Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Sunday, Dec. 01, 2002 - 4:06 a.m.

I've had a not-so-nice evening and am not in a particularly Katie-like mood. Or what I would prefer a particularly Katie-like mood to be. So proceed at your own risk, ay?

Wow, there are some super disappointed googlers out there today. I am cracked up by whatever poor cybermasturbator was yahoo searching "titsandass" and ended up here. That kinda lightened my mood some, because frankly, I'm more than a little peeved by Idiotboy's crap actions of the weekend, and by the fact that I spent untold freaking hours looking up how much the loser spends on a weekend trip to Crawford, and it's nowhere to be found on the fricking web. Do you actually mean to tell me people went ape over Clinton's trips to Chile and Zimbabwe (or Botswana, wherever), but no one gives a damn how much freaking money Bush is blowing every fucking weekend of his presidency, on trips to Crawford??? WhatEVER.

(See? Peeved.)

The other googler was a french googler who HAD to be male, and who googled abducted+sodomized+girl.

EW.

I do NOT want to know why anyone is googling the aforementioned terms, and I sure as hell don't want them hanging around here. So let's hope that never happens again, shall we?

I have had a rather unpleasant evening.

It started out well enough. I went shopping and bought some good bottles of wine for cheap, because Cost Plus has like the best prices on wine ever, and then I got some really cool napkins for half price, and a set of Christmassy placemats and napkins (a set being 2 of each, since that's all I need). All very festive and inexpensive. Then I headed over to buy a broiling pan, because I figured what with broiling the occasional fish and chicken breasts, it would behoove me to spend the 20 or so bucks on an actual broiling pan, 'steada throwing it away in bits and pieces on aluminum foil broiling pans. Are ya with me so far?

I couldn't find a broiling pan. It was ridiculous. There were no broiling pans anywhere. I did, however, find a cool Calphalon 8" chef knife marked down to $19.99. And I had a $5 off coupon, so that means I got like a $30 knife for $16.23. Bitchin', ay? It's a nice heavy knife, too. Heady on that score, I set off for Whole Foods and the grocery spree. I found some nice salmon and veggies and a bunch of other nutritious goodies, and headed for home, where I broiled salmon filets with sliced lemon, dill, feta, and pine nuts (don't knock it till you try it...mmm, feta!); sauteed zucchini marinated in balsamic vinegar with a splash of worcestershire sauce and soy; and roasted herb potatoes, all served with a Bogle Petit Shiraz. Mm-mm! :) That was all well and good and came out nice (with a dinner salad of mixed baby greens), and then we sat down to watch SNL, and all was good...until the Victoria's Secret commercial.

You guys know how I feel about the VS models. But I was a little buzzed and feelin' good, so I made a joke with the boyfriend, who joked back, and then as always carried the joke just a tad too far and hit that raw VS model spot of mine, and I got pissed, and it just degenerated from there. ::sigh::

So then I apologized, because I felt bad I got all serious and mad and kinda bitchy on the guy, but damn it, does he always have to carry it just one fucking joke too far? He always takes it to the point that I get pissed, can't just leave it alone. Then he rationalizes it with I started it, or well, I look at guys the same way. Which is bullshit, because I am a monogamous person, and when *I* am in a relationship, I don't need to look outside the relationship to satisfy myself. I don't need to fuck half of Georgia and the entire Penn State football team either, though he seems to think I would, if given half a chance. And frankly, truth is overrated; I really don't need to know that he looks at every freaking girl he sees and considers what it would be like to bend at least half of them over a bar. I was happy not having that information. But with respect to total honesty, boy, he sure made sure I had it. So now I, who used to be secure in my relationships, now feel like I have to keep a tiny little endoskeletal body, and god forfuckingbid I should ever get lines on my face or grow old, with extra, saggy skin and all that crap, because the second I do, I cease to be attractive and will be replaced. Logically, I know he loves me and that that's fairly ridiculous, though not beyond the realm of possibility, because I've been cheated on before, so I know it happens and exactly what it feels like. But emotionally, it makes me want to stomp on his face. And I am so tired of hearing it rationalized with "oh, you do it, too." Because no, I fucking don't. I couldn't care less. Oh sure, I make the odd joke here, but really, I think my boyfriend is quite the hottie and totally gorgeous, BESIDES WHICH I am completely, 100%, life-shatteringly in love with the moron, so no, I don't actually check out men in the world, because what would be the point? I am completely satisfied with what I have.

Most of the time.

Right this very minute, I am entertaining an Ally McBeal-type fantasy involving hitting him so hard he flies backward thru the wall and leaves a big boyfriend-shaped hole in it. But I still love him.

Idiot.

Peace out,
Katie

0 comments so far

"And you knew that, if only that person *really* knew you, they would, well, they
would of course dump the perfect model that they were with, and realize that YOU
were the one that they wanted to, just, grow old with."

*HUGS* TOTAL! give katiedoyle more *HUGS*
Get hugs of your own

Yesterday's News - Next Stop

In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
In which Katie returns after a very long absence - Monday, Jun. 25, 2012
In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
In which Katie asks you to please click the link and send the message to protect the rights of artists - Wednesday, May. 21, 2008