Not a Janitor, a Kayak Brother

"It's a beautiful day out, why aren't you playing Nintendo?"

I teased my kids with this to much this summer, as they have spent a vast amount of time in front if the brain sucking box. Monday, on my day off, I decided to surprise them.

"Hey we are out of groceries. We are out of everything. You guys must go with me to haul it all in for me." The response I received was far below lackadaisical. I even convinced my sister into going with us. We all piled into her van and headed into town. The only one excited in the vehicle was me. "How about we pick up K1's early birthday present while we are at it?" I could see and hear the wheels spinning in their little heads when I convinced them into pulling into the Gander Mountain parking lot.

"What are we here for mom?" I played dumb to their questioning. Maybe we will pick up Sis's birthday gift also while we are here. My sister's birthday and my son's are one day apart. I still wouldn't answer their questioning but marched us right into the boating department. They were all in shock and awe when I told them I was getting them all a kayak.

"But first I need to buy a special carrier and have a mechanic attach it on my van's roof to hold three kayaks", my sis protested, "that's what I was told at all the other sporting goods places. They will not secure them on because of the liability involved." That little snafu only momentarily dampened our buzz. I knew I could not afford the extra costs of the carrier and garage time but I told K1 to go find us some customer service help.

The older gentleman my son returned with in tow was Ron. Ron soon became our fast kayaking brother as he explained to use what would be best for us, and gave was several valuable pointers with out trying to upsale us. It was easy to tell this man loved the sport. He gave us all sorts of free advice and tolds us we did not need a fancy carrier and even showed us the straps that would hold the boats on, for a lot less money and hastle. When he offered to teach us the proper way to portage our new vessels, we all but dog piled on top of him in gratitude. "Wait", Ron said, "let me get you a sales person. "

Let me get you a sales person.

It wasn't until after Ron had demonstrated how to get all three boats safely on the top of the van, and he send me back into the store to get a refund on the unneeded straps that he shook our hands and we drove off.

"K1, how did you manage to find such a great guy to help us out?" , I asked.

"Easy mom, he was cleaning the floor."

'Roid Boy

" Good evening, Rip Torn, you neckless wonder, imagine you being the first person I see when I open the dining room for dinner. No-no, just because there are linen table cloths on the tables and you drink your protein shakes from crystal goblets in here, think nothing of wearing only wife beaters and gym shorts. I would hate to miss the chance to admire your definition as you pose and streach for my benefit. Oh yeah I refilled the vat of cottage cheese on the salad bar for you, along with the eggs and the turkey. Did I see you on the jogging trails earlier? No, you only do the gym? The thought of you trying to bounce along on your tip toes because your over devolved calf muscles won't allow you to run in a natural stide humors me greatly. Yeah the entree choices tonight are chicken boursorn and citrus grilled veal chops. I will not ask, I know, two of each. But I am going to load your plate with vegetables, weather you want them or not. Skurvy is ugly. Don't look at me like a barbarian, they are good for you. No- you don't intimidate me in the slightest. I'm not here to hold your hand- that is your counselors job. I ain't gonna listen to you growl then whimper- that is for your support group. I am here to feed your nutrient starved body. Six percent body fat you say? Not any more there buddy. That is how much butter I have been injecting by syringe into each and every piece of meat you consume. So what, he is only my boss. His telling me not to tease and mouth off is only redundant. Do some reps with the chair somewhere else. No doubt you really can pick up the entire desert bar. Don't. It's painfully obvious why you are here. There are skinny little geeks being beat up right now for lack of the steroids you use. I bet even their mamma's could take you. See you tomorrow. Make sure you wipe your sweat off the machines for me will ya?"

And Your Mama Can Hold The Wrench

hot as the exploding asphalt
that combusts the road in our vicinity
stranded in a steaming butimus sea
road rage boils up inside of me
stuck in traffic, no stinking way out
windows wide open
tongue hanging out
bottling the urge to climb on my jeep roof
and shout
"Damn you incompetent soon to be dead mechanic
curse your greasy hide to garage hell
were all the tools are metric
and you cannot escape
by an emissions suicide!"

*dedicated to Riv and her ability to attract the shirtless hotties to offer assistance

Like a Man

I used him like a man, I did. It didn't take any planning. Not a spec. And even less thought. Zero emotions. It turned him inside out.

I showed up without announcement. No explanations or excuses. Plesentarys were few. It was clear why I was there and what I wanted. Foreplay was minimally on the point of non existent. I simply moved the his keyboard and sat myself down in front of him. If I could have just unzipped my fly and whipped myself out, I would have. Instead I hitched up my dress and grabbed his head.

Shelfishness dictated in my want. Being the center of the universe and nothing mattered but my orgasm. With his curls wrapped around my fingers he had no choice but to please me. Oblivion was thinly disguised as desire.

I pretended not to see the confusion or hopefully expectation on his wet face when I was done. I simply smoothed my skirt and left him hanging. No apology crossed my lips, but an offhand thanks and a vague promise of a call on my way out his doors during my hasty exit.

He called my cell on the long way home. I never answered. There were three instead messages waiting for me from him on my computer and the phone was ringing as I walked in the door.

"Are you alright?" "You have me so worried?" "Please talk to me."

"Please, have you seen Me? I am so much better than alright."

Fence Sitter

List of things I do not know weather I like or not.


Motorcycle drivers wearing neon hazard vests. Is that a good safe idea or just dorky as hell?

San Francisco. Beautiful heritage rich city or dump of uberstrange socially challenged people?

Mondays. Fresh start to a new week or the signal for me to turn off my brain for the next five days?

California rolls. Again a nice "safe" idea but, fake is fake?

Justin Timberlake. He certianly is not heart throb he is known for but the boy can play and dance.

Cross country skiing. Yes good exercise, but the only real time I enjoy it is when I am going down hill.

Communism. I so like that idea, I wish everyone but me would adopt it.

Lapdogs. Cute and affectionate, but do I really want to be a lapdog woman?

Tag body spray. The commercials crack me up but now everyone and their brother is wearing the stuff.

Nymphomaniacs. Maybe I just envy their time. Or priority.

The French. Are they rude, course and self preserving or just less shameful about being so?

Men. I'd love to have four or five but where would I put all those bodies when I am done with them?

Charity marathons. Yes they are good causes but couldn't they make more money if people didn't invest so much time and money in training for them and just give their own money?

Godiva Chocolate liquor. That stuff is so sweet it hurts.

Unshaved body hair on a woman. Ok, I think that is gross as hell but the lazy me really wants to wrap her mind around that one.

Ok well I have many more but I can't decide if they are good enought to write here or not.

Memories

I am really good at locking them away safely. Then they cause me no bother. The ugly ones I do not miss. Once and awhile one sneaks out and demands validation but I try to hurry their dark selves back in. It is when the soft gentle ones slip out and catch me unaware, I am sad.

First Day of Summer Vacation

We just bought and whatched the movie "Be Cool". Not only was the Rock in it but so was Areosmith. Why didn't I know this? Althought the ending was very predictable, it was worth it to see the Rock poke fun of his limited acting ability and dance in a dress. Steven Tyler's references to selling out was worth the looks I got in the store when I picked up the movie, squeeled and began rubbing it over my body. Yeah, this was an omen this summer is going to be good.

apple cider

i belong down a well
hit me with a shovel
baby i ain't nuttin but trouble
gonna break that bubble
make you regret the entire year you met me
decent light of day
shouldn't touch me
(...can't leave well enough alone)

but you want too
yeah
yeah
you want too
forbidden scandal
mmm you want too
this rotten apple bites

the one your mama
never told you bout
wouldn't so much
as give me a shout
that sorry bitch
is cryin now
i stole her man
and used him up
(...through him away, like an old paper cup...)

but you want too
yeah
yeah
you want too
forbidden scandal
mmm you want too
this rotten apple bites

from the wrong side of the tracks
the bad part of town
(you) don't wanta be caught
in my fucked up bed
when the the sun goes down
need to see with you own eyes
the crazy shit
that 'll twist you around
(..witch way to the equator?..)

refrain

your loudest screams of pain
only you will hear
when you can not have me near
sell your soul
for another piece of me
sell your mothers
to forget all thoughts of me
you ain't got a hope
devils all ready mine
(...scream to yourself, i feed from your pain...)

but you want too
yeah
yeah
you want too
forbidden desire
mmm you want too
this rotten apple bites

Eah, I Don't Need it Anyway

So I am now a partial digit closer to primate status. It's not going to hinder my piano playing, something that I have no intentions of doing, or my pathetic two finger typing either, thank you. My hitch-hiking finesse will always be considered edgy, so what the hell. Opposable thumbs, skomosable thumbs.

My job has me working over in my own satilight kitchen. I cook for the few,the select, the mucky mucks. The alumni who are invited back so the company can solicit contributions, eat in my dining room, as do a few relapsers, or follow up seminar attendees. Some of the easily reconized guests also eat there, as not to draw unwanted attention from fellow abusers. I have been trained to treat these people like everyone else. Everyone who has been born with a silver spoon in their mouths that is. These patients stay anywhere from four days to a month. I see them for lunch and dinner. We become close, only I am with them for more meals than most familys spend together now a days. Including my own. I know who is the vegetarian that secretly sneaks the lard filled donuts, who is on the high protein diet and who likes sweet onions on everything. I get lots of hugs goodbye on Saturday nights, before they fly away, back to their real lives, Sunday morning.

Last week I was finishing up after dinner and trying to close the place for the night. As I was shutting everything down and putting everything away, the large industrial sized plastic wrap roll stuck it's self together so I lost the clear end on twenty four inch dispenser. Being the handy girl I am, and wanting to get out of there bad, I whipped out my trusty razor thin pointy tipped fillet knife to pry the first couple layers apart and create a new edge. Suddenly, with out warning, the swinging door from the dining room bursts open and Jerome C, also known only by me as Coconut Dome Jerome, due to his sparsely covered round old brown head, yells, "Hey! Sister Love! Got any paper cups in here?" I was standing with my back to him, so Jerome had not seen the glint of the blade as it smoothly sliced through the difficult plastic and the tip of my thumb. "Umm let me check the back room", I answered heading out the back door grabbing a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on my way, as I head for the store room numb with shock. My hand does not really hurt bad but there is much blood pouring from it. I dare not look closely at it, scared to open the toweling to have what ever I just severed, fall on the floor, so instead I search for the first aid kit. I pull the kit off a high shelf and cross the hall to stick my head into the back kitchen door where Jerome is still waiting for his dang cup. "Sorry Jerome, I got nothing", I tell him and he kindly leaves to allow me to bleed to death in private. I am nothing but a good bleeder, being on the meds I am on. I once sliced my finger taking my food processor blade out of my dishwasher and spent the rest of the day on the floor, napping in front of my kitchen counter, in my own warm mess. I know disinfectent is my friend so I open the swabs as best I can with one hand and my teeth and instantly saturate the already damp swab with blood. I then bound mythumb with gaze and put on a plastic glove. I am calm as I walk across the floor, dripping blood as I go, and phone the main kitchen. "Basil? (My managers real name is Brian but he reminds me of Basil Faulty, the bumbling inn keeper from the British comedy Faulty Towers.) I cut myself here" "Where?", he askes. "The satilight kitchen", I answer stupidly. "No where did you cut yourself?" "My thumb." "You need help?" Basil askes me. No I need a new finger, But I still do not feel pain so I answer, with much bravado, "No, it is just going to take me longer to clean up." "OK, I will fill out an accident report for you when you come in tomorrow to sign." "Ok, thanks." I hang up and realize my glove is already filled with blood. I change my glove and grab my jeep keys and head over to Basil's office.

"Basil can you bandage my finger so it will stop bleeding?", I ask as I walk into his office, "I can't do it tight enough one handed to hit the pressure point", as I hold up my hand and start to remove the new glove filled hand. "STOP! STOP! The chicken livered Basil yells, not wanting to be witness to any gore, I am taking to straight to the nurses station."

The poor nurses there only see people battling skin bugs and shakes. They wrapped my thumb up big as a watermelon and sent me into the emergency hospital in town. I bleed through the two inches of gauze on my way in. Damn Basil let me drive myself too. Being polite, I waved the nice elderly gentleman in who was having chest pains in before me. I had no pain. So as not to scare anyone, I sat and waited with my hand above my heart, tucked out of sight behind my ear against my neck. My white chef's uniform is now permently stained down the back. With a full moon the E.R. was busy.

The only thing that hurts now is my pride. Plastic wrap got the best of me. I wonder if my thumb tip will become my phantom appendage, and I will go about doing the things I did before I "lost" it like some amputees. I had heard of a lady who would roll out of bed in the morning and fall, after having her legs removed, because she momentarily forgot there were gone. If you do happen to catch me standing doing nothing with a blank look on my face, don't worry. In my mind, I still have that one thumb up my ass.