I gave blood yesterday. It was rather draining, pun intended. I lay there and squeezed my hand on that wooden thingie they gave me and in about 10 minutes, I was done donating. Aside from the dizziness and the giddiness that occurred as a result, I soon became increasingly cranky and irritable. I was also 10x tired than I usually am by 12 in the afternoon. So, combine that with the aggravating task of flirting with Tony last period when there are a bunch of other things going on and you've got Sarcastibitch. Now, I don't remember things too clearly because I was so fucking tired, but things went sorta like this.He flirted. I flirted back, we both smile and seem happy. I flirt, he gets pissy because *I* initiated it and tells me "Sally, please stop." Now, usually, I can take this with some sick, childish satisfaction of "Looky, looky, looky what I made him do!" But no. I lost blood. I'm low on blood sugar. I'm running on 5 and a half hours of sleep. My jaw is killing me from some hardcore grinding that I'd done in my sleep that made it's way through the tooth guard I wear.
Watch out.
So, I go off on him as calmly and unabrasively as I can; we are still in class after all. I tell him how I'm sick of his being a hypocrite. How this can't keep happening. He can't keep pulling me in and then pushing me out. When I decide I want to strike when he's not in the mood, he can't get too pissy because I'm not always in the mood for his commentary. I say I'm sick of the way he can make comments about the kiss last month all he wants because it's when he's in the state of mind to talk about it, yet when I make a note of it, he tells me to stop.
Tony says that he'll stop acting that way or making any sort of comment to me at all if it's going to make me react in this way. I said, "No, that's not the point cause I'm okay with the things you say to me but you, clearly, are *not* fine with the words I have to say to you.""You don't have to get pissed off about it," he says."I'm not pissed off, but it's hard for me not to get frustrated when this happens and it happens all the time," I say. "I can't do it anymore. The ball's in your court here.""It is?" he asks."Isn't it? I thought you were the one that got to decide what was going on between us."
Moral of the story: Don't even think of fucking with me when I have less blood in my body than I did when earlier I was in a good mood.
I've still not recovered. My arm is relatively sore and I'm tired. But I have to write a speech about Adrien tonight for class on wednesday. I'll be too busy between now and then, what with my term paper due on Monday, to do it any later.
Oh, and before I forget, thank you AJ, for the walk down memory lane tonight. In talking about exDave, I'm remembering the good times that I oft forget and how June 12th is the second anniversary of my first kiss. Damn, I keep hearing stories of people getting their first kisses when they were like, 13. Heh. I think I appreciated it more because I was sixteen.
