| | I had a really shit time yesterday trying to be spontaneous because everybody else had gone out to dinner while I feverishly finished This Side of Paradise.
After it was over I said, "I can't believe I wasted so much time reading that stupid book and missed dinner." So the spontaneous part was hopping aboard public transit to get Wicker Park Falafel and seeing a bit of a bicycle race downtown. It was going great because I bought Baba Ganouj for the first time and then walked back to school where someone was playing piano really well in the commons, and I was trying to have myself a picnic but everything tasted like congealed poop. I tried to comfort myself by reading another book but Love Me by Garrison Keillor is very obviously predictable and about some complete dick who leaves his darling wife and dreary Minnessota town to be really glamorous in New York...oh, let me guess what is going to happen in the end. Whatever it is still an OK book but I am sick of male protagonists because they are stupid and don't even realize it and they objectify women constantly.
Then stupid Christopher stalked up and charmed me into going out for coffee with him agian and when we sat down and ordered a cappuccino he said to make sure mine wasn't too milky because he wanted to put on the air of taking care of me. He always asks about John. He started basically giving me a therapy session about how I don't seem to like him very much and that we shouldn't be dating. I said, "Don't say bad things about my boyfriend unless you intend to replace him," (which my mother on the phone this morning applauded), and then he LAUGHED IN MY FACE. That was unfounded. I don't understand people who shamelessly throw themselves at everyone including people like me and then reveal that they find me revoltingly unattratctive and that obnoxious flirting is just a habit for them.
I wanted to say, "You are an insolent little dishonest snob who sees art as a form of proprietary glamour. You get what you want all the time by batting your eyelashes and don't care about anyone unless they are spoon-feeding your ego. You take six thousand pills every day for all your so-called mental conditions and think you are so fascinating just because you are fatuously charming and know how to speak French. Anyone can speak French. My boyfriend could break you in half with a plastic fork."
But I didn't say that, I didn't really say anything, and I didn't even throw a drink on his stupid artfag clothes and stalk away. So he won again in making me feel lackluster. And now I have to prepare my mock trial.
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| | Posted 7/26/2008 12:20 PM - 17 views - 1 comments
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