November 30, 2002
Whatever
OK, another change in plans. Let me say that this dinner we were supposed to have was supposed to have been for last Tuesday night. Then it was Friday night. Then it was tonight. So, on my walk with H, they call me up to say that they have spent the day drinking fish bowl punch or some shit. "It's alcohol served in a fish bowl with a long straw," R slurred out. So they've postponed dinner again until tomorrow evening. We'll see about that. I guess I can stop smiling now.
Then, same phone call, Phyllis asks me if I can chauffeur them up to Cache Creek tomorrow during the day. We did this once before, and since she and Margie are big gamblers, they couldn't pass up such an opportunity. Personally, I think this place is cheesy and over-crowded with people who are desperate to give their money away. So unlike Las Vegas. At least Las Vegas is entertaining. This place is dreadful. R didn't want to go. W (the Chameleon, I'm now calling him) didn't want to go, and so it was passed on to me, who is the only other person in the Bay Area that Phyllis knows who has a car big enough to hold everyone who wants to go. "Sure," I said, hesitantly. I didn't really want to write my father's letter anyway. *Sigh* Why do I have to be so nice? Maybe they'll call up and cancel on me.
So, now it's on to the Y for a last minute swim before they close. H has been toying with the idea of going out again tonight. If I recall correctly, last week was a blast while we were in the moment, but the aftermath was painful. And besides, I don't need a man. I need a nice, big TV with digital cable and a handy remote control.
And as a final note, for anyone who is a pet owner (or pet guardian, as San Franciscans are to call themselves now), the pet store around the corner from where I live is offering pictures of your pet on Santa's lap. Not you and your pet and Santa. Just Fido or Fluffy and Santa. FYI.
