It all started this morning. I was on my way to work. I was walking across Spadina on College. The light was just turning red and I was not quite at the curb yet. The car there (fine, yes, it was a taxi) was not looking and started to advance on the soon-to-be green light for him. He stopped abruptly when he saw me just in time, and in reaction to his near hitting me, I made a slight gesture with wide eyes and my hand, indicating « Hello! Look! » Nothing obscene or angry, just a little « what the Dickens » hand gesture. You know what he did? He rolled down his window and told me: « Hey! Be happy! » Hey. Be happy. ARE YOU F- -KING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW!? I saw red. I said « Yeah. I AM happy. I’d just like to live out my life, thanks. » And I walked on. So that was the first thing.
The day at work was fine. On my way home, I had to catch the shuttle bus (again) because the subway (still) wasn’t running. No biggee. I get home. I need to run 12kms. I am training for a marathon. I had woken up at 4am this morning to run before work but it was TWO degrees and I bailed. It was supposed to be much warmer in the afternoon but instead it was flurrying and gross. Fine. The gym it would have to be. So I get my sweats on, take the damn shuttle (again) up to Yonge and Eg to go to Badlife Fitness. It is STILL under construction. They literally have the treadmills facing a construction wall. I looked at the front desk guy and simply said: « I can’t do it. » And I left. I got back on the damn shuttle and came home. All this had taken almost an hour. I now had no time to run on a treadmill or anywhere because I had plans with a friend. I am really seeing red now!
Then I realized. F–k. With this shuttle bus business, it will take me forever to get to my friend’s house, the show we were to attend starts at ten (an hour I am usually sound asleep by), I won’t be able to drink because about an hour after arriving I would have to leave to come home again since I have work in the morning. Plus I’ve been up since 4am. Plus work will be really busy tomorrow because of the Toronto Frickin’ Marathon. Damn runners! Plus I am just in a fowl and frustrated and defeated mood because of the weather and the shuttle buses and the cab driver and because I didn’t run AGAIN. Ugh! I hate to cancel but I just know my friend will understand when I relay all these horrible facts, right? Wrong! CLEARLY YOU ARE NOT BESTIES WITH A GAY MAN!
I call, because cancelling by text is cowardly and lame, and relay my sob story. The stress is clear in my voice. His response? Silence. I say: « Well thank you for being so understanding. » He says, with zero sincerity: « No problem, enjoy your night. » I then text another long apology as I do feel bad for cancelling although he still has another girlfriend he is going with. As I am writing, he writes, and I quote: « Let me do you the favour…whatever you are writing to me you can not bother for I won’t read…and your excuse is sad and pathetic. Enjoy your night. » Sad and pathetic. THIS IS WHAT I AM DEALING WITH, PEOPLE!
And you know what? I don’t freakin’ care! I don’t care because I simply CAN’T care or I will lose my freakin’ SHIT! I see red! I see red!
Wait a second! Yes. I do see red. Red wine! I pour myself a glass of Wolfblass Shiraz.
That’s how I see red. BITCHES!