verbicide | grr argh (Reply)

I need a fucking haircut. It's gotten to the point where all the layers have grown out and I just have 80lbs of moppage on my head. Was going to get it chopped today, but the only appt Habitude has is for 7pm and I'm not sure what my plans for the evening are, yet.

So tomorrow at 11 it is. Will survive one more day of this, I'm sure.

I'm trying to schedule brunch with Jeff tomorrow, but he's been frantically busy trying to get moved into his new place. Wah. I missssssss him. We need to take another class together so I can be guaranteed his company on a regularly scheduled basis.

Hobbes is goddamn cute. So when I'm at my desk, he sleeps at my desk. When I go to bed, he moves to the bed. Last night, insomniac-ish and fidgety, I kept moving back and forth. When I got up from my chair, for the last time, to finally sleep. Hobbes lifted his head and gave me the most exasperated look. He let out a melodramatic sigh and grudgingly moved back to the bed. This time settling onto my head in the hopes of keeping me still for a bit.

He really is an amazing cat. My boyfriends always invariably end up loving him more than they love me. I still think the hardest thing for Keith in our breakup was losing visiting privledges. Greg, also, I fear, misses Hobbes more than he misses me. It kind of cracks me up. He threatened last night to steal Hobbes. To which I responded, icily: "Over my dead body."

*clings to Hobbes* In a life full of changes, he is a welcome constant. Okay. I'll stop before I confess that I sometimes serenade him with Sarah McLachlan's Push. Oops.

Moving on.

I need to write up a couple of invoices today. Like getting the money part, hate accounting for the time. Bleh.

Yay for soon-to-be-having Indian Food with Devin. Woop!

Also, want to go pick up a copy of 13 Going on 30, which for some bizarre reason, I absolutely loved. I think it's because Mark Ruffalo's character is the perfect man. The kind of man that only exists in the minds of writers of chick flicks, sure. But he's soooooo cute. And Jennifer Garner is adorable, too.

Though, I have to say I hate, hate, hate, hate that tired old plot where people are constantly getting left at the fucking altar, because their intended bride/groom just-now-realizes that they can't possibly go through with it! It's so fucked up.

I understand there is a need for Drama and Complications. It would be too easy for the One True Love of the main character to be single and available. But I'm tired of seeing some perfectly nice person getting fucked up the ass because the person they quite rightfully assumed loved them and wanted to marry them, is off having secret qualms and doubts and lusting for the main character.

It's actually what I really liked about Love, Actually's unrequited-love vignette. So you love your best friend's new wife. You know what? Too bad. It doesn't matter how strongly you feel for her, you don't try to fuck up your best friend's new marriage. You're miserable. You curse yourself. But you recognize that your feelings are unfortunate and fucking move on eventually. Because she's not the only one for you EVER, for fuck's sake.

Caution: Spewing Rant Ahead. Opinions Represented Are Solely My Own, And Not Meant To Speak For The Rest Of You Buggers.

The whole adolescent concept of True Love drives me bananas. There is no fucking True Love. There is only attraction and the work you're willing to put into it. Yes, you should be attracted to your partner and yes, you should have compatible personalities. But fucking hell, that's like 10% of it. The rest is bloody hard work. Consideration. Sacrifice. EFFORT. It isn't magic, people. It's a laborious task to mesh your life with someone else.

I'm not a fucking saint, obviously. I'd be disqualified over the profanity at the very least. But it startles me to see how selfish so many people are. Of course you have to take care of yourself. It's your duty to take care of yourself. But beyond that, will it fucking kill you to think about someone beside yourself? Like, for example, the person you purport to love? Gah.

Ok. End rant.

I love chick flicks. It's my guilty pleasure. I like watching pretty people, in pretty clothes, in shallow situations that I know don't represent real life. Shoot me. But I guess the selfishness often displayed there makes me fucking irate.

And I woke up cranky. So bleh.