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Underloved and Overtoothed
Written on 2001-09-20, at 1:59 p.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Butterfinger

1 Bag Skittles

1 Coke

6 Cigarettes

Yum.


TresFabuleux: Are we all going out tonight?
UCFfighterBoy: I don't know, I was just about to ask you that.

TresFabuleux: Are we going out tonight?
SublimeAtUCF: i dont know, i was just gonna ask if you were going.

For some reason, I feel like the lead lemming in my little circle of friends.


Friends.

Friend.

"Friend"

I'm very much growing to hate that word.

You see, for some reason, I'm quite an amazing "friend".

Part of my melancholy lately is that apparently, that's all I am to people.

A friend.

John the friend.

Good 'ol John, everyone's friend.

Just once, I'd like to hear someone tell me, "John, I have no interest in dating you because you're a miserable son-of-a-bitch."

Because that would infuriate me far less than having another person give me the "friend" talk.

At this point, I should see it coming, and just have a carefully worded script ready to give them, reminding them to show a little emotion, and try not to stumble over the big words, like, "the".

This little dissertation of dejection would be littered with cop-out catch phrases like "great guy", and "I really like hanging out", and the always ubiquitous "So everything's cool?".

And yes, I do realize that "always ubiquitous" is redundant.

The point is, I have friends. I have a LOT of friends, whom I enjoy.

So, when I'm interested in someone, I could really care less if they want to be my friend or not (rare exceptions), as I have that part of my life quite covered. I'm interested for the fact that I would like to date them, and then possibly have "naked time".

There was no particular catalyst for this rant, other than the fact that this tends to happen more often than not to me. And given the fact that I may have some hideous physical aberration to which I am oblivious, i.e. extra limbs, lack of gums, a Republican voters card, I don't quite know what I could be doing wrong.

I pay for most everything...I buy flowers...I get people silly little gifts. And yes, I know that material things do not a boyfriend make, but I would consider it nice, had ANYONE ever done the same for me. And YES, again, to the point that something like that early in a "relationship" may make someone feel smothered, which is why I know when something like that is appropriate or not.

After years in Entertainment, dealing with boys who seem to be just girls who somehow sprouted a penis (Wow, that's a nasty visual...), I suppose I've become more than a little jaded as to the thought of someone living up to my standards, at least in this town.

"Oh John, stop being such a twat, if you ask too much from someone, you'll never find it."

Well, true as that may be, I don't need to be in one of those sorry/grateful relationships...

You're always sorry,
you're always grateful.
You're always wondering
what might have been.

You're always sorry,
you're always grateful.
You hold him thinking,
"I'm not alone".

You're still alone.

God, Sondheim is depressing, isn't it?

Anyway, thinking of things like this has been a contributing factor to my foul mood as of late, plus the fact that I'm about to lose the tiny amount of sleep I do get a night as soon as Horror Nights begins.

Oh yeah, and I seem to be a shark.


"A shark?" you ask.

A shark.

You see, I have had my wisdom teeth taken out already.

And I have my second molars in place.

So, with those oral facts in mind, my body has decided to throw modern science out the window, and create four new teeth at the back of my mouth, and continues to push them further and further out of their hiding places.

So, here I am, with four phantom teeth residing in my mouth, one of which has decided that he, like myself, doesn't care to be straight, causing me much pain.

Which is what will be bringing me to my least favorite place on earth today at 5pm.

The Dentist's office.

Though, I must say that this office is one that I may be able to deal with, it's my first visit there, and the large sign outside the practice reads:

Greenburg Dental: "We Cater to Cowards."

I can live with that.

Oh, and if any of you didn't get the "shark" reference, sharks continually regrow more and more teeth in their lifetimes.

But I'll bet even THEY can find boyfriends.

Be well...

-JOHN-


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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