Wherein I Ramble Like a Great Lost Rambly Thing

First order of business, I've been asked, by Slick himself, to change Slick's pseudonym. He prefers Malkey, which is the Scottish word for a head butt, which should give you an idea of what I'm dealing with over here.

The man can actually carry off a kilt. I'm sayin'.

Anyway - Malkey it is. I don't like that name as much, because it makes me think of Balkey, which makes me think of Bronson Pinchot, which EW. But hey - whatever makes him happy.

I do this odd thing in relationships. I act a lot like I don't trust the person I'm with. And it's not that - I'm actaully a stupidly trusting person. Really, it's a wonder I'm not trying to trap a poodle from the bottom of a pit at this point. But I don't tend to trust people's feelings for me - I'm never really sure that I'm worth all the effort or interest, that if they like ME there must be something wrong, or that if they do something cool for me, it's for ME, therefore can't be that big of a deal. Sad...sad sad sad.

Oh man, I'm watching "Casino" and it's the part why the guy spits in the sandwich and dudes, y'all don't know how hard I have to shove down my paranoia in order to ever eat anything that I didn't cook. Gah.

So. The Boy. Siiiiiiigh. It's just disgusting. I fall way to hard and fast an easy. But y'know, it's not like I fall for every single guy I ever meet. Really! I don't! I went on other dates! Bad dates!

Ok, that's not entirely true - I went on mostly good dates just with boring guys. One guy works in concert security and got me into the VIP area of Stubb's to see the Violent Femmes. (I KNOW!!) Beer was free all night, the show rocked, we had good conversation, I thought things went well, aaaaaand...no phone call. Now, because of his job, he was going out of town soon and blah blah blah - but dude? Cell phones don't work in Chicago? Whatever. So I wrote that one off as good experience and The Time I Got To See The Violent Femmes And Dude, Why Didn't I Listen To Them In The 80's??

And then there was gigged frog guy. Nice, very smart, very funny, went to see the Mister Sinus of Showgirls and then to Pete's Piano Bar. Biggest problem there was that when he was relaxed and walking around? Total mouth-breather gigged frog look on his face. I almost couldn't look at him. But! He didn't call me! How rude! I should have not called him first! Wait. Ok, that one was apparently mutual.

Let's see...Oh god, there was the salesguy who just needed to shut.the.hell.up.already. Good lord. I'm already here and I'm on my second beer. It's either because you're funny enough to keep me interested, or I'm trying to drown you out with sweet sweet alcohol. Either way?? SHUT UP.

So yes. Malkey (HEE). Met online, chatted, talked on the phone a LOT, met in person and wow.

Yes! Yes! YEEEES!!! PROJECT RUNWAY STARTS JULY 12TH!!!! WHOOOOO!!

Let's review. Cute (Jane, Laura and a few co-workers can attest to this), funny as hell, smart, gets my sense of humor, has three cats and talks to them and for them in funny voices. You just won't believe how much fun it is to have someone segue from singing "Die Motherfucker" under their breath to chanting "Harold! Haaarold, come here! I love you!!" then go back to the song. Oh, and we click in some other pretty important ways. (Insert raised eyebrow here.)

Back to the point of this...how my insecurity makes me just a little stupid. The man texts me all the time (aaah, texting - how did we court without it??) drove to Austin to see me, and most importantly says things like "I miss you." And yet, I'm over here trying to convince myself that he can't possibly be as interested as I am.

I love Robert DeNiro's character in "Casino" - "...an equal amount of blueberries in each muffin!!" HA!!

And I know why - it's not just insecurity, it's also a safety net. If I convince myself that he's not as interested in me as I am in him, then if something goes wrong, it doesn't hurt as badly - right?? Yeah...right. I know, I know.

I was at a Cuban restaurant once (ironically enough, with the Ex, post divorce) and there were a whole bunch of pictures and framed articles and such on the wall by/about this one artist. Anyway, one of them had something about "loving wastefully" on it. I like that idea. I like the idea of loving so much that it's "wasteful." I don't think I've ever done that. I've always held back, afraid that even a nice gesture will "bother" someone. Feh.

Oh - in other news, I'm moving next weekend - whoo! Place is about the same size, but in a better school district and closer to work. It's also SHADED, which means I won't sit here with the air conditioner set to fucking 85 degrees because I honestly can't get it any cooler in here no matter what and anything else is a waste of money and gaaah! Send ice packs and Diet Coke!!!