Random Saturday Pieces

Yes. I'm aware that my following up to Influential People I, was promised. I sat down to nut it out earlier today, and decided that I really couldn't do justice to these brilliant women at this stage. Besides there are a few recent developments that I am bursting at the seams with;

* The Ex-Fucker has been contacting me for the past couple of days, wanting to know if we can 'catch up'. Pah! It sounds like we're long lost friends, one of whom has just returned from overseas and we're going to have a natter 'bout the good old days. No Siree. Not. Going. There. As much as I'd like to. But really, Thursday night, I was still feeling rather poorly, and last night, I already had plans. Sex with the Sugardaddy. But of course I told the Ex-Fucker that I was still sick.

* Sparkly boy JJ called me! Whilst I was driving to the Sugardaddy's house (Insert Irony Appreciation here). Imagine my surprise driving along St Kilda road and I answer my phone to Him. Oh! My! God! I pulled over (because I think it's rude to talk for too long into the loudspeaker gizmo; and I'm too cheap to get a handsfree), and chatted for about half an hour. In the end I had to apologise and say that I would call him back another time (fuck, my phone bill), because I was on my way out. He was all really nice about it, then suggested that we 'catch up' (NOTE to self: 'catch up' is 2005 buzz phrase, so it seems) tonight (Sat)! Not thinking, I told him that I already had other plans and as I hung up I wanted to beat my head against the steering wheel for chickening out. (Thanks, Boris). As I continued my journey, I realised why. For a 27 year old, he sure did sound like a 20 year old! Too true, just the kinda things he spoke about, and the way he spoke about them, freaked me out.
It's maybe too early to tell, yes I know, nerves, etc. BUT, I think I kinda liked it better when he was my internet/e-mail courtier; I could have my romance and fantasies and dreams, and there weren't any boy/men running around. Oooh, harsh. My bad.

* Went to my massage therapist today. He's a gem: practically all 'cough-y' type stuff is gone. (Un)fortunately, therapist is also a fairly gifted counsellor as well. He got me talking about the Ex-Fucker and my bad posture; sadness; guilt; breathing problems are all kinda linked. Which is kinda cool. And I know a cool trick about correcting my posture too. Nyah Nyah, not sharing. Get your own massage therapist.

Not up to anything particularly outrageous tonight. Perhaps Tart & I will do dinner or something as equally subdued. Saving money is a bitch, mang!1! Besides, my hair is looking pretty skanky at the moment, and we all know what they say about gals with skanky hair...