A post in which fags are driving me nuts

I went back in to work today, once again through the drippy, snotty, misty sludge that South Carolina has become.  We apparently had two pretty days this weekend, but since I wasn't out in them, I emerged Monday to go to the doctor through the muck.  I'm ready to kill a calf or something to bring back the sun.  It's like February already.  Usually that's the worst month here.  I shudder to think what it will be like this year. 

Work is under control.  I'm caught up on my month to date, and actually made some progress on a long-dreaded situation that I had to resolve.

I'll note here that I was rather gratified to read today that of top critics only, the score for The Miserables was only 58%.  Still over half, but not enough to be certified 'fresh' on rotten tomatoes.  The overall score for the movie is 70%, but it's nice to know I'm not the only one who found the movie rather tiresome in places.  Russ, of course, is a devotee, so he loved it before he saw it, and Logan thought it was wonderful too.  I'm not sorry I saw it, it's just nice to know I'm not the only one who wasn't unreservedly over the moon about it. 

There was nothing at the house for supper, and I needed salt anyway, so I went by the store on the way home.  I was craving spaghetti, but the only frozen veggie spaghetti I could find (I wasn't about to slog home, get in the kitchen, and start making spaghetti tonight) was 'lite', and I wasn't in the mood for that.  I bought some chips and dip because I have been craving them, and the idea was that I would eat some of that while the spaghetti was cooking, but yeah that didn't happen.  I ended up eating chips and dip, string cheese sticks, and peanut spread and crackers for dinner.  Breakfast of champions, right?

I had thought about going by Capri's tonight to pick up some spaghetti (I crave their baked spaghetti regularly), but the one downtown where I used to order is closed.  The one left on Woodruff Road is one where I had a la cucaracha encounter years ago.  I was telling Larney the story tonight before I left work, and it squicked me out to the point that I couldn't go there and get food tonight, although that story happened a long time ago, and I have eaten there many times since then.

Tonight I finally opened and tried the Earth Balance Coconut Peanut Spread I had bought after seeing it on Oprah's list of her 100 favorite things.  What a disappointment.  I had thought that it would taste like coconut, and I guess it did, a little.  But the main focus was for the coco-nuts who are riding the latest craze that coconut oil is the new 'wonder food'.  So the company substituted coconut oil for the peanut oil because of its purported miracle health benefits.  Having read my Michael Pollan, I am skeptical of the 'miracle food of the month'.  The end result, for me, was slightly funky-tasting peanut spread.  McKayla is not impressed.

The flood of text messages about Thursday night's dinner actually started today.  I thought that was a bit much, but in the spirit of positively reinforcing any move that RBL make towards plans made in advance, I was participating.  The tide this weeks was flowing towards going to Longhorn.  Not my favorite (I think it's over-priced, and there isn't that much there for me to eat), but I was going along to get along, because I don't really go to the Thursday night dinners for the food.  I go to see everyone.  Then Brian comes out with "Well I would go, but I don't like the traffic on Woodruff Road."  And I'm like really?  Boy I feel important.  I'm thinking a) how incredibly spoiled that sounds; and b) what an arbitrary reason to not go see your friends - because the road they'll be meeting on is inconvenient for you??  

This, in a nutshell, is why it is so hard for the group to make plans, and why it takes 8,000 text messages to set up one. freakin. dinner.  Tonight it was Brian (in part - there were other dildonic comments made), but there's usually some ridiculous, arbitrary reason that someone is objecting to a particular venue on any given week.  Fags.  Meh.  As much as I love 'em, that's how much they drive me cuh-razy. 

I had several hundred texts from Chuck tonight.  As much as I like him, I'm beginning to feel the pressure there.  He's high maintenance, and I think I'm his only gay friend.  Plus he's very sensitive.  I had a message from him this morning that said "I must have done something wrong.".  And I was like what?  He replied "You didn't respond to my last message last night."  Oy.  Passive-aggressive and sensitive. 

I fell into the internet vortex and ended up staying up too late, but eventually pulled my head out of the computer and went to bed.  It's so nice to feel human again.