I know it looks like my life as a divorced woman is going pretty well.
That’s kind of true. Not totally though.
You are much less desirable as a companion when you don’t have a mate. Especially a mate that rubs elbows with the stars like mine did.
Ergo you have to take friends where you can get them which explains my relationship with Liz’ fiancé David. (does anyone know what “ergo” means?)
Two or three nights a week we have cocktails and sometimes dinner together and many weekend mornings we have coffee.
We don’t really like each other but since Liz spends much of her time in Santa Fe and dave is working on doing whatever is necessary to go to “H” “E” double hockey sticks (at least in my mind) we occasionally find ourselves with nothing to do and no one to do it with.
Sometimes we go out to eat but when we eat home it’s usually something we send out for or David cooks. He refuses to eat anything I make because he claims he hates my cooking.”You might want to include flavor in the next meal you make”
Not that I don’t offer. Just the other night he and his son were about to go out and I mentioned that to save them a few bucks I could share my dinner with them, a delicious salmon pie.
The kid who’s cut from the same rude cloth as his father said he’d prefer to be stabbed in the thigh with a butter knife.
I didn’t care. More for me.
But it’s usually just me and David.
The conversations are nothing special. He rants about Obama and the democrats and I pour over his copy of the New York Post all the time mumbling what a piece of right wing shit that paper is. Mostly we don’t listen to each other but every once in awhile one of us says something that gets the interest of the other one and we converse.
For example the other evening he told me about some guy who works for his old Wall Street company Jefferies Investments or something who’s going through a really messy divorce. It seems that the wife is laying it all out in the paper about how there were drugs and trading partners and a bunch of stuff like that. David says that the guy could have still held his job with that but when she said he crapped in the bed, it was all over.
“You can’t come back from creepy” he told me nodding wisely.
He should know what you can and can’t come back from.He really is the worst person I know personally.
I’ve never seen him actually be mean to anyone but he absolutely judges everyone by their race, creed, financial status and … hell, take everything written on the Statue of Liberty and reverse it.
Even my dog, he loves my dog Ray but he keeps saying that he’s not truly a “white man’s dog”.
(In case you white men want to know what kind of dog to get, any kind of Lab’ll do ya, according to schmucko).
Enough about him. Last night was Halloween and not one kid came to my door. Maybe it was because on Facebook I said that I ate all the m&m peanuts.