Diary of a Wolfeman

Man, yesterday just ended up sucking for me.

Ranting to follow.

Started out okay, but about noon or so Tolerant and I were decorating her apartment for the holidays, and one of those stupid little things crept up and smacked me – just really turned me off to the idea of spending any more time with her. I’m pretty sure she will forgive me (if she even realizes I was being a dick – I kept quiet) but I still feel stupid.

We were talking about how our respective families used to go through the procedure of turning the tree we killed into a festive centerpiece. I mentioned how it used to irritate me that the EMC would always do things her way in these situations, regardless of what my own feelings were. (Case in point: I prefer a star, she insisted on an angel, and somehow decided that buying an African angel tree-topper would somehow appease me. WTF?!?)

Anyway, after playfully arguing several points for a few minutes, Tolerant proceeds to call her sister so that Sis can tell me how wrong I am. Now, this is where I start to feel stupid, because this is really meaningless at this point. We don’t co-habitate, so we really don’t have anything to argue about. On top of that, she lets me have just about anything I want – she calls me for menu options, we eat at the two or three restaurants in town that allow smoking, we watch mostly what I want to watch…the point is, I get my way a lot.

And yet, this particular meaningless play-argument sticks in my craw and fucks up my mood. Realizing that I am on the verge of being a real dumbass and opening my mouth, I take a smoke break. No good, I’m still irritated, so I smile as best I can and beat a retreat before I say something stupid.

I figured a little retail therapy was in order – since I had this happy little Xmas bonus from work in my pocket. Sure sign you have a cool boss – a gift card for a bonus, instead of addendum to your paycheck that gets taxed like everything else. I hate that shit. “Oh, here’s your holiday bonus, but we taxed it – at nearly double the normal rate, so you only get about 60% of what I actually gave you.”

Thanks, Boss, for not following on the footsteps of your forebears!

So anyway, off to the Fortress of Consumerism, where I would find… (drumroll…) not a damn thing I wanted. You’d think I would be used to this by now, but it still pisses me off that the entire capitalist machine refuses to put forth product that I both want and can afford. My favorite TV show of all time: canceled in it’s first season. Simple solid-color, long-sleeved, just-dressy-enough-for-work shirts: crap quality or $50 each – but that ugly checkered crap is everywhere. Who the fuck decided that grown men should wear short-sleeved dress shirts? Comfortable freaking shoes: only one style, and they never quite fit right. Men’s clothing in general: one-quarter of the floor at best. Women’s clothing: the rest of the fucking store. Why do men become drag queens? To get some freaking options.

The item I was shooting for (a copy of the Robo Rally box set) was no longer at the store, and no idea when another would come in. This sucked, because I was looking forward to springing this on the Game Night crew.

So I come home, pretty pissed by this point and frustrated because I was a good Wolfe and didn’t bite the head off the sales girls, with only one hope of re-attaining a cheerful disposition: Game Night with the Boys.

…who bailed on us due to a swing dance.

Now, this wouldn’t bother me too much, except for one thing: When guys go dancing, it is usually an effort to obtain female companionship. Women like to dance, so we go dance with them in the hopes of trick- I mean, convincing them into coming home with us or otherwise extending the relationship.

I have known the Maestro and the Physicist for 6 years now, and they have never managed to put together a relationship with a swing girl. Maestro has come close, but has better luck trolling at church. The Physicist (whom I will now call “Doc” because it’s easier to type) Well, Doc don’t do too well. Really – six years, and he’s gotten maybe three consecutive non-dancing dates.

Okay, there’s another reason this annoys me: Tolerant and I have had this hammy argument going on for a couple years now how that if I really loved her, I would give up my sacrosanct game nights to spend them with her. She doesn’t really take it seriously, and it’s cute to see her do her pout, foot-stomp, breast-jiggle routine to convince me of the error in my ways. It gets annoying, however, to go home and see email canceling the event. I have gone through the trouble of setting aside this time to spend with the few friends I have, and they ditch me. (Two of ’em, anyway, Da Roomie was home already.)

And to top the whole drekking thing off, I realized I forgot to emblazon the package containing my dead motherboard with the RMA number, which will probably delay the process by a whole week at least, if not derail it completely.

Ye. Freaking. Gods.

This entry was posted on Monday, December 4th, 2006 at 11:32 pm and is filed under Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.