Lou Pickney's Online Commentary
May 18, 2004
"You know, I've had more rewarding friendships than this."
-Teddy, from the movie Memento
I think I've finally figured it out. It took me about a month, and quite a bit of pondering, but I've figured it out. And what I've figured out is that I have no hope of making any rational sense out of certain things... such as this one situation I'm dealing with now.
See, the girl who lives upstairs from me is getting this modified Single White Female complex thing going on with me (at least the stalkerishness of it). But here's the rub: she's not interested in hooking up (or perhaps she is in one of those insane women sorts of ways, like a repressed junior high student who is now unable to have any sort of normal relationship in her 20s), and she actually goes out of her way, unprovoked, to mention this lack of interest on a regular basis.
The most innocuous comments receive a "Don't get any ideas!" retort. It's beyond bizarre. It swings toward the emotional side, too, like when she told me she had made out with some other guy in the building and then proceeded to ask me no less than three times if it made me jealous. What is this, an interview for 60 Minutes where they keep asking you the same questions over and over until they get a response they like?
Today she called me four times, twice while I was at work, and I ignored them all. Hey, I'm a busy guy. Finally, on her fifth call, I decided to pick up.
What did she want? Well, besides the chance to talk about herself, she wanted me to provide free bodyguard service for her as she walked her dog. Well that's not how she put it, but that's what it was. I declined, and when she started getting whiny on me, I hung up.
I wouldn't mention this except for that it has baffled me on why she keeps calling all the time. I've been in the situation plenty of times before of having a girl call like crazy, but usually that's a giveaway that her interest level is at an insanely high, too-much-too-soon level. But in this case, that's not it. I don't even know how to quantify it, but it's just bizarre. I need to hire Samuel L. Jackson to tell her: "Bitch, be cool!" Calling me at work to complain about your car stereo not working and all the errands you have to run and what not like I'm a boyfriend doesn't make sense if that's not what's intended. Or am I wrong about this?
In short, I continue to learn that there's no figuring out women. Especially when they act insane. And, really, I knew that going in, so it's no real gain.
My final attempt at making it on Super Millionaire failed tonight on Question 4. Oh well, better luck next sweeps season, eh? I have enjoyed watching the latest round of the show, though that $10 Million mark will be incredibly difficult to reach. And the whole "Three Wise Men" lifeline hasn't exactly proven to be the most helpful thing. I've seen more cohesive consultations on Family Feud.
|Nick Greco, Rob Philbin, Bill Cunningham and I smiled for this picture at Father Ryan High School in Nashville, TN in 1995.|
Tonight I went to dinner with my friend Bill Cunningham, who I went to high school with and who lives in Brooksville at the moment (he just moved down here). He interviewed for a job in Tampa today, and we discussed the possibility of getting a two bedroom apartment if he can get a job lined up here. I think that'd be fun. We'd tear Ybor up.
I'm still smarting from that Spurs series loss to the Lakers. That Game 5 buzzbeater loss cost San Antonio (my favorite team) the series, just after Tim Duncan nailed what looked like a clutch shot to win it with less than one second to go. If nothing else though, this post-season has exposed Karl Malone as a washed-up, has-been of a player who needs to hang it up. And I'm allllright with that.