John Lennon
Enquiring Minds Want  to  know, you know -John Lennon (Photo credit: Pedro Netto)

So this is Christmas, and what have you done?

Well, Mr. Lennon, funny you should ask, because I’ll tell you if you have the time.  The world didn’t end and you’re still dead, so I reckon you got all the time in the world, right?  It really depends on what you mean by “done.”  “Done” like What I did for Christmas, or done in general?

Another year over and a new one’s just begun.

I know, right? Ho hum, seems like it should still be 2011 or something. It’s like I paused myself, yet the world went on without me.  How the hell did I turn 35? I’m the same age my mom was when she had me.  I suppose there’s still hope that somewhere out  there, there’s a neurotic alcoholic husband  for me too. I think I’d not be a good mom, so it’s probably a good thing my biological clock  isn’t a Timex. I can just take care of myself and my cats. Why would I want a pissing, crapping, crying kid who’d open my Barbie dolls’ boxes?  But I digress, what have I done? Nothing and everything! I have my own apartment, a first for me. I’m a late bloomer, you know. Well, more like I was weeded out of the garden, cast into a mulch pile, and re-rooted myself. But hey, I bloomed.

If my mom hadn’t died and my gay guy crush hadn’t gone rabid and threw me out, I’d still be living with someone now. I’d still depend on  that man’s approval just to get by.  I saw my gay guy crush as a gay guy god even as he grew mean. But oh, Mr. Lennon, if you ever saw him smile or heard him laugh, you’d see what I mean.  I thought he was my Soul Bro, but sadly, he became my Faux Bro.  I wanted to be with him until the day I died. Sigh, I guess I drank the grape kool-aid. Too bad I didn’t do much of his housework though or paid the back rent I owed.

Mr. Lennon, I know you’re all ‘money ain’t shit,’Kumbaya, and what not, but I’m still torn. I really didn’t pay about $200.00 in rent. I pawned my computer and gave them $80.00 and then I gave them $10.00, so if I really do owe them that money, it would be $110.00. But here’s where it all gets trickier than a truck stop hooker. I gave them money whenever asked. I took them out to dinner at about $70.00 for the three of us, gave them $65.00 to go out with when The Prick The Partner was upset about having skin cancer on his face (but they did give a lot back I think) and gave them $100.00 to fix the air conditioner in their van. The air conditioner wasn’t fixable though. But I got a lot of free meals and rides before I began having to pay for all my stuff, and cat food. And then it gets even more messed up. They wanted $100.00 a month after I moved out to pay for what they paid for: pot, food, etc.  And Faux Bro said if he factored in expenses going back to when I first moved in it would be double the amount, somewhere in the $2000.00 region. That part casts suspicion on the whole thing.  I must have been had somewhere in the equation, but they seemed so adamant that I owed them and that I was the advantage taker in the mix. Plus it seems that I broke everything I touched. It makes my brain hurt, and everyone says I don’t owe them jack.

I messed up:

A wine glass of sentimental value.

They say I broke a remote control (but I don’t recall it)

I made a couple of his keys on his laptop stick.

I lost and/or damaged a couple of books, one was damaged, plus I think a cat vomited on a couple others.

I tripped several times on the PlayStation 3 cords, causing the  part where the player connects the controller to short out. I replaced his PlayStation 2 when it stopped working.

I think he wanted to say I messed up the controllers on the Sega Genesis, but I think it was how they stored it.

I played a game on his IPod and it erased everything

An app I asked to  be installed on the PS3 erased all the game data.

I lost a set of keys.

Wow, no wonder they hate me. Good thing all I have to break is my own now. Jinxed people should be mandated to have their own apartments, where they can lock  themselves in and not be a nuisance, you know? I guess I’m still haunted by Gays of Christmas Past (Too bad Logo no longer airs gay-themed shows, because that would be a kick-ass name for a Christmas special). I wasn’t intending to talk this much on this, but…

My life is different now in a good way. I have a one bedroom apartment, a lot bigger than the rooms at the old complex. I’ve literally stuffed both closets in the living room and bedroom with all the random crap from my storage unit.  I’m about to get a hide-a-bed couch for the living room and that will be a vast improvement than the deflated airbed I’ve been chillaxin’ on since late September.A nice woman on Freecycle gave me a TV and random odds and ends that I truly appreciate. I could have more by now, but I can’t stand my social worker, so I avoid her at all costs. My decor is a mix of minimalist and très clutter. BUT WHO GIVES A FLYING F, because IT’S MINE! There’s nothing like living exactly as one wants, without fear of being verbally annihilated or thrown out. When I was with Soul Bro, I forgot how much I liked being alone. I wanted to be with him all the time until he just popped. There’s always going to be a part of me that wants to be with him, and a part of me who thinks it’s all my fault.

 

Destroy Everything You Touch

Advertisements