After The Storm

Now that Thing Two and I are pretty much settled into our new place and L has accepted the position at my office, things are looking up. I feel more at home and comfortable (if we could secure some effing cable and a DVR so I can watch Jersey Shore before my heart collapses! Sheesh! What’s a girl have to do to get some New Jersey trash in her LIFE?) and with L starting the job on Monday, I am confident that some of this crazy is bound to die down.

Work has been a complete clusterfuck for about the last four months but just about three weeks ago, they fired the idiot who was replacing Spliff in her previous position because it was becoming evident that The New Girl couldn’t speak/spell correctly and was very loud at inappropriate moments in every conversation. And, well, did everything wrong also. So, naturally, since Spliffany and I basically do the same thing, instead of divvying up the duties, I was informed that they would just be…you know…all mine. Which has been fun, considering I work 4 ten hour days per week now and really sort of want to kill myself…daily. So, I have been praying for someone with computer skills, some knowledge of the English language and possibly, just possibly, a personality. I promptly convinced L that this is a great place to work (which it typically is, when all the work isn’t being dumped on you) and that she would fit in great (hello? Lesbian.)  So, now she’s got the job and is looking for an apartment as we speak to get back to our little beach town. She may have just saved my life. And possibly the lives of several of my coworkers.

Spliff and I are even getting along better. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t want to see her outside of work and I still haven’t even mentioned that I am dating Thing Two (or, you know, living with him) because I still don’t want her in my life. At least, not any more than she has to be when she is all up in my grill every day at work. But we talk at work. And occasionally, I will get a text from her over the weekend when something is hilarious or whatever. And I am totally good with that. As long as the texts don’t turn into phone calls or dinners or, you know, that stuff. But I can tolerate her. And mostly, I don’t want to hit her with my car. Unless I think about this. Or the abbrev. But especially this. And then, folks, right back to square one.

Right now, though, I am actually worried about her. She might have appendicitis and has been out of the office all day going from doctor to doctor and blood test to radiology test. If I were still her friend, I would be there with her because that’s what I do for my friends and it is what I have always done for her. And I feel bad that she is somewhere across town alone, sending me pictures of her IV. (Yes. She is actually doing that. Because I love needles. No. Wait, that is the opposite of true.) See? Totally not a heartless bitch. Truth is, I guess I still care. (As long as no one mentions Pearl Jam. And then she’d be lucky if I didn’t yank that needle out and stick her in the eye.) At least enough to not want her to have to have emergency surgery.

On Walking and Blind Boys

Well, internet, I made my goal for the Gulu Walk (thanks!) and had a really good time with Thing Two and Rackamonie. It was a cold morning, but the sun on the ocean was absolutely stunning and after a while, the chill of the wind didn't bother me anymore. The turnout was better than two years ago when Spliff and I walked and it seemed that it was a lot better organized. They had breakfast set out when we got there and lunch when we returned. There was a raffle and some bongo drumming and some African dance (which we didn't get to see because it was moved to a different, less windy locale), which I thought was really effing rad. I got to talk to the girls who organized it this year and we discussed joining forces for a bigger, more promoted walk for next year. Which, I have to say, I look forward to. Even after all the work I put in to the screening, which didn't seem to pan out as well as I had hoped. I am no quitter, ya'll.
The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking fruity martinis at The Flamingo Room and chatting with our hilarious, albeit very odd bartender who brought me a newspaper and showed me what I would be missing if I didn't go to the Lincolnville Festival. And by "what I would be missing" I mean, The Blind Boys of Alabama!
So, Sunday morning, TT and my Uncle and I trekked right back out to St. Augustine and drank a few delicious beers (Puppy's Breath Porter, OMG...) and then got us some good ole' Southern fried soul food and planted our asses right down in the grass and watched those Blind Boys sing some gospel. I have to say, I am not a fan of gospel, but these guys are incredible. Seriously. I heard about them several years ago when they sang with Ben Harper on a few of his songs (and then later released an entire album with him). I feel instantly in love with them and even had them played at my grandma's memorial service. (Naturally, I spent a little bit of Sunday afternoon crying behind my sunglasses...but hell...I'm allowed.)

It was a really great weekend. Made me miss a lot of people, but also made me really happy to have the ones I do...

Lesbian-ed Up for the Cause

So, internet, tomorrow is the day of the Gulu Walk. Thing Two, Rack and I will be heading out first thing tomorrow morning to lovely St. Augustine Beach to walk a few miles for the displaced youth of Northern Uganda. Spliff and I did this walk a few years ago and really enjoyed ourselves. She did, however, keep telling me that I looked like a lesbian in Tony's shorts and a sports bra. But looking like a lesbian for one day in the spirit of helping someone can't be the worst thing in the world. (I will say, though, it wasn't too much fun looking like a lesbian when we went to lunch at a really fantastic restaurant. Was NOT a fan of that.)




So tomorrow, I am gonna get all lesbian-ed up and go for a walk. I still haven't raised the amount of money I set out to, but I did pretty well considering I just registered on Monday. You can still sponsor me HERE!



Take a minute. Check out the cause!

The State I'm In...

Well, internet, lots of things have changed since we last spoke!


I know, I know. You are all wondering if I have gone and killed Spliffany. And the answer, my friends, is no. I have not murdered my former best friend. Actually, things are going...smoothly. I wouldn't say that we are really "friends" at the moment, but we are cordial. And we are pretty nice to each other (despite the occasional urge I have to rip her throat out with my bare hands. An urge which is diminishing; slowly but surely).  She tells me about things and I listen. I do the "smile and nod" when I don't care what she is saying but I try not to be rude. Sometimes we still have our giggling fits at work when something ridiculous occurs and we forget that we don't really like each other. And we chat. Which is much more than I can say for a few short months ago (after the temper tantrum she threw about an upcoming vacation I wanted to take) when she wouldn't speak to me at all. (You must remember that, internet. It was that time when I thought someone had replaced her with a whiney 12-year-old.) The one thing that is interesting about this "relationship" we have right now is that, while she insists on telling me details about her love life and funny things that happen over the weekend, she never inquires about anything that might be going on with me.  This is totally not a bad thing for these reasons:


1. I don't ask her anything about her life either. Because I really couldn't care less at this point. And that is not meant to sound harsh or bitter, just truthful.


2. I actually really don't want her to ask.


    a) I haven't really ever had a personal life that she wasn't super-involved in. She has known all of my friends, my boyfriends, my family members, since we were only kids. And when you live with someone for as long as we did, nothing is sacred. Up to this point, she knew everything about me. It feels pretty good to have a little effing privacy for once.


    b) I've recently started dating someone. This "someone" has been in my life a long time. He has never been someone I could see myself dating...but at one time, he dated Spliff.  


Okay, now I know what you're thinking, internet. You're thinking I am a scandalous, horrible meanie with no soul. Well, you are wrong. It isn't like I set out to find "someone" who would keep me busy while simultaneously sort of throwing stuff in Spliff's face.  Really. I honestly never even thought of it.  But I can see how it might be percieved that way. I'm no dummy.


The thing is, he's really amazing. And this isn't news to me. When he and Spliff were "dating" (this is in quotes because he won't admit that this is what actually happened), she treated him much like a lap dog. She took advantage of his kindness and his generosity and she was shameless and awful. I spoke with her about it before, during, and after the "relationship" and nothing seemed to matter besides how convenient he was for her. I am not going to go into detail here about the way she treats people, because I think you get the idea, but I will say that...well...it ain't good.


So, fast-forward about four years and here we are. And I am really happy. I can't remember the last time that I laughed so often or so hard and I'm not afraid of it. I'm honestly not. We haven't had the ideal start to a relationship (for reasons I won't get into), but we have made it work. And now that it is working, I can't imagine anything better.


So, it might be evident from this post that things are going pretty well over here. I am happy, healthy and free of Bedouin Soundclash. (Still a very, very big part of my happiness, mind you.)


In your FACE, universe.