I’m feeling a little funky today.

Don’t much want to talk about politics on a Friday and I don’t have all that much of a social life from this past week to talk about.

I was delighted to hear from my friend DeShan that she decided to stay in town rather than go to Australia, but then I heard she’d been assaulted by some guy and was badly hurt.  I don’t know the 411 on the deal, but I’m distressed to think about sweet DeShan being hurt.

I am so broke, I can’t pay attention and I mean that literally.  I can’t seem to pay attention to my billing chores or to my main business either because I’m so twisted up over money.  One of my sister’s 5 Rules for Divorced Women says:  If his money is messed up, his life is messed up.  Seems to be true for her brother and maybe it’s true for all potential boyfriends.  Girls?  Have any stories or experiences?

I think 3:40 a.m. McArp’s depression is rubbing off on me.  There is a big part of me that wants to curl up into a fetal ball and go catatonic so no one can mess with me.  That is depression, isn’t it?  I mean, fuck monastaries and caves.  I want a padded room and good drugs.  And, no, dzaster, it isn’t ennui.  I’m bored with ennui.  And fuck the French and their language anyway.

I keep missing privacy shattered Sharon.  She’s in town and wants to go to lunch and I’m in Ardmore.  I want to take her to lunch and she’s in Bumfuck Egypt.  What’s a nice Jewish girl like her doing in Egypt anyway?  Doesn’t she know … well, of course, she knows.  Well, she might not know, she’s a little bit dotty …  No, … uhm …  well, anyway … .

Speaking of Sharons, Sonic Sharon was at a party I went to last weekend and she got everyone up on their feet dancing by getting up herself and flat hitting it hard.  She was SO good!  She got that moneymaker movin’ and the rest of us just couldn’t stay in our seats.  It was the highlight of the evening.  That boy she keeps being seen with — just to make ME jealous, I might add (LOL) — is a lucky guy.

The movie Wednesday was The Three Burials of Melaquides Estrada, directed and starring Tommy Lee Jones.  Very good.  Beautiful depiction of the Big Bend country of Texas and northern Mexico.  Lots of local color and colorful characters.  I recommend it.

Had a long talk with the lucky Veronique Mist the other day.  I sure do like that girl, even if she’s the darkest person I’ve ever been close to.  Death and decay delight her.  She revels in the thought of her own demise.  She really does think today would be a good day to die.  Her fondest wish is to be an unsolved murder victim.  Anyway, we both agreed that we were going to die alone and unloved and unmourned — at least that was what was going to happen in our deepest fears.  In the meantime, however, it is irritating as hell trying to find love on the internet.  The problem is that you get on the internet because you can’t find anyone you’re interested in dating and/or you haven’t met anyone who is interested in you.  Trouble is, everyone on the internet is there for the same reasons.  They are too picky to want you or they are so desperate they want anyone.  Anyway, I told her I’d looked at 1,000 photos of women aged 40-60 within 50 miles of me in OKC and there were only 8 photos that prompted me to look at their profiles, much less want to contact and date them.  She said I was lucky to find that many and that among men on the internet where she was looking, she couldn’t find one in 1,000.  Of course, she wasn’t searching.  She was just going through the 1,000 suitors who’d filled her inbox with lavish praise for her beauty.  Different deal altogether, if you ask me.  My sister in S.C. says she showed my picture to one of her grrrls and was told I am HOT.  Great.  A woman thinks I’m hot, but she’s 2,000 miles across the country.  At least I’m going to S.C. in December to see my niece get married, maybe I can meet the woman of my dreams then.  Then again, maybe not.  I sort of realized over the past couple of days since talking to Ms.Mist that I just may be fooling myself.  I don’t want to have to clean the house and turn down the stereo and stop eating over the sink and drinking milk out of the carton.  I have the sense most women would object to some of these endearing habits of mine.  I may be better off in the dark alone in my padded cell than with a serious relationship.  It’s too hot to cuddle anyway.

Don’t anyone say a single word to me about Clerks II, the new Kevin Smith movie, until I’ve seen it.  I will kill you.  I mean it.