Seriously, does anyone read this crap? No--which is why I can write to my heart's desire, regardless of content.
Alas.
There's more tension in my shoulders than... than what? I couldn't possibly find a comparison worth mentioning at the moment.
A Monday morning answering the phone and dealing with Monday morning students. If another person gives me attitude, I swear, I may erase all of his or her marks (there are very few powers I have, but that is one). Alas, I kid (but have thought hard about it).
Sigh.
The weekend was full, full. Friday night out at the theatre (yes, you have to say it with an English accent); Saturday night out at Latin dance lessons (I don't think I understand the true difference between using my hips versus using my abs), followed by a poker tournament at a friend's place. I am happy to report I came in first the first game (although the second is hardly worth mentioning). I was excited to beat out my self-proclaimed pro poker friend (he may say part-time pro--rolling eyes), but he is quick to exclaim, "It's just a friendly game; I wanted to get out. Everyone is sitting around waiting, you know." Right. So, next time just gimme the money and we can save the 1/2 hour of me kicking your ass. : ) (insert friend-love comment here, but he'll never read this, so who cares).
I'd tasted some scotch that night and decided it was like a campfire in a glass (which I'm told is from the "peat", as in "this scotch is quite "peaty"). Hmm. While I'd like to develop a small fancy for the drink, it may require more time and effort than I care to give. The smokey aftertaste of Lagavulin (yes, I had to look it up on google) was almost more than I could bear. That followed by some brandy was enough to throw me off of my next game (so I like to think).
The man I was happy to flirt with for the evening ended the night by shaking my hand and commenting, "When you first came in, I could tell how cold you were." Rather crass. If I had any doubt as to his worthiness of my supposed affection, I assure you, I'm crystal clear--he is in fact a jackass. And he doesn't even deserve a capital J. Hard not to be down on the opposite sex when you're going through a divorce and encountering clown after clown.
My line on the internet dating site is: "If I wanted a clown, i'd hang out at a circus". Some jackass was happy to send me a note, "Of course you're at a circus, that's where we'd find the elephant." Fucker. I really shouldn't even put it in here and somehow glorify him, but whatever.
Anyway, small rant for the day over. Lunchtime calls (only 15 minutes left...sigh).
Monday morning.
Meh.
