Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Good Job Holding Up the Wall, Quiet Man

We all know the best laid plans of mice and men.

I went to a birthday party last Saturday. Of course I was alone but I knew most of the people who were going to be there.

I was wearing a low cut halter topped dress just below the knee in cream and a dark tan. It was so low cut, I was having a hard time covering up the tan lines from previous outfits that just would not fade.

As I walked into the room of the restaurant from the outside, I was warmly greeted by Muse! Hello Muse! and many hugs and embraces.

As I looked up, there was Fred and Quiet Man holding up the back wall.

I had held on to my friend Van, and elderly gentleman a few seconds too long, which he probably enjoyed, because as my head was resting on Van's shoulder, I saw two pairs of eyes lock onto mine.

They each had a drink in their hand and stood there like two school boys. Quiet Man was intently gazing; Fred was just plain staring.

So the night went along with my standing in their direct view, chatting with everyone. They did not move too far from the wall. Quiet Man who had other avenues of exit to go out and smoke, chose to brush past me without any greeting or direct look. I did the same, and did not yield any right of way.

When the birthday boy's mom, Trudy, came to say hello, she wanted me to go to the bar with her to get a drink. Unfortunately Quiet Man was holding it up at the time. After a little cajoling from Trudy who asked me is there someone there who likes you but you don't like them? I ended up nudging up to the wine bar directly behind Quiet Man, got our drinks and returned to my previous position.

Fred in the meantime unwittingly provided, just for me, some invariable entertainment: he likes blondes, but apparently was going "low rent" and "low looks" that night, because he was cozying up to some fake ones with aged faces. Quiet Man was every once in a while looking over. I looked right at him as if he was part of the wall he was holding up for most of his stay.

Quiet Man had turned his back to me and had Fred to the wall, whispering something to him. I garnered it was about me, because why else would he speak to Fred without anyone being able to see?

They decided to leave early, because it must have been pretty boring holding up the wall while I has actively engaged with most of the party goers who had stopped to chat with me. I had many invitations to go and sit at various tables, but why should I when I had the best place in the resturant party room?

As they left, Fred went one way and Quiet Man decided to squish himself by me, took the liberty to throw a glance at my decollate, looked me right in the eye, raised his eyebrows at me with a broad closed mouth smile and moved on. My reaction was as if I was staring at a wall.

Monday, September 10, 2007

I Ask Again, WHAT are These Two Thinking?

OK. Here is the latest in the Fred and Quiet Man world.

Last night, I spoke to my mother, who for what ever reason was talking to Fred.

He is having a cocktail and dinner party, complete with white tents and god knows what else at his new multimillion dollar home. I point out the price, because that is what his stupid party is all about, look at me, Fred, I am wealthy, I spend money, I am fabulous, love me, look at me, etc etc etc.

I think he is also trying to out do the son of the famous mother on TV person who had the party at his mansion last year. I would take bets.

Now, my mother has no idea about Quiet Man. She handed me the engraved invitation-that looked like a WEDDING invite-complete with picture of Fred's new digs.

Today my brother who also talked to Fred earlier in the week, and asked me today if I was going because he had to give Fred a head count. My mother mentioned he specifically asked for me; my brother had the invitation Fred himself wrote out for me. My brother really likes Fred and Quiet Man and they him. He felt the need to tell me that today, as if to force my hand into saying yes I will go, because if I don't, then I guess he does not want me to insult Fred, by not going.

I think Fred will be insulted if the bum on the street refused his invitation, because it's a fact Fred would log in his mind as a rejection of Fred. Remember, its all about Fred and his ego. And don't forget, Fred considers Quiet Man the equivalent of his brother. Where these two found each other, I have no idea.

I cannot believe this. Fred's invitation says we are invited as guest of Mr. & Mrs. Fred. I felt like calling Fred up on his RSVP numberS- yes he has like FIVE RSVP numbers on the invitation, and asking him where will all the other potential Mrs. Fred's will be on that night?

If Mrs. Fred is going to be there [why wouldn't she, it's her house] will Mrs. Quiet Man be there? My family is thinking it's strange that I am hesitating on an RSVP. It's because they do not know what I, Fred and Quiet Man know.

Would Quiet Man show up without Mrs. Quiet Man? Perhaps, but I don't know. He never even talked about her for all the months he was hitting on, inquiring about, flirting with me and asking me out.

Of course, I am on the fence, pondering what to do. I should go and ignore him with or without Mrs. Quiet Man. I should not go and maybe Fred and Quiet Man will get a message they have apparently not understood by my utter refusal to interact with them since the end of MAY 2007. If I go, I am sure with Mrs. Quiet Man there or not, he will make some sort of attempt to converse with me. If I throw a drink on him, I will look like a crazy woman, because only one other person will know why I threw that drink.

I could conveniently force him to introduce Mrs. Quiet Man to me and put him on the hot seat, but I have not any interest in that woman, much less want to see her middle aged ass.

Whether he is there alone or not, if I refuse to speak to him or don't act naturally enough if I do, my mother's radar will pick that up lickety split and I will have that issue to deal with, especially if she sees a Mrs. Quiet Man. My mother thinks Quiet Man is single anyway.

Fred sucks.


After spending most what felt like most of the darn summer in Italy, I have to say its taken until now to at least feel back to normal, or it may be how my cup runneth over with work is what is dragging me down. Don't know which.

Here is a photo from Pompeii.

It's actually stamped/carved into the stone to show the way to the brothel, which by the way, had paintings on the wall so the men could point and choose the various services of the Pompeii Prostitutes.