In your DREAMS

As of late, I've been having lots of dreams. Good dreams! It's weird. Most likely, the dramatic increase is at least in part due to the fact that I've been sleeping more. Well, "more" speaking relatively. I don't sleep much as it is, as demonstrated by my late late night posts such as this one. But when I do sleep, I've been dreaming.

I wish I had a coherent memory of all of them, but just scattered bits. I remember one where I had another kitten along with Sabrina named Vulcan. No surprise with the name because I just saw the new Star Trek movie (which was bad-ass). Vulcan was cool because Sabrina got along with him very well, and Vulcan would actually FETCH me things I want. Not things I throw, but things I want. It was cool.

I've had several other good dreams featuring friends of mine, and while *most* of the details are still foggy, I have flashes of moments where I was unspeakably happy where I was hanging out with that person or those people. And I won't lie, there were at least two moments where I was enjoying the company of a lady friend who shall remain anonymous. But I must say, it was nice. Not like hot and sweaty nice, but very comfortable, like the sort of connection I've always wanted with a woman.

But even in my dreams, I won't kiss and tell. That's private.

I'm surprised I haven't been having nightmares. I just played and beat bioshock this past weekend. It was fairly terrifying. Those little girls were creepy as hell. But it was fun, in a morbid psychological thriller action first person shooter.

My pal Iris has informed me that because I brought over my dear sweet little Princess when I was watching her boys, they've taken up marking their territory anywhere they catch a wiff of her. They've been pissing all over her livingroom. I feel bad, but that's also kinda funny. My little girl may not give off the nicest of vibes. Maybe she'd get along with other black cats. Or maybe I'm just overly optimistic, as always.

She's asleep on my chest again. That's her favorite spot. her little paw is outstretched like she wants to hit the spacebar for me. I'm glad she's happy here in the new house. I was always worried that she'd be unhappy when I have to leave her here alone, but she seems Ok when I come home. Which reminds me, the little Princess is almost out of food. Sounds like it's time for another trip to the pet store. I wonder if I can fit the food in my saddle bag?

IN OTHER GREAT NEWS, I finally finally F I N A L L Y got my motorcycle back from the shop. They had it for-friggin-ever! And the bill was not kind, but it was mainly the cost of parts, not labor. Needed a new gas tank valve, new coolant line, new rear tire, and new front brake pads. Now it's back, and I'm back in uniform. Well, black leather, kevlar armor, and carbon fiber leg guards. My Darth Vader get-up. But that is my uniform. And I'm pleased as peaches.

The weather is beautiful, and it feels VERY good to be riding again. Not looking forward to the typical, blistering-hot Georgia summer, but I'm prepared to shove an icepack inside my jacket to keep me from overheating on those 90-plus-degree days.

The summer is off to a precarious start that I wish I could explain. A friend of mine who I've made a point of being nothing but nice to spilled a drink on me. After a very snide apology, I asked her if she really was sorry, to which she responded "No! I'm not sorry!" in the absolute bitchiest tone I've ever heard her direct at me. It wasn't half a shot of vodka spilled on me. It was a glass of beer all up and down my left side. Sure, it was an accident, but only an accident in the sense that she was trying to elbow me in the ribs (hard) and hit my drink instead. Suffice it to say, I was insulted and ever ounce of dignity was running down my leg like so much BEER from my glass.

The kicker was that I turned down a chance to go to another bar to watch the midnight showing of the original theatrical release of Star Wars. I made this huge public gesture of friendship by saying that it was everyone's last night out together before the fall and that I can't leave my friends. Then I get my drink spilled all over me by my "friend" who was drunk, hyper, and so incredibly rude that she couldn't feel legitimately sorry for something that was clearly her fault. Cuz the good lord KNOWS I love to be at a bar drenched in beer, like a drunken idiot. I didn't want another beer or even a change of shirt or pants: I just wanted a goddamn sincere apology. Instead, I got up, paid my tab, and left without saying a word.

That was a bad way to start the summer. Very bad. My friend Iris has her own theories on what happened and why, but she had already left before my rude friend started flailing her arms around like a crazy person, punching people at random. She punched me in my throat earlier in the evening, but I let that one slide. For someone who practically begged me to be a nice person towards her, she really doesn't get that's a two-way street. Nobody should ever mistake my kindness for weakness because I don't tolerate disrepsect.

At least I had the chance to do a good deed before the beer-spill occurred. The flaming asshole of an ex-boyfriend of a dear friend of mine showed up at the bar... ...escorting everyone's favorite bartender to the threshold of 283. When he saw me, he took off, and with good reason. Ya see, his line of bullshit is pretty simple to explain: he's the reformed bad guy. He was addicted to heroine, bad experiences, blah blah blah. So when he meets a woman, he dumps all of his rotten life on her, tells her that he's turning a corner, and she falls for it hook-line-and-sinker. My dear-sweet friend fell for it. And so did! When he started dating her, I thought he was perfect for her. They eventually moved in and lived together for almost a solid year... ...before he started cheating on her. Sadly, he wasn't exactly James Bond about it. He left his email client open on his computer, so when she sat down to print a school paper, she found all their naughty little correspondences.

She was betrayed and devestated and it absolutely killed me. Because if you know this special dear friend of mine, you couldn't FATHOM anyone hurting her. If that wasn't bad enough, after she moved out and started couch surfing to find a new place to live, he wouldn't leave her alone. He did everything he could to torture her emotionally. He'd call her up and tell her to go buy him TOILET PAPER because he was out. And he was once downtown with his NEW SLUT, spots my friend, and decides to invite himself AND THE SLUT to join her. No shit. Who in their right mind does that? Who thinks it is OK to do that????

My friend had to make me promise I'd never hunt him down and break every bone in his body. That doesn't mean I'll let him carry around town like he did nothing wrong. And I'm certainly not going to sit by apathetically and let him do it to someone else. I was up in the air about whether or not I should go say something to the bartender, Rachel, until I had a conversation with a new buddy named Matt who frequents 283. He said she's been a part of that place for years and years, and that he didn't want to see her get hurt by some DICK in sheep's clothing.

So Matt and I went inside, ordered another couple of drinks, and spoke to Rachel. I left out a lot of the nasty details because I didn't want to start shouting. Matt laid the groundwork for what I had to say and I laid it out on the table for her. She seemed not too upset, and according to her she'd only been seeing him for a few weeks, but Matt said she was hiding it fairly well.

The good news is that she confronted him about it that night, probably after I had beer spilled all over me. The HILARIOUS news is that the dickless son of a bitch actually sent me an IM telling me to mind my own business. I didn't miss a beat: I told him I'll discuss this with him in person anytime he wants to. That chilled him out pretty quickly. I wish I still had the conversation to cut and paste here, so I can preserve it for posterity. "See kids? This is how a coward flounders when he's shitting his pants!" To be pefectly frank, I'd LOVE IT if he wasn't such a pussy. Cuz if he took a swing at me, I'd rellish the chance to beat the living shit out of him.

Oh if only. But he's only got the half-testicle necessary to take out his frustrations on women. So I left him with a warning (without directly threatening him) that he better not take out his anger on my friend, lest I "make the time" to come see him to "discuss" it with him. And he for damn sure better stay away from her or else. The most hilarious part was how he ended it. He's got such a self-endulged romantic image of himself that he said he owes lots of people "time and apologies" and I'm not one of them. Like I ever asked him for an apology! I told him to kiss my ass and to leave my friend alone. Nothing in there about an apology.

These stream-of-consciousness entries are so bizarre. I talked about dreams, cats, friends, school, motorcycles, and a real bastard. It's been a while since I put in an update. I guess I just had a lot I wanted to get down. OH WELL!