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2004-03-26 - 12:51 a.m. ask him why we're who we are - dishwalla i've got good news, and i've got bad news. first, the bad news: whitney houston walked out of rehab after only 5 days...kidding. although, that is true. the bad news: i don't think i can really deal with chad and his b/f anymore. i called him to go to the gym, he agreed. good. fine. i show up at his place, and steven, the b/f, is sitting on the sofa. chad's like, "just lemme brush my teeth". no problem. i'm standing there, and i have no intention of "making the talk" with "the shitheel". he's like, "doing the gym, huh?". "yup", i reply. chad came in and looked back and forth between steven and i for an uncomfortably long amount of time. he kissed his man, and we were off. that's when he kinda looked me up and down and said, "you look good, this morning". normally, i would have mumbled "thanks" and been done with it. this was different though. he was obviously unhappy with how i looked. i had on mesh basketball shorts, not too tight, not too loose, and a wifebeater. so, yes, i had some skin showing, but, we were going to the fucking gym, and i didn't know his b/f was gonna be there, did i? anyway, i acted like i didn't hear him and said, "what was that?", and i guess i said it kinda pist, cuz he was like, "nothing". we drove to the gym in silence. ugh. i tried to talk to him, he tried to talk to me. it was just too much work. i can't worry about how i'm dressed in front of his stupid b/f. look. i'm already painting myself into this corner of being a wanton temptress. if his b/f wasn't trying to hit on me, he'd be doing it to someone else. trust me, dude. i can't put myself there. i won't do it. i don't want to have to worry about what i'm wearing to the fucking gym, fer chrissake. too much work. the good news: if you've hung in after my oh-so-gay drama. the good news is i got xm satellite radio, and it fuckin gives me a stiffy, it's soooo good. it's like the greatest mix tape in the world. on the way home from work, i heard, blur, ned's atomic dustbin, the breeders, social distortion, and the pretenders. commercial free, unedited, it fucking rawks. oh, did i mention that the news was only good for me? whoops later |
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