Rants & Raves of Jasmine’s Fiction

I know this blog is about a month+ late but with all the Merentha drama and the frenzied rushed preparations for Christmas it completely slipped my mind.

Honest!  I totally got sidetracked when I’ve actually been meaning to report back on a date I went on last month… Wasn’t so much a date as it was a very grudging favour.

Also in the interest of privacy, and so that I don’t get sued for libel/slander, the guy shall now be known as Mr. Irksome. So:

Mr. Irksome called me up one fine day in early November, asking me if I was free on the 25th of the month.

“Uhm, I guess, what’s the occasion?”

“I bought 2 tickets to the philharmonic orchestra’s Christmas concert. Interested?”

“Uhm, I guess.”  At this point I’m more interested in the concert than going out with him of course. “Uhm, can I check back with you on this?”

“But I already bought the tickets! Please?  Please? PLEASE???”

“Uhm, I guess.  I need check back with you.” In my head alarm bells are already ringing. Desperate much?  Then again, I’m too nice for my own good and I can’t stand to see a grown man beg so I very grudgingly said; “tell you what. If you don’t find someone else to go with you by that day I guess I could make the time…”

Time passes and to be completely honest I actually forgot about it and made plans to go shoot some pool with the boys.  I was actually in the middle of a very heated Merentha battle with a Calamyr Guardian when my phone rang.

“What?!?”  I’m not a happy person when I’m gaming. Note to everyone. J

“Hi Jasz, we still on for tonight’s concert right? It’s at 8pm so I’ll pick you up at 5.30?”

“What???  5.30???  What the??? Oh…”  It finally dawned on me. Oh &#%@.  “Ugh, what time is it, HOLY MUTHERFUCKER its 5.20 right now and you want me to get ready in 10 minutes???????????????”

“Oh, you’re not ready?”

Of course I am you dumb fuck.  I have nothing better to do but sit around in my ballgown all afternoon waiting for your phone call.  “NO!”

“Oh, what time will you be ready? I’ll come get you then.  How about 6?  Is that ok?  I still need to pick up the tickets and how about dinner?”

How about never?  “Ugh, 6 then.”  I slam the phone down and mutter a string of swear words that would have made a sailor blush.

Sighing, I pick up the phone and call the boys to cancel plans. Them being the wonderful mates they are, offered me a way out by means of kidnapping.  I sadly decline.

Ending my gaming early (again, that does not make me a happy person) I went to shower and throw on a dress and some warpaint. I am ready to rumble come 6pm.  And guess what?  Mr. Irksome hasn’t shown up. I wait.  And wait.  And wait.

Check the clock.  6.20pm.  I hate tardy people.  I pick up my phone and dial.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“I’m on the way.”

“You’re 20 minutes late.  How much longer?”

“Give me another 10 minutes.”

He shows up at 6.35pm.  No apology.  No greeting.  And the car stank of stale sweat. Like used gym socks.  I silently snarl more swear words in my head.

The entire drive he bitched about his family and how narrow minded they are and how much grief he gets from them and blah blah blah… When we finally arrive at the concert hall, the place was jam packed so we had to park quite a distance.

Now the fun truly begins.  He gets out of the car and I notice that his clothes are rumpled beyond acceptable-to-be-seen-in-public. I sneer but make no comment.  Then to my HORROR he grabs an oversized polyester jacket with plastic buttons hanging by dangling threads and covered in lint (Leisure Suit Larry images dance in my head) and proceeds to put that on.

My stock is plummeting by the minute.  I am not a clothes snob, I buy dime-store clothes too but I KNOW enough to buy stuff that FITS and looks good. The jacket was 4 sizes too large for him.

Walking to the elevator, he marches about 3 feet in front of me, didn’t hold the elevator doors open (I almost got clipped) and openly leers down my dress.  Classy.

The entire walk after that consisted of him marching at top speed 3 (or more) in front of me, while leaving me to fend off the crowds playing catch up in high heeled shoes. My subtle yet loud “I’ll just meet you there later, thanks” didn’t even garner a response.

I take my own sweet time walking and when I reach the waiting area, he’s already at the bar, vodka in hand and ill fitting plastic suit hanging off him like a beach towel. Biting down the distaste in my mouth, I saunter casually over to him.

Downing his drink in a single gulp, he ignores me and moves back to the bar for a refill. And no, he didn’t ask me if I wanted a drink either. Filling up on his 2^nd glass he spreads himself out in front of the counter, blocking everyone else from bar access.

I idly comment, “Standing here is so gauche.” 

Not even acknowledging me, he marches off with his drink, leaving me in the dust.  At this point I’m about 2 heartbeats away from hailing a cabbie to go play some pool.  Luckily for him, they announce the doors open.

We enter the hall and find our seats.  Mr. Irksome either continues his tirade about his family or ignores me completely by reading the programme. Thankfully, I didn’t have to suffer long before the concert started.

The orchestra was top notch and I was entirely lost in the music.  It was too good to last of course.  Intermission came and with a quick “I’m going for a smoke” Mr. Irksome left me there to clog his lungs.

Gee thanks for asking me if I wanted a drink or handing me my ticket stub so I can use the facilities or stretch my legs at the very least.  No I think he was trapping me in the hall so that I couldn’t leave him. Ugh.

Intermission over, he plonks himself down next to me smelling VERY strongly of tobacco and used gym socks. The orchestra started up again and I try my best to ignore the smells. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse…

An amateur children’s choir joined the ensemble.  Joy to the world.

I had to suffer through a VERY bad rendition of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer and an even more horrid version of Silver Bells.  Then…  The choir started singing the 12 Days of Christmas.

Now I love that silly song. It’s long winded, ludicrous and utterly ridiculous and I love it. But the choir was so awful, by the 2^nd Day with two turtle doves I was ready to stick my keys into my eyeballs to put myself out of my misery.  It was Chinese Water Torture.  Agonisingly slow.

Then…

He farted.  LOUD and SMELLY.  So on top of the caterwauling, I now had THREE foul smells to put up with.

I swear to God.  Any transgressions I have done in the past year should have been absolved in that one evening.  I have never been so thankful for a world class philharmonic orchestra performance to be over!

Oh yeah.  When we walked back to the car, he again strode 3 feet or more in front of me, didn’t bother to hold the elevator doors open and openly leered down my dress.  Then on the drive back to my place, (I didn’t care at this time that I hadn’t had anything to eat since lunch, I just wanted to be AWAY) he autopilot-ed to the area of town with the heaviest traffic.

I boggled.  “Why the heck are we taking this road? You could have made a direct turnoff back there.  This isn’t a shorter route and traffic is perpetually heavy.”

“Oh I ALWAYS take this road.”

“Always?  As in?”

“Always as in even if I was already going a different direction I’ll still go out of my way to circle back to use this road. I don’t know why.”

I levelled my death stare at him. “You complain that your family is set in their ways, yet the apple didn’t even make it past the shade of the branches.”

Having no answer for me, we suffer through the crawl in silence. We eventually hit a clear patch and picked up speed, and then out of nowhere a punk veers dangerously close to us on my side of the car.

Before I could even react Mr. Irksome VERY AGRESSIVELY swerves the car towards the young punk, who btw, was oblivious to the reckless and not to mention STUPID aggression tactics that endangered MY LIFE.

Incredulous at his completely fucked up and irresponsible behaviour, I incinerate him with both barrels of my death stare and demanded an explanation.

“Can’t I do anything I want without needing to justify everything to you???”

I was so pissed you could feel it oozing from my pores.  Had I been a dark jedi, I would have force-choked him and shot a bolt of lightning up his RUDE FUCKING ARSE!!!

When we finally got back to my house, I mouthed a very direct “FUCK YOU, LOSER” before slamming his car door as hard as I could.

AARGH!!!

I swear I had to scrub myself, my clothes and the insides of my nostrils raw for about half an hour in scalding hot water and bleach to get rid of the lingering used gym sock/tobacco/flatulence smell.

Here’s a New Year wish to every girl who’s dating out there. May you NEVER have to suffer as I did. Cheers all!

The internet around the world crashed today due to an earthquake in Taiwan that knocked out an internet link station and here I am, stuck for the first time since the MUD server was restored with no way to game.

I am officially depressed.  And I’m getting the shakes.

Wait, it could be the withdrawal symptoms from the hours of addicted gaming that I’ve done for the past 2 MONTHS, in which case; ignore me.  I need therapy.  I can just see myself now in rehab: “hello my name is Maharet, uhm… I meant Jasmine.  I am a MUD addict.”

Haha.  Khayman, upon observing me sneak in game time all throughout the Christmas holidays commented that I have graduated from being a mere addict – to a CONVICT.  He thinks I am so convicted in my addiction that it’s gone waaaaay past devoted/enthusiastic status and into… Well… Conviction.

Congratulate me folks.  Or institutionalise me.  Merentha is now on par with my indescribable foam-at-the-mouth-craving for sugar doughnuts.  Don’t even mention in passing those massive face sized, round doughy deliciousness within earshot of me lest I become a snarling demon.

Actually I’m kinda glad for the break.  The past 2 months have been quite intense.  The amount of drama I get in the game is NOTHING compared to a primetime soap opera; or an Emmy winning reality TV series.

How?  Let me give you the short version:

-         I’ve been happily (mud)married to my 3^rd (mud)husband for the longest time.  That didn’t deter another man from taking an interest in me; and with the very creative use of magic and charm, he made me break vows in order to (mud)marry me.

-         That didn’t last long.  When the aforementioned 3^rd hubby found that I was now on my 4^th hubby, there was a lot of hysterics, numerous threats of death and dismemberment and the short version is I left the 4^th hubby to remarry 3^rd hubby.

-         Shortly after that episode I became a crazed, single minded machine on the quest to elite-ness.  Hubby didn’t like that as I had no time to spend with him.  And again, there were hysterics and tantrums, and that ended up with me divorcing his unreasonable rear for the 2^nd time.

-         I started running with what are now currently my clan members.  Ex hubby got even more jealous but decided to try and make nice to win me back.  Plan worked, we remarried for the 3^rd time.

-         I am divided between loyalty to my clan and loyalty to my hubby.  Clan leader and hubby cannot see eye to eye and more hysterics and death threats ensue.  I decide that I’ve had enough dramatics and opted to stay with the clan.  Hubby and I divorce for the 3^rd time.

-         Ex-hubby recently married an 18 year old child to spite me. 

-         I upped him one.  I married a prince.  That marriage didn’t last long (1 mud day total) because my clan leader went on a murderous rampage when he found out I snuck off.  His royal highness (my 5^th hubby), decided that saving his royal rear was more important than staying married to me.

-         I killed the priest who married the prince and me for being a dumb bastard by trying to attack us 2 seconds after he married us.

-         I attended a friend’s wedding on a boat and at the end of the ceremony the priest (very same one I killed) went “you may now kill the bride”, someone did.

-         The clan hunted down two mass murderers when the dumb fucks attacked our clan leader.  The killings sparked off a mudwide piranha feeding frenzy and we mourned the loss of friends and foes alike.

-         I witnessed the start of another kingdom war when a group of 5 individuals openly declared that they would hunt down and kill every single kingdom member.

Told you it was drama.  I swear to God I cannot make this stuff up.  Although I am suffering massive withdrawals from not gaming for a grand total (as of posting this blog) of 8 hours, I am rather grateful for some respite.  I am kinda looking forward to some sleep at the very least!  J

Happy holidays, Merry Christmas & Happy New Year to one and all!