Stoner Steve began calling my cell phone at 2:16 p.m. on Sunday and 2:18 p.m. on Sunday. He left a message the first time.
He then called my cell phone again 45 minutes later. Left another message.
He then called my cell phone on Monday at around 3:30, left a message. Then again at 5:00, left a message, then again at 5:30.
I did not want to talk to him. I was busy each time with something else. On Sunday, I was with T-Bird, helping her with her two nephews (ages 2 and 10 months) and her son and my son (ages 7 and 10). Did I have time to talk? Did I feel like talking later? No.
Monday, by 2:00 p.m. my cell phone was dead. I mean DEAD. I mean took an hour to show that it was even charging dead because IT RANG THAT MUCH. Did I happen to mention with the holiday that I completely forgot two stories for my writing job? Yeah, I did. So, Monday, I had to play catch up PLUS four additional stories for this week with a day less to do it because I’m leaving for Vegas on Friday.
PLUS, a local promotional company has me on speed dial as their direct link to the shop and suddenly they need t-shirts and sweatshirts.
PLUS, T-Bird called because she is seriously considering trying to get custody of her nephews because her sister is an idiot and a piss poor excuse for a mother, which is all very emotional, and that’s why I was at her place for the entire day Sunday, which was to dry clothes and offer moral support and chase kids, spank kids, change kids, feed kids, rock kids, tell other kids to shut up because the baby is asleep, piss off kids grandmother, and otherwise, you know, enjoy life.
PLUS, I had to talk to Jeff about going out of town and whether or not Nate was going to the Christmas Parade with his aunt and cousin or if he’s going with T-Bird and J3 to the movies on Saturday and did he need T-Bird to help him with Nate on Monday since I will be getting in late and could he please continue to be positive about school and what we were going to do if Nate missed anymore classroom assignments and then he needed to talk to me about the letter he received from Danlel, Nate’s sister, and the demands she made etc. etc.
So, after seven e-mails, 27 phone calls, 115 documents (because, ya know, I still have to actually WORK at the job I go to everyday), it is finally 5:00 and I’m picking up Nate. At 5:30, I was untangling Yule lights BUT I picked up the phone anyway, cuz, I’m nice like that.
With pissed off harsh tone “How many times have you called my cell phone in the past two days?” How’s that for direct? Bewildered “Ummmm… I … ummm… I don’t… ummmm… I don’t know.”“I do! Too fucking many! I will call you when I have a free minute to do so! Stop blowing up my fucking cell phone!”
“Ummmm… I’m sorry… I just felt bad because I broke our plans…”
“I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother and I hope she is okay.”
“I just wanted to call you because I was getting ready to go to work… ummmm….”
“Fine. Have a good evening.” *click*
Look, I seriously doubt that his grandmother was in the hospital and even if she was, if he’s too stupid or inconsiderate to call someone after a few hours then we are definitely not meant for each other, not that I think we were meant for each other to start with. Furthermore, I would have had more respect for him had he, when I rudely didn’t say “hi” or “hello” and instead bitched him out, hung up on me.
I’m thoroughly convinced, he’s either had a bad trip, a brain injury, or he really is just that dumb.
Did I mention that Nate and I hung up Yule lights outside last night? Yeah, they look like snowflakes having seizures. No shit. Then we had a picnic on the porch to celebrate.
Now, my son needs to finish his homework, he could probably use a shower, I need to visit some blogs, and, yeah, I need to make a phone call.
Hot firemen! This is a picture I took from my car as I was stopped in traffic for an industrial fire. This, in addition to the car accident on the bridge over the river, meant a 10 mile detour for Nanner to get home to find her beads which she didn’t because she was looking for the wrong bag.
To make up for my lack of nookie, I was blessed with a male fork but no fortune cookie to go with my lunch of Chinese. Oddly enough, Steve, Bob, and Rich also had Chinese today.
I told the guys they had to give me birthday hugs and Rich commented that he had heard of birthday whoopings but never birthday hugs. I told him that if he took me out to dinner, then he could smack my ass. He blushed. Steve sang me a song about fucktards. OMG! I laughed so hard I snorted.
Fucktards, it’s what’s for breakfast. *snort*
Everyone has one, today just happens to be mine. My birthdays, historically, are shitty. Let us not hope that this day would be any different. It wasn’t so shitty but wasn’t so great either. I’ve had worse, I’ve had much better, but that was a long time ago.
I took a great picture today and I’ll post it along with the rest of my ruminations from today later. Let’s just say, I don’t feel 36, I don’t think I look 36, and let’s hope I act like I’m 26. *SMILE*