How I know he loves me

Pickled eggs and a hot skillet of cornbread. (Excuse the part that looks funny in the middle. It's just a little darker brown. I don't know why it looks so odd there).

Sigh

Truth is, I never thought Michael Sarver would make it all the way to the end, anyway. But with all respect, Alexis and he both have the skills to stay longer than Scott MacIntyre.

I don't dislike Scott, and I can respect all he represents, and I think he had the skills to make it into the competition. But he has long ago quit doing anything besides singing breathy piano tunes. I've got a Joshua Kaddison c.d. already, Scott. So just go home.

quote of the day . . . .

from the waitress tonight at supper, "I had a bunch of wild kids and difficult drag queens. I can take one or the other but not both."

cartoon

Romantic putz that I am, it made me think of MyFella. I know, I know, I'm just a putz.

a quote from Boston Legal

"First, and don't take this the wrong way, I don't like you."

I'm afraid I'm just gonna have to click 'ignore'

Will you be my friend?

Last night I had just finished Dear Prudie on Slate's on-line magazine site, nodding appreciatively at the odd occurence of people I was never friends with requesting to be my on-line friend, when I popped on Facebook and . . . . the bully was there.

Really? I mean, you know there's a few steps to it, and you know that new FB home page is a hot mess. So you log in, look at the most recent comments from your plenitude of almost friends, once friends, etc. and then you look at your requests (I delete every single drink, gift, etc.) And there it was, a FB add from a bully.

Granted, he's a bully I haven't seen in well over 20 years. But, I mean, WTF?! Do we have TOTALLY different memories of the '80's? Is there a blip in his now 40 plus mind that thinks for a moment we were FRIENDS? Instead of him being a bully? (and me being obviously the one he bullied?)

After well over 20 years have passed, I really can't remember any specific moment of hazing and harassing. But I also can't remember any specific moment in English class and yet I can remember to speak the language just fine. I know he was mean, and I know he was a bully, and I know we were not friends. Now, not to sound all~9th~grade and all, but, uh, why now, well over 20 years past my graduation date, would I want to reconnect with him?

(Besides the fact that in his profile pic, if he's the one on the left, he's kinda hot in a super redneck way)

OK, let's just take the the worst part of the bully memory away, for the sake of argument. It's still been well over 20 years. He lives in a city three hours away. I mean, what are we supposed to do? Become email pen pals? Puhleeze.

Odd thing is his brother and I were friends. They were so night and day as to make one consider the idea of adoption existing in their family. His brother and I were in the same grade, the brother was fair haired, boy next door type, and a very nice guy who went to the public school with us. Bully had a completely different physical build and attended the private school.

Makes no sense. I've just left it alone. Haven't hit ignore or accept. I think I'm still just too in shock by the oddity of it.

Shrug of the shoulders and a quizzical look on my face.

_______________________________________

Dear Prudie,
Twenty-odd years ago, I was a painfully shy art geek at my small high school, where a group of girls went out of their way to bully me and make my life a living hell. Then I would go home to my alcoholic father, who was physically abusive to me and my mother. After years in therapy, I have since gone on to have a successful career, a group of amazing friends, and a life filled with travel and love and the usual ups and downs. Recently, I found my only friend from high school via social networking and was thrilled to be in touch. That has led to his contacts from high school wanting to connect with me as well. Some of them were part of the gang of cruel girls, which has brought that horrible time back to my consciousness. What is an appropriate response? I don't want to be mean, but I also don't believe that I need to welcome everyone into my life just because I set up an account online.

Dear Bliss,
Hit your networking site's "ignore" button or its equivalent to send your mean classmates off into the deep freeze of the unfriended. The good thing about online social networks is that they can put us back in touch with people from our past. The bad thing about online social networks is that they can put us back in touch with people from our past. Perhaps Herman Melville was anticipating Facebook when he wrote, "The poor old Past, the Future's slave." You may find your online network encouraging you to give the bullies of your poor old past a chance because they've probably reformed, or regret their behavior, or are oblivious about how they treated you. But your present, real-life friendship queue is full, and pretending to cheerily welcome contact from long-ago jerks is only going to stir up unnecessary pain. As Robert Frost, another writer you must have read in high-school English, wrote: "But if it had to perish twice,/ I think I know enough of hate/ To say that for destruction ice/ Is also great/ And would suffice."

—Prudie

Weather

The forecast, people were saying, called for something bizarre over night. At least bizarre for mid-March. But I can always tell. Long before fully awake, I can hear the traffic on the main thoroughfare outside my apartment window. And I know, it's just the sound of tires on rain.

Sigh.

Michael Sarver,

I heart you.

borrowed from a letter to B.H.

Well, you know my sorta friend, the blonde that used to sell radio advertising to me. Last week I went to see her husband "K" out at the Ford place on Houston Levee Road. And we looked around and talked a lot, but I just didn't find anything. And my problem was (was, not is, because now I have a car) is that when I bought the Nissan Pathfinder, I was making $X~K. I eventually got up to $Y~K, before plummeting to $V~K. (and thankful to have the $V~k!) And that decline of at least $10K, if not $30K, has caused me to make a whole lotta lotta changes. (i.e., I don't have cable, I may go to Molly's once a month now and order a sandwich instead of 3 times a week ordering fajitas, etc.). Plus I know that I am working at a place that continues to make lay offs, etc. and I wanted to have a reasonable chance of surviving on unemployment for a little while if it all falls apart. While I don't think they're about to lay me off, no one ever has any assurances.

So there I was. Needing a car. Wanting the biggest, prettiest thing that my little eyes could see. But not able to afford it. I told myself and told myself that I would be ok with something like a Nissan Versa. Only every time I sat in one, I just kinda wanted to cry. But with the Pathfinder at over 230,000 miles, it was well past time to do something. I just no longer felt like I needed to be on the road in it as much as I am.

So, "K" really didn't have what I wanted, but he told me his Dad owns the two Landers down on Goodman Road. And since I'd been looking out at Nissan on Covington Pike, I thought what the heck. I've got two friends who have bought from there and liked it. And did I mention that "K"'s granddaddy used to own a lot in my hometown way way back in the day. I can remember Daddy buying a 1976 Pontiac Ventura from them. And he held on to that car for over a decade and gave me keys to it. So I thought it was kinda like giving business to friends, if I could.

But I know I can't make a deal. I am so not good at dealing with myself. So I had Ruby Haired Princess drop me off there on the way home from work, and I asked Bubbles (the bankruptcy attorney) to meet me there. When I got there, she had a found a Versa that DID NOT EVEN HAVE A RADIO and it had CRANK WINDOWS! Who knew they made cars with a roll up window anymore? And without a radio? Come on, please. So the salesman steered us towards a pre-owned Dodge that was probably the size of a Sentra. Nice 4 door sedan. With all the accoutrements that he knew I wanted. Poor fella had to sell to two of us at a time. From there, we went to a pre owned, one owner Nissan Sentra. 18,000 miles. Shiny brick red.

So that's when "the manager" stepped in to wheel and deal. Bubbles flat told him I needed a note at a specific amount a month, and she would not finance it crazy long. She told him that she had to know if something happened, I could make the note. He said, "I've got a Versa for you." She said, "He's already turned that down." (Well, come on. It didn't even have a radio!)

So he went away and came back and said he would give more on my trade-in sight-unseen, if I would drop the gap insurance and add six more months on the note. Then he acted all mad because I hadn't driven it yet. The sales guy said the manager gets mad if he's dealing and you haven't driven it. So we went to drive it.

I had this vision of my friend Michelle. Right out of college she bought a jeep and laughed because she got in it and squeeled "DADDY! I LOVE IT!" and her daddy said, "You're not supposed to say that in front of the salesman." I got in this shiny red Sentra, cranked it up and said, "Bubbles, you've got a problem. I LOVE THIS CAR!"

So a little bit later, I've signed all the documents. The next morning I drove down with the Pathfinder and got the Sentra. I had to give them $13 because I could not find the title. I swore I never got it. Then I said if I had it, it's in the glovebox. Both the finance guy and Bubbles both about jumped. (Who knew you could forge ownership of a car with the title, were it stolen with the title in the glove box?) But turns out I don't have it.

So anyway. I have my shiny red car. And I really, really like it!

He's coming in 12:30 flight

Shes coming in 12:30 flight
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some long forgotten words or ancient melodies

Actually he's coming in more like 1:30p.m. And we're not near Africa. He's just about the best guy pal any guy could want, and he's wanting to spend his birthday weekend here. So Red is driving up, he's flying in, and the weekend will be all about him.

I'm giddy as a school boy, looking forward to the return of one of my best friends. I've probably only had a handful of real honest-to-goodness guy pals, and fewer still who are gay. One of them, I'm told, doesn't count since apparently being a dyke lesbian means she's actually a woman. Whatever. Anyway, the moment I heard he was coming back in, I called dibbs on the airport pick up. Me, me, me!

And since I bought a car tonight, (thanks to the wheeling and dealing of Bubbles), I get to pick him up in my brand new, shiny red car. It's going to be a very good weekend!