ah, l'amour

So, first of all, OH MY GOD I HATE ERIC'S CELLPHONE. Today he called and I wouldn't've known it was him at all except that all his calls show up as "unknown." It was basically the weirdest thing I have ever heard come through my phone. I'm pretty sure I made out "I just wanted to call and say hi" and "take care, sweetie." The rest was complete garble, possibly about fish. Hopefully NOT about Phish.

So then I got another call from an unrecognizable number (Rosaldude wins the gold star for figuring out that 503 is Oregon!), and at first this call sounded strikingly similar to the previous, and I thought, "How many of these miserable calls do I have to sit through before he finds a fucking landline??" But it was Tom, probably calling to make sure I hadn't plunged off of my roof since the last time he called. We had a surprisingly lovely chat, but oh, the bitterness never dies. I made some comment about how he's been around for the deaths of two of my grandparents. No, it was, "you've had to deal with me for the deaths of two of my grandparents...but I'm not mad at you this time. I was sooooo mad at you last time." Uh, yeah, that was a year and a half ago. It's so no longer applicable to my life, what was going on then.

But then, Eric last week made some joke about the innocent young cadets that needed to be taken advantage of, and I bristled. I had to remind myself that this is Eric and not Tom. This is not some stupid two-girlfriend situation, this is not some open relationship. What it is, though, is me sitting around for two months waiting for him to get off his dumb boat. And while I quite happily bask in the fact that he so freely calls me his girlfriend, I still have this weird problem saying "my boyfriend." I'll even go so far as to say "the boyfriend character." But MY boyfriend? I don't know what my problem is. Jaded. Fucking. Julia. I have to stop being like this. And I'm not getting into it, lalalalala!!

So anyway, back to death. I have been doing so much primping for this thing, it's insane. But you have to understand, I have to live up to being the beautiful granddaughter. And on this side, I have to be intelligent and articulate too. In heels. Really tall ones. So I don't look so short. My grandma always wondered why I didn't get her tall genes. She wasn't THAT much taller than I am in her prime. But she was a beautiful, articulate, intelligent party girl till the end, and that's what I have to be tomorrow. At least I've got the party girl thing covered.