November 20, 2004
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UP early to get ready for another afternoon party, but don't really wanna go. Gotta do some shopping. It's Sharrie's b-day shabang. She told me about it short notice yesterday after Sociology lecture (crowd behavior). The skinny mini must've climbed down over six rows of seats to reach me. She was wearing a light-duty white cashmere cardigan and baby blue stirrup pants with that humongous rock on her finger. Com'on, I was her "best friend," she whined; she had to have me there.
"Gaw, there's no time to get a decent present," I protested.
No problemo, she sang, just "mix" her a CD. She suggested 2 songs she knew I had. I remembered them from her fiance, Scott; they were his favs. He will be there, of course, with all his fancy musician friends. Oh, and she could use a few music supplies, too, she added. Some guitar picks or amp fuses ("AMP fuses?!?"). Anything "geete." That would also be for him. That's all?
She whipped out her cell phone and brought up her voice mail menu. "I'm putting you back into my system so you can call me any time you want."
She wanted me to do a real cheapo. How embarrassing.
"Why?" said Thea. "That what she deserve."
Thea helped me make the CD late last night--she has all that MP3 stuff--but I still don't like it. As for the music supplies, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Brucie's out of town, so we can't ask him.
Chelle's down with a cold--it's HER turn to be sick--and doesn't want anybody in the room. Her family doctor's got her all pumped up with meds and she hasn't gotten out of bed for 10 days except for midterms. I suspect she's really over it by now and just grooving on an antihistamine high, the little escape artist. I've half a mind to tease her about beating off and smell her fingers for evidence like she always does me. "Hands out of your pants, gurlie girl!" But I'll be nice, just in case.
Donna's holed up in her room cramming and doesn't appreciate being distracted either. She thinks the party would do me good; I can "connect" with different peeps. Why do I get the feeling my roommies are trying to get rid of me for the weekend?
As for Steve's party, it was good fun. They ordered his fav Mississippi mud ice cream pie, plus Macadamia brittle over chocolate cake. One of Olson's clients gave him a pet serval that's totally unhouse-trainable. They've been passing her from friend to friend to see who can rise to the challenge. They've tried aroma therapy, zapping her with the plant pistol, screaming and hollering and making loud noises, but she continues to spray the walls and furniture--even your trousers--with piss. She must mark her territory, inside and out. Unlike domestic cats, she doesn't mind water at all. Someone thought of filling the plant mister with human piss, give her a taste of her own medicine (How would you like your home and belongings reeking of animal musk?), but that made her fly into a temper and lunge at them with her sharp fangs, the only weapons she still has since being completely declawed.
"She gets a funny 'tongue in cheek' expression when she's in a temper," said June. "She stares at you open mouthed, tongue curled like a parrot's, as if she'd like to cuss you out."
Normally she pants like a dog, especially when she's hungry. You can't pet her unless she knows you really well, if ever. I was tempted to comment, "So what good is she except for a centerpiece?" but restrained myself. I suggested swatting her with a riding quert; at least one's arms and hands are out of the way.
The serval sorta reminds me of Sharrie--as a matter of fact, Chelle, too. But I should talk, cuz I could've rolled in Brett's aftershave. I'm beginning to really dig his new spruced-up look; whata he-male. He had a mustache but shaved it off after a week. Alas, he was there only for the occassion, and it was not the time or the place to make love. He'll be back 3 days next week for Turkey Day, he reassured me, squeezing my shoulder, but I'm not easily placated. He's 150 miles away, and has yet to drive here for ME. I'm starting to feel a bit IGNORED, if ya know what I mean.
