Hey kids. It’s 3:48 in the am and I’m awake. Pot of coffee’s brewing though, and I’m packing for my little tournament out in Greenbelt MD. I suspect by the time of our first game — 5:30 pm. I know, right? — I’ll be asleep under a tree but we’ll see how things go.
In any event, I’m up because there have been some silly little interpersonal shenanigans to negotiate and that kind of thing has never been something I’ve been particularly adept at putting into perspective in the immediate. And I think, given that one of the last people I really opened up to ended up telling me four years or so into a very intense attempt at friendship, that the first mistake I made was thinking that he EVER liked me (just one in a very long list of insanely cruel statements he made over the years), I’m a little battle scarred and pretty quick to sabotage anything that begins to look similar. So I’ve done that. Probably intentionally, too, although that’s one of those weird subconscious things you only realize later. It kind of stinks because I have to deal with a tiny bit (as in barely significant) of the fallout this weekend — did you ever see Working Girl where Tess tells Katherine:
Tess: Look, you, maybe you can fool these guys with this saint act that you’ve got down, but don’t you ever speak to me again like we don’t know what really happened. You got me?
Katherine: Tess, this is business. Let’s just bury the hatchet. Okay?
Tess: You know where you can bury your hatchet? Now get your bony ass
out of my sight!
It’s a little bit like that, only way less smart.
In any event, it’s got me awake and feeling pretty sorry — although, I will say this, if you get me to open up to you about things that I can’t talk to other people about, and you then use that information to infiltrate my life (even in an ancillary way) negatively, and you set about making things harder for me — especially at a time like right meow, when things are pretty hard as it is — you really shouldn’t be surprised if I address that pretty quickly and remove it from my life. I have neither the time nor the inclination to play a lot of silly head games. And I most certainly don’t have the time to entertain people who don’t understand the concept of friendship. (And Mohel, I react the way I do because what’s the point of playing it close to the vest if the reward is a ticket on the drama train, one I’ve been watching putter around for a little while now? Trust me when I tell you, it’s better this way.)
The worst part of all this: the feeling bad about it kept me from getting my cupcakes made for Wolfy and Gabriel. And that’s a real tragedy. Jerks.
Okey dokey, let’s just leave that where it lay so I can get a little happier and try to enjoy myself this weekend. I think I can do it. My pimp hand is always at the ready, however. Just keep it in mind.
This is amazing. I’m pretty sure my mom, who managed to hang on to my dad for over 50 years, just behaved herself naturally and spoke up when things needed addressing, and kept counsel when things could be managed. Apparently, Mom, you were not much a child of your generation. Or this one for that matter because shallow — acting all of this stuff but not really believing it — is what wins today. For a little while anyway.
Woman, you have no idea how lucky you are to have landed a man. But as the literature of the mid-century’s greatest matrimonial minds tells us, he’s one wrinkled shirt away from leaving you. Eyes open and mouth shut ladies. It’s about to get real.
1. Don’t Talk
Oh, did Mavis from next door insult your prize winning squash? Did little Timmy get sent home for starting fires again? That shooting pain in your left arm just keeps getting more intense? Keep it to yourself! Your man works all through his day and last thing he needs to hear about is yours. Refer to the first four commandments on “How to be a Good Wife” Edward Podolsky gives in his 1943 book, Sex Today in Wedded Life
Yes, it made the Wall Street Journal! That’s just excellence in reporting right there.
“As long as they keep making those hash browns, we’re going to be all right,” said Glenn Stiegman, a Braves fan from Charleston, who had come to Foley’s to watch Tuesday night’s game against the Washington Nationals. The Nats are a distant second behind the Braves.
Alright, morning music. Wish me luck this weekend.