Ketchup

So here's the brief (in chronological order, not in order of importance):

1. Wednesday night when I was at Favourite Bar with Megan-from-Work, Male Lady drove by and slowed waaaayyyyy down as she passed. Did I mention she has the same little red convertible as Kelly, but with a different coulour top? Anyway, I got home and there was a PNHead call on my caller ID from roughly ten minutes after she drove by. So it's slowing down now that I'm not hanging out with the love of her life,** but it's not quite out of her system.



2. Thursday: Woolstock.



3. Red called Friday night while I was on the phone with my father to tell me she and Jenny and Amber (you remember Jenny and Amber from Woolstock, right?) were doing the First Friday Art Walk on Santa Fe, carrying fun adult hot chocolate (which sounds like a service of which you might be able partake in a whorehouse in Bangkok).
   
   I discovered my caller ID doesn't capture phone numbers of calls that never actually rang out loud, so I couldn't call Red so I didn't go. I stayed in and knitted. There was Bellocqage, there was Sparkle Sockage, there was Stupid Blanketage. It was good.



4. Kelley and I went shopping at the fashion show at the Oriental on Saturday. We both bought Vamp Bags. Kelley bought Debbie
   
   
   
   in a very cool plummy colour and I bought Vicki
   
   
   
   in a very cool green. I also got the Skulls-in-Hats tote, and a tshirt with a pumpjack and derrick on it. Now, it also has fighter planes, so I'm pretty sure it's a blood-for-oil political statement, but I told the be-pierced and heavily inked artist I'm very excited to have a tshirt I can wear to work on casual Friday.**



5. Saturday night, we went to Favourite Bar (this is after a day of shopping, dining and drinking) and left by 8:00. Yeah, I know, but remember how you found in college when you started drinking at 10:00 in the morning, you were pretty much ready for bed (or ambulance) by 10:00 that night? I'm no longer in college. If I start drinking at 2:00, 8:00 looks like a pretty reasonable bedtime.
   
   Anyway, we left before Sex Toy was scheduled in to Favourite Bar and Kelley suggested I should at least text him, which I did.
   
   The next morning, I heard the twinkle-tones of a text message coming through from the celly downstairs. I went down to check, assuming it was Sex Toy, but no. It was The Boy. Texting to say he's good and wishing me a happy Easter. Huh.
   
   The first thing Tani said? "He still has your number in his phone." Would you believe that never occurred to me? What mostly occurred to me was: Huh. Does he really think I have enough influence over Kelley to get her to talk to him?
   
   Anyway, I texted back the following (verbatim): Good & thanks & you too.



6. Of course, Monday was sitting-on-twins day, followed by the mad rush home to see if Secret Pal's package had arrived. I opened my little box and -- joy! -- there was a key to the bigger box, indicating a PACKAGE! I opened the bigger box and there was NO PACKAGE! It was empty. I almost wrangled a guy walking by to ask him if *he* saw anything in the box. I thought perhaps I was experiencing hysterical blindness. But, no. I called the post office... it was left on the front porch... too big for box... sorry we left the key and freaked you out...



7. Tuesday: Magic of pedicure impeding magic of receiving presents, but feet renedered unembarrassing (my car is clean and my feet are pretty. What is the world coming to?)



8. Tuesday later: Presents! You saw.



9. Wednesday morning: Funeral.**



10. Wednesday morning later: Another BLM field trip.



11. Wednesday afternoon: Back to office.



12. Wednesday evening: Wanted to go to Goosetown Tavern with Downtown Denver SnB (who seem like my kinda chicks all the way 'round, but I've yet to meet them) and be on TV like a rock star, but worked until 8:00. Went to Other Favourite Bar for dinner and a (one. single.) beer. Christopher bought me a second beer. Never look a gift beer in the mouth.


So I had time to knit and ran into a new mathematic adventure: now I can't count to three. I'm going to have to do some serious backtracking on the Heathers ("Well, it's just like - they're people I work with, and our job is being popular and shit.") to even figure out what went pear-shaped. I think between the second beer and the basketball game, all hope of counting to three was lost.


13. Work today. SnB tonight. Hopefully to bed early.

Now we're all caught up. Who would have thought the most interesting thing about me is The fucking Boy? How degrading. How anti-feminist. I feel dirty.

Thank goodness I have a solid Bath Whore Support System waiting for me at home.

**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): That's The Boy, in case I outclevered myself again.

**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): For one, I think he was seriously considering refusing to let me have the shirt on grounds of issue, but his capitalistic little heart beat too strong and he gave in.

For two, my first thought? Honestly? "It has airplanes AND oil accountrement. I'm going to be the most popular girl at Easter brunch!" (what with the Tallest Hairiest nephew's love of all things avionic and both father and brother being in or late of the petroleum industry.) Did I mention dork yet today?

For three, may I take this opportunity to point out that I and mine are fully involved in DOMESTIC exploration and production, so whatever you think of the industry, never try to paste a blood-for-oil label on us. And vote domestic-production-friendly in 2008. It's good for the country, it's good for you and it's good for your dear ol' AntiM.

**FOOTNOTE (asterisked): For one, Catholic. I know all the words, mind you, but I felt like a black man standing on a corner in Gstaad... so outnumbered.

For two, sad. Made me think of Mom. I mean, I think of Mom every day, but this was a LOT. And it wasn't one of those, "Oh, Mom would have loved that" things, it was Mom and death. It makes me sad. And tired. And tired of being sad.