pandalicious's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Major Differences... The THIRD Update today (go me!) :: ..................... I went home for lunch. Mikee was there, as it's another day off for him. He was in a foul mood when I got home, because Amanda called and said that she wasn't going to move out at all anymore. Actually she didn't call. He called her. That is disappointing, but also not very nice of her to keep him waiting on an answer for so long. She should have called. He was also illin' about my note. You see, I left him a note that said Hey, Dearie... then stuff about tending to his ferrets. Okay. Eww. That's all anyone can say about the condition of the ferrets' cage. He's just not giving them attention at all and the cage is disgusting and putrid and I've cleaned it, I've fed them, I've held them and I've made sure they're getting water... but they are HIS pets. He doesn't even LOOK at them anymore. Every other day I suggest that maybe he should just let someone have them, someone who has time for them. It's not that Mike DOESN'T have time. He has PLENTY of time. Instead he lays around nude, watching tv, pretending to be Arab on yahoo chat, fixing himself mixed drinks... whatever. Anything but acknowledge the existance of the ferrets that he brags about to everyone. It's kind of fucked up, honestly. So I wrote him a little note. Now, I thought it was nice. Maybe it wasn't. I mean how sweet can I note saying clean up ferret dung be, really? But I had to write it. It needs doing. I'm not doing it anymore. YUK. When I got home he was grumping about the wire-cutters missingness. I'm pretty sure that my dad took them home with him last week, after we were going to kick Mike out. He'd left them there before so that Mike could cut some wire out of the cage and make a drop down tray type thing that would hold a little litterbox that you could slide in and out for easy cleaning. But yeah. The wire cutters are gone. Grumpy Mike was now Grumpier Mike. Weeeeeeee. Fun Fun. He critiqued my letter. A good morning, I love you, SOMETHING would have been a nice preface to "the ferrets are going to die." haha. Granted. So I took him to Ace Hardware to get wire cutters and some loopy things so that he can recreate the milk crate couch when he gets his own place. I bought the loopy things to replace the ones that my dad sawed off in dissembling the makeshift couch. At the checkout, my total came to $7.47. I said, 'cool! My total is an airplane.' The clerk was confused. I said, yeah, 747, like the planes!! And he laughed. Mike said that I was weird. (That really pisses my mom off, btw!) Then we went to Burger King. They call out the orders by number. When my order came up I was like MEEEEE!!! because there's no reason not to be giddy and happy and funlovin' on such a gorgeous day. The BK lady was playin' around too, we were just having a bouncee electrode day. When we sat down, Mike said "you're embarrassing to be with, dude." WHAT EVER!!!! That irritates me so much!!! I mean, it's not like I drool on myself or shout rude or lewd things to unsuspecting people. I just have fun. Big deal. No one ever looks at me like I'm an idiot. Most people are either unphased by me or they're smiling about it. But Mike, in his black and white camo's and his black and white PLAID knee socks, wants to say that I'm embarrassing to be with. The sad part of it is, he really thinks that his outfit is leaning towards the punk rock look. It doesn't, somehow. It doesn't look punk rock. Kid Rock maybe. Which I find Kid Rock rather.... ehh. But right, I love Mike, so I look past that, most of the time. hehe. Last night we were at Waffle House. Everything I said he pretty much countered with a 'weirdo' or a 'I'm sorry, that's just bullshit.' I talked about how traditions embraced by the nation as a whole tend to freak me out, because they aren't really personalized. I wondered where the origins were, and how things like traditions and slang and other things get so widespread and so accepted so quickly. My theory about deja-vu worked to his satisfaction, but the tarot card/psychic thing did not go over well at all. This is the b.s. according to him. The Bible is anti-psychic. As if psychics consulted the devil to get answers. I tried to explain to him that most psychics are actually firm believers in God. His ears are closed to this notion. Tarot cards as depicted on tv commercials :: buncha bull, I'll admit that. I don't believe that you can tell someone that their cousin Betty is sleeping with your husband based on what you see in the cards. I say that they are simply suggestions to help you focus in on what is and what is likely to be if things stay exactly on the same track as they are on currently. Nothing more. Just suggestions. He closes his ears to this conversation. Closes his mind. Closes his flower of communication. He can't entertain ideas about anything other than his own beliefs. I said that I was oh so sad for him, (in a playful way) because he's really missing out on a lot. He says he's not missing anything by missing new age/spiritual openmindedness. But it's not just that. He hates hippies, nature, silliness, and fun that is not able to be carried off in a manner so that you never look uncool. I'm all about it, though. ... 18:20:29 - eight oh four ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||