(Friday)Fucking sucked, mostly. Worked my butt off, got home, went out with Dirk. We couldn't get in touch with the guy he wanted to rent the room from, so I decided we should go over to his place, see if he'd gotten home. Yup. Just walked in the door, according to him.
He said the room was still available and he'd be home all day on Saturday, so Dirk could just move on in. He kept holding back this near-black dog, an Alsatian, I think. I've never felt such an aura of friendliness from a dog that gave me the creeps before. I think Cocoa (the dog's name) freaked me out because in the dimly lit stairway, all you could see was the shining eyes and the white teeth. Like a fucked-up smiley face.
(Saturday)Fucking sucked, too. Dirk couldn't get in touch with the guy he's supposed to move in with, and today's the absolute last day. Everyone has to be out of the house by midnight tonight. Dirk called and called and called. Nothing. Paged and paged and paged. Still nothing. Why do people feel this weird need to fuck us around?
Anyway, I was all for just marching over to the guy's house and telling him how I felt. Dirk revealed that when he'd called the guy on Friday morning, the guy had asked, "Who was that girl you were with?"
Predictably, Dirk responded, "My girlfriend."
According to Dirk, the guy sounded disappointed. I think the guy's gay, and doesn't want to live with a straight guy. Seriously, until he found this out, he was eager for Dirk to move in. Reverse discrimination. It exists.So, Dirk's going to be staying with Charlie until he can find another place. Honestly, I bless the day Charlie joined our band. We'd be in such deep shit without his generosity. Dirk didn't even have to ask, Charlie offered when he found out what was going on.
Dirk and I went to a bar with Charlie and his wife in the evening---I think it's called the Bar J. They had a live band (actually a duo on accoustic guitars with a drum machine) that did a lot of covers, like "Hotel California". They were really good. The one guy turned his guitar playing into something almost spiritual. I was jealous, because Dirk could drink and I couldn't (I had to drive us home, remember), but it was a lot of fun. Spent a lot of time talking to Charlie about the navy.
Also, at band practice, two of the members of the band that practices after ours introduced themselves to me (forgive me, I can't remember their names anymore). They seem really nice, if a bit mousy. One was a typical Alternative/Punk/Whatever's cool looking guy with his hair tied back in a long ponytail. The other was a girl with a very soft voice, long black curles, that peaches-and-cream complexion I envy, and a very soft voice. She was also a foot shorter than me, and a bassist.
(Sunday)Dirk came over to help my father clean out one of our storage rooms. Honestly, I don't know why he volunteered. Aside from cooking lunch, all I did was read a book and twiddle my toes. Literally.
My father had to borrow $400.00 from me, to pay his hunting club dues. You know how much that leaves me? $75.00. Asshole. If he wants to join a fucking hunting club, he should damn well be able to pay the dues without borrowing from his goddamn daughter. I don't like this. It means I have no money when my mother takes the car away, which is what she's gleefully expecting to do.
Ken wants me to change his and Whitney's name in my journal. He even wants me to go back and changed all instances of their names in previous entries. If I had that kind of time, don't you think I'd have redesigned the rest of my site so it looks as good as my front page? Hahahahaha. No. But, from here on out, Ken will be referred to as Cockroach (Roach, for short), and Whitney will be referred to as Milkbone. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Cockroach.
Roach's sudden need to protect Milkbone's reputation strikes me as a bit sudden. Maybe he's dating her again? Or maybe she has a whole bunch of Internet friends who read this diary and taunt her for the dirty (gross) secrets revealed here. Roach also smugly informed me that he's in contact with Jason again. Good for you, Roachboy. I hope you know that he doesn't have any respect for you either. There's reasons I don't go out of my way to talk to him, and it's not because he's ever mean to me. Quite the contrary, in fact.