browsing the personal ads
I've been browsing the personal ads on Craigslist for several hours now. I've even answered some ads. I need a break. It's weird, because suddenly most men seem attractive (not just physically either). I'm feeling a weird hopefulness, like viral optimism that these guys will find their ladies. Some of my responses have been "aw, your ad is so cute", and those guys didn't even have pictures. Then I got optimistic about me.
But not too optimistic, because the corner of my lip hurts and I suspect that I now have... oh, there's a semi-nice way to say it that's not "herpes". I waver between rage at Patient Zero, indifference because "oh, everybody has it", and self-flagellation because really I do know better.
On the other hand, I have a viscious cold, and perpetually cracked lips anyway. And I ate 3 bags of potato chips over the weekend. That's when my social disease showed up, as the salt was burning the corner of my mouth. It doesn't actually look like everyone else's sores, mine is very small and doesn't hurt as bad as I thought herpes was supposed to.
My head hurts really bad. I contemplated suicide because I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Really, I'd rather be dead. My stupid ass boss (he's new and a corporate suit) acts like I should be there even on my death bed. I was hacking up a lung, chocking back vomit with every other whoop and he's all like "I thought you were going to stay longer through the afternoon". Then he changed my start time to be earlier. I hope he's in the path when my puke comes tomorrow. Seriously though, I want to be dead.
I slept almost the whole weekend trying to kick my cold in the butt. I had a dream about Wil deVry. He is an actor I liked years ago; he's on a soap now. I think it was his dream (being steady on a soap, not my dream experienced while trying to out-rest a cold). In my dream, we were at a water park or lake or something like that. We were lying on the beach(~ish) and Wil was kissing me. He's quite fantastic. Then I got up and was like "no, Wil deVry, I don't know if we can be together". And I ran off. A few blocks later I realized "yes, Wil deVry, I can love you", but it was too late. He wasn't at the beach anymore. I had my cell, but not Wil's number; likewise, Wil must have had his cell but not my number. Boo hoo for me.
Then I found a guinea pig with no lower jaw sitting on a concrete divider between the street and sidewalk. He looked like he belongs in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but was so sweet. I got him to agree to crawl in a box (in case he had further injuries and couldn't handle being picked up), then he and I moved into a new house: Faggot Apartments. I kid you not, that was on the sign. Apparently, gay people were discriminated against and they set up this housing development only for them. Later they opened it to everyone. It was very nice because it was actually bigger than my current studio with a glasswalled den (instead of a balcony) and only $50 more a month. I think My Apprentice (my cat) moved in too.
But then I woke up and never got to track down Wil to exchange numbers. Say, maybe Wil deVry gave me the thing that is not herpes...
But not too optimistic, because the corner of my lip hurts and I suspect that I now have... oh, there's a semi-nice way to say it that's not "herpes". I waver between rage at Patient Zero, indifference because "oh, everybody has it", and self-flagellation because really I do know better.
On the other hand, I have a viscious cold, and perpetually cracked lips anyway. And I ate 3 bags of potato chips over the weekend. That's when my social disease showed up, as the salt was burning the corner of my mouth. It doesn't actually look like everyone else's sores, mine is very small and doesn't hurt as bad as I thought herpes was supposed to.
My head hurts really bad. I contemplated suicide because I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Really, I'd rather be dead. My stupid ass boss (he's new and a corporate suit) acts like I should be there even on my death bed. I was hacking up a lung, chocking back vomit with every other whoop and he's all like "I thought you were going to stay longer through the afternoon". Then he changed my start time to be earlier. I hope he's in the path when my puke comes tomorrow. Seriously though, I want to be dead.
I slept almost the whole weekend trying to kick my cold in the butt. I had a dream about Wil deVry. He is an actor I liked years ago; he's on a soap now. I think it was his dream (being steady on a soap, not my dream experienced while trying to out-rest a cold). In my dream, we were at a water park or lake or something like that. We were lying on the beach(~ish) and Wil was kissing me. He's quite fantastic. Then I got up and was like "no, Wil deVry, I don't know if we can be together". And I ran off. A few blocks later I realized "yes, Wil deVry, I can love you", but it was too late. He wasn't at the beach anymore. I had my cell, but not Wil's number; likewise, Wil must have had his cell but not my number. Boo hoo for me.
Then I found a guinea pig with no lower jaw sitting on a concrete divider between the street and sidewalk. He looked like he belongs in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but was so sweet. I got him to agree to crawl in a box (in case he had further injuries and couldn't handle being picked up), then he and I moved into a new house: Faggot Apartments. I kid you not, that was on the sign. Apparently, gay people were discriminated against and they set up this housing development only for them. Later they opened it to everyone. It was very nice because it was actually bigger than my current studio with a glasswalled den (instead of a balcony) and only $50 more a month. I think My Apprentice (my cat) moved in too.
But then I woke up and never got to track down Wil to exchange numbers. Say, maybe Wil deVry gave me the thing that is not herpes...
posted by Lexa at 10:38 PM
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