Stream of Something

Since it's the time of year when I met Chris, I was trying to remember some times with him that aren't tainted. One of those days included attending a Blueberry Festival where the yearly event was being held this Saturday. Events with him have gotten all too blurred together, and I'm not quite sure why, but it also doesn't matter enough to think about it too much. I'm pretty sure that was the first time we went out alone, I'm fairly positive the first time we went out alone we had sex. I just don't really remember the details.

In any case, I saw him last week, my purple hair with dark roots blazing and a newly "adopted" 5 lb ball of fluff in my arms. I saw someone who could've been one of his friends and didn't think much of it. I saw a guy who kinda looked like Chris himself, but didn't think much of it. He's one of those average, not really distinctive looking guys. I see people who kinda look like him fairly often. This time, however, the possible Chris dropped his jaw upon seeing me and starting grinding his teeth. Next came the furious texting. Bingo!! We have a winner! (?). Definitely Chris.

Normally this would have sent me into a gut clenching panic. Just the look of disgust on his face is enough to make my intestines roil in turmoil. Thankfully I haven't seen him that often over the years since we broke up. This time, however, seeing the disapproving grimace of the man who impregnated me twice, but fathered neither of my children, didn't bother me. His scowl almost made me laugh in his face. "Guess what, bitch? Your disapproval no longer means a thing to me. I don't need to be good enough for you anymore." Instead of getting upset, or saying anything at all, I pretended I didn't notice him, and walked on, carrying my ball of fluff.

That ball of fluff, by the way, is the most fucking annoying 5lbs of cute on the face of planet. Seriously. As I type, I am listening to her hideous cries as she rails against crate training. At first I felt bad for her, but, shit, I've done everything "right" for crate training this bitch and she still howls and yaps like she is either possessed or being murdered. I think she's supposed to be over it already. She's not even close to over it. I, however, am over it. I've found myself thinking, "Well, she's so small, her shit is tiny and easy to clean, maybe I don't care if she's ever trained." I suspect this same reasoning is why many poorly trained 5lb balls of yapping fluff exist. Instead, I'm hoping she eventually takes the hint from our dingo, and shuts the fuck up unless it's necessary. I'm not holding my breath though. Sometimes I hope she'll hold hers . . . But man is it cute to watch her little puppy butt following my son all over the house.

Yes, I am an idiot, thank you very much.