I don't know why I feel the need to keep the interwebs updated on the minutiae of my..."love life" seems a bit strong, so...my "dating experiences." I guess I consider it a public service--those of you who are happily coupled can say "thank god I'm done with all that" and those of you who aren't can say "thank god I'm not the only one."
So...I had a brief email exchange yesterday with Mr. KC. He said he seems to be driving "to, through or near" Tulsa quite a bit lately...so we should definitely keep in touch. Fine with me. (I only wish the email had a more distinct Ukrainian accent. Hee.)
I gave my number to Mr. Nice Guy with Possible Chemistry Issues (I have got to come up with a better alias than that if he sticks around much longer), and he called it the minute he got off work, apparently. Which, actually, was a little earlier than when I got off work, but it was a slow afternoon, so I decided it would be okay to chat for a bit. "Chat" is a strong word, though. "Chat" implies a certain give-and-take of conversation, and I have to say...the man's a talker. Nice voice, somewhat annoying laugh (though that's certainly not a dealbreaker), but the man is apparently never at a loss for words. I could hardly get a word in edgewise. (ME! The queen of babbling, inane small talk!) I'm going to hope he was just nervous...and trying to prevent any potential awkward silences, and not just assuming that I would be that anxious to hear his in-depth reviews of the three movies he saw over the weekend. And not that he didn't have interesting opinions/insights, but...dude! Three movie reviews in our first conversation? Might want to dial it back a bit. I also know that he's diabetic, trying to lose weight, has an undiagnosed problem with his platelet count and had lamb and couscous for lunch on Sunday. What does he know about me? I'm not sure I could tell you. I'm not sure HE could tell you. So...the jury is definitely still out.
I'm meeting the friend I "ran into" online for drinks tomorrow night, and I'm SURE that is going to be a good time. We've been making each other laugh all morning via email. Somehow we've managed to arrange a theoretical mudwrestling match between one of our vile senators and a Muslim. Yeah...I'm not sure how that happened, either...but it was funny. Trust me.
Other than that, what's going on in my world? Well, I have officially become the neighborhood's cranky bitch. I've mentioned in passing the road construction going on, I know. It's been a nightmare, basically. Eventually we're going to have lovely streets, curbing and driveways, but getting there is a mess. Long story short, when I got home last night I couldn't get in my driveway. They had started the preliminary digging for the concrete pouring, and then just left it...impassable. I'm a cranky bitch, so I called the construction company and complained (hey--they left a letter on my door weeks ago saying that each night they would spread gravel so the streets would be passable), and they sent out a poor shmuck to fill it in with gravel for me. (Yeah, poor shmuck...probably makes twice what I do.)
Today I went home for lunch, and it was impassable again, of course, which I expected, but they hadn't actually started pouring the concrete yet, so I went across the street and asked the guys if it would be drivable when I got home from work. "Nope, don't think so." Unacceptable! So I called the company again, identified myself as "the bitch who called last night" and said I was calling proactively today. The woman in the office got a little snippy with me--"We're fixing YOUR streets; you're gonna have to give a little to get a little." UNACCEPTABLE! (I'll be the bitch here, thankyouverymuch.) She said I should have been given a letter notifying me that I would need to make "alternate parking arrangements" for a few days. Well, a) I received no such letter and b) WHAT alternate parking arrangements? The whole freaking neighborhood is a torn-up dust bowl, and I don't want to park in what used to be a street but is now a dust bowl next to the dumptrucks and bucket loaders. She finally said she couldn't help me, but would have a supervisor return my call. (I managed to get in a bitchy "this may be just a jobsite for you, but it's my HOME." Hee.)
Her supervisor called a few minutes later, apologized profusely for my inconvenience (now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!) and said the site supervisor should have given me written or verbal notice that they'd be pouring concrete today. (Somebody's in trouble! Hee!) I said "if someone had done that I wouldn't have had to turn into such a bitch, now would I?" He assured me I wasn't being a bitch (liar!), just "expressing my concerns." He promised to build some sort of gravel ramp so that I could at least drive through the yard and into the top half of my driveway, as the concrete on the lower half has to set for a day, and when I asked that they be mindful of how low my car sits (I've lost count of how many times I've bottomed out and scraped my undercarriage this month), he said he would have someone sitting there at 5:15 to make sure I get in okay. I'll let you know how THAT goes. Hee.
At which point I became sweetness and light, of course. I'm not really a bitch, I just play one when I need to get my way. *Bats eyelashes.*
Edited to add: did I forget to mention that the men with the jackhammers in the driveway have given Pudge diarrhea again? IN the house? No wonder I'm a bitch.