Posted: July 15, 2007 in Old Blogs




MAN!! I just really need to throw something right now! Where the HELL is the stress ball when you need one!!

So.. okay…

Alittle while ago.. after I got done all my rantings and ravings, I was going to hop into the shower and do the girly thing to get ready for work tomorrow.

It dawns on me that I can’t actually take a shower with my mother’s company still sucking down coffee and cannollis :: well, I COULD be there’s only one bathroom in the house and SO didn’t want to go there :: so I figured I may as well go stock up on cigarettes and gas.

Now.. it’s always an adventure driving around the ghetto at night. Especially a hot, humid night when the Phils lost their 10,000th game but a gal gotta do what a gal gotta do. Since I normally get gas to or from work, it also dawns on me :: there’s alotta “dawnin'” going on isn’t there! :: that even though there’s a Asian nail salon on every corner… and Indian grocery store on every OTHER corner.. gas stations are few and far between.

Also realize that I don’t have any actual cash on me. That’s not really that unusual. My debit card is my best friend but in situation like this.. it’s better just having the paper on you.

So I drive over to the closests banks ATM :: which happens to be my bank :: pull out a $20… do some creative driving across the parking lot to get to the all night pharmacy… side stepped the no-legged dude near the entrance jingling his Dixie cup outside… patiently :: but no so patiently :: waited for the yuppie couple to grill the cashier about which was the better digital thermometer :: OH the visuals I could have had!! :: and then contended with the Vietnamese dude buying up about 20 cases of soda that was on sale:: that you KNOW he’s going to sell at full price in his corner grocery store :: bitching about why there was a limit to how many he could buy.

By the time I got to the cashier and only asked for a pack of Marlboro Lights box.. AND had cash.. I think she was just about to offer me her first born.. or seventh :: she looked like that kinda gal! ::

So I get out of there. I got a reprieve from the no-legged dude because some ass was actually arguing with him so I was able to scoot by unnoticed.

Now the real dilemna was… do I travel the extra 5 miles to get gas that’s about 3 cent cheaper or do I just stay local and give up the 3 cent?

My gage was probably at half of a quarter tank.. and I have about a 12 gallon tank so do the math. 36 cents wasn’t going to put me in the poverty house. In fact, I bet I have at least 36 dollars in change underneath the car seat!

So I drive over to the closest gas station and begin to do my thing. Now.. I am aware enough of my surroundings to not get caught between a gang war shoot out but other then that… I tend to not get too involved in what other people are doing.

I’m standing there.. leaning against my clown car when I hear someone call out, “.. well, look who it is.”

I don’t budge. Don’t even flex a muscle. Even though I know alot of people in the neighborhood.. I actually haven’t been back in the neighborhood that long for someone to recognize me.

Or so I thought.


I turn around and who is parked directly across from my clown car? Chris D.

Now just let me back up alittle here so you get the full scope of my angst.

Chris D and I dated from 1986 to 1987. Well… “date” is a loose term especially since he started running on me with his ex after like.. the first month or something.

But I hold no grudge. So what that he was the first guy to break my heart. It’s been like, 20 years so… it’s been “gotten over” with.

Anyway.. so I didn’t really have to pretend to act surprised. I was and give him a “Hey! How are you!” greeting.

There is safety when two cars stand between you and the person who shredded you. But it’s been like, 20 years so.. it’s been “gotten over” with.

He says he’s fine and there’s this uncomfortable silence. What do you really say? Me..  not being one for uncomfortable silences.. but definately at a loss on how to fill it stays with the niceties and says, “… you look good.”

Actually.. he didn’t. A fact that I neither felt bad about or relished in. It was just something safe to say.

Or so I thought.

He makes this nodding Yea-I-Know-I-Do face and returns with, “.. .well I can’t say the same about you.”

Immediately a million and one things go through my mind.

While I may not be the size 9… bleached blond long hair wearing… blue eyeliner smudging.. skirt so short you could see the tampon string wearing chick I was when I was 22.. I am certainly NOT the size 24.. 265lb chin hanging down to my ankles girl I was when he last saw me at a mutual friends funeral when I was 32.

Can I just reiterate that one last fact…

I am SO NOT ANYWHERE NEAR 265lbs anymore…

Anyway.. I wasn’t the one who stood him up more then picked him up.. I’m not the one who told him my step father’s wake was the day after it really was :: guess he thought I didn’t read obituaries since I was then a blond :: I wasn’t the one who did all the things that would make someone still hold a grudge after 20 years.

How do you respond to that? If I said, “.. well, I lied. You really don’t either.” it would just have come off as me back peddling and being bitchy.

Even though it is the truth.

So I took the high road. Grinned.. shook my head and said, “.. you’re still a trip”. Got in my car and took off.

But it did bother me. Still does. Still don’t know why. I guess having heard everything I heard during my marriage being drilled into me on a semi-daily basis still has some residual affect. I mean… logically, I know that his cutting me down at the knees was more about boosting his self esteem by trashing mine and even though it hurt then.. and sometimes still does.. I just lock it away in the deepest part of my brain and not let it see the light.

Until nights like tonight when the universe is tilted just at the right angle to let that little bit of self doubt seep through the tracks.

But fuck ’em… I know who I am

¸.•´¸.•*¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´ .•´ ¸¸.•¨¯`•.  Leese


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