Archive for the 'friendship is a battlefield' Category

Strange memories.

Sometime around 9pm last night, I got a strong urge to go to the grocery store. I’d eaten the “Mexplosion” salad from Greenleaf for four days in a row. Don’t get me wrong, each of them were delicious, but they are also $14 dollars a pop [with a diet coke and tax] – and why the fuck should I pay $14!!!!! for a salad [which doesn’t even have any meat component]?   So anyhow, I am on my way to the grocery store and all of a sudden, soon as I pulled into the store parking lot, I am overcome with flashbacks to my second summer home from law school.

It was a Saturday [I was supposed to go to a pool party with a guy I was in lurve with back then] in the weee early morning when my friend S. called to tell me that her dad died. Which fact was totally fucking trippy because 1) she left the msg on my voice mail, which necessitated a very awkward call back from me, and 2) I had seen her dad like two days before, and he was totally fine. Seriously, TOTALLY FINE.

I picked up S. from her parents and we went to the parking lot above the grocery store and smoked a pack of cigarettes each. Then we went to CPK. I remember S. ordering a glass of wine, and how strange lunch was because sometimes we’d forget that her dad had just died and we’d start having fun, and it would just be a regular day out [except my lungs hurt like a mother effer from all the smoking] until all of a sudden S. would say something like “my dad is fucking dead” and I’d say something like “yeah” and then she’d say “what I am I supposed to do” and then I’d respond, “I’m sorry, I have no idea.” I may have also suggested more wine.

S.’s dad was the first dead body I had ever seen. And at his funeral, my mom told me that she wants all the flowers at her funeral to be peach and pink – which I promised her I would make happen. Even though in my mind it seemed unrealistic, since it is not like I can direct the funeral mourners to only send peach and pink flowers. Plus, I hate the color peach.

I hope S. is doing well these days. We still talk [she doesn’t live in Los Angeles] on occasion, and she says she is happy, but I never can tell.


Turns out, women are the enemy.

I recently wrote about the evils of The Mens. Turns out though, that I should have been watching out for the women instead, as they are the ones who’s special brand of evil cuts the deepest.

This part Friday, Fancy Shoes and I were dining at an Ethiopian restaurant somewhere in the middle of Los Angeles when he asked about whether I had encountered any person who knew him. The world being small, and the world of lawyers being even smaller, it seemed a reasonable question. While I had not, turned out that he knew not one but TWO people who “knew” me.

The first was a gal who had worked at my ex’s [not an ex mentioned on this here blog] previous firm. The second was a girl who had heard about me from a girl who had heard about me from a girl that I work with. Don’t follow? Well, let me break it down.

A girl that I work with told someone that I do not a know a series of unflattering half-truths about me. This person then told ANOTHER person that I don’t know these things. The second person that I don’t know then shared these things with Fancy Shoes.

When I first heard these things, I was a little shaken up, but I decided that I would brush them off. I know from my own experience, that when I speak negatively of people, unless they have done something TO me, my disparaging words typically stem from my own insecurity or envy. Since I know that I have done nothing to any person at work, I chalked up their unkindness to the same.

But as I sat picking at a giant plate of I don’t know what with my fingers, I began to get increasingly more distressed. The things the person were saying were beyond the typical “I don’t like Diet Coke” type jargon. They were statements that were very damaging, malicious and worst of all, mostly false [or at a minimum very misleading]. Whats more, the person that I believe is propagating the nonsense is someone that I lik[ed], that I am constantly standing up for, and with whom I thought I had a trusting relationship and friendship.

I don’t know what possessed the person to say what she did, but frankly, there is no excuse for it. Aside from the fact that the comments she made me seem like a seriously problematic person/employee, the words were not spoken to a trusted confidant of the original speaker. They were told to some asshat who then decided that without even knowing me one lick, she was going to go ahead and propagate the gossip even further. That is downright ugly.

While I don’t think that Fancy Shoes gave much credence to the things he heard [or at least that is what I hope], the fact is that he, or someone else hearing them, could have. And could have made their judgment about me based on what they heard.

Not sure how I am going to handle this come Monday. But I think there is a 90% chance tears will be involved.

The two things that did come out of this that were good were 1) another person from work that I consider my friend [but whom I briefly doubted] being hugely supportive, and 2) Fancy Shoes being terribly sweet despite my unrelenting tears.

Evil Troll infiltrated my Joe.

It was one thing for Evil Troll to lie to me, steal from me and be an all around wretched human being. But ladies and gentlemen, the bitch just crossed the line!!!

I went to *my* favorite Trader Joe/personal oasis, which I have previously written about here, and scored a ridiculously awesome parking spot. Feeling awesome, I moseyed on out of my car in a jovial mood, making a mental shopping list as I skipping towards the doors.

And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw something very disturbing. Inching towards me was a car that looked very much like that driven by Evil Troll – a black jaguar with ghetto tint – the same car that she was going to sell because she Soooo. Needed. Money. Or. She. Was. Going. To. Die.

No way that is her, I thought.

Then, I hear The Cackle [front window was rolled down]. The Cackle is this horribly awkward thing Evil Troll does that screams – HEY YOU, LOOK AT ME. I AM HAVING SOOO MUCH FUN!!! This caused my promptly to run into Trader Joe, sprint to the doors my cashiers, and scurry back to my car.

One thing really surprised me about my encounter.

I thought I was over Evil Troll and the horrible things that she did. I thought that I had gotten to a point where recounting the story was more funny in a tragic way than it was hurtful. But seeing her released a geyser of emotions. And all of them were bad. Despite my effort to be a person that is above the pettiness of hatred, it became very clear to me that I still hate that girl. I have never encountered any person who has betrayed me more. I can’t and simply put, I can’t forgive her. Ever. Not that she is asking for my forgiveness.

On a more positive note, i went to the gym for the second day in a row.

** Looking back on the original Trader Joe post, I am thinking maybe this Trader Joe is for the birds and I ought to find a new one.

I feel dirty.

Just last night, I was complaining to this person I know who is mostly charming and uncreepy, but has this very bizarre sleeping ritual which requires socks, a long sleeve shirt and what can only be described as a rapist mask (hereafter, “Creepy Sleeper”) about how my abstention from writing about dating is impeding my blogging. [BTW readers, I don’t think I can keep it up for much longer]. Surely you can write about something else, Creepy Sleeper replied. Well, no. Not really. Except of course, Evil Troll, whose time – with the end of my New Roommates affair with Evil Troll’s Evil Boyfriend – I believed had passed.

Right? RIGHT?

No. Very, very, loud, thumping, resounding NO.

At 3:06, I turned on my phone to find the following text awaiting me:: “Hi [Diet Coke], its [Evil Troll’s Evil Boyfriend]. Are you still part of the anti-[Evil Troll] fan club?

Not able to contain my curiously, I replied with:: “?”

To which I got the following replies::

3:35:: Sorry its nothing. I have calmed down since my last text and hopefully have become much more civilized. Sorry about that.

3:37:: I was in an angry, spiteful mood and I let it get the better of me.

3:42:: How are you doing?

Infinity + 1 * so = how tempted I was to reply. For those of you that are mathtards, that is sosososososososososossoosososo fucking temping. Initially, I was intending to take the high road. You know, bygones are bygones, let dead dogs lie of whatever they say.

But I often as mature as an eight year old [an immature one at that]. Plus, I am only an aluminum can – only so much can be expected of me.

I texted back.

6:00:: Don’t let the [Evil Troll] grind you down.

I was so very NOT prepared for what was to come.

I get the following at 6:03:: “You and I should totally start to hang out. That would be karmic justice. It would be a lot of fun for me! Do you still have those knee-high socks?

That, dear readers, is a thinly veiled proposition via text. Infinity + 2 * so = how grossed out I am by that. [Again, for the mathtards – More grossed out by proposition than temptation]

I must go bathe in Clorox now. If you don’t hear from me again, it is because I drowned in shame and horror. Godsped.

Also, I am slightly afraid for my life, but mostly for my car. Once Evil Troll gets a load of this, I am certain to kiss my dusty but scratch free car exterior goodbye.

Self Imposed Exile/ Girls are dumb.

Part I – Self Imposed Exile::

For the past several months, I have been going a little overboard in my life. I am not saying it hasn’t been fun [it has], but I felt like I was getting a little out of control. In order to get back on track, I have been wanting a weekend all to myself, free of vice, technology, and outside influences. Originally my plan had been to go to Palm Springs and just hang out, all by my lonesome. But when my roommate announced she was leaving for a week, I decided that I would make my house my own personal sanctuary.

So basically, for the last two days I fell off the face of the earth, I worked on my tan, I wrote a bunch, I read even more, I felt wonderful and happy and sad and lonely and wonderful again. I relearned how to spend time with myself. I organized my closet. I even had my own little Project Runway experience when I tried [and failed] to sew a tunic for myself. I dealt [and continue to deal with ] a gas leak.

At the end of it all, I learned no great lessons. I didn’t find myself, discover the meaning of life, or write the first few pages of the next great American novel. I am still bummed as hell that it is Sunday, thereby making tomorrow a workday. But I feel grounded and strong. And over all, I am pretty gosh darn happy.

Part II – Girls are dumb [sometimes]::

So I have this friend I will call Dee. Dee and I were very good friends in High School, are slightly less friendly these days, but still quite close. We speak irregularly but have always managed to somehow keep a genuine connection between us. Or at least I think so, anyhow.

Dee, despite being brilliant in nearly every facet of her life, has atrocious taste in men. Worse than me even. If there is a useless man within 10 miles of Dee, she will sniff him out and make him the love of her life until the whole farce of a relationship blows up in her face. It is rather painful to watch, but I always just figured that one day she would realize the absurdity of her ways and find a man that didn’t totally suck.

I may be wrong. Dee’s latest conquest, Moldy, is her worst yet. So of course, true to form, Dee has declared him the love of her life. Moldy is a pathological liar, a womanizer, and pretty much a total unreliable asshole. I know all of this because he is a pseudo friend of mine. Pseudo in that I hang with him on occasion, can have a beer and a laugh with him, but don’t trust even a teensy little bit.

Recently, I went out with a Mutual Friend of myself and Moldy and had a conversation that went as such::

Me:: Hey, how is Moldy? I have not seen the kid for a while.

Mutual Friend:: He is really good, he has been really busy dating lots of chicks.

Me:: Say whhhha? Did he and Dee break up??

Mutual Friend:: Oh shit, I forgot you are friends with Dee. Please, please, please don’t say anything.

Me:: Of course not. It is none of my business.

BUT, the problem is this. I don’t actually believe that it is none of my business. Because after all, Dee is my friend. If I were Dee, and I loved a man who was cheating on me and my friends knew, I would damn well expect them to tell me about it.

So that is what I did in a roundabout way. I didn’t want to get Mutual Friend in hot water, so I made up a cockamamie story about how I thought that maybe I may have possibly maybe seen Moldy with another gal. My thought was that telling Dee her boyfriend might be cheating 1) would cause her to reexamine the relationship, and 2) would force her to confront Moldy and he’d have to come clean, since he is in fact cheating.

Turns out, neither of the results I had anticipated came to pass. Dee refused to talk to Moldy because according to her, he is under a lot of pressure and she does not want to add to it. And further, Moldy would NEVER cheat. They are in love. I am mistaken. And that is that.

On one hand, I understand where Dee is coming from. She is desperate for a relationship and to feel deeply connected to someone. She does not want to see how flawed her chosen partner is, because she is desperate, and she can pretend, at least for now, he is what she wants.

On the other hand, I want to say to her – For the love of God lady, wake the hell up. You are dating a total asshole. Just because you don’t want to admit it or see it, does not make it any less true. And when a friend of your’s who loves you tells you something, perk up your ears, open your eyes, and stop being so stupidly naive.

But of course, I can’t say that to Dee. So I am saying it to you instead.

I need the light. Where the hell is it?

I was intending to write about how I was famous because my live blog of last week’s project runway was linked to at Blogging Project Runway (the hands down bestest blogging PR site). Then I was going to write about how I may have a TV addiction issue because I actually got mad at Certain Someone last night when he seemingly broke the TV. Then I was going to write a few random, funny and charming paragraphs about random, funny events that took place over the course of the weekend.

But alas, life took a nasty, unwelcome turn changing the course of today’s post. My roommate, fueling our ongoing house drama in her own special, indignant, deceitful way has taken an action that has swiftly caused her to become my least favorite person in the whole wide world (counting only those people who I know personally). Actually, she probably was before this latest event too, but her position is now cemented – at least for the time being.

All that has gone on with my roommate, aside from causing me to rue the day that I ever allowed her into my life, introduced her to my family and friends, and foolishly moved in with her, also makes me wonder if it is easier to spend one’s life in solitude, not allowing one self to be impacted by the actions and complications presented by introducing others into your life.

When I look at my own life, the people I love bring me an immense about of joy. But they also cause me about 97% of the pain I experience – the other 3% being paper cuts and like. Take dating for example. When I am not dating anyone, I typically do not feel anything is amiss. In fact, I tend to feel strong and comfortable in singledom and enjoying spending time making adventures out of otherwise mundane tasks. But when I am involved in a relationship that goes bad, it makes me feel like total shit – like my whole world is crumbling and things will never be as I want them to be. I go into an emotional tailspin which can take weeks to recover from. And such feelings of gloom doesn’t even have to be precipitated by a serious or meaningful relationship – we are talking about any joe schmoe.

The same thing is happening with Roomie. Basically, before her, I was perfectly happy. Then she enters my life, behaves as though she is devil spawn (maybe she is) and I am the one left holding the bag and feeling like crap? How is that fair?

Probably what I feel reflects more on the way that I approach relationships than it does the value of relationships in general. I know that I have to be more discerning about the people that I give my time and love to. And I have to not be afraid to cut off a relationship once it starts to cause me harm or ceases to be healthy – basically, I need to have higher standards for myself.

But the fact is, I have repeated the same unhealthy behavior (the pattern being care for someone more than I ought to, allowing myself to be hurt by them, being completely and irrationally heart broken, and then shut the person out of my life completely and never looking back) so many times in my 28 years, that I don’t know how to stop.

Whats more, I don’t even know that I want to stop. While my accept everyone/everything until it blows up in my face approach has caused my heart to bruise many times, I’ve also had the pleasure of having built so many amazing friendships that I know will last the rest of my natural life (the afterlife too, if there is one). I have an amazing circle of friends (sadly, most of whom live not in Los Angeles) that I know I can rely on – so I must be doing something right. But then I also seem to be having a growing circle of used to be friends that I now can’t stand, so I am obviously doing something wrong too. (Actually, Roomie is the only friend I can’t stand – she shares that spot with several men I have dated)

I need to see the light. Where the hell is the light? Actually, I know what the light would say. I need to stop relying on others to make me happy, thereby taking away their power to make me sad. I just don’t know how to implement this into my life. Either way, I have decided not to let myself ruminate in my anger any further. It does not help me to feel better.

And so, this marks the last time I will ever speak of Roomie in this forum. While she unfortunately may be in my line of site from time to time, she will no longer have the benefit of being in my thoughts, being featured in my glorious blog, nor having a place in my heart.

Aside: At the behest of certain someone, I am experimenting with the use of bold. I feel like it is overly dramatic. Even for me. Thoughts?

I want my peace back.

“Friendship is the marriage of the soul, and this marriage is liable to divorce.” – Voltaire

I. Am. So. Frustrated.

BUT…it is Project Runway night and Certain Someone is coming over to join me in watching. No negatively will be permitted to interfere with what should be a glorious evening. Yup, that is the plan. If I repeat my “no ill will – be kind” mantra over and over, perhaps it will sink in.

Speaking of Certain Someone, things are going swimmingly well (that is good, right?). He has, thus far, turned out to be quite wonderful. But we are reaching the point at which men in my life start to show their c-r-a-z-y. Crossing my fingers that this will not be the case with the one. At least not until we get through The List (currently about thirty items strong) of things we want to do together. jk jk jk. I hope he lasts longer than that!

In other news – there is no other news. Aside from my time with Certain Someone, the dramz with soon to be former Roomie, and the monstrosity that is work – not a thing going on. Well, unless Project Runway night counts. Which I don’t think it does.

p.s – I hope to regain my peace, and with that my creativity real real soon like. Sorry for the lackluster blogging of late. My mind has temporarily been hijacked by unrelenting thoughts.

loving, living, driving (badly), laughing, growing, losing, crying, smiling, winning, learning, watching tv, calorie counting and thriving. in LA.


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