September 8, 2008

you're in my thoughts, you're in my way

Dearest blorg.
There are certain things I would like to tell you.
But I won't. Because I just don't know what to think of things anymore, let alone how to talk about them.
Love, Me who creates/updates you.

Beacon's Closet bestowed upon me my new fall handbag, a toss off from the Gryson line at Target that was way too expensive for Target but a second-hand steal at a Thrift store. A lovely woven black patent leather number. I am 5% more fulfilled.

The Monsoon of Hurricane Whatsherface pretty much dampered the weekend to doing nothing but watching Penelope and eating way to many Ritz crackers and mystery cheese spread. And then feeling too slothful to leave the house at night.

J came down for the weekend and joined us at our wbg habitual. He pretended to be Simone's boyfriend while creepy bald guy from our last jaunt in which B met with "Making April" dude, was around and ready to hawk. Creepy bald guy seemed to have no qualms since seeing the tall dark and handsome (everyone always comments on his height at the sight of him, even Making April, who may have felt a bit slighted that some other guy in the room was taller than him) evidence of Simone's new "beau", and immediately leeched onto showering interest on B and me. I didn't care for him. But I also have no qualms telling some dude off.
B pulled me aside asking if I was ok with my false fifth wheel status.
"Yeah, no problem. He's good for lots of things!" I say, as J put his arm around Simone and they laughed at something I didn't hear.
"You don't think it's weird, or you're not like... a little jealous?" she asked tentatively.
"No," I said and I meant it. "You know as well as I the reason he came down tonight."

We clamored someplace new when that place became too crowded, ending up at a place around the block because traveling huddled under umbrellas is annoying. I didn't notice at first, but it was an uneasy blast from the past when I realized what the place was and the context of the first and last time I was there.
I remembered winning at darts. I remembered the first time he said aloud that he missed me. And the exact dress, boots and bag I wore. I don't recall what I did or said after that. I said we should leave and we did.

Taking the long walk home, from town to town, I realized why I wasn't jealous. And it didn't surprise me.

But what did surprise me a bit:

Maybe not surprise. But something nice to hear that I didn't expect to.

I leave you with footage of Simone in "It's so hot I'm going to fan myself with several twenty dollar-dollar bills, y'all."