| | I spent the weekend in Hartford, Connecticut. The only good to come out of that whole deal was I found DKNY's birthday present, which is a beautiful wall clock with a light-up animated "Jesus Is Flying Right At You" effect. It's BYOOO-tiful, and I think he'll love it. I also got matching stripper lighters for me, him, and the Stump. When the light comes on, the bikini briefs come off. So the weekend wasn't a total waste. I just fail to understand people who invite you up for the weekend and then don't offer breakfast, or at the very least say, "If you get hungry, eat something." This time I brought snacks, but if I'm forced to go again, I'll bring groceries. Which would be silly, of course, because the house was full of food, it's just that I was supposed to forage through it univited, a prospect I find absurd, especially since they keep kosher and one false step could de-kosher their kitchen. Is it part of the international jewish conspiracy or is it just another example that people from New Jersey are raised without any manners whatsoever?
I spent yesterday, which I had off from work, getting all the poo off my old computer and working on my newest portrait, Little Edie (Big), which is coming along nicely, seeing as so far it's just a canvas painted black. You'd be surprised how hard it is to get it within my demanding specifications.
Then I made the mistake of going to see Something's Gotta Give with E. He decided that he was Diane Keaton, and that I very well might not be his Jack Nicholson but instead some lesser non-soulmate, and wouldn't the escalator out of the movie theater be a great place to discuss the status of our relationship? My dreams for the future? Is this what I want out of life?
He was also disturbed that I thought the movie was funny, because in his mind it was sad. I guess I didn't find any of it all that profound, not the least of which because I'd already seen this movie the first time around, when it was called Terms Of Endearment, which was both funnier and sadder. I'd also already seen Diane Keaton play this role previously in a more humorous (Baby Boom) and more poignant (Crimes Of The Heart) manner. Since Amanda Peet didn't die of (or even get) breast cancer this time, I thought that pushed it more into "comedy" territory. But what do I know? I was just a film major, and E thinks that candles in jars will explode violently if they are capped too quickly after you extinguish them.
He finally got around to asking for what he wanted: couples therapy. Two horrible little words married into a horrible little phrase. You see, he had apparently forgotten/not listened the last time we had one of these lame discussions, because I quite specifically know that I have already agreed to go see his therapist - who I'm sure is dying to meet me, by the way - so I was fine agreeing to go again. Apparently, the irony that he didn't pay attention to my answer the first time is lost on all but you, gentle reader. So I have couples therapy to look forward to this spring, and as a result I'm holding off on buying that flat-panel television I've been eyeing - broker's fees are tres expensive, you know. |
3) I certainly hope he is paying for the f@#$ing therapy!
