Striving For Mediocrity

Ramblings of a thirtysomething sometimes bitter single girl living in Southern California with her gay cat and crazy neighbors. Doing her damnedest to find one good man that won't drive her completely nuts.

Friday, February 25, 2005

See you next Tuesday.

This morning, when I left my apartment for work, I went to my neighbor’s to drop a piece of her mail that I got my mistake. When I got up to the mailbox, I could see through her living room window that she was getting nailed by her boyfriend, and was not quiet about it.

This is not a big deal, except that she is a FANATICAL Jesus freak. I mean “church seven days a week” fanatical. “No alcohol or caffeine” fanatical. “Christian music only” fanatical. “Religious figurines on the dashboard of her car” fanatical. Now, I know even the Jesus freaks like to get it on, but I just never imagined her being quite so… nasty. I should have hung around to hear what she yelled out when she came… I mean, she wouldn’t yell out “oh God!” right?

I mean… in the living room, at eight in the morning, with the window OPEN.

Jesus-loving whore.

I am jealous.






Clearly, I have watched way too much porn.

Today, at my desk, I was watching the fax machine repair guy, all of a sudden, in my head all I could hear was “bow chicka bow wow.”

That was a perfect porn scene. Except I don’t have blonde hair and ginormous fake funbags, and he didn’t have a massive hard-on while repairing the paper tray.






Mr. Big Shot, the owner of the company I work for is gracious enough to give us worker drones free lunch on Fridays. Being that I am the lowest on the corporate totem pole, I have to coordinate these lunches.

Mrs. Big Shot, or Trophy Wife, as I like to call her, comes in every Friday and has lunch with the hubby at the office. Trophy Wife, unlike me, does have ginormous fake funbags, and even though she’s pushing 50, she looks about 35. She was a Playboy Playmate in the 70’s. And even though she is super nice to me, and never talks down to me, today I wanted to punch her.

I walked in the kitchen, and lying on the floor, underneath half of her shoe, was her $8000 (yes, THOUSAND) dollar Hermes Birkin bag. I know that this purse cost eight grand because a) I am a total purse whore, and b) I pay Mr. Big Shot’s bills, so I see everything he charges. After she saw it on Sex and the City, she made MBS get her one.

The fact that she was so unconcerned that this bag that cost so much was getting dirty on the floor really got my living-below-the-poverty-line blood boiling. I hate that she has a purse that’s worth more than what my car is worth now, and she doesn’t give a fuck that it’s on the floor and her foot is on it.

Damned rich people.






On the way home, some asshole in a Dodge Ram almost killed me. I was driving, and he was in a lane next to me that was running out, so he didn’t wait to be let in my lane, he just got over. Well, unfortunately for me, my little Corolla was in the way, and thank god there was no one in the lane next to me, because I had to swerve to get out of the way.

I laid on my horn, and started yelling and cursing and flipping him off, then he pulled up next to me, as close as he could, and yelled out “Fuck you, you stupid fucking cunt!”

Ok.

Now, I know exactly what this fucktard was thinking when he dropped the “C U Next Tuesday” bomb. Most chicks hate that word, and go completely apeshit if you call them one. I am not one of those girls.

I was more pissed that he called me stupid than anything.






I have suspected for quite some time now that my cat, Ike is gay. Tuesday night, he confirmed it.

I have always known that he is way too fluffy, pretty, and prissy to be a straight cat. He also can’t tear himself away from the television when I am watching Queer Eye For The Straight Guy.

He is always a complete asshole to my friends (and sometimes to me, for that matter). Hissing, scratching, and sometimes biting. He’s not nice.

But on Tuesday, my supergay friend John and his super HOT boyfriend Sean came over to my house, and that fucking cat whored himself out to those two queens like nothing I have ever seen. He purred, and rubbed his head up against their legs, and let them pet like he was a normal, friendly cat.

I have a gay cat.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.




Heh, I just added ginormous, supergay, funbags, and cunt to my word dictionary.

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