I went out last night with my friend, who I will refer to as Biff, but I haven’t been out since February and felt guilty. Because of my flare, I didn’t drink anything harder than a diet soda last night. I was stone cold sober all fucking night long.
For those of you who had access to my other blog, you’ll recognize her as the blonde in the picture with my sister and I. You’ll also remember a picture I posted with a certain band member and myself from an outing in October or November (can’t remember the date right now). For those of you who didn’t have access, my friend is tall and blonde and relatively cute. The band is a local band that seems to be gaining in popularity and is releasing a CD in May. Anyway, I’m not exactly a striking beauty and I’m a little on the thick side (and I’m short), which is also important for the story.
The first time I went to see The Band I was separated from my philandering husband and was determined to make an ass out of myself. So, I flirted with the cute-as-a-button lead singer. He took it all in stride, having just received his final divorce decree, and we had fun bantering back and forth. There was nothing more to it. Harmless, really. I couldn’t have taken him serious if I tried and I’m sure he felt the same way about me. I did get a pretty decent picture out of it, though, and hopefully it’ll be worth something if they ever hit the big time. Anyway, about last night…
The last time I went out with her to see The Band there were lots of pictures taken of all of us together. I had a great time teasing the guys and they seemed to have fun joking around with me. One of the guys in The Band said I was his favorite fan (though I’m not technically a “fan” as I just go to accompany Biff) because I’m just “so damned weird”. I didn’t flirt with the guys, but we did play around and most of that was caught on camera. TheMan and I had reconciled and he was at the bar with us. He was impressed that The Band thought I was bomb-diggity and wanted to hang with me, but Biff was a little irritated. After all, she’d been following this band for years.
Apparently whoever does their MySpace page thought the pictures of The Band and me were funny, so they posted them in their fan album. I no longer have a MySpace so I didn’t see these pictures. But Biff did. Biff didn’t appear in any of them. She was livid. Her theory was that The Band leader’s girlfriend was jealous of cute girls (read: her) and so refused to put pictures of any pretty girls in their fan album.
Read that last part again.
The implication there, of course, is that I’m on there because I pose no threat to the girlfriend as I’m not pretty enough.
As she continued on with her ranting, she went on to say that short, fat girls dominated The Band’s fan album and that it wasn’t fair that there were no pretty girls on there. Now, I didn’t start saying such things as “I can always get cute, but you can never get smart” or “Maybe they prefer self-confident people with personalities” though I did think that stuff. She was just being her usual thoughtless self and, well, I’m just used to that from her. She’s incredibly insecure and thinks because she bleaches her hair, tans every single day and has legs a mile long that she’s about the most gorgeous creature on Earth. I happen to think that tanning makes you look old (and have stopped because I developed a wrinkle) and that brains and personality count for something. But what do I know? I didn’t go on about how shallow she is or that she can improve in a lot of different areas because in this particular case I don’t believe in what’s good for the goose is what’s good for the gander.
But I was getting fucking pissed that she kept going on about this MySpace page. I had nothing to do with it, chick, so don’t tell me about it. I told her to mention it to The Band and maybe they could fix it for her. Nope, she just wanted to keep bitching at me about it. Finally, they played their last set and I went to say something about.
“Who does you MySpace fan album?” I ask Tony. He wants to know why I want to know. “Because Biff over there is pissed as hell that I am in your album– mulitple times — and she’s not in there at all. Apparently, whoever does the album doesn’t like cute girls.”
He blinks hard a couple of times. “Well, I don’t do it. You can ask ‘Carol’. I don’t have anything to do with that.”
At this point Biff has joined us and is telling Tony why she should be in there. I walked away, because I already knew what she was going on about. Pfft.
I go to Carol and ask her about the page. She, too, blinks hard a couple of times.
“Well, I don’t know who people are, I just put pictures on there.” She tried to explain her methods. I didn’t care.
“Just take my pictures off, will you please? If I have to hear her bitch one more time about me being on there and she’s not I think I might fucking kick her in the forehead.” Carol seems confused. “Apparently you’re jealous and don’t like cute girls.” She still looks confused. I imagine she was pretty drunk and couldn’t figure out what the hell I was trying to tell her. Hopefully, she’s irritated enough with me that she yanks every image they have of me off their album. Hopefully Bob reminds her today about who I am and helps her out. I was serious about the kicking in the forehead part.
I just wonder how patient one has to be with a friend like this. Besides the ranting she did about a stupid MySpace page, she likes to tell me that my illness just isn’t that serious– in fact, she’s said her yeast infection was worse than my flare. Yesterday (prior to going out) she told me to “just take a vicodin”. When I told her that I take two to three of those a day she said “It can’t be that“– to which I replied “I swear to fucking god, I’m going to beat you down with a board the next I see you and then you’ll see what it fucking feels like.” So, that combined with the thing about the MS page really got my ire up. Sorry if this post sounds shallow, but I really wonder how much patience I’m supposed to have with a friend like this. Honestly, sometimes I really do want to kick her in the forehead after I’ve beaten her with a board.
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