Twas the first weekend in August and all through the town
Not a creature was attractive at old Chi Cha Lounge.
The lawyer limped along with her dead ugly stare,
With a skunk streak of gray right through her hair.
Her nutjob client must be off his meds
Cause visions of craziness dance in his head…
…when what to my wondering eyes should appear
but a text from a man you all know from here…
Okay, cryptic. Either I’m getting fatter, or this city is getting smaller. And I know with the time I spend at the gym, I am definitely not getting fatter. The lunacy that was my weekend is truly unbelievable. So many worlds colliding, in so many different ways.
- Happy Hour Friday. I can’t do a recap because I suck at recaps and the pros are better at it anyway. But, I met a reader who nailed the identity of someone I discuss here. Do I not disguise these people enough? Or is D.C. really this small? Wow. Regardless, I’m glad she said something to me, because now I have a new friend who I think is going to be dangerous of the fun fun fun variety.
- Someone I used to date decided to post his delusional account online of what he thinks transpired between us. Fucking hilarious. I wish I could wander through life with my head up my ass like that. I guess it helps when you have a couple lunatic “friends” by your side to help get your head up there. Christ you people are soooo pathetic.
- Then, in an interesting twist of fate, half an hour after the above internet posting came to my attention, I almost ran over said person’s lawyer. You know, the one he showed up in court with because he was too chicken shit to face me alone? You know, the one who escorted him out of the courtroom so quickly, that they missed the real fireworks that occurred? You fool. You should have stuck around to hear what everyone thought of you! It’s funny to have court personnel chase you out of the courtroom to talk to you. But I digress. When I saw said lawyer, clumping along the street with her trademark limp, I said to my friend, “Lookie here. It’s the bastard’s lawyer.” Friend, who was in court with me said, “Yep. I couldn’t miss that limp anywhere.” By the way counselor, I figured he would have paid you enough in fees to die that skunk stripe of gray hair you got going on.
- Headed out Saturday night. It was the night of the ugly at Chi Cha Lounge. Where did all these ugly people with their bad dancing come from? It was like the Geek Squad bus unloaded right on U Street. Anyway, someone very close to a disgusting piece of shit who threw their name into above court case showed up at Chi Cha. How small has this city become? Can’t you people stay in your own quadrants?
- The night comes full circle just as I decided to go home. Out on the street, I get a text from everyone’s favorite man of last week, saying he was in Chi Cha and he hopes he didn’t run me off. Jesus Christ. It was me who introduced you to this bar, and I had no fucking idea you would make it your god damned new home, having never been there before you met me. It’s getting a little old having you “show up” places where you know I’ll be. I’ve left the rest of your maneuvers off this blog, but for some reason, you seem to be tempting me don’t you? Ok. I’ll bite. Then, I’m done. Ready? Because it’s obviously what you’ve been waiting for.
My last words to you were via text, “Don’t be fooled by a false sense of intimacy.” Since then, you sent three more texts on Sunday, one on Monday, sent flowers on Tuesday, sent a two page email on Wednesday, texted again Wednesday night, and called three times on Thursday, magically showed up at a bar Saturday you know I frequent, then texted me saying, “Well that was weird.” No. No it wasn’t weird. YOU FUCKING KNOW I GO THERE ALL THE TIME AND YOU HAD NEVER BEEN THERE BEFORE MEETING ME JUST TWO WEEKS AGO. Is all of this above stuff your version of “laying off the intensity?” Do you not see how showing up at a concert at Nissan Pavillion or showing up at my house at 2:15 a.m. when I ask you not to, or showing up at a bar I go to enough to know the freaking staff is insane? Do you not get this?
It’s enough. I’ve had enough. I have not answered any of your attempts to contact me because, listen carefully, I DO NOT WANT TO TALK TO YOU. Frankly, you scare the fuck out of me. Your ability to twist what I say, or blatantly disregard what I say and do what you want anyway is beyond scary. Get the fuck off this blog or I’ll block your Verizon wireless card and then you’ll have a hell of a time trying to come back.
No longer a breeding ground for psychotics,
P.S. If you want to create a blog about what a bitch I am, something about my being a crack whore URL is already taken.