Note to a Neighbor (who'll never get it)

All I wanted tonight was for you to come over and be polite and social. For 5 minutes. True, part of the reason I texted these 3 (French) (boy) friends (who I just met in the bar last week) earlier this evening was because I was with you and your friend at his house and I (just a teensy weensy bit) wanted to make you jealous. I don't know why you didn't come over tonight (because you were busy 'composing' or 'mixing' or whatever, so you said), but I hope (is it sick and wrong for me to hope this?) that you were just a teensy weensy bit jealous. Good. Welcome to my life the last few nights over the last week or so that I've felt obligated to hang out at yours with you and yours and felt like I was fighting back tears the whole time. I am SO over you, but it took last weekend with an opera, cheap Chinese, and really, really good friends to make me 100% all-the-way-over-you-FOR-SURE sure about that. So I don't understand why you couldn't come over for all of 5 minutes tonight like a friendly neighborly neighbor-friend should have. And would have. I'm not angry, or sad, just...you should have come over. I went to your friend's tonight. It's only fair. Anyways, these new friends were only just short of fabulous. I'm hoping that some good times are ahead. A new group of friends (almost my age, in this tiny, full-of-old-people little town) would be refreshing and healthy and help me to mix things up a bit. You're not my life, and never were, as ego-stroking as that would be for you. I just got back from HOURS of hanging out with other friends than you. Playing petanque in the dark, and the rain, and drinking wine, and moving on, WITHOUT YOU! I wish that you felt a teensy weensy bit of what I do, (DID! that's all over now!), but I know you (most likely) don't. But maybe I"ll just pretend that you do. That could work. Asshole. I even taught you that word, 'asshole,' in English. I wonder if you realize how applicable it is to YOU! I hope so, for mine and all your future girls' sake. Asshole. I feel better after this, which is the only goal. See you soon.

My life, soap-opera speed

In the last 2 weeks, my life has exploded with drama. I've been having a lot of firsts, for example:

• my first official 'boyfriend' (the title was more according to him and his friends than to me)
• my first official break-up, from aforementioned 'boyfriend.' On Valentine's Day. I'm a bitch. I feel that's an experience everyone's gotta have once in their life. Barbie and Ken apparently broke up on V-Day in 2004, although I must have been on some other planet (read: college) to not have known that.
• the first time I've ever juggled two boys at once: nice, generous, 'older' gentleman 'boyfriend' with a job v. really hot, same-aged, reggae-listening, musician next-door neighbor (can't argue for convenience)! 'Boyfriend' didn't win that, obviously.
  
• the first time a tutoring client majorly came onto me. Not true. I've been propositioned, well, this'll be the 3rd time. Older single (and married!) French men in this tiny town seem to think that when a young American girl offers "English lessons," she's really looking for a husband, or at the very least offering sex. But I am strapped for cash at the moment...maybe I should have taken that 50 euro/hr offer to pose for a guy who claimed he was a photographer. I think I'll take my dignity this time around, thanks. But I guess this was the first time one of them declared his love for me...ugh. Honestly, all you single ladies, come to a small town in the south of France. Men will be crawling all over you! (my friend in another little town is living through similar stories, so there you go)
• the first time I skipped work (here in France) for reasons other than being sick (a.k.a. I just couldn't get my lazy ass out of bed last Monday). I felt really guilty yesterday when the kids were asking me what I had-the flu? A cold? I got out of it by mumbling in my broken French: "I don't know what it's called in French!" How do you say "a case of the Mondays" in French? Ah, fuck it!

Someday I'll look back on this all and laugh. Hell, I'm laughing now!

BEST DAY EVER!!!!!! slash Horrible Hook-ups: Phone Calls That Should Never Be Made

One. I've been making plans all day for the trip to Eugene tomorrow to see BARACK OBAMA speak! It's going to be off the chizzain. 4-7 people I LOVE and me waiting for hours to see the most eloquent man of our time speak LIVE! I'm peeing myself at the moment!!!!

Two. My brother calls at exactly 6:01pm to inform me that he indeed WILL be coming home the DAY AFTER TOMORROW!!!! This after we were all excited that he would be coming home only to find out that his leave had been denied. SHIT! I started crying in front of clients. It was weird/bad news bears/awesome! Another reason I'm peeing myself and better start mopping up soon!

Three. AS IF THAT WEREN'T ENOUGH! Luke's party (in homage to Nicholas' horrible hair...: I hope someone burned that shit by now!) happened. HAPPENED! Oh shit was that shit happenin'! LOVE to Luke, Michael, Rocky, Tanzi, Phil the Shit, Scotty, Sophia, Chelsea, Ingrid, Tristen, Alisha, Nnamdi, Bisola, Monte, Matt, Dau, Shawn and ALL the hotties on the dancefloor tonight!

LOVE is spelled L-G-B-T. Truth is what I speak right now.

And finally, a final thought: when walking home drunk and lonesomeish by oneself at night (only because you're "one," and no one else is with you, not because you're particularly lonely or lonesome), don't, repeat DON'T call anyone you have any slight inkling to call. It was a horrible hook-up you're only thinking back to at the moment because it actually HAPPENED, and not because it was particularly good or wonderful, and so in all circumstances and cases SHOULDN'T be called. Pride yourself in going it alone, your own way, without crutches. Pride yourself in forging ahead, proudly and strongly and bravely alone. Pride yourself,...and don't under ANY circumstances, call ANYONE who isn't related or "related" to you. 'Nuff said.

Write, write, always write. Goo d night.