Relationship Pogo Escape

Getting what I want is… How do I put this? Wonderful. Dreams turned to reality. Or, wait, a scary fucking thing? The relationship conundrum stinks. Anyone else smell that? Time for my pogo escape plan…. I want the great guy. Nope. Schmuck. I find the great guy. Oooo pretty. I get the great guy. Pssttt… he has muscles. He meets all the expectations; well… the muscles aren't the only thing, I'm not that shallow. He is pretty though… But, meeting 75% of my check list gives me pretty good odds, I say. Bet on that horse! And yet… I can still find something wrong. Or imagine it. Either way, make-believers… it's there. My sister will be the first to tell me that I can find any illogical reason to dump a guy without batting an eyelash, and yet, be that silly broad that hangs on to the bad guy AND make neverending excuses for him. Sissy, he's a great guy; he just likes to build Q-tip forts. Wait. What… Excuse me? One would think this news would piss me off; But, it doesn't. Because I sit. And I sit. And I think about it…. Dammit. Looking back, I couldn't pick a good guy if my life depended on it. Good guy. Dump him. Great guy. Dump him fast. Bad guy. Ohhhh… keep him! He only bangs his baby mama behind my back; so I'm going to trust that one. Oh geez. How I can be so brilliant; Yet, so deficient sometimes, still astonishes me… And, with the few good ones that have crossed my path, I ran at the first sign of ANYTHING. He likes monkeys? I'm out. Which, was probably nothing. He's obsessed with down pillows? I can't take that shit. Deuces, feathery dust ruffle lover. So he wasn't an avid cleaner of his ears… sure, it could've been worse. Oh. No. Not, plush monkeys? Stop it. Ok, learning lesson. I'll sit on this pogo stick for a second. Plus, I can use it for my getaway. Boink. Boink. Boink. 

So, running at the first sign of a great relationship, got me to thinking. What the hell is wrong with me? Rhetorical, fuckers. I love, love. I am always fairly happy; for no damn reason at all… Seriously, I get excited about pink marshmallows. And glitter! I'm -sickeningly- positive about every other aspect of my life. I keep the light and abolish the toxic. So, why am I clutching onto my getaway pogo stick so tightly? Um, I think you're denting the metal Rita…  RUN! I mean, HOP! BOUNCE! LEAP AWAY!! Or, however you prefer to make an exit.


Or… Maybe? And, I may be pushing the proverbial envelope here. But, just maybe? Hang onto this one. PUT. DOWN. THE. POGO STICK. Hear me out. He's caring. He's loyal. He's probably the best thing that has happened to me in quite some time. Consider, not just a dip of thy toe into the water… But, rather, dive right into this pool and take a chance. You can swim dammit! Gotta say… I have never met anyone who actually gets ALL of me. My quirkiness. My belligerence. My awesomeness. Had to throw that one in there… because, uh, well, do I need to divulge? Didn't think so… You all know I'm pretty fantastic. I don't need to pound it into anyone's heads; that would be redundant. As for my getaway prancing shaft? It quietly sits in a nearby corner…ready to spring onto the 405 freeway… 

FILE THAT Under... ADORABLE!

PROJECT: File Cabinet Redo. YOUR MISSION. Should you choose to accept it. Turn a plain Jane -UGLY ASS- file cabinet into something I can live with and NOT have to buy anything NEW! 

 

Initially, I wanted to dump this heavy piece of scrap metal. I mean, who needs this much file cabinet space anyway?! Unless you're stuffing a pinata into it… Or running a large business, with which, to store important documents; Otherwise, it's quite a useless piece of furniture. It's not like I plan on hiding a dingo in there or something. So, buying a cute little file box and downsize this oversized chard -for me- was the most likely of options. But, when faced with the idea of trying to bring new life to something old…  I gotta say -in all my creative glory- I actually ADORE the results so much more than I would have, having to scour the retail trenches for anything that would come anywhere close to the satisfaction I am getting from this piece of, art gallery quality, fertile resourcefulness. Yes, indeed, I boast!  But, hell, I have been stuck at home with the longest terms of eye infucktions, and freaking the boredom needed killing. Take that boredom! Bang! Pow! Boom!

                                    
I sanded, I wiped clean, I sprayed and I began the detailing process… When I looked online for design ideas though… I found nary a sweet looking motif that fit my glamorously detailed scheme. Polka dots? No. Stripes? No thanks. Plaid? Uh, definitely not. So, instead, I found a picture of a chandelier and had to free hand this sucker myself. I know, I know…  This glitzy blueprint isn't going to fit everybody's taste. But, IDGAF. It's girly. It's glam. And it has Rita, written all over it. (Not literally, duh. Figure of speech people, keep strolling along with me here.) I'm in love with it and now I will have to reorganize this bastard so it can be put to some good use… Maybe now,  I can finally house that litter of baby dinosaurs. Tired of them eating up my rhinestones. Pesky sparkle-pooing reptilian bastards.

Bar Slum Party Listener

I'm visiting my favorite bar - yeah… sadly, this is how I have been coexisting, as of late- and I find the characters visiting this fine evening… Evening? Yes, evening -not only fascinating- but ironically, annoying. When I sit down, the two fellas to my right are interestingly enough talking about finding the rich woman of their succubus dreams. Excuse me while I put vomit to the floor. Oh look! A quarter! And glitter! To my left, a couple of Irishmen (with the one closest to me, belching every… Five, fucking minutes. No seriously… Every. Five. Minutes.)

After the douchebag crew exit on my right, a woman seats herself... She appears sweet, and wiser in appearance of years... And she is awaiting her sire. In the form of a blind date. From online dating… And, after his legendary arrival and three minutes hath passed… It is decided. He's a loser. He's an old gent with a know-it-all complex, arms folded, and can clearly see that the louder and more all-knowing he professes to be, her insecurities shine through and she begins the dance of stupidity; Hoping the derfwad might be THE ONE. She complains about the online dating pool while he philosophically describes his take on the subject. I can't take it. It's annoying at best. And… suicidallly inductive at worst. Obviously, I have a big mouth, so i interject. Way too much… I know. I know. They're crappy convo is NOT my business. But if freaking should be. My ear space feels part of their date tango. Hey, party listener - or, rather… EAVESDROPPER- slum it at another bar! Ugh. I know… Hush.

Mind your business RiRi!! Time to retreat back to my wine. Wine glasses should really be the size of a large hat. And as if the liquer fairy conveniently and quietly refilled my chalice while my head was turned, I toss back a 3rd glass of Merlot. I seriously cannot take the crazy- THAT IS-  in this restaurant this fine luxurious evening… Or is it afternoon? Eh. Who cares. It's 5 o'clock somewhere. And as if, on cue, women whom I've witnessed -normally- works with are chiming in with their cackling and with their hen-like, mean girl group… They cluck, cluck themselves into my yackity-yack with the (cute) bartender, whom I want to talk to, and are even more obnoxious than the previous savants I've already had to listen to thus far. Savants used loosely, ironically AND sarcastically here. Really, where's a quiet library when you need one? Or a polka dotted giraffe to ride out into the ocean? I'm not picky. Library or giraffe.