NYC Watchdog - A Pile Of Dog Bones

So I know I’ve pretty much veered away from the drama that I am normally associated with, and for a few reasons. However, after the occurrences of this past week, well I can veer no more. Why? Maybe it’s because it is something I need to put out there. Maybe it’s because it is something that needs to be said. Maybe it’s because I know you all like a good train wreck the same as I do… and trust me… this train has wrecked.

So this week’s bit of drama is brought to you by The Nick. So The Nick is still going out with the same Cracker she was when last we spoke of her. She was the girl with the whole commitment phobia thing going on, but has seemed to overcome it with this relationship in particular. So hey… that’s all well and good. She’s a pretty girl, she has a good heart, and she deserves to be happy right? I don’t begrudge her this happiness in anyway shape or form. There are a few things though… that I do require.

I require there to be minimal verbal “muahs” and other indicative phone conversations in my presence. I require that my phone calls be answered whether in the foreplay, mid-passionate thrust, or orgasmic after glow stages of sexual relations. I require that he not break her heart… lest I will break his legs. Above all other things, I require honesty… and I require him to be honest with her whether or not his honesty will get him laid that night or not. Really, I’m not to demanding on the relationships of my friends.

Monday I called her to ask if she wanted to come into work to cover for someone who had banged out at the last minute due to a fat lip (long story… but I swear… it was quite bloated and puffy). She sort of brushed me off. So I thought she was doing the hunky-dunky with the Cracker. I was slightly pissed because, well, I need to come first even if she is in a rolling wave of orgasmic bliss. Eventually we texted each other, and she said she’d come in. So on Monday… imagine my shock when she came to work and I saw that this had happened… (WARNING! IT MAY SHOCK YOU!)

… well you can imagine what went through my head. Yes… she did THAT to her hair. My raven haired beauty had no doubt fallen under this hypnotic spell of this Cracker who forced her to make her hair… well… blonde. Now granted, my reaction to it when I first saw it (I screamed and then hid under the desk) was not as… supportive… as perhaps it should have been. Perhaps when asked what I thought about it I should have chosen better wording than, “I think it’s hideous.” Perhaps I should not have threatened her that I would not be going to Dee‘s with her looking like that.

Perhaps I should not have compared the look to being equal to a Predator Squirrel body being wove into the top of her head. Perhaps I should not have reminded her of my “non-blonde” mantra. Perhaps I should not have pointed out that co-worker Kitty is the ONLY blonde I actually like as a blonde… but that’s only because otherwise she has so much gray hair I think I’m talking to my grandmother. So maybe there are a lot of “perhapses” that occurred that I am not entirely innocent in being nonsupporting of this hair decision.

Now The Nick swears that The Cracker had nothing to do with it, and had not yet seen it himself. In fact, she cited the fact that The Steff once had blonde hair as evidence that I am not as “non-blonde” as I claim to be. I admitted to her, that when The Steff went totally blonde on those rare occasions, I was just as non-blonde as I was being now. This of course is when she also said that it was because of The Steff that she decided to do it. I pointed out that The Steff at no time had her hair braided, so why she would dye her hair blonde and braid it was still beyond me.

So finally, I did what only a good friend would do. I asked her how much it would cost to put her hair back the way it was. I would pay. Totally. She said that she wanted get the opinion of The Cracker first. So when she came into work Wednesday (after not answering her phone Tuesday which is a totally DIFFERENT subject altogether) I asked her how he liked it.

She says, “He loves it.”

Fucking liar. He just wanted to get laid.

I say I think I need to break his legs now.