Ok, you aren't really what you read, but it's fun to live through the book, to be in that place, that time, that moment. I love reading, absolutely love it. Thanks to my mother, who always has a smut book in her hands. I have been reading romance since I could remember, the first book I read was Flowers in the Attic. Loved it.
I like historical romance, but I don't think I could've lived it. I love mystery-suspense romance, but I would go to the police way before the end of the first chapter, and then there is erotica.
I have never in my life read one of these, I got a bunch at the Romance Writers Conference, and decided to give it a try. I read a chapter, actually five chapters in one day. That was a hell of a weekend. Since I promised my hubby that I will not discuss our personal life in my blog, I will say that we had executive meetings to attend through out the weekend, a retreat if you will. I was the CEO and he was under me, whatever is under the CEO, when he is CEO I am under the desk, talking to the microphone.
That book was mind boggling, as were our meetings. I didn't get to read it everyday, it took me a week total, but whenever I picked up that hot pink novel he knew that a meeting was in the making.
On the day I finished my book, I sauntered outside and grabbed a cold beer, my cigarettes and dove nose first into the book, exactly where I left off, a book had never made me sweat, breath deeply or whisper prayers to Jesus, this one did that and more. I didn't know you could use those words in books, much less the context, dear God the positions, the rough male enforcement. I spoke to God again just thinking about it. And my husband is always the hero in my mind, him or Johnny Depp. Lord help me.
I finished the book, sighed heavily and turned to enter the house, there was a meeting to adjourn. I opened the door to silence, darkness and a stillness that fell upon me like an ice cold shower. I had only been outside for half an hour. Did I miss something?
I looked at the clock and it wasn't even eleven, surely my assistant was awaiting at the head of the boardroom. He never goes to bed before midnight, and always falls asleep on the sofa.
I walked into the kitchen, the microwave lights were on, the tv cable box lit with the time. We had electricity, and even if we didn't we had batteries.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, freshened up, primped the girls, twisted and tweeked the knobs of the...girls, removed my bun from my hair, and was glad that they lights were off, I didn't resemble the person I just read about, I looked more like the help, I inhaled and calmed just a bit. I was ready to make some heads roll, to the conference room.
The wooden door creaked as I opened it, I stepped down slowly as I always have ever since the fall down the stairs when we first moved in, I am more careful now. I placed the hand on the wall guiding me to my side of the bed, I heard the covers move around and couldn't do anything to contain the smile now, and thinking of the smile to come, literally.
I placed a hand on the edge of the bed and continued to feel it towards the movement that I heard, my hand met a hairy limb followed by ravenous licking in quick excited thrusts.
"Dammit Juno, move out of the way!"
I pushed the fifteen pound mongrel out of the way, he was only a barrier to me now, I wondered if I should toss him out the door. After moving him, I continued to move towards the middle of the bed and heard the distinct grunt of a sleeping husband, for him to be snoring it only meant that he had to have been asleep for at least half an hour.
Maybe he just needs a little nudge to get this conversation going, I went to carress his cheek, to shower him with butterfly kisses, slowly and tenderly. Suddenly a hand flipped from the darkness onto my shoulder, I had one elbow propping my body at an angle and the free arm met the face of an angel. I moved Diego towards the middle giving myself enough room to sleep, resisting the urge to grab a high heeled stiletto from the closet and popping my slumbering husband from his undoubtedly boring dream of boats he can't afford, just popping him on the head with a good old whack.
Diego has been sleeping in his bed for weeks, he has a tv in his room, a lamp by the bed, everything he needs to be comfortable and cozy in his big boy bed, how had he gotten here?
It all came together like a Monk episode, I walked outside to read the book, gave my husband a wink, he smiled, it was a fake smile, covering up a desperate attempt at escaping something fearful, as if I was a high school coach obligating him to run lap after lap after lap thinking to himself "If I run another lap, I may collapse and die." As soon as the door closed and I had my back to the window, he bribed Diego with a happy meal and the only condition was that this was a secret operative mission, no words, they sign languaged back and forth ala GI Joe to the bed, once they were in the safe zone, they called the dog to join their mutiny and they peacefully fell asleep without a good night kiss from mom. Diego was helpless, strategically placed in the middle of the bed like a wall of sand bags blocking the insurgents from infiltrating their army tents. He had sabotaged me.
I called out his name and could almost hear his eyes blinking wildly praying I didn't turn on the lamp. I didn't turn on the lamp, I turned on my phone and played Bubble It, I played until I fell asleep.
But I am finding ways, my gypsy-like ass moves around the house with a little more of a shake when he is home, a little more spring to my step and a little more cleavage to my around-the-house clothes, and every night when we go to bed, I have a headache. It starts at seven and by nine I pop my medications and some PM medication, and I have a headache everyday.
I will teach him a thing or two yet, she who laughs last laughs hardest, because although you may have laughed at her when she tripped down the stairs, it is only fair for her to laugh her ass off after pushing you.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Casino Night
I waited for this all week, now just needed the kids to go to sleep to go to the casino. Me and $80. My dreams awaited.
The second my husband said "Go!" I ran out the door.
I had a five hour energy drink waiting for tonight, I sat in the car before starting the engine and gulped it down. I wanted to throw it into the street but didn't realize I was still in park when I threw it out the window.
I zoomed through the interstate and arrived to the casino, it was the equivalent of stepping into an ashtray, burnt butts everywhere, smoky and smelly and stale, like the inhabitants that roamed aimlessly, with their welfare checks and oxygen tanks, my mother and grandmother among the prestigious bunch.
I walked and walked around, waiting for just the right machine, and there is was, The Poopy Party. I love that machine, you get three party hats and gifts start to pop up, as you open each gift, you get credits. I put in my first twenty dollars, by the time I had ten dollars left I was ready to walk away, no Poopy Party. The drinks lady walked by, I said "Coke!" then thought for a second "Diet Coke." she gave me one of each, Hot Dog! This had to be a sign. Ten minutes later, twenty dollars gone.
I walked around some more and got a call from my cousin Tuty, she was at the casino looking for me. "I am by the waterfall." As I waited, a double amputee walked by, no arms. I was astonished, would I have the drive to play slots without arms, I wasn't sure, but just in case, I followed him around a while. He didn't play, maybe he misplaced the prosthesis or maybe he was just watching or maybe he used his toes? I couldn't spend any more time waiting for the impossible to be seen. I wished him luck, and he went on his way, I went the other way.
We met. I kissed everyone and my aunt walked me to the machine sure to pay out. Each play was two dollars, I put in a twenty and got three jackpots, my heart stopped. I watched in horror as I won a thousand pennies, that is only ten dollars people. I won the same damn thousand pennies, three more times. After forty dollars, I was out of there. Note to self, do not play the machine by the waterfalls that induces heart attacks without your Xanax.
I went to another machine with ladybugs, well that did not work for me either, ten dollars gone, in a matter of an hour I lost seventy dollars. I held on to my last ten and my dad told me to go to the "Deal or No Deal" game. Guess what daddy? No fucking deal.
I was out, the time was midnight and I was broke.
I waited for my dad to offer a twenty, but didn't have the balls to ask. So I just lingered around him, waiting for the human ATM to disperse anything.
I walked up to my mom, who had been playing a samurai game and was winning big. Each time the samurai came up, she put both feet up and her arms in position for a kung fu jab. She mimicked the game. This went on for an hour, she got bonus after bonus and was up to eighty dollars, when she left the machine, she had seventeen.
I noticed I lost my cigarettes, a brand new pack too. I walked everywhere and they were gone.
Dammit, there goes seven more dollars. I walked around and picked up the white papers that the machines give when you cash out. A total of eight cents later, I tried to play. But no machine would let me play for eight cents. I found a paper with twenty seven cents and it was ripped in pieces. I hope who ever left if lost their ass, because that is just cruel, vagrants like me count on finding those. Why did you rip it up?
My dad finally gave in, ten dollars for the samurai game, Ha Yah!!! It took less than five minutes to lose it. Time to go.
I walked out and my sisters left me to walk the second floor to my car all alone, stepping into a horror flick, the parking lot was empty and the elevator doors closed, I walked to the car with brisk steps, to the side of me I found Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hoodrat, there was a young man behind a car that was pooping, either that or a girl that couldn't wait any longer and had to pee. Either way I walked to my car with my key between my forefinger and middle finger, in case I had to jab out an eye. I passed some stoners and jumped into my car. My sisters called to see if I made it to the car, I was already on the interstate.
I still had 3 hours left of my energy drink, I was wired. I counted the change in my car to get a scratch off on the way home, but only had forty five cents. DAMMIT.
I got home and this is where I had the most challenge, each step up the stairs had me tinkle a little. I understood the person behind the car. I twisted myself up to the door and Juno the wonder dog barked loud enough to wake the deaf neighbors. I screamed some obscenities at him, its ok, he is a dog and doesn't speak human.
I peeled off my now soaked in the middle jeans and did a quick TPA rinse. I walked to my bedroom, and my husband and the boys looked like they were reenacting a confederate battle, they were sprawled on the bed in positions that took up the entire king bed from top to bottom, side to side. I decided it was best to sleep on the sofa, I put on a clean pair of pajamas and grabbed my snuggie. And I dreamed of my next casino day, and all the money I was gonna win. Today was just not my night.
The second my husband said "Go!" I ran out the door.
I had a five hour energy drink waiting for tonight, I sat in the car before starting the engine and gulped it down. I wanted to throw it into the street but didn't realize I was still in park when I threw it out the window.
I zoomed through the interstate and arrived to the casino, it was the equivalent of stepping into an ashtray, burnt butts everywhere, smoky and smelly and stale, like the inhabitants that roamed aimlessly, with their welfare checks and oxygen tanks, my mother and grandmother among the prestigious bunch.
I walked and walked around, waiting for just the right machine, and there is was, The Poopy Party. I love that machine, you get three party hats and gifts start to pop up, as you open each gift, you get credits. I put in my first twenty dollars, by the time I had ten dollars left I was ready to walk away, no Poopy Party. The drinks lady walked by, I said "Coke!" then thought for a second "Diet Coke." she gave me one of each, Hot Dog! This had to be a sign. Ten minutes later, twenty dollars gone.
I walked around some more and got a call from my cousin Tuty, she was at the casino looking for me. "I am by the waterfall." As I waited, a double amputee walked by, no arms. I was astonished, would I have the drive to play slots without arms, I wasn't sure, but just in case, I followed him around a while. He didn't play, maybe he misplaced the prosthesis or maybe he was just watching or maybe he used his toes? I couldn't spend any more time waiting for the impossible to be seen. I wished him luck, and he went on his way, I went the other way.
We met. I kissed everyone and my aunt walked me to the machine sure to pay out. Each play was two dollars, I put in a twenty and got three jackpots, my heart stopped. I watched in horror as I won a thousand pennies, that is only ten dollars people. I won the same damn thousand pennies, three more times. After forty dollars, I was out of there. Note to self, do not play the machine by the waterfalls that induces heart attacks without your Xanax.
I went to another machine with ladybugs, well that did not work for me either, ten dollars gone, in a matter of an hour I lost seventy dollars. I held on to my last ten and my dad told me to go to the "Deal or No Deal" game. Guess what daddy? No fucking deal.
I was out, the time was midnight and I was broke.
I waited for my dad to offer a twenty, but didn't have the balls to ask. So I just lingered around him, waiting for the human ATM to disperse anything.
I walked up to my mom, who had been playing a samurai game and was winning big. Each time the samurai came up, she put both feet up and her arms in position for a kung fu jab. She mimicked the game. This went on for an hour, she got bonus after bonus and was up to eighty dollars, when she left the machine, she had seventeen.
I noticed I lost my cigarettes, a brand new pack too. I walked everywhere and they were gone.
Dammit, there goes seven more dollars. I walked around and picked up the white papers that the machines give when you cash out. A total of eight cents later, I tried to play. But no machine would let me play for eight cents. I found a paper with twenty seven cents and it was ripped in pieces. I hope who ever left if lost their ass, because that is just cruel, vagrants like me count on finding those. Why did you rip it up?
My dad finally gave in, ten dollars for the samurai game, Ha Yah!!! It took less than five minutes to lose it. Time to go.
I walked out and my sisters left me to walk the second floor to my car all alone, stepping into a horror flick, the parking lot was empty and the elevator doors closed, I walked to the car with brisk steps, to the side of me I found Crouching Tiger, Hidden Hoodrat, there was a young man behind a car that was pooping, either that or a girl that couldn't wait any longer and had to pee. Either way I walked to my car with my key between my forefinger and middle finger, in case I had to jab out an eye. I passed some stoners and jumped into my car. My sisters called to see if I made it to the car, I was already on the interstate.
I still had 3 hours left of my energy drink, I was wired. I counted the change in my car to get a scratch off on the way home, but only had forty five cents. DAMMIT.
I got home and this is where I had the most challenge, each step up the stairs had me tinkle a little. I understood the person behind the car. I twisted myself up to the door and Juno the wonder dog barked loud enough to wake the deaf neighbors. I screamed some obscenities at him, its ok, he is a dog and doesn't speak human.
I peeled off my now soaked in the middle jeans and did a quick TPA rinse. I walked to my bedroom, and my husband and the boys looked like they were reenacting a confederate battle, they were sprawled on the bed in positions that took up the entire king bed from top to bottom, side to side. I decided it was best to sleep on the sofa, I put on a clean pair of pajamas and grabbed my snuggie. And I dreamed of my next casino day, and all the money I was gonna win. Today was just not my night.
Happy Birthday to me
My birthday came and went and I am now a year older, I hate birthdays, at least mine.
All I wanted was to go to the casino, that is all.
I woke up congested and full of phlegm, Mike D had given me the gift of snot. I had Friday off and stayed home sick. I hoped to wake up at 5 am and go to the casino, but 5 am came and went and I slept.
My sisters, the dears that they are, brought me thai and I ate it like a starved Ethiopian, and I had to share with Mike D, he eats everything.
Mara walked in with 2 band aids on her cheek. Which caught my attention, why did she have a band aid, workers comp, did she eat a taco too hard and it went through her cheek?
I stared and asked, "Why do you have a band aid on your cheek?"
"Burn from work, not too bad, but it blistered."
Oh my, a wound, and a fresh wound at that.
"Wanna see?"
"Hell yes, I wanna see, rip that baby off!"
She took her sweet ass time and peeled away the bandages, and the slower she went, the closer I got. She peeled it off and I was an inch away from her cheek, then she barked.
I jumped back and was taken by surprise, so much my armpits itched, I know that when I get really scared my armpits start to itch.
She laughed and laughed, and Nina was in on it too, in the background jumping around like a leprechaun.
"Bitch!"
They knew I would fall for their ploy. But that's ok.
As we sat and watched TV, Juno sat on Mara's lap and when he got off, he left a Hershey's kiss on her pants, and she looked at me in horror.
I tapped a finger into the chocolaty delight, and smelled it.
"It's dog shit." Wiping it on her pants.
"Go use that, it's just Fabuloso with water, just spray it."
Being the inventor that I am, I clean with whatever spray bottle I find, and if it's empty, I fill it with Fabuloso and water. She looked at the bottle, "This says Clorox, does it have Clorox?"
I looked at Nina and shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know, guess we shall find out, spray it."
She gave me a cockeyed look and walked off to the bathroom, not risking her jeans with my Clorox bottle concoction.
She came back out and had a wet spot on her jeans.
"You got a spot."
She just glared at me, we watched our show. I walked out to have a cigarette and my dad pulled up. My darling sisters left me with the investment banker, left me to be interrogated on my everything. I should have slashed their tires or made Mara wash her jeans here, so I wouldn't be left alone for the Spanish Inquisition.
He lectured, I nodded and he left.
Mike D had snot coming out of every hole is his little body, he looked so frail, I decided a bath would be good. We got in the tub and I decided to shave, I had a month's worth of hair growing on my legs, another day and I could have dreads coming out of the bottoms of my pants, stemming from where it all started, the happy trail, was overly happy and uncontrollable.
I shaved one leg and Mike D decided he was getting out. I sat in the tub screaming for him to return, the only thing I heard was "No." quite clearly. I continued to shave and suddenly blocks were being thrown in the tub.
"Micheal No!" This was all you heard as he filled the tub with his Mega Blocks, one by one they filled the bathtub, I was in no shape to run after him with one leg shaved and the other white with foam. I waited till he was done and he jumped back in the tub. I was almost finished and he began throwing the damn blocks out of the tub.
The blocks have crevices and they held water, and as he slung them out, my bathroom was flooded, I shaved with one hand and held the blocks that I could with the other. He sat in the tub and began to do the crocodile twist, I had no chance.
He got away and took off, I got out of the tub and found him on the bunk bed, the top buck. He was stark naked and knew I couldn't reach him. The bunk only holds a third of my weight, I bribed him with candy, and toys, until he eventually came to me and I grabbed him and dressed him. Casino night could not possibly get here fast enough.
All I wanted was to go to the casino, that is all.
I woke up congested and full of phlegm, Mike D had given me the gift of snot. I had Friday off and stayed home sick. I hoped to wake up at 5 am and go to the casino, but 5 am came and went and I slept.
My sisters, the dears that they are, brought me thai and I ate it like a starved Ethiopian, and I had to share with Mike D, he eats everything.
Mara walked in with 2 band aids on her cheek. Which caught my attention, why did she have a band aid, workers comp, did she eat a taco too hard and it went through her cheek?
I stared and asked, "Why do you have a band aid on your cheek?"
"Burn from work, not too bad, but it blistered."
Oh my, a wound, and a fresh wound at that.
"Wanna see?"
"Hell yes, I wanna see, rip that baby off!"
She took her sweet ass time and peeled away the bandages, and the slower she went, the closer I got. She peeled it off and I was an inch away from her cheek, then she barked.
I jumped back and was taken by surprise, so much my armpits itched, I know that when I get really scared my armpits start to itch.
She laughed and laughed, and Nina was in on it too, in the background jumping around like a leprechaun.
"Bitch!"
They knew I would fall for their ploy. But that's ok.
As we sat and watched TV, Juno sat on Mara's lap and when he got off, he left a Hershey's kiss on her pants, and she looked at me in horror.
I tapped a finger into the chocolaty delight, and smelled it.
"It's dog shit." Wiping it on her pants.
"Go use that, it's just Fabuloso with water, just spray it."
Being the inventor that I am, I clean with whatever spray bottle I find, and if it's empty, I fill it with Fabuloso and water. She looked at the bottle, "This says Clorox, does it have Clorox?"
I looked at Nina and shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know, guess we shall find out, spray it."
She gave me a cockeyed look and walked off to the bathroom, not risking her jeans with my Clorox bottle concoction.
She came back out and had a wet spot on her jeans.
"You got a spot."
She just glared at me, we watched our show. I walked out to have a cigarette and my dad pulled up. My darling sisters left me with the investment banker, left me to be interrogated on my everything. I should have slashed their tires or made Mara wash her jeans here, so I wouldn't be left alone for the Spanish Inquisition.
He lectured, I nodded and he left.
Mike D had snot coming out of every hole is his little body, he looked so frail, I decided a bath would be good. We got in the tub and I decided to shave, I had a month's worth of hair growing on my legs, another day and I could have dreads coming out of the bottoms of my pants, stemming from where it all started, the happy trail, was overly happy and uncontrollable.
I shaved one leg and Mike D decided he was getting out. I sat in the tub screaming for him to return, the only thing I heard was "No." quite clearly. I continued to shave and suddenly blocks were being thrown in the tub.
"Micheal No!" This was all you heard as he filled the tub with his Mega Blocks, one by one they filled the bathtub, I was in no shape to run after him with one leg shaved and the other white with foam. I waited till he was done and he jumped back in the tub. I was almost finished and he began throwing the damn blocks out of the tub.
The blocks have crevices and they held water, and as he slung them out, my bathroom was flooded, I shaved with one hand and held the blocks that I could with the other. He sat in the tub and began to do the crocodile twist, I had no chance.
He got away and took off, I got out of the tub and found him on the bunk bed, the top buck. He was stark naked and knew I couldn't reach him. The bunk only holds a third of my weight, I bribed him with candy, and toys, until he eventually came to me and I grabbed him and dressed him. Casino night could not possibly get here fast enough.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Enchanted Kitchen
It is never a dull moment when I head to the trash trailer. (My aunt has given herself this name, I am only calling her what she tells me to.)
As I pull around the bend, I spot my aunt in the middle of the street directing traffic. Let me clarify that there are only two parking spots, she doesn't live at the stadium or in an apartment complex, one spot is taken by Nina, my grandparents were parked to the side. I was sent across the street to park at the neighbor's house. Someone important was probably coming and she needs that one spot open.
I looked her up and down, I thought that you didn't wear white after Labor Day, but she wore white. A white skirt, or a white tube top pulled down to her bottom made to look like a skirt. No! There was no way, there was a slit that scaled up to what only a geriatric gynecologist would be able to look at without going blind or being attacked by spiders from cobwebs. She clomped back and forth across the street, she was waiting for twenty guests. I took a seat next to Tuty and Nina, and then my grandparents were there. That was pretty much the crowd.
Who wants to go to a party that sells thousand dollar pots and pans?
Hell yes me! I want to know exactly what they do, I mean a thousand dollars. When she called me to tell me that she was having a party, she didn't tell me what it was about until after the phone seduction, she was not taking no for an answer.
Then she told me that she told the sales people we are poor, we are all poor and can't afford any of their crap. She was basically having them come over and cook for us, and we in return sat and ate and were not allowed to buy anything. They are selling at a trailer park, where bartering is a way of life. The only thing that she could offer them was adult companionship and trinkets from flea markets and as seen on tv ads.
In my head these pots and pans flip the pancakes and hamburgers, they serve the meal, they also wash themselves and walk themselves back to the cupboard. I hoped she was mistaken and instead this was an ultra extravagant Naughty Night Party where they displayed golden dildos that cost a thousand dollars that gyrated like a college student in his prime and whispered sweet nothings to the closest orifice that would stop to listen, that would be something I want to see. I would stop and listen, swear.
We sat and our tummies rumbled. The two presenters passed around pans, the coolest part was the grease that was inside of the pans, you didn't have to add grease to your meal, and they are made of airplane parts, way to recycle people.
And they had a lifetime guarantee, so my kids would use them, as would my grandkids. And they have been selling for years, (thinking) now I have one more thing to keep an eye out for at the flea markets and garage sales. Old people cook, old people die, and families sell it all at garage sales in Tampa. If I pick one up and call them, they would come in and replace the whole set. These people were just full of information. These aerobatic kitchen strap ons were so amazing that they made your food taste better, they did...well, I kinda got bored at about this time, they were actually teaching us nutritional facts. I strummed my fingers through my just-straightened hair, Nina sat right behind me, as I picked out the strands of hair, I held them up until they floated and glided into the air like butterflies, landing directly onto Nina. This entertained me for a good half hour until the meal started.
They brought out a potato peeler and diced, cut, and julienned potatoes and different fruits and veggies. I was in awe, I had to pick up Tuty's jaw from the floor, you would have thought that David Copperfield just made a trailer disappear, we were just staring at this metal machine that did amazing things that usually took us forever. We talked like the men from Wall Street plotting and planning on paying for this and then setting up custody and visitation schedules for the different pieces.
The man presenter walked around with various things to show us, I didn't pay attention, until I looked up and then I had to do a double take, he had one eyebrow, not like my dad's unibrow, but like non stop hair growth from one temple to the other, and just under the middle, above the bridge of his nose, a goatee. Isn't that something, today was just full of amazement.
The food didn't taste too different, the potato was bland, the veggies, were veggies. My aunt paraded around in her receding skirt and served drinks, as she served by grandfather, who at this point probably had his hearing aide set to the baseball game and nodded with each pitch, had to jerk up and watch his prostate as my aunt jabbed the red cup between his thighs, when she was coming up to me, I held out my hand, in fear she would be shoving it between my bra, making the girls work double time.
They must have been from a cult, 3 hours later, we were fed, taught, and the sect leaders were shoving papers in our face, financial questions, how I eat, how much I will save, professing their ways of life and how they will make my life better.
I gracefully gave my kisses and hugs and made my way to the car. I had promised to have a show at my house and I left with regret at the promise, double drats, they got me!
I pulled over before I got home, because there was a little gnawing going on in my brain, I thought about what happens to things and to people who sell crap like this. I went on Ebay and found an entire set for a little over $200, I called my sister Nina, because I knew that Darth Vader and Princess Laila had Tuty in their clutches, enticing her to not only buy a full set, but to have her out their selling, it's like a religion, next thing you know they are taking over Clearwater and your children are out there cooking chicken under an hour with no preservatives.
"Nina I just found all that shit on Ebay for $200, grab Tuty and shield her from their eyes, they will suck her in, we have to act quick or we'll lose her."
Nina responds, "Oh, we already left, but she did schedule a party for Wednesday."
We may have lost one to their game, but today I am nuking my hot dog in the fight against their mission and I didn't answer the phone to any local unknown numbers, they will not take me without a fight.
As I pull around the bend, I spot my aunt in the middle of the street directing traffic. Let me clarify that there are only two parking spots, she doesn't live at the stadium or in an apartment complex, one spot is taken by Nina, my grandparents were parked to the side. I was sent across the street to park at the neighbor's house. Someone important was probably coming and she needs that one spot open.
I looked her up and down, I thought that you didn't wear white after Labor Day, but she wore white. A white skirt, or a white tube top pulled down to her bottom made to look like a skirt. No! There was no way, there was a slit that scaled up to what only a geriatric gynecologist would be able to look at without going blind or being attacked by spiders from cobwebs. She clomped back and forth across the street, she was waiting for twenty guests. I took a seat next to Tuty and Nina, and then my grandparents were there. That was pretty much the crowd.
Who wants to go to a party that sells thousand dollar pots and pans?
Hell yes me! I want to know exactly what they do, I mean a thousand dollars. When she called me to tell me that she was having a party, she didn't tell me what it was about until after the phone seduction, she was not taking no for an answer.
Then she told me that she told the sales people we are poor, we are all poor and can't afford any of their crap. She was basically having them come over and cook for us, and we in return sat and ate and were not allowed to buy anything. They are selling at a trailer park, where bartering is a way of life. The only thing that she could offer them was adult companionship and trinkets from flea markets and as seen on tv ads.
In my head these pots and pans flip the pancakes and hamburgers, they serve the meal, they also wash themselves and walk themselves back to the cupboard. I hoped she was mistaken and instead this was an ultra extravagant Naughty Night Party where they displayed golden dildos that cost a thousand dollars that gyrated like a college student in his prime and whispered sweet nothings to the closest orifice that would stop to listen, that would be something I want to see. I would stop and listen, swear.
We sat and our tummies rumbled. The two presenters passed around pans, the coolest part was the grease that was inside of the pans, you didn't have to add grease to your meal, and they are made of airplane parts, way to recycle people.
And they had a lifetime guarantee, so my kids would use them, as would my grandkids. And they have been selling for years, (thinking) now I have one more thing to keep an eye out for at the flea markets and garage sales. Old people cook, old people die, and families sell it all at garage sales in Tampa. If I pick one up and call them, they would come in and replace the whole set. These people were just full of information. These aerobatic kitchen strap ons were so amazing that they made your food taste better, they did...well, I kinda got bored at about this time, they were actually teaching us nutritional facts. I strummed my fingers through my just-straightened hair, Nina sat right behind me, as I picked out the strands of hair, I held them up until they floated and glided into the air like butterflies, landing directly onto Nina. This entertained me for a good half hour until the meal started.
They brought out a potato peeler and diced, cut, and julienned potatoes and different fruits and veggies. I was in awe, I had to pick up Tuty's jaw from the floor, you would have thought that David Copperfield just made a trailer disappear, we were just staring at this metal machine that did amazing things that usually took us forever. We talked like the men from Wall Street plotting and planning on paying for this and then setting up custody and visitation schedules for the different pieces.
The man presenter walked around with various things to show us, I didn't pay attention, until I looked up and then I had to do a double take, he had one eyebrow, not like my dad's unibrow, but like non stop hair growth from one temple to the other, and just under the middle, above the bridge of his nose, a goatee. Isn't that something, today was just full of amazement.
The food didn't taste too different, the potato was bland, the veggies, were veggies. My aunt paraded around in her receding skirt and served drinks, as she served by grandfather, who at this point probably had his hearing aide set to the baseball game and nodded with each pitch, had to jerk up and watch his prostate as my aunt jabbed the red cup between his thighs, when she was coming up to me, I held out my hand, in fear she would be shoving it between my bra, making the girls work double time.
They must have been from a cult, 3 hours later, we were fed, taught, and the sect leaders were shoving papers in our face, financial questions, how I eat, how much I will save, professing their ways of life and how they will make my life better.
I gracefully gave my kisses and hugs and made my way to the car. I had promised to have a show at my house and I left with regret at the promise, double drats, they got me!
I pulled over before I got home, because there was a little gnawing going on in my brain, I thought about what happens to things and to people who sell crap like this. I went on Ebay and found an entire set for a little over $200, I called my sister Nina, because I knew that Darth Vader and Princess Laila had Tuty in their clutches, enticing her to not only buy a full set, but to have her out their selling, it's like a religion, next thing you know they are taking over Clearwater and your children are out there cooking chicken under an hour with no preservatives.
"Nina I just found all that shit on Ebay for $200, grab Tuty and shield her from their eyes, they will suck her in, we have to act quick or we'll lose her."
Nina responds, "Oh, we already left, but she did schedule a party for Wednesday."
We may have lost one to their game, but today I am nuking my hot dog in the fight against their mission and I didn't answer the phone to any local unknown numbers, they will not take me without a fight.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Lunch Special
There is a new bus that serves Spanish food next to my job. A week ago, we called to order and the call went to voicemail. Desperate for food, we are food connoisseurs like that, we googled and found the owner's cell phone. We called her as she was waking and placed the order. She called back, the calls were going to voicemail due to a faulty fryer.
We had pizza.
Today was Haydee's last day, our spunky little firecracker at work. Very easy to set off, and I do not light that fire, well I try not to. Being her last day we ordered from the bus, she introduced us to it and she bragged about it's cellulite inducing nutrients. Yes, we are buying lunch prepared in a bus the size of a bathroom, with three people who prep it all, and they look like my mornings in the bathroom fighting my way to brush my teeth. We called with 3 days notice, we also called the day before and this morning before picking up the meal, I would say we picked it up, but I picked up the meal by myself, no one came with me, just me and my audio book. Peace at last, peace at last.
I was glad to get out, the retiree (really she got another job, but I had to give her shit about it) was like a social butterfly, this lunch was a surprise and each second we tried to plan or coordinate this fiasco luncheon (usually when I am involved it is nothing less of a fiasco) would pop up. Doesn't she have work to finish, emails to send, good-byes to finish? No. Like an arranyita pellua (hairy spider) she showed up and walked by, making it almost impossible to surprise her. Like a peo atravesado (I don't know how I should translate, but she was like a fart in the middle of everything) stinking up the party preparations with her surprise pop ups. She knew.
History: The office has been cold lately, I guess they are trying to fight the germs of the office cold, or they are driving the infected to get bedridden. As I sit at my cubicle the person next to me and in front of me cough, sometimes in unison, sometimes it's orchestrated and resembles Beethoven's Fifth. So I wore my black sweater with my jeans with black heels, so cute.
I raced to the bus at 11:30 am, we have lunch from noon to 1 pm, I wasn't on the phones so I was the designated driver. I got there at noon, mucho late. Walked around the bus and it was closed, the yellow mobile kitchen was shut down. I knocked and told the lady I was there to pick up the order. She said it would be a minute, I called the office to tell them I arrived but the food wasn't ready. I sat and smoked and watched as they opened up fifteen minutes later. I stood to check the order, and she said almost. I called work, almost ready. The team sat and waited and probably exchanged stories, sitting and staring at each other in moments of uncomfortable silence. I sat in the sun and smoked some more, I felt the sweat drip from my armpits, remember my brainiac self thought of that einsteinish idea. Surely I would roast completely to tender before the pork I was waiting for.
Finally at 12:30 the order was ready, well minus the appetizers, I lugged the two bags to the car and returned for the last bag, I was given an additional empanada as a consolation gift. Gee thanks. An ice cold soda would have been more appropriate but whatever. I got the last bag and ran (in heels) for the car. The five lunch containers were on the floor, the bag of sandwiches on the seat, the sweat had now accumulated in a pool on my belly button, I am sure that also had it's own seasoning flavors by now.
I pulled out and made a U-turn, and the top container with the most food (for the honoree of course) flip flopped on the floor like a burrito at Taco Bell that those McDonald's rejects don't close correctly. I put the emergency blinker lights on and prayed no one hit me. I salvaged what I could and completely ruined my RWA bag. Like this.
We had pizza.
Today was Haydee's last day, our spunky little firecracker at work. Very easy to set off, and I do not light that fire, well I try not to. Being her last day we ordered from the bus, she introduced us to it and she bragged about it's cellulite inducing nutrients. Yes, we are buying lunch prepared in a bus the size of a bathroom, with three people who prep it all, and they look like my mornings in the bathroom fighting my way to brush my teeth. We called with 3 days notice, we also called the day before and this morning before picking up the meal, I would say we picked it up, but I picked up the meal by myself, no one came with me, just me and my audio book. Peace at last, peace at last.
I was glad to get out, the retiree (really she got another job, but I had to give her shit about it) was like a social butterfly, this lunch was a surprise and each second we tried to plan or coordinate this fiasco luncheon (usually when I am involved it is nothing less of a fiasco) would pop up. Doesn't she have work to finish, emails to send, good-byes to finish? No. Like an arranyita pellua (hairy spider) she showed up and walked by, making it almost impossible to surprise her. Like a peo atravesado (I don't know how I should translate, but she was like a fart in the middle of everything) stinking up the party preparations with her surprise pop ups. She knew.
History: The office has been cold lately, I guess they are trying to fight the germs of the office cold, or they are driving the infected to get bedridden. As I sit at my cubicle the person next to me and in front of me cough, sometimes in unison, sometimes it's orchestrated and resembles Beethoven's Fifth. So I wore my black sweater with my jeans with black heels, so cute.
I raced to the bus at 11:30 am, we have lunch from noon to 1 pm, I wasn't on the phones so I was the designated driver. I got there at noon, mucho late. Walked around the bus and it was closed, the yellow mobile kitchen was shut down. I knocked and told the lady I was there to pick up the order. She said it would be a minute, I called the office to tell them I arrived but the food wasn't ready. I sat and smoked and watched as they opened up fifteen minutes later. I stood to check the order, and she said almost. I called work, almost ready. The team sat and waited and probably exchanged stories, sitting and staring at each other in moments of uncomfortable silence. I sat in the sun and smoked some more, I felt the sweat drip from my armpits, remember my brainiac self thought of that einsteinish idea. Surely I would roast completely to tender before the pork I was waiting for.
Finally at 12:30 the order was ready, well minus the appetizers, I lugged the two bags to the car and returned for the last bag, I was given an additional empanada as a consolation gift. Gee thanks. An ice cold soda would have been more appropriate but whatever. I got the last bag and ran (in heels) for the car. The five lunch containers were on the floor, the bag of sandwiches on the seat, the sweat had now accumulated in a pool on my belly button, I am sure that also had it's own seasoning flavors by now.
I pulled out and made a U-turn, and the top container with the most food (for the honoree of course) flip flopped on the floor like a burrito at Taco Bell that those McDonald's rejects don't close correctly. I put the emergency blinker lights on and prayed no one hit me. I salvaged what I could and completely ruined my RWA bag. Like this.
Her order was called the tierra y mar, which is land and sea, but tierra also means dirt or sand, so the shrimp on my car floor was a rather appropriate place for them. I gave the dish a new meaning. I wanted to put the shrimp back into the container but after picking one up and studying it like a chemistry vial, I found a hair and opted to leave them on the floor.
I was border-line hysterical, the order was supposed to be ready at noon, and at 12:37 pm I was in the car driving like a nascar competitor. I was a block away and called Myrna (the planner), telling her I would be in the front, I always park out back, but the front was closer. I pulled to the entrance and regained my composure as I piled the lunches on the side of the car. After a couple minutes I called Myrna again, because she was in the back waiting for me. Her roots must be blond because she went to the back, because I park there, but I told her the front, she doesn't listen.
She took in the food, I met the entire team in the conference room and they applauded, I couldn't send them to the depths of hell because my supervisor was in the front of the peanut gallery and I needed my job, I smiled, took my seat and denied myself the meal, I left hunger and patience at the bus.
We also had breakfast, and a gift card for a much needed mani-pedi and a gift, and an ice cream cake that was cause for breaking my diet. I diet on Mondays, and actually lasted this week until the cake came out.
Haydee you don't read my blog, but I showed you how much I love and appreciate you by not stuffing the hairy shrimp in your lunch box. That says alot. On another note, I ate half of Sonia's sandwich, actually half of a half, because it had a hair in it, karma is a bitch.
Haydee darling, as you can see, even the bread was sad that you left. How was I the only person to spot this?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
No trip to Disney
I love getting mail, any kind of mail. Email, letters, cards, the fact that someone took time out of their day to spend a moment sending me a message. Imagine my surprise when here I am walking to the mailbox getting letters daily from different companies offering me credit. Did they not check before sending it out? Do they not know who I am?
I should call them and see if I have to pay them back, maybe the stuff is para-free, and I can go splurge on a shopping spree, guilt free.
My bills are a mess, but the children are healthy, it isn't cheap to keep them like that, I will be paying Mike's hospital bills until he reaches retirement.
I am catching up little by little, I am finally feeling less pressure and these idiots want to say thank you by extending my credit and offering my husband a various array of credit cards, from Mickey Mouse to Carnival Cruise. I don't want to owe the mouse, he is sacred, he is the symbol of happiness. And most surprising is that they come to my husband, like he needs help getting into debt. Money just walks out of his pocket. I want to go to Disney, I want the Mickey credit card, at almost a hundred bucks a ticket now too, that is a dream far from my grasp, that mouse is on crack, put the pipe down Mickey.
So I shred the pretty offers.
I sit by the garbage and rip them in half, then in half again, and one more time. If I am bored, I will shove it all into a 2 liter and fill it up with water, just to make sure that no one wants to put it together. It's really simple to tape together paper ripped in pieces, but not if it's submerged in liquid. That is a different level of difficulty, like stage 9 in Tetris.
Wouldn't it be hysterical if they went through all that trouble to steal my identity and then get denied for credit. HA!
All I am doing is making sure that we don't obtain any more credit cards, to go out and buy more crap that we don't need and Mike D will ultimately break. I was not meant to have nice things, and here I am 9 credit cards later, learning that very expensive lesson.
On Sunday night, I am sitting on the sofa and ask my husband about our debt. I wonder if I will ever go to prison for owing the wrong person, I read in the paper that collection agencies are now stalking you on facebook. Why the hell would I want to be friends with them, choose your friends wisely people. Oh and they don't just stalk you, they send messages to your friends about your bills. Holy Shit. But all my friends know I am broke and borrowing, no worries.
He pulls up my name on the internet on the laptop to see if I have a lien or some court bullshit that I owe and don't know about, you know the surprise bills.
He didn't find any, but he did manage to find one little piece of useful information.
Apparently when I married my husband almost ten years ago, some idiot (at least to me, a miracle worker to my husband) entered the wrong name. My husband's name is Gordon, and his last name is American. I know that I would never marry a Gordon, how do you scream to that, it's not cute to say Gordonito, too many syllables, shortening it to Gordo would just be offensive.
My husband wondered if there was someone else with my name, when we clicked the attachment, the papers were there, signed and dated, the name was definitely my husband's, but in the system, on record and in the computer, it was Gordon.
My husband jumps up off the sofa and goes into dance, he begins to sing the lyrics of U2's "It's a Beautiful Day" tells me it's not a mistake, to go find Gordon, he's got 3 kids to take care of.
I have heard it all since his discovery, I am living in sin, I am not his wife, I should learn to cook better to get myself a man. Giving him any orders, or requests have now become bribery a la college-slut style, it's asking him for something, and what will I do for it? Like I need the answers to an upcoming test, I don't need him to pick up socks that badly, back in the drawer they go, again.
Oh and now that he is single, he has plans for the weekend, apparently a one-night stand with a single mom of three kids.
We have definitely had fun with this revelation, telling my dad was a little different, he insisted that I immediately call the courts and have them fix it, like it's made any difference up until now.
He didn't find any amusement in it at all. "That was just some comemierda that made the mistake, they have to fix it." My husband and I hold our laughter, but not for long.
So now I must continue to avoid the credit offers, fix my husband's status and get his ass married, and maybe look up Gordon and check out the assets there before I make any drastic moves.
I should call them and see if I have to pay them back, maybe the stuff is para-free, and I can go splurge on a shopping spree, guilt free.
My bills are a mess, but the children are healthy, it isn't cheap to keep them like that, I will be paying Mike's hospital bills until he reaches retirement.
I am catching up little by little, I am finally feeling less pressure and these idiots want to say thank you by extending my credit and offering my husband a various array of credit cards, from Mickey Mouse to Carnival Cruise. I don't want to owe the mouse, he is sacred, he is the symbol of happiness. And most surprising is that they come to my husband, like he needs help getting into debt. Money just walks out of his pocket. I want to go to Disney, I want the Mickey credit card, at almost a hundred bucks a ticket now too, that is a dream far from my grasp, that mouse is on crack, put the pipe down Mickey.
So I shred the pretty offers.
I sit by the garbage and rip them in half, then in half again, and one more time. If I am bored, I will shove it all into a 2 liter and fill it up with water, just to make sure that no one wants to put it together. It's really simple to tape together paper ripped in pieces, but not if it's submerged in liquid. That is a different level of difficulty, like stage 9 in Tetris.
Wouldn't it be hysterical if they went through all that trouble to steal my identity and then get denied for credit. HA!
All I am doing is making sure that we don't obtain any more credit cards, to go out and buy more crap that we don't need and Mike D will ultimately break. I was not meant to have nice things, and here I am 9 credit cards later, learning that very expensive lesson.
On Sunday night, I am sitting on the sofa and ask my husband about our debt. I wonder if I will ever go to prison for owing the wrong person, I read in the paper that collection agencies are now stalking you on facebook. Why the hell would I want to be friends with them, choose your friends wisely people. Oh and they don't just stalk you, they send messages to your friends about your bills. Holy Shit. But all my friends know I am broke and borrowing, no worries.
He pulls up my name on the internet on the laptop to see if I have a lien or some court bullshit that I owe and don't know about, you know the surprise bills.
He didn't find any, but he did manage to find one little piece of useful information.
Apparently when I married my husband almost ten years ago, some idiot (at least to me, a miracle worker to my husband) entered the wrong name. My husband's name is Gordon, and his last name is American. I know that I would never marry a Gordon, how do you scream to that, it's not cute to say Gordonito, too many syllables, shortening it to Gordo would just be offensive.
My husband wondered if there was someone else with my name, when we clicked the attachment, the papers were there, signed and dated, the name was definitely my husband's, but in the system, on record and in the computer, it was Gordon.
My husband jumps up off the sofa and goes into dance, he begins to sing the lyrics of U2's "It's a Beautiful Day" tells me it's not a mistake, to go find Gordon, he's got 3 kids to take care of.
I have heard it all since his discovery, I am living in sin, I am not his wife, I should learn to cook better to get myself a man. Giving him any orders, or requests have now become bribery a la college-slut style, it's asking him for something, and what will I do for it? Like I need the answers to an upcoming test, I don't need him to pick up socks that badly, back in the drawer they go, again.
Oh and now that he is single, he has plans for the weekend, apparently a one-night stand with a single mom of three kids.
We have definitely had fun with this revelation, telling my dad was a little different, he insisted that I immediately call the courts and have them fix it, like it's made any difference up until now.
He didn't find any amusement in it at all. "That was just some comemierda that made the mistake, they have to fix it." My husband and I hold our laughter, but not for long.
So now I must continue to avoid the credit offers, fix my husband's status and get his ass married, and maybe look up Gordon and check out the assets there before I make any drastic moves.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Escaped Again
I know that burglar bars aren't really "in style" anymore. I also know that they are supposed to keep the bad guys "out" of the house. My problem is keeping my bad guy "in" it.
I don't have the stupid habit of locking the door behind me, I don't, I should, I will now.
Saturday morning 7 AM, the house is still, The Office reruns are running on the television, my husband is sitting on the sofa in a daze waiting for the coffee. I know us woman don't know this, but apparently a man can sit on the sofa and the coffee magically makes itself, what he doesn't know is that I do have to rinse the pot, I do have to fill it, the coffee grains, filter, all that shit. Tinkerbell doesn't fly around any make stuff happen with a wand, it's my wifely duty. So he sits and waits.
I put the gears in motion and wait for the caffeinated drink to erupt from the machine. As I wait, I go outside to get the paper. Walk back into the house, set the paper on the coffee table, and grab the coffee. In his cup goes straight whole milk, the half and half is for she-who-preps-the-coffee, not for he-who-waits. I am not a morning person, and in my mind I think to myself, "That'll teach 'em."
The bread-winner gets all gussied up for work and by this time Mike D has taken over the remote. He is also a grumpy goose. The money maker walks out the side door and I sit with Mike watching annoying characters dance around, Mike smiles and laughs, all is well.
My laundry hamper has reached mountain proportions, we are talking overlapping the hamper limit, flowing over the back, and now clothes is being stuffed between the towels on my towel rack, because apparently the laundry also does it's fucking self. I hate housework, and laundry more.
I walk outside with the load in my arms smelling like an armpit from the trenches of a jungle and I stuff it into the machine, like teenagers stuff their bras and tighty whiteys (well they do) I pour the liquid and turn around to go back in, I notice weeds everywhere, again. I bend over and pull one weed, pull another, Mike D walks out to me.
I pick him up and go inside, prep his bottle and sit him on the man-sofa. I go back outside to my weeding.
After about 15 minutes I go in to check on the boys and get a drink, as I walk up the stairs to the kitchen, I find the front door wide open. I scream "Michael" in one breath. Frantically I run outside, no shoes, no bra, no mind, just pajamas. I go up to the edge of the porch and scream again, looking to the side of the house, by the garbage canister, nothing.
I run into the house and check all the rooms, closets, under the covers, I have been through this before. "Diego, I can't find Michael, help me look, check all the rooms again, NOW!"
I run outside to the middle of the street, looking both ways, the road seems to go on forever.
Two young men doing lawn work a couple of houses down come out from the back, they see me running aimlessly, my hair in my hands, almost like I could think better by yanking at the strands. They point across the street, and there sitting on the porch chair is Michael.
I run up to the house (he has actually chosen to settle himself into the meth house from the block, where parties never end, music never dies, drugs run wild and liquor runs deep, yes the house I want to visit, he beat me to it) in his hand is a Styrofoam cup, I grab it, empty. I smell it, nothing, he probably drank a cigarette like Snooki from Jersey Shore, the cup has no hints of alcohol, or even soda. I knock on the door, waiting for a hangover zombie to open the door and lead me to the dark side. No one answered. I walked out to the young men and thanked them.
They told me he was playing with the cups and they noticed him but didn't know where he came from, they noticed him alone and watched him.
The only thing he didn't do was light up the cigarettes sitting in front of him or roll up a joint, but give him time. I walked into the house, my face streaked with tears or sweat, I can't tell.
The weeds have lost their priority, for all I care the house could be covered by vines and uprooted by the massive oak tree out front, turning it into a tree house.
I am breathing deeply, the anxiety or panic attack, pick your word, comes tearing down my walls, I take a Xanax and set the tv back on for him, I glide the sofa, yes the big sofa people sit in to guard the door, now I am boarded up and he can't get out, he plays with the knobs of the window and leads me to believe, he just may climb out of there, I get the laptop, forget the laundry and for the next 6 hours watch over him like a hawk.
Alot of things could have happened, but this is how my weekend started. I haven't been able to blog or do much, guilt consumed my every thought, my every movement. I have learned to unhitch the doorknob, ghetto style, assuring that he cant get out. If God forbid a fire breaks out, the kids will just have to break a window. Which they did in their room, the only thing holding it together is tint put in place by the previous demented owner of this hell hole. Can you believe they actually tinted the windows purple. G-H-E-T-T-O fabulous, or Cubaniche style, one or the other, same difference.
Either way, my life is changing leaps and bounds with this hellion, and the only thing I can control is....ok so I have no control of much, but it gives me lots to blog about, it's been a hell of a weekend my friends. More to come.
I don't have the stupid habit of locking the door behind me, I don't, I should, I will now.
Saturday morning 7 AM, the house is still, The Office reruns are running on the television, my husband is sitting on the sofa in a daze waiting for the coffee. I know us woman don't know this, but apparently a man can sit on the sofa and the coffee magically makes itself, what he doesn't know is that I do have to rinse the pot, I do have to fill it, the coffee grains, filter, all that shit. Tinkerbell doesn't fly around any make stuff happen with a wand, it's my wifely duty. So he sits and waits.
I put the gears in motion and wait for the caffeinated drink to erupt from the machine. As I wait, I go outside to get the paper. Walk back into the house, set the paper on the coffee table, and grab the coffee. In his cup goes straight whole milk, the half and half is for she-who-preps-the-coffee, not for he-who-waits. I am not a morning person, and in my mind I think to myself, "That'll teach 'em."
The bread-winner gets all gussied up for work and by this time Mike D has taken over the remote. He is also a grumpy goose. The money maker walks out the side door and I sit with Mike watching annoying characters dance around, Mike smiles and laughs, all is well.
My laundry hamper has reached mountain proportions, we are talking overlapping the hamper limit, flowing over the back, and now clothes is being stuffed between the towels on my towel rack, because apparently the laundry also does it's fucking self. I hate housework, and laundry more.
I walk outside with the load in my arms smelling like an armpit from the trenches of a jungle and I stuff it into the machine, like teenagers stuff their bras and tighty whiteys (well they do) I pour the liquid and turn around to go back in, I notice weeds everywhere, again. I bend over and pull one weed, pull another, Mike D walks out to me.
I pick him up and go inside, prep his bottle and sit him on the man-sofa. I go back outside to my weeding.
After about 15 minutes I go in to check on the boys and get a drink, as I walk up the stairs to the kitchen, I find the front door wide open. I scream "Michael" in one breath. Frantically I run outside, no shoes, no bra, no mind, just pajamas. I go up to the edge of the porch and scream again, looking to the side of the house, by the garbage canister, nothing.
I run into the house and check all the rooms, closets, under the covers, I have been through this before. "Diego, I can't find Michael, help me look, check all the rooms again, NOW!"
I run outside to the middle of the street, looking both ways, the road seems to go on forever.
Two young men doing lawn work a couple of houses down come out from the back, they see me running aimlessly, my hair in my hands, almost like I could think better by yanking at the strands. They point across the street, and there sitting on the porch chair is Michael.
I run up to the house (he has actually chosen to settle himself into the meth house from the block, where parties never end, music never dies, drugs run wild and liquor runs deep, yes the house I want to visit, he beat me to it) in his hand is a Styrofoam cup, I grab it, empty. I smell it, nothing, he probably drank a cigarette like Snooki from Jersey Shore, the cup has no hints of alcohol, or even soda. I knock on the door, waiting for a hangover zombie to open the door and lead me to the dark side. No one answered. I walked out to the young men and thanked them.
They told me he was playing with the cups and they noticed him but didn't know where he came from, they noticed him alone and watched him.
The only thing he didn't do was light up the cigarettes sitting in front of him or roll up a joint, but give him time. I walked into the house, my face streaked with tears or sweat, I can't tell.
The weeds have lost their priority, for all I care the house could be covered by vines and uprooted by the massive oak tree out front, turning it into a tree house.
I am breathing deeply, the anxiety or panic attack, pick your word, comes tearing down my walls, I take a Xanax and set the tv back on for him, I glide the sofa, yes the big sofa people sit in to guard the door, now I am boarded up and he can't get out, he plays with the knobs of the window and leads me to believe, he just may climb out of there, I get the laptop, forget the laundry and for the next 6 hours watch over him like a hawk.
Alot of things could have happened, but this is how my weekend started. I haven't been able to blog or do much, guilt consumed my every thought, my every movement. I have learned to unhitch the doorknob, ghetto style, assuring that he cant get out. If God forbid a fire breaks out, the kids will just have to break a window. Which they did in their room, the only thing holding it together is tint put in place by the previous demented owner of this hell hole. Can you believe they actually tinted the windows purple. G-H-E-T-T-O fabulous, or Cubaniche style, one or the other, same difference.
Either way, my life is changing leaps and bounds with this hellion, and the only thing I can control is....ok so I have no control of much, but it gives me lots to blog about, it's been a hell of a weekend my friends. More to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)