Yesterday I was driving back to the apartment from the tanning salon, the biggest waste of five minutes in my life, when Poodle called. I don't bother saying "Hello?", as if I don't know who it is and saying "hello?" is such a waste of time when you're whole relationship consists of only the space inbetween your ear and your cell phone. So, like aways, I immediately start talking and tell him about the horrible service at the salon and the five minute tan that I really don't think was five minutes. When I took a breath I heard, "Are you done yet?". And the rest of the conversation went alittle something like this:
Me: "Did you have something to say?"
Poodle: "Well, I was the one who called."
Me: "So just because you call I have to wait for you to say something and then hang up? If I want to tell you something I have to call back? Is this how it works? Because you didn't tell me that in the five years of doing this."
Poodle: "I just wanted to tell you that I lost five pounds since I weighed myself last."
Then I was all proud of him, congratulating him, and he was still being pissy.
Poodle: "So maybe if you had given me a chance to talk, since I called, I could have told you that."
At this point I was hitting a major traffic jam, some huge accident or what now and four lanes of traffic bottle-necked into one.
Me: "Well, when I feel like talking to you I'll give you a call."
Poodle: "Alright. I love you, kiss, kiss--(etc)
Me: "Love you too, kiss kiss( etc)
Then he called me about ten minutes later and told me he was "sorry".
Me: "Sorry for what?"
Poodle: "Sorry for yelling...I love you, Texas."
That pissed me off even further. I don't mind him yelling. He's such a quiet guy that I believe yelling should be good for him in moderation. It's the fact that he basically told me that I talk too much. In a long distance relationship. For a smart guy, he tends to pick the wrong words, because I know he probably didn't mean to say that. Atleast I hope he didn't. I told him all this, too. And you can bet he'll hear the same thing again today just incase it didn't sink in yesterday. I know it wasn't completely his fault, though, don't think I don't know that.
I was at the gym this morning, all cute lookin' with my braid and sexy work out pants. Agassi was there, sexy as always. I havn't seen him in over a week so I made a point of making more aggressive eye contact, at which he smiled and nodded, equivalent to a "Hey! Where've you been?". I'm assuming that's what he meant anyway. I love it when he grunts...makes me quiver all over...He came over to use the quad machine right beside me, our eye contact only obstructed by the stack of weights on my machine. I did a few extra reps so I could hear him grunt at the end of his set. HOT! When he was finished with that machine he crossed infront of my machine and...he looked at me. I had my ipod on, jammin' to "John Deere Green" by Joe Diffie, so he merely thrust his hand toward the machine to my left (some horizontal torture device that kills your glutes), a sexy index finger extended. As calmly as I could, I said "No, I'm not using it." He probably thinks I do...because my ass is so awesomely lifted and taut.
Then, it happened. Gorilla came strutting over to the rack of free weights, all skimpy and plastic. All of a sudden, Agassi showed up and began talking to her in spanish. She wasn't flirting...I was able to understand quite a bit of what they said and a lot of it was motherly stuff, like "Are you eating? Do you have any plans this week? How's school?" And it hit me. Agassi's brother that sometimes frequents the gym, usually riding with Agassi, looks identical to Gorilla! I was horrified...I'm still not sure what to make of it. I'm flabbergasted.
I decided that I'm going to get a month to month membership to Darque Tan by my apartments. I just bought a seventy-something dollar swim suit from Victoria's Secret and, damnit, I'm going to wear it. I would also like a tan just so I'm not so skittish at wearing my shorts to the gym. It would make my day to have Agassi drooling over me infront of his garish mother.
This morning I came across Magjunkie's blog in which her latest post "Sail Away" refers to her need for a simple, quiet and personal escape. It seems lately I've been having the same urge. It's been very strong lately due to the Rodeo being in town. I'd be driving Ms. Heffernan downtown to the Bureau of Vital Statistics, across the street from the Reliant Stadium where the Rodeo is being held, and park her in the adjacent hotel parking lot. As soon as I step out of the van, (Ms.Heffernan) the smell of hay and manure from the nearby trailers wash over me and I immediately melt. I stalk the country stations all day waiting for the older songs, even the remakes, that make me forget I'm in the fourth largest city in the US, or "The FLC". I even go so far as to volunteer to make an unnecesary trip out to Fort Bend county to file a death certificate that could have been mailed or faxed, just to see the pastures and dense woods. And don't get me started on those big bubba trucks bookin' it down the highway...They tend to stir to life some feral essence inside of me.
I finally met someone who survived Breast Cancer. And by meet I mean made casual conversation while waiting for my Chicken and Bacon Ranch Wrap at Subway. She stood in the hideously long line behind me, waiting to pitch her order to the first girl in the assembly line behind the counter. I rattled off my order first,no mayo, no mustard, and no I don't want Ranch even though the name implies that I do, lettuce and black olives, cut in half. She stumbled through her own order, obviously being bold and trying the special for the day.I saw her lean in closer toward me so that I could hear her over the orders of the girls behind the counter and the incessant beep-beep of the microwave, "You're making me look bad, you know exactly what you want!". "Oh, I always get the same thing no matter what day of the week it is..." then I noticed the netting secured to her left forearm, "What happened to your arm?" At first she just told me it was due to some swelling, but not even a half second later she clarified: the swelling was caused by lymph-something-or-other that she received after having some lymphnodes removed, and that was even after having a double masectomy. The only question I could think to ask was "Is it painful?" referring to the arm again, "Just a bit. Thats why I wear this thing, to keep the swelling under control and I receive physical therapy to help manage the little pain there is." It's what she said next that floored me: "I survive cancer and this is what I'm left with", she said it with a smile on her face and I could read in her eyes that she was proud to be able to say that. Did I mention she was wearing a bright pink suit?
