officially i am the pineapple hailing from allston, ma, yo.
moved into the new digs yesterday. w00t w00t! i am actually freaking suprised at the sheer volumes of crap that i have managed to acquire since i’ve moved out to the east side. holy fuckin’ jeebus, yo! gah.
so. many. boxes.
so many!
lord, i should just LIVE outta the fuckin’ boxes in the interest of never havin’ to fuckin’ pack again so long as i live, the world without end, amen! a-fuckin’-men, yo!
*shudder*
god and i was soooooooooo fuckin’ wasted…from the all-night packing spree that lasted from saturday morning until the movers showed up on sunday…
so basically as soon as everything was unloaded i called my moms and then laid down on the damned floor for about an hour.
completely mentally and emotionally spent from the past few days. *sigh* john really did a bang up job mindfucking me…like you wouldn’t believe.
so ok, corporate party, Stride Boat party…fantabulous. right? open bar, open seas, great times. but of course i was worried about gettin’ drunk in front of workyful people so of course i didn’t want to drink much. especially when i’m like 5 rum/cokes into the night and realize it’s only 7:30 and we’re going to be on the motherfuckin’ boat until 10 pm…and THEN hitting a bar afterwards, ya know.
eeeep!!!
eep squared!
so i pace myself, and get some food and such, ya know. not drinking myself into a stupor, ya heard. and adam and i cut outta the bar early and get on the train to go home. he leaves at the park street station to get on the green line and i get my ass to harvard square. i’m sooooo effin’ tired from the day and catch a cab to 63 Nyack. right? and you know, this is the last time i ever saw my motherfuckin’ id, too. blah!
cuz like, i get home, drop my bag, drop my pants and my id/subway pass was in my pants but they got misplaced and though i SHOULD have been packing i pull out the trusty laptop and start puttering around and eventually i lose consciousness.
it’s when i wake up that things get strange, mainly because i don’t wake up of my own volition. johnboy is standing over me, in my room, shaking my shoulder telling me to wake up and come check out his new G4 laptop. and i’m all like ‘wha?’ and he’s all like, ‘why didn’t you say hi to me at the hotel?’ oh did i mention that the pre-boat party cocktails were held at the doubletree that johnboy works at? did i?
because they SO WERE! and guess who was working that night…GUESS WHO? GO ON GUESS!!!
blegh squared.
so he drags me to his room, but first i kick him out of mine to put some fuckin’ pants on. cripes. oh and did i mention that johnboy wasn’t necessarily sober? yeah. fun times. also, he hates the whore. or the way she treats him, or whatever. they’re having “issues” and do i think he’s too “clingy”? um…and you know, i wasn’t really awake either.
i wasn’t drunk, but i was sooo not in the mood for any of that and so effin’ tired from a long ass day. and from being all, mopey over johnboy anyway. and the LAST thing i wanted to hear about was his fucking whorey girlfriend and give him advice on how to make things better with her. like, what. the. fuck.
*growl*
and he wanted help setting up his new laptop. which i’ve got to say, as much as i love my beautiful ibook, i have some serious laptop envy goin on, yo. even half asleep i was like, oooh this is awesome!
and you know, the weirdest part of the night was when i threatened to rip his nuts off cuz he started telling me about fooling around with her and then he goes ‘her nipple is inverted’. *dies* WHAT THE FUCK? i was really pissed off but also could not stop laughing. and of course johnboy is a complete ass for even telling me something like that, but you know. ha ha haha…the whore has one nipple! HAH!!!
so i’m a bitter bitch…so what?
and then he’s having me do things to his computer when i get bouts of alertness and we’re lying wrapped up with each other on his bed, and he has his arms around me while i’m doing stuff to his computer and all i want to do is curl up next to him and cry. it’s too painful to have him this close, and know i don’t “have him”. it’s like fate really has it in for me, ya know. or you know, i’m just a masochist. like nobody’s business. and then he says the thing that really floors me. hardcore. ‘i really want to kiss you right now but you’re over me.’ I’M OVER HIM?!?!?!?!??! what? but being the extra stupid pineapple that i am, all i did was go ‘since when am i over you?’ and NOT kiss that boy. which could’ve been a worse thing…but damnit. DAMN IT! and eventually i was lying on him, ya know. and such. christ. he said i have been over him for a while now. what the fuck? i so am not. christ fuck shit damn hell fuck!
*growls*
and i slept alone that night.
the next day (saturday) i packed all day. it was john’s whore’s birthday…he kept bitching about her and NOT hanging out with her but staying at home, eating my pizza, watching me pack, and talking to me all day. he even asked me to help him iron the dress clothes he has to wear when he goes out with the whore because she thinks he dresses too plain. uh-huh…yeah i’m stupid. but she’s a whore. and all of a sudden according to john SHE’S the bitch now and i’m always so nice. wtf? riiiiiiiiight. so i pack pack pack. like whoa. then john finally…FINALLY goes to leave…to spend the evening with his…his…
with his girlfriend on her birthday.
he bought her presents, you know…jewelry…and he’s going to spend her birthday with her. *cries* i’m not strong enough…i just…we fought on my birthday. fought for hours. and i was drunk. so drunk. i drink so much now. it’s the only thing i can find solace in. and he’s going out the door to spend time with his girlfriend and all i have is a sometimes fuckbuddy who doesn’t really have an interest in me anyway.
but i’m in my room packing away things and i go to take stuff into the other room where my boxes are and john is there. so close. i could touch him, i want to, but he’s not mine. he’s. not. mine. not anymore, and i don’t ever get that again. that realization is crushing. i can feel the weight of it pressing down on me with every breath i take. ‘i’m going out now,’ he says. ‘i don’t really want to.’ and he’s blocking my way…he’s just looking at me. but i don’t know what to say. i tell him he’s a big boy, can do whatever he wants and stare back at him. ‘i’m done with [the whore], i’m not going to see her anymore. it’s over.’ uhhhh…wtf?
silence.
me: ‘what do you want me to say here? cuz i have no idea what i’m supposed to say.’
john: ‘i don’t know. but it’s over between me and her.’
me: ‘do you want some gum?’ (only thing i can think of)
john: ‘that’d be great.’
so i give him gum. he says he’ll see me later and goes off to see his GIRLFRIEND on HER BIRTHDAY. i want to cry, it’s all very surreal. later i take a packing break to see once upon a time in mexico with jetta. it’s the first movie i’ve seen since john and i broke up. because the last movie i saw was pirates of the caribbean and that was one massive debacle of which i didn’t even get to appreciate how FINE orlando bloom is. but with jetta, johnny depp’s hottness was fully appreciated.
i came home to an empty Nyack. 63 is kinda lonely without anyone in it. my room is cramped and small…and still ridiculously not packed up. i was starting to have panic attacks about just what needed to be packed and visualizing the movers showing up in the morning and me still not having taken my bed apart and…well, it wasn’t pretty.
around 3 am i’m in the porch packing up things and i see car lights. the instinct to huck things out the window if it’s the whore’s crappy white pos car surges up in me but it’s a taxi. it’s john…alone. i continue packing, but he comes to my room. i don’t so much sense his presence this time as smell the tequila dripping off of him. and of course he look ridiculous good, even drunk. i turn around and he launches himself at me. wrapping his arms around me. ‘i hate girls.’ he slurs. ‘i’m sorry, i’m so sorry for everything…’ over and over and i try not to cry.
we hug for a long time and finally i realize i have to pack, nothing good will come of this and i have to pack. so i guide him to the bathroom and tell him to get cleaned up while i get some aspirin and water. then he comes out of the bathroom and wraps an arm around me telling me about hot girls at the club and how he doesn’t like [the whore] and how she’s so mean and how i’m so nice and how they have nothing in common and, the best part:
john: ‘she says i’m boring…i’m not boring. i’m a fuckin’ rockstar.’
me: ‘no, dude…you’re drunk.’
john: ‘i’m a rockstar…’
*giggles*
best. ever. i could not stop laughing afterwards. of course, he’s draping all over me and as much as i wanted to take advantage of it, i need to pack. because the harsh reality is…i’m moving in the morning. this is the last night i’ll ever spend under the same roof as john jepson, the boy i’ve loved with everything i have for the last four years.
it’s that sobering thought that drives me to put him to bed, to not stare as he strips down to boxers and kiss him on the cheek only as i go back to my all-night packing spree. i pack and pack and try not to think about the boy.
somehow, it manages to get done. somehow. movers show up, john stays asleep (no doubt going to wake up to a lovely hangover), boxes are cleared outta good ol’ #63, mike is a doll and drives me to my new digs, boxes are unloaded, and this pineapple collapses in a heap on the floor, too wiped out in too many ways to do anything else.
so i moved.
so john is a rockstar…a single rockstar, now.
and i’m still alone.
Hey,
i am having a crappy day, and this made me laugh. i’m actually calling around for prices. Prices of how much it would cost to move a washer and dryer from one apartment to another, within the same complex.
I live in Plano, Texas.
It’s only times like this that I regret being a woman.
I hope you get settled soon.
bran~