There was a guy behind me that. . .apparently, I always end up sitting in front of (or standing beside at football games) the loudest, most annoying redneck in the bunch. This guy was literally screaming the en. tire. time. It was physically hurting my ears. He was yelling at the boys, yelling at the refs, yelling at. . .everyone. I had my finger plugging up my right ear for most of the game. So I was really freaking sick of him screaming in my ear, and at one particular point, he yelled really loudly, and I yelled, too. I don't remember what I said, but it was indicative of me not being pleased with my ear being yelled in. This guy puts his hand on my shoulder (False, sir. Do not touch me. I do not like being touched.) and says, "Sorry about your ear, Darlin'. But this is why you pay the money to see the game, Baby."
First of all, no. I do not spend money to see basketball games to yell at the refs. (I actually don't spend money to see them at all, because I have a press pass.) Secondly, if you have never had a conversation with me and do not know my name, do. Not. call me Baby. I am not your baby. You have not earned the right to call me by anything except my name.
Up until the point I was a. . .junior in high school, I hated it when ANYONE called me Baby or any derivative thereof. Baby, Babe, Babydoll, whatever. I hated it. I hated it with a fiery vengeance. And because I was friends with a bunch of douchebags, as soon as my guy friends found that out, that's what they called me. My name ceased being Sarah and I was from that point on known as Baby.
As in, walking down the hall, "Hey, Baby! You have the Algebra notes?" "Where do you want to go to lunch today, Baby?" "That history test is a killer, Baby!"
You get the picture.
They did it so much, I just got accustomed to it. And by the time I started dating Richard junior year and that's how he generally referred to me, I found I rather liked it. It's affectionate and cute, I think.
However. I was not dating this redneck behind me. So it irked me that he touched me (strike one) and then called me by a cutesy nickname.
I need to go to the rec center tomorrow. I really need to. I just. . .it's hard to motivate myself. Especially when I have a house that badly needs to be cleaned and work that badly needs to be done. (Because of Christmas Sunday. Yes, Christmas. No, I don't want to talk about it.)
I also really need to write. I've got this novel in my head. It's an entire story, from beginning to end, but I don't have the time to sit down and write it. I don't have the time and ENERGY to sit down and write it. But I want to. I need to get it down.
I'm going to see The Last 5 Years tomorrow. I'm going by myself which. . .sucks a little, but I really want to see it, so it's OK. I'd asked MK to come with me, but he already had something else he was doing. And I can't go Sunday, because of Christmas. I listened to the soundtrack on the way to the basketball game and I cried the entire way.
Remember the thing I wrote about how, when I was younger, I used to watch the saddest part of "Follow That Bird," and just cry and cry? And my mother worried she was raising a masochist? These days, I keep doing that to myself. I'm especially bad for it watching Grey's Anatomy and listening to The Last 5 Years soundtrack. I've been really emotional lately for. . .a myriad of reasons, really.
Actually, I'm wondering if I should even go to the show. I love it, but I'll be there alone, and I'll probably cry through the show and all the way home, and most likely when I get home, too. I don't know if I need to do that to myself at this particular point in time.
I have. . .a lot of stuff going on at the moment. I'm not talking about it because I just don't even know myself where I am in it all. (No, that's not true. I talked to KentuckyNicholas the other night because I was about to lose my mind and I needed to talk to SOMEONE who wasn't involved in the problems I'm having and who was a completely unbiased point of view. It made me feel better to talk about it, but I didn't actually come to any grand conclusions, which led to the first part of my day being really sad.
As for now, though, I'm going to finish watching "Halloween" and go to bed. And try to sleep. Which actually probably won't happen.
I should add that it's at the part of the movie that the two characters just had, apparently, a lot of sex, and that just brings to light the fact that I'm going to be. . .well, I'm probably going to be spending my Friday nights exactly like I am right now, alone watching other people get it on in scary movies, indefinitely. That's. . .it's just a little sad to me is all.
I guess it's some consolation that everyone who gets lucky in this movie is killed.
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