UPDATED: Dear Diary #17

February 2010

Dear Diary,

It's been a long time.  A lot has happened.  A LOT.  So much that I started another diary filled with all of the events of the past year or so...one that I'm saving. Today's story doesn't have anything to do with what's in that diary.  Anyway, I woke up today and played on Facebook.  Then I turned around to face my cute calico kitten, who is also known as my boyfriend.  He likes to sleep in on Sundays, so he was still in bed.  I told him I was going to go get coffee and asked if he wanted some.  He did.  I went.

I came back home and Calico Kitten greeted me at the door.  He gave me a dirty look, shut the door in my face, and locked me out.  "Hey, what the fuck?!  It's cold.  Let me in!  This isn't funny!" I said while banging the glass with the coffee cups.  He responded by flinging open the door and dashing off to the bedroom.  I followed him.  "Dude?  What is your problem?  Are you mad at me or something?" I wondered.

Next the Calico Kitten planted himself at his computer desk and sat in silence for a few minutes.  Then he started accusing me of making secret plans to move to New Orleans.  Naturally, I objected and asked him why, in the span of time it took for me to procure some motherfucking coffee, he came to the conclusion that I was hatching a top secret plan to disappear in the middle of the night to the fucking Bayou.

Just as I spoke, I noticed that his computer screen was open to Facebook....my Facebook account.  I forgot to log-off before I went to the coffee shop and it was obvious that he sifted through my private messages.  He was all like, "Who the fuck is XXXX?"  I responded with, "um, he's one of my best friends, Rat Tail.  Did you read our private correspondence?"

I had to concentrate to recall just exactly what Rat Tail and I discussed--especially since I had about 200 messages in my inbox and the last time I heard from Rat Tail on FB was months prior to this particular day.  Oh, it must have been the sarcastic exchange that he and I had when he first moved to New Orleans, I deduced.  I said something like...."You should totally get me a job at your hotel...I'm on my way..."  Which, to the unknowing seemed a bit suspect.  However, considering such an act would be nearly improbable---with Rat Tail's wife continuing to despise me for calling her deformed six years ago---it was definitely in jest.  Regardless, Calico Kitten violated my privacy and I was pissed.  In fact, I was doubly fucking pissed because he had to go through a fuck load of other messages to get to the Rat Tail messages.

Prior to any reaction I could have, Calico did something that was disturbing, yet utterly hilarious.  He lifted himself slightly out of his chair and slowly and quietly glided himself to the floor.  He used his paw pads to break his fall.  He remained on the cold, hardwood--his eyes closed for several minutes.  When he "woke" from his faux Southern Belle fainting spell, I was standing above him.  He whispered, "What happened? Everything went white."

"Well, you violated my trust and privacy by reading my private Facebook messages, locked me out of the house, accused me of formulating secret plans--and then when you realized what a douchebag you are, you faked a fainting spell to prove your love? for me."  I'm not sure if that's exactly what I said, but that summed up everything.  I went into the kitchen, poured him a glass of orange juice and then called a few of my friends to tell them what terrible life choices I've made as of late.

Update:  Calico contacted me and had the following to say with regard to this blog post:
"You never brought me orange juice.  Say what you want about the fainting spell.  You used to slap me and call me a loser and shit.  (Editor's note:  NOT TRUE)  I loved you, but you were not a good girlfriend.  (Editor's note:  TRUE)"

Update #2:  FYI, Calico Kitten, I do not have to be a fucking "good girlfriend" because I am pretty.  If you wanted a good fucking girlfriend, you should have dated a fatty or a fug.  I don't appreciate being showered with insults, such as your classic go-tos:  "You are the Jack of this relationship!"  or "You are a mean person!"  I think that you are quite unappreciative and a spoiled, histrionic jerk-ass.  That said, can you please give me a ride to the airport in the morning?  Thanks.