It's now 4pm. I went out this morning with Helen's out-of-town guest, Tammie, and we hung out, had a burger and shopped. I'm glad I did that because if I had sat at home all day with the expectation that I'd be heading out at 1 or 2, I would be PISSED. At that, I got home at about 2:30. No message, no other numbers on the call display. So I didn't miss his call.

So when I got home, I watered the garden, had a shower, dealt with my cats a little and listened to some music while I cleaned. I'm leaving my house at 6:30, whether he's called or not, as I have tickets to a show, the Leaky Heaven Circus.

But this is the Gibsie I know. The one that doesn't call, the one that doesn't show up for things. The last time we hung out, he called me three times to make sure I didn't leave the restaurant because he was running late. He showed up, alright, late as it was. No big deal. So I at least thought, ok, he's 30 now, maybe he's grown up a tad and tries a little harder.

Yeah right. I guess once a shiner, always a shiner.

So I'm going to do what I want this afternoon, if he calls, he calls. Whatevs.

But tell me something, guys. WHY in the HELL DO YOU DO THIS??? If you say you're going to call, FUCKING CALL! If you are not going to or don't intend to, don't tell us you will, and don't invite us out, for chrissakes.

Is it really that unreasonable a request? Pick up the goddam phone.