confucius don't play that

Well, I've gone and done done it now. Confucius is PO'd but good at my sorry ass. I guess the recent rebuff of my future fortune as well as my original one weren't such wise ideas, after all. I'll tell you why in a minute, but first, and so in keeping with the fortune telling mood, this is what I faced driving in this morning - the mist.

Have you ever read Stephen King's Skeleton Crew? It's a collection of scary short stories, and The Mist was always my favorite. The gist of it is that a nuclear plant shuts down and leaks it's chemicals, and a mist with creatures (insects and such that have mutated into monsters) descends upon the world. I read it when I was like eight years old and it scared the bejesus out of me. I still get creeped out when I see ominous looking fog and wonder what might be hidden just but a few feet within it and outside my view (shiver). But it's just fog - I talked to Herb today and apparently its clear and blue-skied in Montrose.

Anyway, back to my fortune 'slap-on-the-wrist.' I had Chinese for dinner last night (tried to be healthy but then I blew it later on). As always, the cute Asian waitress brought me my fortune cookie with a wide smile (she knows the generous tip she's getting like always) and I ripped it open right away. Right there, smack in front of my face:

Grrrr. After my reaction to my last stupid fortune, 'a love relationship will take on an added dimension,' this was obviously a reprimand by Confucius. I pictured him laughing, his double chin and belly jiggling in unison, and I swear I could almost feel him slapping me on the back in jest. I took a deep breath and whispered under my breath - unless I get rip roaring drunk and face mash with some guy at a bar, this ain't happening; and since I don't frequent bars, well...

There has been some very recent interest in my direction but not the kind I really want. What do I mean? Remember the gym guy who gave me his number, whom I never called, ever? As luck would have it, I ran into him again at the gym on Tuesday evening. He was persistent this time, so much so as telling me (as I stood before him in an extra large, dingy white, arm-pit stained t-shirt, my hair in a messy bun, several blemishes on my chin, greasy) that I am gorgeous, "really, I saw you in a dress outside this building one day and I thought to myself, wow, she's something else." He's a nice enough fella but the kind that leans in a little too close and, oh, good god, wanted to hug me to wish me a happy new year (I'm a huge hugger and petter, but not with strangers). He kept asking for my number. I offered him my email to which he replied, "I can't call you if I only have your email." Precisely. But what did dummy here do? I relented and gave him my cell phone number. I have now received what I didn't want to receive...two calls and two text messages, one of which I texted a (polite) response back to. He now wants to see me and asked 'how about you?' How about me, what? Do I want to see myself? I do, every day, in the mirror. Yuk Yuk...I'm impossible, I realize. Nice man, but not for me. I like it a little more real. He'd have had better luck with me if he'd said, "Damn you look like shit at the gym, but I've seen you in a dress and you clean up pretty good." That's more up my odd alley.

So, that stupid fortune about kissing (bleh, whatever) I tossed aside on the table and called the waitress over. "May I have another fortune cookie, please?" She looked a little puzzled, but again, that sweet smile, and another cookie with a brand new fortune was handed to me. Now, I know that's cheating the cosmos. You are allowed only one fortune per day and that's it, and you do not get to pick and choose the one that you like. I don't care, really, and will tempt fate. Tempt I did...and Confucius, now not laughing so much, furrowed his brow and handed me this little treasure of a fortune:

Nice. I suppose I deserve that fortune (which, come on, really isn't a fortune at all). Perhaps, I don't judge myself enough, but I don't feel I judge others so harshly either. I'm pretty fair. Like I've said on here many times, you'd have to pretty much steal my bike to really piss me off. Yes, I've been madder than a cat in a bathtub at the dingbats who've treated me in a less than friendly way recently, but mostly I was just very hurt and not so much judging them individually (more as a whole - certain adults should never be allowed to travel in packs). But, why this fortune? I didn't like it. So, you know what I did? I called the waitress over a third time.

"May I have another fortune cookie, please?" This time, the smile was less wide or sweet (tip or no tip, those stale, cardboard-tasting cookies are sacred). "You want another cookie?" she asked, a tad timidly. "Yes...yes, I do." The cookie was retrieved and handed to me with a slight disapproving nod. I didn't care. I ripped open the cellophane and crumbled it between my fingers, determined to outsmart Confucius. Oh, silly girl, when will one learn that one cannot outsmart one's fortune?:

Oh, good grief! Funny, Confucius, funny! What? Am I going to jail and will be set free? Am I being sued, or better yet, will I earn millions in a civil lawsuit? Or perhaps this is a metaphor for how a relationship will change. Hmmm...maybe one or two of the friends I've lost will return and we'll work things out? Heh...heh heh. Hey, at least it was a fortune and not one involving crappy lovey-dovey advice. And regardless, it will doubtfully come true since it was my third fortune in a day. I'm certain Confucius had already dismissed me after crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. I'm thinking I'd better play fair next time. Well, that and I'm not sure the waitress will be so giving of the cookies with their precious fortunes. She knows the deal...and as I left the restaurant, she wished me Happy New Year with, again...a slight disapproving nod.