Because nothing else seems to be working

Opting for the passive agressive, this shall hopefully be my final attempt at solving a problem. All other instances in which I tried to remedy this through actively aggressive means (quite a stretch for someone who tends to let things fester) have not gone as intended; conversation is going nowhere, so this is it: my attempt at peaceful diplomatic discourse.

This situation blows. And it sucks. It both blows and sucks, much like the mouth of the Mexiwon't.* I tried to lay out the situation as I saw it, explained how I felt, how much it was hurting me, the way I felt neglected and taken advantage of. And you had no response. Nothing changed, it didn't get better. I tried again; same effect. Then things got better, but only in a way which I feared it would - you came around more now that your other friends were gone. So today I brought it up once more and I learn that this whole thing has made you very angry. What. The Fuck. I don't quite understand how you hurting my feelings has made you angry, but that's not my place to judge; you apparently haven't understood why my feelings have been hurt in the first place, so that makes us even. But I'm sorry that I've made you mad at me.

For the longest time you were one of my best friends, and then..... you weren't. This all started with how much of a big deal you made of spending time with other people because they were such good friends to you, and how you didn't spend enough time with them. It might not have seemed like much to you, but to us (not just me), it was a big deal. We were being shafted for other people constantly, and not just that, we were made to feel less important. Your message today stung. I'm sorry I made you feel like shit today, especially considering what day today is. But just know that the past few months, that's how I've felt most times that I was around you.

Now. You've explained to me that this (not hanging around me as much) is mostly at the desire of the other people, and through no effort of your own. This is fine. It's helping me understand more, I think. Part of the thing that made me the saddest was that you wouldn't hang around me unless I made an effort to come to you you. So for a while I wanted to see what would happen if I just stopped coming. If I just didn't come. Not only did I not come, but I didn't even try to fake it anymore.* But now I'm seeing that you're just naturally that type of person - you don't go to them; people come to you. And I'm just going to have to learn that that's what I need to do. You've told me that you don't view friendship in terms of spending time with them. But to me, that's what being friends is: having someone you can talk to, that you hang out with, laugh with, have casual group orgies with.* Which is why this hurt.

And, though I'm loathe to admit it, I think I'm starting to realize that part of this had to do with a twinge of envy. I'm not like the other girls. You treat me differently, not that that's good or bad, it's just different. I'm not at all a girl to you, to most of you guys. I love that and hate that (but mostly love). I am androgeny personified. But it would still hurt when you would have all these new people around (mostly women, because that's just your natural inclination) and I would remember what it was like to be cared about in the way that those new people are. Because it isn't the same anymore. I don't know what's happened. I know we've both changed a lot. We've become more extreme, defined versions of ourselves. I've taken on a few Hermione traits (but not the admirable ones).

What I'm getting at is, I want this to be over (which I know may not seem like the case because I keep bringing it up) and I want you to try, please try, to be conscious of this. When everyone gets back, don't drop me again. I know you don't feel like you did that in the first place, but that doesn't mean that's not how I felt. Because I know that most of the time people come to you, but every once in a while, it's nice to know that effort made to come and visit me is worth it.

*Couldn't help it

Blueberry Hill

Dear table 56,

Fuck you.

You seemed so nice. You came in from the Blueberry Festival, all hot and sweaty, making jokes, having a good time. I got you our special blueberry creme bruleé and blueberry margaritas; you called me your blueberry girl. You also told me I looked like Famke Janssen, which I don't, but thanks all the same. Then you proceeded to make jokes about my special mind powers. I laughed, you laughed. Good time.

You left me $8 on a $99 ticket. What. The fuck.

This angers me even more than the first time I was stiffed. That comes out to less than minimum wage, when you do the math. I shall now be more apt to expect better tips from bitchy customers than the sweet, congenial ones. The fact that a really nice 16 top left me 25% later that night is beside the point.

Go choke on all those blueberries,
Sparks

P.S. Fuck you.

My hangover cure is a double cheeseburger

After my own bit of drunken debauchery last night, which included doing the splits in the kitchen, putting on pointe shoes, and dancing with a vaccuum cleaner, I have come to this conclusion: It seems that I cannot get drunk (or consume alcohol, really) without drinking to incredible excess. I'll down vodka like it's water, but then it really hits later on. And apparently I get very uppity and '50s suburban housewife-ish. All this is the name of a "Come See Sparks's Newly Painted Apartment" Party. Pictures later.

But I will also say this: I make for a very entertaining drunk.