Beer 1. Me 0.

Found out about a month ago that Good Buddy was coming up north to tie up some loose strings. He mentioned more than a few times that he really wanted us to hang out.

Now, I know that Good Buddy and I have had our ups and downs. My friends mostly hear about the downs, but there certainly have been a fair amount of ups. The biggest, probably, is that Good Buddy lets me air all of my dirty laundry and never, ever, judges me for it. Preaches, yes. Judges, never.

Part of why I crashed and burned so hard when he left was because he took with him an outlet - a much needed outlet - for untangling my so-very tangled world.

So when I heard he would be in town, I started thinking about how great seeing him would be. We could sort out the whole obnoxious boss thing, talk about my concerns about Handsome Man, laugh about politics, be serious about comedy.

That's the problem with expectations. They can get dashed.

Good Buddy bailed on me tonight. And here's the worst part - he lied about it.

He was supposed to come up after the game, which he was watching at a friend's house. Until the ex-wife showed up and they got into it, full force. Since he's invested ~15 years with her, he felt like tying up that loose end was probably more important than shooting the shit with me. Granted. But what he told me was that he got too wasted to drive north.

So I called him, not unsurprisingly hurt and pissed off. And he continued the whole, "I'm too wasted" thing.

So, here's the question I ask any guy ever stumbling across this blog: Do you really think a woman is SO insane that she won't understand why you need to clear the air with someone? Do you really think that telling us that you need to short shit out is worse than telling us beer, weed and football is more important than hanging out?

Really? Seriously?

I just don't get it.

Musings

What is it about late-night insomnia that brings out the sentimental - if not maudlin - thoughts?

Tonight's insomnia, at least, is accounted for. I've been reading The Shining and, finally, was close enough to the end that I just could not put it down. For years I avoided reading Stephen King. Don't know why. I guess I just thought he was a hack terror-writer. WRONG. This story was so well crafted, so well written - the style was absolutely perfect for this novel. Of course, finishing a book like this at 1:30 a.m., well....

But I think, subconsciously, I planned it this way. I remember my mother telling me about how she read the book, downstairs in our family room, sitting sideways on "her" chair (dad had "his" chair, mom had "hers." Hers was a thread-bare, orange and white striped armchair that had little, if any give and was nestled in the right corner of the living room) and was so scared she couldn't even climb the stairs up to the bedroom.

In some strange way, tonight I'm a bit closer to her. I have one more thing - superficial as it may be - in common with her.

More lessons from pop culture

So, I've talked before about how much I love me some Criminal Minds.

Ironically, during my last visit to Amazing Therapist, I mentioned how the new boss, the Good Doctor, would be a prime "unsub" for the profilers to investigate. Complete lack of rationality, compiled with unwaivering commitment to arbitrary rules and an inherent need to prove superiority regardless of conflict or lack thereof. Hmmmm.

Tonight's episode was even more synchronistic.

On tonight's episode, Garcia tries to take on a bit too much. While that is a problem, the bigger concern is that Garcia is surpressing her personality - her je ne sais qua, her joie de vivre, her larger-than-life-amazingly-effective-extremely-competant personality.

The gist of the episode is that Garcia will do her job better - more fully - once she stops trying to be someone she's not and starts being the person she is.

The Good Doctor wants me to "be more professional." No more jokes, no more comics, no more inane, personal banter during business calls.

Unfortunately, those traits are what make me exceptionally good at my job.

I can call in favors when needed. I can ask questions or make requests that other folks can't. I get to know - and respect and like - the people that I work with so that work seems less painful and more joyful. And expressing these aspects of my personality allow me to get joy from my work. And a joyful employee is a motivated employee.

If The Good Doctor could, for just one moment, let his "unsubness" take over, he'd see that he is undermining that which could make the job, the team, the company more effective.

I loved seeing Garcia find herself again.

Know What's Sad?

There's so much going on in my life. Shitty worklife (you just can't try to understand crazy!) and that seeps over into my dream life, which affects my waking life, which affects my love life which ...

It's like that damned 80's commercial:

In some weird way, it's like, "work makes me miserable, which makes me cranky, which upsets my love life, which makes me sleep less, which makes me go into work in a bad mood..."

You get the idea.

So, to escape these stupid thoughts, I turn to silly little mind games.

To whit: I'm watching a movie with Kevin Bacon. Wondering who I can and can't connect him to. And I can't help but think that the kids who are now watching The Situation will never know the real reason the 80's really rocked...