Reading A’s post about her [ex] friend Colleen reminded me of my [ex] friend, Alana. I’ve finally cut the strings from Alana – although, unknowingly to her. The last couple of times I’ve gotten the,“Hey, heading down to the UJ to grab a beer and watch the game.” I’ve either not answered or said, “Got other plans.”
I mean, really. This whole stupid thing of only texting at the last minute to get together when her partner is out of town has gotten old. The whole thing of seeing her on FaceBook with pictures of other friends (who I know and have partied with, btw) at a party that I wasn’t invited to has really gotten old. I mean, F-her. I have many other friends I could do things with who value my time.
Oddly enough, she still remains friends with one of my ex’s. This is the weird-monkey-woman ex. If you’ve read my blog(s) for a really long time – back in the Fruit-on-the-Bottom days then you know who monkey woman is or “L” as she was formerly known. But, I’ll get you up to speed. The reason “L” was called weird-monkey-woman is because she works with chimpanzees and monkeys
in getting sh*t thrown at her all day to do research. Anyway, L had some serious social anxieties. In fact, the two years we dated she barely spoke to any of my friends. Alana and her partner just happened to be the only friends of mine that she took to. To this day they still meet out for the rare drink (as L became even more of a secluded hermit when she partnered up with a woman who is much of the same personality, which, is a huge relief because I’d really hate bumping in to her all the time in our favorite neighborhood haunts, like I do Teri. )
What’s worse, Alana thinks that I somehow care to know about these times when her and L hook up for a drink.
The other night, Charlie and I were out at our favorite Mexican place when my phone vibrated and it was Alana.
“What the hell does she want?”
“I’ll read it to you:’L bought a Subaru last month. Got hit by a drunk driver (not me!) on Saturday in (neighborhood we hang). She’s ok. I guess her car isn’t.’
“And I care about this why?” and texted back “Bummer.”
Alana texted back, “Glad I didn’t hit her leaving the UJ! Hahahaha.” (sans Lee)
I texted back, “Ya.” And left it at that. I wondered then if the two of them were drinking together when L left and got hit by the drunk driver and then I wondered if L got a DUI because any cop showing up on the scene of that would probably test both drivers. I relayed this to Charlie.
Then, yesterday after work I was in a really bad mood – just a frustrating day at work. You know those days where people at work ask you to help out with a project and you say what needs to be done in order to come to a solution and a. they either don’t want to hear it or b. they tell you to stay out of it after you’ve worked on it or c. they take credit for your work. I came home thinking “Fine, I hope you F-yourself so hard with a corncob.” (That’s my farming background coming in) Then, I had fantasies about the interview last Friday and THEN I cracked open a beer and made myself not think about it because I think I would have cried right then at the possibility of not getting it and I just can’t go there. You know? I cannot be disappointed. The show must go on.
So, I’m sitting there drinking my beer thinking this when my phone vibrates and it’s Alana. Normally, this would have put me in an even blacker mood and I probably would have texted back going off on her. (I’ve refrained from doing this because I know it’s exactly what she wants so she can tell everyone that Lanie is so unreasonable and went off on her). But, oddly her text gave me some kind of sick satisfaction. She asked if I was playing fantasy football this year on the team her and I always played on.
The last two years we’ve been on this team, drafted together and I’ve had to hump her money to pay her league fees to the commissioner who I work with. No more. When he emailed me this year to say it was $30 again to play I told him I wasn’t interested. (I especially was put out because when I spoke to him last year about it he said he was going to drop it to $20 – which, is what it started out as being the first year we played) I joined a free all-women league (who I know no one – I’ve found in playing fantasy sports it’s sometimes good that you don’t know the other league managers and the old league that Alana and I played on had some real c*nts on it. (Like I wanted to kick Kayla-loves-Vick’s @ss allllll the time. I mean, just the NAME is wrong on all kinds of levels. I hope that dog-hater eats it this year.)
So, she texted, “Hey, are you playing with that guy again (commissioner I work with and she KNOWS his name and HAS his email address and NUMBER. GEEEOWD, what a lame-@ss!) When do you draft? I’m thinking about taking my laptop to UJ one eve to do a couple of mock draft. (We draft Labor Day at 8 p).”
This was her lame-@ss attempt on trying to get me up to UJ for a beer to work on FF stuff. I wasn’t biting. Plus, I was just waiting for her to ask about FF and whether or not I’d gotten an invite. The commissioner had asked me if she was still interested in playing and if so could he have her email address and me being tired of being their FF b*tch didn’t respond.
“Nope, playing on another team.”
“When do you draft?”
“What? Wow! How’s your team look?”
I was getting tired of the conversation and left it at, “Roddy White, R Griffin II”
I ignored her after that, even when she sent me a pic and said, “Our bathroom downstairs. Gutted!!”
Like I care.
I know she was expecting me to write something back like, “Omg” or “Why?” or “Home Renovation?” so she could go on about her and her partner once again renovating their house. Honestly, they’ve renovated that house so many times it’s a wonder it’s still standing. I should know, I was on some of the original renovation crews.
By this time, I was in a better mood and then my love pulled up from work and the dogs went crazy. I love my family!