First, the new skin: Huh!?!? Didn't I tell you it kicks ass!?!? My thanks to
for coming up with something fun as well as a little disturbing. It's like she could read my mind before I even knew what I wanted. Tres cool, yo.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled drama.
: It's an advertisement for Waymon and his biz, but the coin reads -- and I carry it in my pocket like a talisman -- "I am ultimately responsible for the amount of chaos I allow into my life." I really WANT to follow this mantra, and lately, I'd been doing a pretty good job, what with the family thinking I'm the antiChrist and all. Things were peaceful. And then came early Monday morning and
So he comes over after a day of paryting with
the Committee and drunk to beat the band. (He'll never cop to it, and I must admit, I've seen him sloppy only maybe three times in going on six years. Still, drunk.) That is what it is, although I was damned if I was going to meet up with him AFTER THE PARTY ENDED like he wanted, because, I mean, please -- if you're not going to invite me TO the party as it happens, ain't no WAY I'm picking you up afterward. That's just rude. But he comes over and so on and so forth. So we get to talking, and he tells me that he's getting ready to purchase racehorses, and I'm like, "Cool, that's your dream," when he starts telling me about how his friends may never see him again and that they kind of understand, but not really. Well, why wouldn't they see you? I ask, and he equates it to their being married: It's going to take up a lot of his time and whatnot. Ok, that's fair. But then he says, "YOU may never see me again." Why not? I ask, and he tells me the same thing, adding "So, when you're at 50-cent draft night and ESPN's on and you see me, you'll know I've made it," to which I countered that no, I'd know beforehand how he was doing, because he always wants me to know that he's doing well, and not in a condescending way. And he agreed, I think.
So then I say "What, you're not going to invite me to the track?" And he says:
Sure, I'll invite you, but you're going to get your heart broken.
At that moment, a panic I haven't felt in ages reaches down, grabs my stomach and shakes it.
"Why would I get my heart broken?"
"You just would."
"Why!?!?"
"You just would."
WHAT!?!? What does that even MEAN!??!
Gotta meeting -- I'll pick this up when I get back.
[11:42 p.m.] Ok, where was I? Oh yeah, beating my head against the desk.
This is an example of what not to say without clarification when you're lying in bed with someone. There's just no way something like that can look good, ESPECIALLY to someone as paranoid as I am, and he KNOWS this. I mean, he'll tell me what he meant eventually (if he meant anything by it); he's nothing if not brutally honest. But in the meantime, I'm all freaked out.
Oh, whatEVER. 
AH! I love it!!!! She did a fabulous job.