It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad...

Life's been on fast-forward lately, and sometimes that means I take a little break from posting. Or I sit down to post and find that I am telling more than I'm comfortable with or not enough to be interesting.

Anyway. Happy snowy-ass Monday. It's always hard to discern actual snowfall amounts when you live in a city, because the stuff immediately gets piled to either side of road and sidewalk, and then you have impressive berms flanking canals of slush.

I went into town today via mass transit, which I hardly ever do, but I had various businesses to attend to, and decided to pass the time in between by visiting my favorite cafe. Where I saw my favorite handsome fellow, who'd been out working in the snowy mess all day, poor lad.

'Twas nice to see him, in a charged-air sort of way (for both of us, I think), and we flirted a bit, and then he left to get back to work, and I left to get my head shorn, as I am wont to do.

Made plans with my hairdresser for wildly coloured extensions in springtime, wished I'd brought enough dough to get them put in right this minute - I need a pickmeup.

Came home, hung out with cat creature, ate, ate some more, watched TV until the cable went kaput.

That sort of thing.

I am mostly catching my breath today. The weirdness of my weekend cannot be quantified with existing technology - or it's like gravity; sometimes behaving in eccentric ways that defy both Newton and Einstein. No, I'm not making that up; it's headlines.

I am not going into detail; those who must know already do, and the rest can just imagine for themselves. You know, like a Mad Libs. Hell, why don't I just write one for you? To play along, just fill in the parentheses with the words of your choice.

Anatomy of A Weekend

Friday: Lizbon gets a text message from (noun), inviting her to (verb). She writes back, explaining that while she'd love to (same verb), she can't because she has to bring (noun) to (place).

Later that night, Lizbon gets asked to (verb) by another (noun). She declines, saying she hasn't (past-tense verb) in (amount of time), and doesn't plan to start now.

Still later that night, Lizbon gets asked to do a favor, involving carrying (plural noun) to a/an (adjective) event. She agrees, and then gets asked to (verb) in an official capacity. She agrees to that too.

Even further later that night, who should walk in the front (noun) but the most (adjective) (noun) from her past. She says hello, how are you, and instead of responding to her question, the (same noun) says, Lizbon, this is (name), my (noun).

Then Lizbon is tired and desperately wants to get on her (noun) and (verb) home.

Saturday: Lizbon takes her (noun) into (place of business) to get some (verb) done to it, and gets asked to help out with a/an (type of event). She says okay. She (verb) very fast, and then comes back, to cheers and thanks. She then gets invited to a (type of event), but says she can't, because she has a date with a (noun).

Later that night, the (same noun) suddenly begins playing with his own (part of body) in the middle of the (place). Lizbon is (emotion) and really wants to (verb) away, but can't think of a way to manage that gracefully.

So she pretends not to have noticed. She walks the (adjective) (same noun) back to his (means of transportation), and feels obliged to (verb) him goodbye.

She feels very (emotion) by it all, and wants to fly fly fly home and wash her (part of body) out with soap. She hopes to never hear from (same noun) again, but supposes she will have to (means of communication) him the jig is up.

Sunday: Lizbon very very gladly spends time with several of her (adjective) friends, and tells them the tale of her (opposite adjective) weekend.