I just touched my cat's butt by accident and I'm really disgusted by it.
Something else I'm disgusted by is the state my legs are in.
I look like a teenage runaway who lives under a bridge and has a vitamin deficiency.
I have been tearing up South Street on my bike as well as having too many drinks and aggressively dragging said bike up and down stairs and such.
That explains the severely bruised ankles/calves/thighs.
I have this super irritated shredder cut that looks kind of like a tiger tried to climb up my limb. Its is a little swollen and still fairly dirty.
I fell. That's the whole story.
So today Claude, my cognitive behavioral therapist/new best friend told me in jest that I should tattoo 'I don't date losers' on the palm of my hand to serve as a personal reminder.
We talked for at least 20 minutes about the fact that I specifically chose to continue seeing men who I am FULLY AWARE are unavailable.
AKA substance abusers, cheaters, jobless drifters, emotionally invested in other women, depressed, etc etc etc.
To be totally honest, this is something I swear to God, I didn't know I was doing.
Heres a sample of how blind I am:
Claude: What exactly do you want from ____?
Me: I think I have no idea what I want. I think I wish things would just be happy and awesome. The men I like, they are actually good people, seriously Claude.
Claude: OK. Good. Are they available?
Me: No.
Claude: OK. So you have to stop seeing them. Cut it off. Its OK for things to just not work out. No one is a 'loser' we are just humans. You are not picking losers, you are just being *MALADAPTIVE.
Me: But that means I don't win.
(THAT IS VERBATIM. VERBATIM)
Claude: Riiiight. So you're winning right now? I mean... wouldn't winning be dating people who want to be with you? And respect you? And are ready?
Me: What? This is stupid. I win if I make it work.
Claude: Guess what. You just made my job easier. Repeat yourself outloud. See how it sounds.
Me: Oh shit.
Aaaaaand SCENE.
Tada!
Then he gave me some exercises to do and things to research and looked at me like a little gnome and wiggled his glasses and said, "Its all about the path. Thats all. Just the path."
That gave me a panic attack but I settled down and was fine.
Great Job.
*Maladaptive behaviors refer to types of behaviors that inhibit a person’s ability to adjust to particular situations. This type of behavior is often used to reduce one’s anxiety, but the result is dysfunctional and non-productive. For example, avoiding situations because you have unrealistic fears may initially reduce your anxiety, but it is non-productive in alleviating the actual problem in the long term.
Enough about that for now.
Here's some things me and Gob did together recently.
(not this Gob)
Gob and I looking at the river while weird Chinese people fish and set things on fire.
Gob and I looking out at machinery and dome as pictured below.
Awkward running father who did not understand that one would need wind in order to successfully fly a kite.
Men alone with children is interesting because of their completely sporadic fits of logic. Its there...then its not? Oh here eat this popsicle for breakfast. What? You refuse to now eat these eggs? Why???
Lets fly a kite! Shit, there is no wind. I guess I'll just walk around with you with no water and long sleeves on this very hot afternoon until your mother gets home.
Shrug.
I love men, I do. And the idea of a loving father, a fun father...its a Dream. Its special!
But.
Lets face it.
Theres a reason why kids think dads are fun and moms are pests.
Somebody has to be the pest or every kid in the world would have rotten teeth, dirty faces, infected fingies and weird brown bag lunches with little to no nutritional value.
I generalize because its funny.
Death is part of life.
But maggots eating squirrel eyes is still gross.
FDR is literally killing it.
(ba-dum CHHHH!)
Tank top balding sandals guy and his giant turtle, who may in fact be his romantic lover.
PS the turtle lives in a boat house.
Baller.
This has nothing to do with my bike rides, but please look at this man on the train.
His toupee was SO UNBEWEAVABLE in person.
It looks like a hair hat!
I have never seen anything like it.
It was so shiny and wiggish and his little remaining wiry gray hairs poked out all around its border.
He also had the weirdest kit I have even seen, dirty denim with elastic waist and cuffs?
One velcro shoe one with laces?
A fucking confetti party time pattern umbrella?
An expensive-ish watch?
I'm pretty sure hes one of those people who tries to sell you free things like copies of the Onion or 'appraisal on air conditioning unit installing' coupons he got in the mail. Super Saver!
He probably also eats people.
The opposite of scary train guy is this kid, who I met at Stephanies bday BBQ.
He was really good at scrounging our food and also tried to plant an avocado pit in the dirt so the park could have a fruit bearing tree.
I gave him bubbles and a pop ice.
Then I played ball with him.
His face makes me happy so I am going to go to bed before something ruins it.
Arr-vwar, creeps!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Hi Waaaaayne.....Hiiiiiiii.
Labels:
bike,
boys,
Claude the gnome,
crackheads,
crying is not tough,
jerk,
k,
LES,
my cats,
rest in peace
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