Saturday, February 15, 2014
I feel bad. I feel bad not because I had nobody for another Valentine's Day, I really couldn't care less. I don't want anybody at all. None of that for me, please. I feel bad because I want to want somebody. It feels weird that I don't. I'm getting old, I found my first gray hair last week and it's all I can see in the mirror in the morning because I'm not about to pull that shit because my mom always said if you pull it out, seven more come in its place and I don't need gray hair adding to the shit sandwich that is my face. When it comes time, I'm not dying it because, if I'm dying my hair, that shit's going to be orange again. But orange hair won't fly in the workplace
I logged back in to the terrible internet dating site trying to find anyone that wants to help with my quest to find the best Meican place in Walker's Point, the place south of where I work where the roads aren't shitty and every other building is a tacqueria. My search hasn't gone well, both in finding decent tacquerias and finding anyone who wants to go along.
I went out with a girl about a year ago who I had a pretty good time with. We won the bar trivia two weeks in a row, netting us a $25 in drinks at a dive bar, which I had to do on my own because she had to leave early. We went to the science surplus store that has all kinds of weird shit. I was a little bummed when I saw the plastic triops toy and I yelled "Triops has three eyes!" the moment I saw it and she had no idea what I was on about. I had to end that whole thing, even though I enjoyed hanging out with her because I just wasn't into it. I knew I was in trouble when we were hanging out at her place with her cats and she was wearing a ridiculously low cut shirt and leaning forward a lot and I didn't look. I didn't want to. It's clear where she wanted things to go, but I wasn't having any of that. I didn't want that shirt on the floor and that's not a thing I can often say. If I don't want that shirt on the floor, we have a big problem.
Since that whole thing, I haven't given much of a shit about any of that because it's all too much, too embarrassing and it makes me feel guilty.I think my not giving a shit is the problem. I'm not going to be young-ish forever, so ewhat happens when I do start giving a shit? I can chase after used up gross fat old ladies who have given up on themselves? No thanks. I've got my own shit going, I go to the hockey games, I work, I volunteer at the co-op bookstore and I work out. I'm planning a vegetable garden in a few months. I'm happy with where thing are at for the time, I don't need someone dragging me down right now. I mean, I need to find a better apartment to live in because my kitchen sucks ass and there's no room for anything, bot otherwise shit's okay in my world. I want a television and receiver so I can watch the olympic hockey or listen to music again not out of shitty tinny laptop speakers, but there's no room for it and it would just be more shit to carry when I eventually move.
said Tommy T. at 11:05 AM - #
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I logged back in to the terrible internet dating site trying to find anyone that wants to help with my quest to find the best Meican place in Walker's Point, the place south of where I work where the roads aren't shitty and every other building is a tacqueria. My search hasn't gone well, both in finding decent tacquerias and finding anyone who wants to go along.
I went out with a girl about a year ago who I had a pretty good time with. We won the bar trivia two weeks in a row, netting us a $25 in drinks at a dive bar, which I had to do on my own because she had to leave early. We went to the science surplus store that has all kinds of weird shit. I was a little bummed when I saw the plastic triops toy and I yelled "Triops has three eyes!" the moment I saw it and she had no idea what I was on about. I had to end that whole thing, even though I enjoyed hanging out with her because I just wasn't into it. I knew I was in trouble when we were hanging out at her place with her cats and she was wearing a ridiculously low cut shirt and leaning forward a lot and I didn't look. I didn't want to. It's clear where she wanted things to go, but I wasn't having any of that. I didn't want that shirt on the floor and that's not a thing I can often say. If I don't want that shirt on the floor, we have a big problem.
Since that whole thing, I haven't given much of a shit about any of that because it's all too much, too embarrassing and it makes me feel guilty.I think my not giving a shit is the problem. I'm not going to be young-ish forever, so ewhat happens when I do start giving a shit? I can chase after used up gross fat old ladies who have given up on themselves? No thanks. I've got my own shit going, I go to the hockey games, I work, I volunteer at the co-op bookstore and I work out. I'm planning a vegetable garden in a few months. I'm happy with where thing are at for the time, I don't need someone dragging me down right now. I mean, I need to find a better apartment to live in because my kitchen sucks ass and there's no room for anything, bot otherwise shit's okay in my world. I want a television and receiver so I can watch the olympic hockey or listen to music again not out of shitty tinny laptop speakers, but there's no room for it and it would just be more shit to carry when I eventually move.
said Tommy T. at 11:05 AM - #
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