To discover that I have even fewer friends than I'd suspected. I've always been able to make friends easily, and, of course, lose them even more easily. I tend to be kind of a user. A parasite, as it were. I use people for whatever I can get/take from them and then I cast them aside. Well, now karma (yet again) is coming back to kick my stupid ass. Truthfully, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's good to keep on your toes. To hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and insure everything.
This morning, I sent out e-mails to a bunch of folks, asking them for their input with regard to questions (preferably of the offbeat sort) to ask of the fair Dana Hamm. Sadly, the responses were few and far between. Thanks to Jay and Chun for coming through for me, though. Maybe folks simply thought I was kidding. You'd think that somebody who's gotten married in Las Vegas on the 1st date and become a minister (still no prospective sheep for my flock, sigh) online would be believed when he says he's done or is doing something. And folks say I'M cynical. Well, yeah, I guess I kinda am. Well, I managed to cobble together a set of questions to ask of the nice model. Hopefully, she'll see fit to answer them and, possibly, to let me ask a few more. Then I'll see if I can accomplish the technicalities of posting said interview. One crisis at a time.
As I said earlier, I also sent a friendly, back-to-basics type missive to the divine Ms. K. Apparently, I was correct in concluding that I'd over-estimated things with her. Oh, well, that'll happen. Either that or I simply scared her off. That, too, happens all too often when one is I. Note to self: don't tell folks, be they women or just plain folks; about your ex-wife and your half-assed stalker. Nobody cares. Hell, do I even care? Not especially. I'm fairly certain that cut my losses time has arrived. Which is too bad, as I'd hoped Kendra and I could at least be friends. And not the secret kind. Naturally, this little revelation means that our softball team's end of year party next weekend will be a fairly scary situation. I'm shooting for a cross between the Spring Fling and the Tet Offensive. Or Christmas in Hell, it could go either way.
I was listening to another employee, who's a pretty good guy, vent his frustrations, work-wise, last night. I'm a pretty good listener, stays quiet, keeps to himself, never bothers anybody, sort of fellow. And as he was doing so, I realized how thankful I am for my sorry little blog, as I get to rant and rave and spew venom every which way 2 or 3 or however many times a day. Yay, blogging! Yay, me!
Thanks to all of you who've stopped by to the tune of 941 MB of downloaded info this month. Much obliged. Obviously, it's the goofy pictures that do it, so I'll try to keep 'em coming.
Thanks again to James of Ripe Word Fruit of the Num-Num Tree, who lives on the beach in FLA, I'm glad you're safe and sound, if somewhat inconvenienced. You're totally right, black hooker-wise. The extreme DOES tend to make an impression, don't it? And lord knows that I, as both a no-kidding loon and fun/quirky kind of fella; love to give folks stories to tell. I am, after all, a legend in my own ''mind''. I'll have to seriously contemplate this one.
Thanks also to Suzanne of Reinventing the Bell Jar, who is going back to college. I wish you nothing but good luck with that endeavour. It's always good to attempt to better oneself, and I know you'll be successful at anything you try. My ministry and Christian-ity proceed slowly, mostly because I'm sort of a non-linear thinker, as y'all may have gathered over the 4 months and change I've been committing crimes against pretty much anybody and everything I can think of.
Another dream of K today. In this one, I learned that certain liberties had been taken (against her will) with regard to her frame and virtue. I just fucking LOST it, and waited for the guy outside his house. Oh hell yeah, I fucked that boy UP! It takes a lot to get me riled up, especially now, with the light of inner peace and serenity which being the Reverend Christian Manson has so obviously brought me, but the thought of someone I consider at least a friend (even if I'm tragically mistaken) being mistreated or suffering in any way tends to make me see crimson. As in mask, as in somebody ending up with blood covering and obscuring their facial features.
Anyway, the whole time I'm smashing this guy's face through every single picket of a fence and preparing to flay him alive with a box-cutter (not as easy as it sounds), I'm realizing that my psychotic, Bruce Banner, Hulk SMASH! style rage is so not attractive. Said so, too. Even cried a bit whilst I did so. I know, I'm such a chick sometimes.
Didn't think I was going to be able to post this tonight, still more server problems when I attempted to edit. Yes, I DO edit, hard to tell though, ain't it? Whatever. I've come to expect technology, like the Fates to fuck with me at every opportunity. Time to leave for work, so good night, Mr. Serious; good night, Eat Me Beat Me Lady; good night to everyone affected (still not sure whether it's that or effected) by Katrina; good night to my nutty ex-wife; good night, Dana Hamm, I hope your birthday was nothing but good times; good night to the folks I still consider my friends; and, finally, good night Kendra. I'm still a better person for having gotten to know you even a little bit. And I've really no right to ask for more than that out of any I don't want to say relationship, as it's wrong, so I'll go with encounter. Y'all know what I mean. Until manana, y'all stay safe and know someone with an in with god is concerned for your well-being.