What is it about this week that makes me attract people who need to grow the fuck up?! Bahhh! My internet has now been down for six whole days. I’m going through withdrawal, I think, therefore everything/everyone really pisses me off. It’s seriously a thorn in my side that I have to drive to my office so I can get work done (i.e., e-mail documents, get updates on class, etc). Comcast is teh sux.
So I was in here (office) last night checking email and printing articles and I get an email from my friend w/ the psycho girlfriend. It appeared that it had been typed in a great hurry and it basically said that she had discovered that he had some sort of phone software (where a computer can call a phone) and that he had used it to call me (because my number was the only one on there). When she confronted him, he denied it even though the evidence was brazenly there. Sigh…there are things you can get away with, but stuff like that isn’t it. So then she calls me (!) and proceeds to ramble…and ramble…and ramble some more (I’ve heard mental patients with more coherent ramblings). I finally tell her that there is nothing going on, and if she doesn’t trust him that it’s between them and that I don’t need to be involved. Crazy bitch. Freaking eighteen minutes of my life that I’ll never get back. I certainly hope he doesn’t try to call/email me this week because I will tell him that until he can deal with situations like this like a big boy, he doesn’t need to involve me. Sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here…
Last night I went salsa dancing at Workplay, and it ended up being a great time even if I didn’t get home until 3:30. I never ever stay up that late, but it was good for me. I didn’t wake up until nearly 11 but I’ve managed to be uber-productive today, so no big loss. I danced with quite a few people, few of whom were even mildly attractive, but it was nice to be out and doing something other than sitting around. I need to find some decent salsa shoes because the ones I wore last night weren’t conducive to good dancing (or comfort). There was one guy I called “little Jesus” because, well, that’s what he looked like. But the way he was trying to cop a feel would make the baby Jesus cry. Gag. He asked me to dance 3 or 4 times after I had already danced with him and I firmly refused. Did not want to deal with that again!
OK, now I should do what I came here to do in the first place.