Well, now you know better.
I'm excited because the new season of Lost is about to begin, and while I remember the fine friends here who are still not caught up because of where they live, I won't give any details away, except to say that if any one dies this season, it better not be Sawyer.
I'm sad because I probably have to give up the Hulk jacket this year. I took my winter jacket out of storage the other day, and there it is: splotchy, ripped, and just sad looking. I could pay to get a new zipper put in, and maybe having it dry-cleaned might brighten it up a bit, but I doubt it. It's more than a decade old, maybe closer to 15 years, come to think of it. Retirement is sad.
But I'm happy now, because this means that I have a legitimate shopping trip to make.
Ah, the ups and downs of a woman. It's a beautiful thing.
I have been frustrated by Mr X, who persists on calling me everyday. He's got a rich french accent, and pronounces my name just perfectly, which I am unused to. He sounds so masculine, but also being a bit of an arse because he knows my whole life story. He's demanding, and won't leave me alone. Of course, he's from a credit company and insists that he has three lovely options to resolve 'the issue'. None of the three options actually work for me, so I've been ignoring his calls. You'd think that he'd get the hint, already.
I'm also frustrated by Mr C, who won't give me the time of day. Why I fall for these strong, silent types confuses the hell out of me, because I'm not the approachable type either. It doesn't actually make for stimulating conversation, to say the least. He knows my name, I've got that going so far. But that's about it. I know next to nothing about him, except that he's on the peripheral of my social circle. Everywhere I go, there he is, but on the outskirts of it all. I'm sure I could ask someone about him, or even go up to him myself, but at the moment, I prefer things the way they stand: exactly nowhere but with him nearby. Pathetic, huh?
Men. Who needs 'em?