Seriously?!

Excuses, Excuses

CPI was back in action yesterday. I told him that we had a running bet on whether or not his absence had to do with the consumption of alcohol. He said no.

Appears that he sunburned his back pretty badly while installing the winch on the Jeep over the weekend. That's believable, given that he's so fair. He'd put this aloe stuff on it, but had a reaction to one of the chemicals and wound up grumpy and itchy and hivey all over. Said the itching was so bad he wanted to cry - the admission of which made me giggle and only served to confirm that all men, no matter how tough they appear, are all big ol' babies.

Doesn't make me like him any less though.

On a side note, I yelled at Todd on the phone the other night. I am so fucking fed up with him right now. He calls the other night and I call him right back (8:30pm my time) asking if it would be OK to call him in about 45mins. He went into this long, drawn-out explanation about how he had to get up early to go in to work, since he's now doing the crime reporting at the station and that he needed to go to bed early. So basically no, he was going to be asleep and my call would wake him up. I was fine with that up until I asked how early he had to get up. He said 6am.

6am?!! Are you shitting me? You're putting off talking to me, your goddamn girlfriend, who you don't get to talk to except maybe once a week, because you have to get up at the same time I get up every goddamn morning for the last 8 years to go to work??!! Even when I stay up late counseling you and listening to all your fucking problems, or I go out with friends, or attend an evening karate class?? Boo-fucking-hoo for you, asshole.

Jesus.

You know what I'm thinking, right? I'm thinking: Wow. This is just like my relationship with Carl. I feel like on The List of Things Important to Todd, I rate about #462, right under #461 Cleaning the Cat Box. How stupid do I look? Do you think that I'm going to stick around for that kind of treatment? I was with Carl seven years and I divorced him because of it. Like a long-distance good-for-nothing boyfriend is going to fare any better than my husband?

I don't think so.

Anyway, he finally stops talking long enough to pick up on the fact that there's nothing but silence on my end of the phone. Assuming that I'm upset (brilliant deduction Sherlock) he gives a long-suffering sigh and says "Oh nevermind. Go ahead and call me."

Well now, isn't he generous? Aren't I the privileged one?

"I will just call you later in the week, OK?" I said.
"No, no," he says, in a tired and put-upon tone. "Call me back tonight."
Silence.
Silence.
More Silence.
"Alright?" he asks.
Silence.
"Just call me back," he says.
Silence.
"Whatever," I say and then whatever he says is said to Mr.Click & Mr.Dial Tone.

I'm sitting on the couch fuming, when the phone rings and his name pops up on the LCD. The little thermostat in my head pops through it's glass orb. I answer the phone with a "WHAT??!!"

There is a shocked silence, but I can hear him breathing.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW?!!" I say, in full on Possessed by the Devil mode.
There is a gasp on his end. I hang up.

Five minutes and one icy shower later, I call him back.

"I'll just call you later in the week," I say in a reasonable tone, even if it is through gritted teeth. "Just go to bed and get some sleep."
"What's wrong with you?" he asks, shocked by my anger, which he's never been subjected to before.

I consider going into it, but figure that my head will actually explode if he turns it around and starts talking about himself - as is the usual procedure with Todd. "There's just a lot of shit going on and I'll just talk to you later, alright?" I say, deciding that it's just not worth the bother.

"Oh. OK," he says. I hang up.

He just does not get it, and I can't explain it to him any more. This psuedo-relationship has run it's course and outlived it's usefulness. I'm all done here.

And I still haven't heard from Brian. It's been 2 weeks since I talked to him about tagging the car. How very typical. I think he's snorting his checks up his nose.

That's what you get when you try to help people out - fucked.