1. Hell hath no fury like that of a diva who doesn't get her way, particularly when that diva is my brother-in-law. He has proven that I have much to learn in the ways of tantrum-throwing. Likewise for a certain diva-esque co-worker/friend of mine, known best as Master Bates. When I informed Master Bates a couple of weeks ago that I would not be having a drink with him as I was giving Madame Booze a break (and by "break", I meant abstaining from alcohol for more than 24 hours), suddenly the earth began to tremble and I saw angry little gremlins dancing in his eyes. His face turned a deep shade of furious and his features contracted into this piercing glare that could have shattered glass. At that point I would have shot heroin if he'd asked me to, simply to spare myself from his wrath.
As for the aforementioned brother-in-law, he still refuses to speak to me directly and will only screech at me through text messages - something to the effect of "fuck you and the horse you rode in on" - all because I didn't meet him for happy hour last night. His tactics are working, too, because my guilt trip is enormous, and I am officially convinced I am the lowest life form on the planet. You win, bitches. I will never defy you again.
2. New favorite person: Chuck the Italian with the bottle-dyed red hair (which makes him a bit like a wanna-be-Irish Mario Canton); his ankle-biting dog, Satan's Little Helper, whose reputation precedes him; his famous cat, aka The Fiercest Cat in the World, with its E! True Hollywood story; and the beast of a Durango that kills pedestrians for fun. Cue Niecy Nash impression: OOOOHHHHHHHH!!! You made my night. Heart hug! Love, Miss Castro.
3. Quote of the week: "Don't carry stuff. That's why we have straight men."
4. Being back in the dating world again, I'm reminded that there are definitely good dates and bad dates. You forget how good the good dates can be until suddenly you forget you're on a date in the first place and the last thing you want is for it to end. On the other hand, you don't know just how bad a bad one can be until it's all you can do to keep from excusing yourself to the ladies' room to drown yourself in the toilet. Yes, the bad dates certainly make you appreciate the good ones.
5. San Francisco is one big small town. It's just an island full of people you think you'll never see again, and in some cases wish you wouldn't, but inevitably do, i.e., that anorexic lady with the grapefruit kneecaps and toothpicks for legs, whose bones you can hear grinding together as she walks; the homeless con man with the elaborate sandwiches-for-the-homeless scheme to get you to follow him to a parking garage where he will likely kill you and eat you; and every guy you've ever made an ass of yourself in front of. (Talking hypothetically here.)
6. You may think your life's a hot mess, then you look at people around you and see that you're not the only one with issues - everybody's struggling in one way or another. We're all living the same life - we just have different stories attached. You're never the only one.
7. We love you, Susan.
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