Bent Words

Bent Words

June 09, 2010

Oh. Em. Gee.

I feel fifty-thousand times better after having ranted and raved about The Boy yesterday. I do it here (the seventeen paragraph diatribe dealy-o) because it's safe. He doesn't have to know he got to me and neither does the rest of the world. So I get a good bitch fest and he gets... well, he won't be gettin' any for awhile now... ha HA!

(Just kidding. I don't use sex as a punishment/reward tool -- mostly because that would be punishing ME more than it would be punishing him and that's just plain unacceptable. There will be sex and I will have it.)

I really don't like knocking people down anyway. Unless they're child molesters or thieves (those guys suck). It's completely unproductive and you never know when it's going to get back to you or the party in question. Not to mention the brevity of it all. The Dude's basically a great guy (yeah, I said it). The only problem is that, after a few weeks of kindness, he feels he has to work overtime to make me think he doesn't care at all. That way no one (me) can hurt him. But I see the good and I know he cares. Despite all that, it's certainly no way for me to live. We'll drift our separate ways eventually. Until then I'm just rolling with the punches and occasionally tripping over the moments that lead me to false hope. And those moments do hurt but...

No worries.

No one is great, ya know. And I don't expect them to be. I don't want great. I just want good for me. I'll get there someday and he will, too.

That or he'll just end up being another lonely old, stump humping, beard bearing, mountain man.

Which seems entirely too plausible now that's I've re-read that.

And in other news, poor Billy broke his leg.

Billy being an ex-employee from the shop turned failed private distributor, turned failed Car-X manager, turned Don and Roy's service dude.

Apparently a customer brought in a bike on bike night and complained that the thing was stalling. Bill takes it out, the bike stops, he does not and, well, you know the laws of motion. HE says that the rear wheel locked up. I say there's still a clutch but I wasn't there and who am I to question the Theory of Every Man when they claim it wasn't their fault that the bike bucked 'em? Not I, said the fly.

Well, whatever. At first, when I heard the news, I sort of gloated. Only because I had to drop by the Big D'n'R the other day and there was Billy, ripping on ME for being back at Action.

"What do you mean? Look at yourself, Billy Boy! How is it that we're sitting in the same canoe, paddling our asses off, and yet you're gloating to all your friends that you've just secured the fastest speed boat ever built?"

Nah ah. Doesn't work that way, buddy. You and Ball Sack Zac are back at it, holding hands and skipping through the rows of helmets and perforated jackets. Same boat, different lake.

So I was a little miffed after that first reunion but, after seeing photos of his barred up leg, I must digress. Poor guy. Hurt sucks. Even when it's not your fault... He was never really nice to me (at all) but I wouldn't wish pain on anyone. Except for child molesters and thieves.

Those guys suck.

And now? Right now I'm just ready for something big to happen.

It doesn't have to be great, mind you.

It just has to be good.


Written at 8:33 p.m.