trendymatt's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I should've checked the horoscope before leaving the house... I've been struggling for weeks trying to think of something entertaining to write in here, but I've been coming up drier than the Sahara. It just seems that, save for moving in with my hetero lifemate into an incredible apartment with a sunroom and vaulted ceilings in the 'burbs, and the start of a new relationship (enter Serious Boyfriend v. 3.0) roughly a week after the end of my last one, not much exciting has been going on around here. If you're anything like me, you'd probably have been bored to tears with endless "here's what I bought at Target" entries. Things took a tragic/comic turn this evening, however. It had been a pretty average day at the office. After returning home, I decided it would be a grand idea to write a lukewarm check to buy some groceries, considering that my direct deposit paycheck goes through at midnight and I've been eating macaroni sans cheese for the past week - save for a couple nights out with Serious Boyfriend v. 3.0 when he either paid for dinner or cooked for me. (Wow, they actually DO exist.) So, I'm at Kroger, pulling into a space when a fairly redneck-ish character let me know that my "damn tire's flatter 'n a pancake." Sure enough, my front passenger-side tire resembled this week's Extreme Makeover subject post-liposuction, pre-tummy tuck. Bloody hell. Now, I realize I don't exactly drive a hulking mass of Detroit iron, but the fact that I changed my own tire in less than ten minutes made me feel a few chest hairs sprout. Plus, I know for a fact that I looked damned good in the Kroger parking lot performing my own repair on my car with my HRC and Kerry/Edwards stickers on the back. I looked like one bad-ass, socially-aware, car-fixin' homo. With uncharacteristically good hair, nonetheless. I went along with my intended errand, buying all the trimmings to cook burritos for my hetero lifemate and I. It was the least I could do, considering I've been stealing her Campbell's Chunky soup-to-go cups for lunch most of the week. I came home, loaded up the grocery bags, locked my car door and shut it... Oh, fuck. There, on the driver's seat was my keyring containing my car, house, and office keys. The mechanical click of the door latch made me truly sick to my stomach. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to grab my cell phone, and Lyss was in the apartment. I could at least go indoors to call my roadside assistance hotline. Random tangent... with every new Kia, you automatically get an unlimited five-year subscription to their roadside assistance service. I talked to a lovely girl who didn't sound at all like she thought I was a jackass for locking my keys in my car at home... at least while I was on the line. So, I waited a while. Pacing around the parking lot and our front porch, I had a quick convo with my apartment manager, whom I noticed has the most perfect, well developed eight-pack abs I've ever seen. I'm so thankful my apartment is on his way back from the pool... Anyway, Pop-a-Lock came and jimmied the lock in less than ten seconds, which both relieved and worried me at the same time. While waiting, I noticed that my cell phone was almost dead. I clearly remembered putting my charging cord in my messenger bag (read: Man Purse) before leaving for work this morning. I emptied the contents of the bag on my bed, and no cord was found. Logically, I figured it would be a grand idea to make a half-hour round trip to my office to retrieve the cord, since the ONLY logical explanation for its disappearance was that I left it on my desk. Yeah... a half-hour trip to and from campus: fifty cents' worth of gas. Realizing the cell phone charger was in your bedroom all along: priceless. So, the real question is: will an evening of incredible bad luck finally convince me to update regularly? 10:06 pm - 08.12.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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