has only further deteriorated my already rotten mood. Am I the only one who finds the new book a little dark and frustrating? I'm 400 pages into it and each chapter makes me feel worse. Ick. I've just reached the part of the book where Gryffindor and Slytherin play their first Quidditch Match. Where are all of you?
Anyways, D and I made a few furtive and aborted attempts to have a sex life this weekend and finally realized that the best that we could hope for would be rental movies and good night's sleep. But I never sleep well at D's (it's his damned piece of junk bed), and I woke up in an even fouler mood than before.
This morning when I was doing laundry I asked D for his keys so that I could go to the apartment's laundry room to get my clothes. He went upstairs and gave me a single key to open the door...one he had very obviously and painstakingly removed from his keyring. *shrugs* It was a little odd and I asked him about it and he told me that he didn't trust me with his entire key ring because if I lost it, terrible things would happen (like they'd have to re-key his work building to the tune of several thousand dollars). I found this to be a little offensive but amusing and I goaded him on...exactly what was he afraid of? That I was going to sell his keys on the black market? He responded by saying that he was afraid that in the 100 feet to the laundry room that I would drop the keys down the sewer, in the washing machine, or otherwise lose or maim them. I lost my temper at this point and reminded him that I was 26, not 6 and that he was being a bit patronizing. I left and went upstairs to read my book. He joined me about a half hour later and tried to apologize and explained his reaction regarding the keys, but by this point I had lost all patience...a full weekend of screaming children, a stagnant Saturday, and petty concerns about my ability to manage a keyring had gotten to me. I told him I needed another half hour to blow off steam and he needed more time to pull his foot completely out his mouth. For some reason, he didn't like that reaction to his ceremonial offering of the Olive Branch and he gave me a look that I haven't seen in some time---it's the look that comes right before someone slaps you. Those of you who have survived a fair share of backhanded smacks might be familiar with "that look." He didn't hit me, but I saw very clearly that he wanted to. Instead, he went downstairs.
I can't fault him for what he didn't do, but "that look" will be hard to forget. It's a glimpse into a part of him that I didn't know existed and it makes me a little uneasy. I know I'm probably being a little unfair, but it can't be helped...I can't get that look out of my head or the motivation behind it. *shudders*
So I left D's house and went to work where the day improved ever so slightly. Tom Waits came in again and was very congenial. I resisted the temptation to fawn over his version of Ginsberg's "America" and instead treated him like I would any other customer--he seemed to appreciate that. I also read another 100 pages of The Order of the Phoenix. And I closed the store.
Boring, I know.
It's funny, whenever I'm really struck by something important, like revelations about class differences as they revealed themselves in my last babysitting job or my amazement and sheer horror regarding the distractions that Americans prefer to "reality" as witnessed by the juxtaposition of CNN, E!, and AMC on cable, I write nothing in these pages. D and I have a row and it manifests itself into a four page entry complete with anguished emoticons. My priorities are completely adrift...my apologies for those who read this tripe.
Ebah.
I'm off to read my friends' page and to respond to some posts. Hope Monday morning finds you well.
Oh holy god, Wine Blenders?
The wedding is getting closer and I can't wait to show you the pictures
that
I told you about in the last email. Please email me,do not, I repeat (
DO NOT
CALL) please. We may not be home. It is easier that you email me that
way
nobody has to find out. It could be our little secret that we are
emailing each
other. Why because everynight, basically everynight mom asks if we you
have
called lately and I don't want her to know that I have been keeping in
touch with
you. This will only last till Monday night. Call me Tuesday around 7:00
pm
that way you don't disturb us while we are eating dinner, okay. Also
what are
you getting for a wedding gift????????????????????
sue
WTF is that about? My patience is running a little short for a 13 year old's ideas of scandal and intrigue. My mother disowned me over the last wedding and I'm a little apprehensive about showing up for the next (especially with a friend in tow)...I don't need cryptic warnings four days before I arrive in LA.
*grinds teeth*
I've been on edge all weekend. It started yesterday with D. Saturday is my ONE day off and I tend to get rather cranky when I wind up wasting it in town. D and I slept in until eleven, went to lunch, and then picked up his daughter who was in a horrible mood. We had to put her down for a nap before we could go out to do anything. By the time she woke up, it was 4:00pm and I was roundly pissed (and further convinced that I should never ever have kids).
I left the house and bought the new Harry Potter instead (I figured it was a small consolation prize for having been trapped in _______ all weekend) and read half the book. Ironically, having read that much of the much-anticipated book has only further deteriorated my already rotten mood. Am I the only one who finds the new book a little dark and frustrating? I'm 400 pages into it and each chapter makes me feel worse. Ick. I've just reached the part of the book where Gryffindor and Slytherin play their first Quidditch Match. Where are all of you?
Anyways, D and I made a few furtive and aborted attempts to have a sex life this weekend and finally realized that the best that we could hope for would be rental movies and good night's sleep. But I never sleep well at D's (it's his damned piece of junk bed), and I woke up in an even fouler mood than before.
This morning when I was doing laundry I asked D for his keys so that I could go to the apartment's laundry room to get my clothes. He went upstairs and gave me a single key to open the door...one he had very obviously and painstakingly removed from his keyring. *shrugs* It was a little odd and I asked him about it and he told me that he didn't trust me with his entire key ring because if I lost it, terrible things would happen (like they'd have to re-key his work building to the tune of several thousand dollars). I found this to be a little offensive but amusing and I goaded him on...exactly what was he afraid of? That I was going to sell his keys on the black market? He responded by saying that he was afraid that in the 100 feet to the laundry room that I would drop the keys down the sewer, in the washing machine, or otherwise lose or maim them. I lost my temper at this point and reminded him that I was 26, not 6 and that he was being a bit patronizing. I left and went upstairs to read my book. He joined me about a half hour later and tried to apologize and explained his reaction regarding the keys, but by this point I had lost all patience...a full weekend of screaming children, a stagnant Saturday, and petty concerns about my ability to manage a keyring had gotten to me. I told him I needed another half hour to blow off steam and he needed more time to pull his foot completely out his mouth. For some reason, he didn't like that reaction to his ceremonial offering of the Olive Branch and he gave me a look that I haven't seen in some time---it's the look that comes right before someone slaps you. Those of you who have survived a fair share of backhanded smacks might be familiar with "that look." He didn't hit me, but I saw very clearly that he wanted to. Instead, he went downstairs.
I can't fault him for what he didn't do, but "that look" will be hard to forget. It's a glimpse into a part of him that I didn't know existed and it makes me a little uneasy. I know I'm probably being a little unfair, but it can't be helped...I can't get that look out of my head or the motivation behind it. *shudders*
So I left D's house and went to work where the day improved ever so slightly. Tom Waits came in again and was very congenial. I resisted the temptation to fawn over his version of Ginsberg's "America" and instead treated him like I would any other customer--he seemed to appreciate that. I also read another 100 pages of The Order of the Phoenix. And I closed the store.
Boring, I know.
It's funny, whenever I'm really struck by something important, like revelations about class differences as they revealed themselves in my last babysitting job or my amazement and sheer horror regarding the distractions that Americans prefer to "reality" as witnessed by the juxtaposition of CNN, E!, and AMC on cable, I write nothing in these pages. D and I have a row and it manifests itself into a four page entry complete with anguished emoticons. My priorities are completely adrift...my apologies for those who read this tripe.
Ebah.
I'm off to read my friends' page and to respond to some posts. Hope Monday morning finds you well.
Oh holy god, Wine Blenders?
