So I suppose I should finish my narrative of wednesday, thursday, and saturday and sunday. YIIIIEEEEE!

Ok so wednesday was pretty much done. I was bitter over grad alley, we have fun watching the Matrix, we have conversation about attractiveness and beer. I go home and crash. I get up early and haul myself into the office JUST IN TIME FOR GRADUATION to meet a student who then cancels. There has to be a word for the inverse of serendipity. I mean the opposite is being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but as far as I know there is no succinct way of saying it. And this was definately it. I had to be there just sitting and watching the graduation on a closed circuit tv waiting for this student who was never going to arrive, knowing his family was there, knowing he was there in cap and gown, knowing that this day came and went without a word to me, with out a look, with out an email, without a fucking postcard saying "As much of a dick as I was I just wanted to say thank you and let you know I appreciate what you did for me. PS Sorry I ruined your life. It wasn't your fault." Is that so much to ask people? After you give your life for two years, and even his mother, HIS MOTHER, tells you that he wouldn't be where is today without you, after all of that graduating with out a single word to me is a violation of nearly epic proportions. It is, as the comedian Dennis Wolfburg would say, akin to telling someone in the path of a tidal wave that might experience moisture . And you know what? He has the address of this weblog. And if he wants to defend himself, I dare him to do it. Hear that you little twit, I stamp my foot and shke my fist and DARE YOU TO VISIT YOUR WRATH UPON ME.

So there I was and saw them graduate, and I saw the whole ceremony, and yes I'm bitter, and yes I'm hoping he is terrified, and yes I hope he has a miserable life. Yes, yes, yes. In fact, once I actually contemplated what I would say if he asked me to fogive him and I came up with this:

"You know, at one time I thought it wasn't possible to forgive you, after what you did to me. but then I realized that anything is possible. You want me to forgive you, I'll tell you what to do. You live a very long life and be miserable every fucking minute of it. Every second of every day for the next forty years in the most unimaginable pain and relentless torture possible. And then when you finally die, alone, pathetic, miserable, hopefully face down in a puddle of your own urine, then I MIGHT forgive you....on the other hand I might have to piss on your grave first."

So there I am and his graduation had perfect weather, whereas mine was overcast. (symbolism anyone?) So then I had an evil meeting. And then I had ballroom and then I had to run to meet mom for drinks and to see a play called Life *3 which should have been better than it was. And that evening I ended up seeing a leather guy carrying a bunny, Steve Buscemi, and Stanley Tucci. And you know in the old days I would have taken that as a sign. I would have said this was fate, a symbol of the unvierse to me that everything has its random little place and don't worry just enjoy. But not anymore. He gets a beautiful graduation full of hope and light, and I have to settle of a guy with a bandana holding a bunny? Fuck off, no way.

So I get home. I'm exhausted. I'm tired. And I burst into tears. And I think to myself, this is no good. So I go to Fitzpatrick's where I am immediately beset by evil drunken yuppies. And that is a WHOLE NOTHER STORY, which I am too tired to get into here. And I realize I can't talk about saturday because "-" still won't let me talk about him in any way shape or form (which is interesting since he wants to use me in his documentary, but I digress), but it ok because when things go well there is so rarely something to say (wink) . So that leaves the rest of thursday and today. But again I get tired especially with the lack of shout out, you slackers.