I Ain’t Pissed At You, Pardner.  I’m Just Pissed.

 

(soundtrack)

Takeover – Jay-Z

 

I got to get all this dirt off my shoulders (Hova again!).  Man, I got so mad at David and Michelle the other day and really, for no good reason.

 

It was Michelle’s birthday on Thursday and there was an odd chain of events leading up to it.  On Tuesday, we went downtown to feed the birds.  Of course, it was a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.  As the day came to a close, she says, “Can you promise me something?”  I tell her I won’t.  Everyone knows that I don’t make promises.  So then I ask her to tell me what it was she wanted me to promise.  Then she says she won’t tell me unless I promise.

 

Insidious.  Like the Federation.

 

My friends, I tell you that I held fast as long as I could, I really did.  But eventually, after avoiding it as long as possible with numerous speeches and anecdotes about why I don’t make promises, it got built up to the point that my curiosity had to be satisfied.  The promise?  That I wouldn’t get her anything for her birthday.  Why?  I’m paraphrasing, but she said that she didn’t want me to feel pressure to get her a great present.  And she said that it would be horrible if I got her a bad present because then I’d see that look of disgust in her eyes in that split second after she unwrapped it and I’d notice.

 

Bottom line: She didn’t trust me to get her a quality gift.  Wow.

 

First of all, I’ll say that I was relieved a bit.  I had NO idea what I was going to get her.  Secondly, that’s sort of a cynical way to look at the gift giving process isn’t it?  I mean, receiving gifts shouldn’t be something that you dread.  Thirdly, what’s wrong with my gifts?  Come on, I got her a Carebears trash can a while ago and I’m 98% sure that she loved it…maybe, 80%.

 

Regardless, I didn’t think there was too much harm in it at the time.  I figured that the least I could do was drop by school on Thursday and give her the ol’ Happy Birthday, go to lunch with her and some friends and that’s it.  Wednesday night, I’m talking to David about going downtown to work out and hang with Michelle and he says, “Ok, I’ll ask her when her test is over and I’ll get back to you.”  So I’m up until about 4 in the morning Wednesday night (watching Just Shoot Me as usual) and I check my MSN messages.  Nothin’.  However, I figure he’ll call me Thursday morning and we’ll meet up.  Nothin’.  I call him up and he tells me, “Oh, sorry man.  I slept in.”  And I’m like, “That’s cool, that’s cool.  So what time you want to go see Michelle today?”  And he’s like, “I went and saw her last night.”

 

What the fuck?

 

So I get mad at that nigga, I ain’t even interested in talkin’ to his ass at that time.  I talk to Michelle and she’s all like, “Sorry, I left my cell at home and I just got back.”  (Grrrr…) Then she jokingly says, “Is there something you should be saying to me today?”

 

“Nope.”  Cold blooded?  Naw, come on.  Honestly, I have no idea why I was mad at her.  I guess because of the above incident, I felt that she was totally cutting me out of her birthday.  It’s paranoid, I know, but hey, it’s Big Al we’re talking about here.  So instead of seeing her, I ended up hanging out in Cesar’s ghetto neighbourhood and playing basketball til’ around midnight.  Didn’t feel any better, even after I called David to cuss him out some more.

 

It wasn’t his fault any way.  He told me that his visit was spontaneous and that he was sorry.  I believe him, I do.  I guess, as always, I’m mad at myself.  Couldn’t I have called her myself and asked her when her test was done?  It’s just that she’s done so much for me this year and I feel like such shit that I couldn’t take one day to show my appreciation for her.

 

Forgive the length…nay, long-windedness of this post.  I’m just spittin’ hot fire, ya heard?  I leave you now with dialogue from the greatest story ever told: Preacher

 

You sayin’ I’m some kinda homo?

I’m sayin’ you’re the kind of guy who’d crawl through a perfectly good whorehouse to get to a fat boy’s ass.