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27 November 2005 @ 02:47 am
Why do people keep writing to Enrique at my e-mail address? Don't they know how much it pains me to be reminded of his leaving, even all these years later? And what does it mean that he'd sent so many inquiries to Web sites about Viagra and Cialas? Did he have a problem with our sex life? Was it unsatisfying? And then there's this Hoodia product he keeps getting messages about; he apparently placed some orders before he left. Did he have an issue with my weight? Is that why he disappeared and never called again? He never said a word about it while we were together, but I get his e-mail now and the question plagues me, keeping me up late at night, at 2:33 a.m., pondering the meaning of life and Rodney's lips. Which isn't directly related, but these thoughts do occur. And I blame Enrique, who apparently also went by the name "Mario" and "Shawn" and carried on clandestine love affairs with available singles in his area, a whole secret life I never knew about.

Life is pain. Life is tragedy and a dwindling pile of cookies and the plaintive, distant cries of a stranger floating to you through an open window late at night--"Rondo! Man! Where the fuck you goin'? What're you at? I gotta piss, man. C'mon."

Thank god I have FreeCell and the DSM-IV and Sarah McLachlan to see me through the dark times like this. And by dark I mean "2:41 a.m." Because I am over Enrique. He can keep the $18,000 he owes me for his liposuction surgery. I wouldn't take him back now even if he came crawling up to my window in the small hours and drove his fist through the glass and then fell inside, bloody and stupid, and made a mess on my floor. Sure, okay, I did that *one* time, but he was reciting T.S. Eliot. It seemed charming then.

But now it's time to sleep. For as the great John Ashbery says, "Thus it was the laborious leopard pirated more than one freedom hymn. / Kettle boils, not urgent."

Kettle boils...not urgent. So very very true for us all.
Current Mood: utterly ridiculous
do you want orcs? because this is how you get orcs: Aslan: Once and Future Kingkita0610 on November 27th, 2005 10:52 am (UTC)
I don't think it's even possible for me to describe how much I adore you right now.

Nope. Not possible.
Destinadestina on November 27th, 2005 10:58 am (UTC)
You're fun when you're loopy. *g*
Trepkos: Giggle by Angstpuppytrepkos on November 27th, 2005 10:59 am (UTC)
Still, at least Enrique doesn't seem to have been interested in horse porn...

Those nighttime cries are disconcerting aren't they? I remember one Christmas night around 2 am. when I was 16, I heard a woman's voice howling plaintively "Molly!... Molly!... Molly!..." as she roamed the streets - I always wondered what was behind it - whether Molly was her daughter, her lover, her dog, what? - and whether she ever found her. Strangers can be so inconsiderate!

At the moment, I can't think of anything more urgent than making tea!
Dead Souldeadsoul820 on November 27th, 2005 11:12 am (UTC)
hahahahahahahahahhahahahhahahahahahahha ... ::deep breaath:: ...
hahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahhahahaah ... ::dies::
timeofchangetimeofchange on November 27th, 2005 02:18 pm (UTC)
You made me laugh on Sunday morning, after waking up at 6:30 and having only one cup of coffee before I had to clean up dog vomit and bathe said dog. You rock. Forget Enrique. He's totally beneath you.
torch: oribleflambeau on November 27th, 2005 04:23 pm (UTC)
...it was you? You are the other woman? All those times he said he was going out to buy me a replica watch because I deserved it, he was really with YOU?

I will never love again. Or trust anyone called Enrique. Or Shawn. Or Mario.

*weeps bitterly*
Velenavelena on November 27th, 2005 04:28 pm (UTC)
Sir Joshua Lipton drank this tea
and liked it well enough to start selling it
to a few buddies, from the deck of his yacht.

It spread around the world, became a global
kind of thing. Today everybody knows its story.
Herself_nycherself_nyc on November 27th, 2005 05:48 pm (UTC)
You're a genius.
DD3: hmmmdancingdragon3 on November 27th, 2005 06:03 pm (UTC)
Okay. See that, what you did right there, or rather up there? ::helpfully points upward::

That was fabulous. (At this point the author, overcome with repressed desire, charges you, grabs you, tears off her glasses, and snogs you silly.)

Oh and thanks BTW, for Sidelines. It was one of the first Spander stories I ever read.

pssst are you going to finish it?
WE WILL SEE AT THE END OF LIFE, NO?tsamm on November 27th, 2005 06:14 pm (UTC)
Thank god I have FreeCell and the DSM-IV and Sarah McLachlan to see me through the dark times like this.

Good times! Mostly I just wanted to C&P this so I could read it again and laugh and laugh some more.
namastenancynamastenancy on November 27th, 2005 11:39 pm (UTC)
Damn that Enrique. He's a total slut! Shut him out of your life and clasp the FreeCell and Sarah McLachlan to your bosom to forget the dirty, two-timing scoundrel.

In other words, ROFLOL!