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At Least Our Waitress Was Fine

Okay, she was the waitress for the next table, and we, in fact, had some guy serving us; but still. That simply doesn't make for as eye-catching of a title, now does it? And, yes, her ass was quite eye-catching when she bent over to set those folks' orders on their table.

But first...

 

Free Isaiah (J.R.) Rider.

 

Baseball season is now officially underway. Taking the under on how long it is before Kerry Wood is done for the season and my man Carlos Marmol is officially anointed the Chicago Cubs' closer. Although, if Wood stays the course, more power to him. It's not like I root for injuries, merely rely on the inevitable and plan accordingly. Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst. Insure everything. And folks say I'm too negative.

 

Jamie Lynn Spears is engaged. And thus ends the usage of Who's the bigger slut; Britney or Jamie Lynn? around these parts. Sigh. It was gold, I tell ya. Pure gold.

 

Found out that O.J. Simpson et al attempted their ill-fated ''perfect crime'' at Palace Station. Been there. Loved it. Took it for a decent profit on my nickel slot investment (try the progressive, everybody playing wins-type slot conglomeration). Preferred Sunset Station, where I would've stayed last month if it'd been just me. But alas, it weren't.

 

I went and saw Vantage Point last week. First in-theatre flick I'd been to since Spiderman 3. Not worth the trip. Convoluted plot. Too many P.O.V.'s to sustain. Looking forward to catching 21, however. Mostly because of the Las Vegas footage. You can always tell how old a movie involving LV is by looking at the various casinos pictured therein.

 

Why is it that nobody ever mentions Nick of Time when the ouevre of Johnny Depp comes up in polite conversation?

 

And now, back to our Fractured Fairy Tale (to drop some Rocky & Bullwinkle on y'all):

Yes, of late I've been whining about how the GF came to her senses upon spending an entire week with me in LV and realizing that I have no values and can never give her the relationship she thinks she wants. And likely deserves.

Yes, it hurts.

Yes, I stand up like a man and take all the blame on this one. No, I still have no justification for getting married at the end of an ONS in LV.

Yes, I took her some tea the other night when she wasn't feeling well. Tim Horton's was out of chicken soup that night. That's just how I roll. Besides, she brought me soup once when I was under the weather.

Yes, I have a history of burning bridges whilst smack dab in the middle of them.

Yes, I'm more than capable of putting out many of the conflagrations I initiate but...

I work alone.

No, I don't need somebody to pour the (Song of the Day: Seether-) Gasoline for me.

 

So, I'm at breakfast this snowy (like a foot on the roof of my car) a.m. at Perkins (love me some Perkins; it's no IHOP, but still) with an old friend from the old days who's been back in town a smidge over a month, after we hadn't seen each other in maybe 6 years. We've been hanging out off and on of late. It breaks the day to day monotony of moping, dwelling and wallowing in which I currently find myself; being between jobs (until tomorrow night, my first day with a new retailer, after 17 years) and getting kicked to the curb and all. And having WAY too much time to get back into my own pretty little head.

Thinking bad.

So I'm simply enjoying my 2 breakfasts, not bothering anybody, when my companion drops the bombshell on your humble narrator. And the bombshell is this:

Turns out that, upon seeing how much I'm hurting (nowhere near as much as she imagines she perceives, by the by), she presumes M is hurting also (from reading her inside joke-type relationship status on Facebook) and takes it upon herself to...

Yes, that's right kiddies, my estranged friend E-MAILS MY EX-GF (her complete fucking stranger, by the way; they've never even met) ON FACEBOOK!!!!! And offers her services as a listener or some such. The blinding haze of fury kinda prevented me from hearing the rest of whatever she said.

Back up and read that again. I'll wait.

There's a fine line between having someone's back and going behind it.

Anyway, whatever slim chance there was of me getting to have closure sex with or at least be the late night loneliness option for the ex is now completely Gone. Yes, I know I should've cut the ties myself, maybe Gone back to pining away for my lovely neighbor again. But that decision was mine to make the wrong choice on.

Noone else's.

But I forgive my flaky friend. Her heart was in the right place. I think. I hope. No, I'm gonna let shit go. Life's too short to hold the transgressions of others against them for longer than a day.

Besides, I'm going to need her to pivot for me. Now that I'm single. Me! Can you believe that shit?

Oh yeah, breakfast was good. The pancakes were light and fluffy. With 3 kinds of syrup.

 

And yes, I'll be getting the ex to pivot for me also. Now that I'll have every Saturday and Sunday night off work and all. Now, If Only my other friends (whom I've lost touch with the past 9 months-working 60+ hours a week, at night, will do that) will procure for me also.

 

Enjoy the last dregs of your weekend, y'all. Monday's coming to town. And all over your face.

 

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