Poor Timing, Poor Choices, Poor Puppy
Previous - this entry written on August 13, 2006 at 2:53 am - Next
So. If you aren't Radu, feel free to skip this entry. If you are Radu, odds are good you won't even SEE this entry for a fucking week, knowing your online habits, so I don't really know why I'm bothering writing it other than to keep from doing something else... oh, wait, that's right. You have your cell phone back. Textmessage reminder it is. *mutters*
There's this concept that I seem to be inadequately expressing somehow; I'm going to give it another shot here and perhaps this time it'll get through that thick skull of yours. If it doesn't, then perhaps it'll require more firm measures, but I really would prefer you simply smartened up without me having to make your tangled little life any more fucked-up than it already is. It's even a simple concept, I swear - people have been understanding this one since about the time there was language enough to make it worth mentioning:
If you're given an order, you are expected to obey it. If you make a committment to be somewhere, do something, you are expected to keep it.
Why not give an example? Let's say that when midway through a call I have to go briefly, I call back, and you say that YOU will call back soon since someone just arrived, and I say ok. A bit convoluted but the gist is: you will call me back soon. Right? Now, say a few HOURS later I pop online and hey, there you are. We exchange about two words, and you log off for the night without saying anything more. Did you somehow think that the 'hi' on your part excused you from finishing the conversation, from calling as you had offered to do? Or perhaps my repeated efforts to contact you today led you to believe that despite what you said, what I agreed to, that suddenly I'd be the one calling? Or hey, maybe you're just still too busy fucking her to remember you have a phone. *shrug*
I may want to take care of you, I may respect you at times, I may think it's good you have someone there to care for you and keep you happy, but GODFUCKINGDAMMIT boy, I'm human and female, I don't think you could have possibly pissed me off more without putting some serious effort into it. I bend my word for you, I offer you something I strongly suspect will only cause me a lot of trouble and pain just because it might make you happier in the end, I listen to you cry, I poke and tease and taunt and murmur and snuggle you back into being something reasonably human...
...and so you wander off with her and... and what? Don't even remember what YOU asked to do? I could have kept you on the phone, and you know it. Could have called, interrupting whatever the fuck it is you're doing, dragging you out of sleep or away from the tv or out from underneath her. *growls* And hell, I'm not even going to DO anything about it, beyond this, beyond making sure you see that yes, if you were trying to annoy me you succeeded wonderfully. Your leash is still pretty damned long, boy. Don't make me regret that.
So now, referring to the first part of that simple little concept, I'm giving you an order. Two orders, technically, both of which I know you are quite capable of obeying.
a) When you've finished reading this, UPDATE YOUR JOURNAL.
b) CALL CALEB's CELL PHONE. If you see this entry by then, call before, oh, 4:30 am, my time. If not, call after 9:00 am, my time, and before 11 am, again my time. Yes, today, Sunday. Yes, if for some reason no one answers, keep trying.
And YES, you're in trouble.
If the cell phone doesn't even go to voicemail, try the landline. If diaryland won't let you update, email. If somehow none of this works - at which point I will pretty much call bullshit - then you'll just have to figure out some other way to at least manage to contact me. I shouldn't have to tell you shit like this, we've HAD this conversation regarding 'best effort' via 'lazy little bitch' and for the record, of late you've been falling back into category two.
God, it pisses me off to no end that when I offer something like I did last night and you fucking DEMAND details, demand it in general, not even a shred of politeness, that you choose that night to play Magical Disappearing Slut again. Oh, I'm sure you'll say that she stayed late and then you just kinda fell asleep, that you didn't mean to forget, that you're sorry, that the house burned down or the city exploded or aliens invaded or whatever the fuck you think will make it all better but pet? Not tonight. K? An apology, a POLITE one rather than some grumbling half-mumbled handful of words, that I'll accept. Expect, even. Anything else, any excuses, any reasons, any justifications, any explanations, I don't fucking want to hear it, it doesn't matter. Got it? As far as I'm concerned, when I answer the phone I don't want to hear Twice. I don't want to hear Gordon. I'm not even sure I want to hear Radu. I want to hear an obedient, well-behaved, respectful, polite little puppy.
You can have your moments of safety, your stress relief... just not today. Not this time. Not when you've managed to find one of the VERY few ways in which you can seriously PISS ME THE FUCK OFF.
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