I sit atop my pedestal as I read another novel;
And listen as red and blue sirens pass the storefront.
An ambulance going to pick up a victim,
Or perform CPR,
Or rescue a cat from a tree.
And I wonder about whether the next door
Funeral home director is sitting in her chair,
Her gelatinous proportions too large for the
Mere man-made chair she's squeezed into.
Listening to those sirens;
An orgasmic chill runs down her plotting spine
And evily taps her fingers
And looks up at the ceiling and gives a
Slow smile.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Mouth
What's the matter with
Solitary coffeeshop visits and
Reading books in the corner?
Is it taboo to take a few seconds
To gaze a little longer or
Smile a little brighter?
What's wrong with loving
and then leaving
and loving back again?
Why can't you feel the person's
presence, but not say a word
Afraid you'll scare them away?
We all have those days, where
we had no idea, our foot could
fit so perfectly in our mouth.
Solitary coffeeshop visits and
Reading books in the corner?
Is it taboo to take a few seconds
To gaze a little longer or
Smile a little brighter?
What's wrong with loving
and then leaving
and loving back again?
Why can't you feel the person's
presence, but not say a word
Afraid you'll scare them away?
We all have those days, where
we had no idea, our foot could
fit so perfectly in our mouth.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Being the Rhinoceros
I woke up today with a scratchy throat. And watery eyes. What is this? This is weird.
While taking a shower, I sneezed. Three times consecutively which on any other occasion would be a novelty to me because I still believe the superstition that that indicates someone is thinking about me. But I was overcome with lightheadedness and the sheer force of the triplet sneezes made my nose a bit red and swollen, I couldn't even take pleasure in the thought of it. I couldn't even finish washing the conditioner out of my hair because I began getting the chills, I had to step out of the shower immediately. Great, I thought, now I'll have flat hair all day. Geez.
While pulling on my jeans and Rolling Stones t-shirt, I pondered my predicament. It's the middle of spring. I suppose allergies could be the culprit--but, I don't get allergies, stupid. Is it normal to just get it all of a sudden? And does it really make you have a sore throat and chills (and paranoia to the point of me talking nonstop in my head)? Questionable.
While searching the web for various sites on the topic, and spending a good thirty minutes reading related articles on WebMD, I diagnosed myself as having allergic rhinitis or more commonly coined as hay fever. But I prefer the more formal name--it makes me sorta think that I am a rhinoceros. Hay fever just makes me feel like I got hay stuck up my nose which is not as fascinating. For a second I thought I had the West Nile Fever stuff that's been freaking everyone out ever since allergy season started. But I rationalized I wasn't fortunate enough to get something that drastic.
So anyhow, I muster up the courage to go to work. It ends up being a normal day other than the incessant sneezing and coughing. I feel guilty everytime I have to hand people their change wondering how many diseases I've transferred to them. I'm a big ball of germs. I play with the idea of maybe wearing latex gloves but I don't like how my fingers feel floury in them. Or maybe wearing a sign around my neck that says "DON'T TOUCH ME." Or using tongs to give them their change back and tweezers for the smaller coins. Would that be too weird? Think about it for a second and imagine how much cleaner us humans would be if we did that...come on...admit that you sorta like the idea.
Half of the day is almost over and I'm enjoying a cup of tea when a frazzled looking customer walks through the plexi-glass doors. I can tell he's not going to buy anything. He's about middle-aged, white with dusty blonde hair that hasn't been washed in days. I wondered what bridge he must have slept under last night.
"I'm sorry to bother you but my car is stalled out there and I need some gas, can you spare any money?"
I hated these types. Losers who think just because you work at a store you have a bronze pot of money under your seat that says "In case of losers who need gas money."
I looked out the door and saw no car. And he had no keys on him.
I stared at him blankly and twitched my nose. If I had hidden witch powers, this would be a great time for them to be realized. I would like to turn this bum into a cockaroach or maybe a dust bunny.
"Sorry, I can't do that." I take a sip of my tea and wait for his reply.
"Come on, just a couple of bucks. I have to get home to my wife and kids. They're waiting on me. I really need your help."
I grimaced at the statement of him having a family. This guy had no wedding ring. And if he really was a father, I felt sorry for the bad fortune of having such a loser as a father. If he had said, "Come on, I need money to get hopped up on heroine and then crash out on a matress covered with empty beer bottles..." I would have beleived that and maybe have given him a quarter. But then again, it was hard beleiving anything coming out of his mouth because of his dirty cut-off shorts, long ape-ish leg hairs contrasting against his pasty calves, and his pungent stench of slim jims.
I got off of my stool irritated and tired. This conversationw as draining me. I looked at him face to face and said, "Sir, I--I--I--ACHOOOO"
And there it was.
My sneeze all over his face.
It was quite disgusting but so entertaining. I watched his face contort into a twisted ball of shock. As the realization seeped into him, he shivered and slowly began to walk away. I watched as he walked out the door, paused, wiped his face on his already dirty shirt and walk off into the distance.
Well, that took care of that.
Having allergic rhinitis sure comes in handy when you need it to, I tell ya what.
While taking a shower, I sneezed. Three times consecutively which on any other occasion would be a novelty to me because I still believe the superstition that that indicates someone is thinking about me. But I was overcome with lightheadedness and the sheer force of the triplet sneezes made my nose a bit red and swollen, I couldn't even take pleasure in the thought of it. I couldn't even finish washing the conditioner out of my hair because I began getting the chills, I had to step out of the shower immediately. Great, I thought, now I'll have flat hair all day. Geez.
While pulling on my jeans and Rolling Stones t-shirt, I pondered my predicament. It's the middle of spring. I suppose allergies could be the culprit--but, I don't get allergies, stupid. Is it normal to just get it all of a sudden? And does it really make you have a sore throat and chills (and paranoia to the point of me talking nonstop in my head)? Questionable.
While searching the web for various sites on the topic, and spending a good thirty minutes reading related articles on WebMD, I diagnosed myself as having allergic rhinitis or more commonly coined as hay fever. But I prefer the more formal name--it makes me sorta think that I am a rhinoceros. Hay fever just makes me feel like I got hay stuck up my nose which is not as fascinating. For a second I thought I had the West Nile Fever stuff that's been freaking everyone out ever since allergy season started. But I rationalized I wasn't fortunate enough to get something that drastic.
So anyhow, I muster up the courage to go to work. It ends up being a normal day other than the incessant sneezing and coughing. I feel guilty everytime I have to hand people their change wondering how many diseases I've transferred to them. I'm a big ball of germs. I play with the idea of maybe wearing latex gloves but I don't like how my fingers feel floury in them. Or maybe wearing a sign around my neck that says "DON'T TOUCH ME." Or using tongs to give them their change back and tweezers for the smaller coins. Would that be too weird? Think about it for a second and imagine how much cleaner us humans would be if we did that...come on...admit that you sorta like the idea.
Half of the day is almost over and I'm enjoying a cup of tea when a frazzled looking customer walks through the plexi-glass doors. I can tell he's not going to buy anything. He's about middle-aged, white with dusty blonde hair that hasn't been washed in days. I wondered what bridge he must have slept under last night.
"I'm sorry to bother you but my car is stalled out there and I need some gas, can you spare any money?"
I hated these types. Losers who think just because you work at a store you have a bronze pot of money under your seat that says "In case of losers who need gas money."
I looked out the door and saw no car. And he had no keys on him.
I stared at him blankly and twitched my nose. If I had hidden witch powers, this would be a great time for them to be realized. I would like to turn this bum into a cockaroach or maybe a dust bunny.
"Sorry, I can't do that." I take a sip of my tea and wait for his reply.
"Come on, just a couple of bucks. I have to get home to my wife and kids. They're waiting on me. I really need your help."
I grimaced at the statement of him having a family. This guy had no wedding ring. And if he really was a father, I felt sorry for the bad fortune of having such a loser as a father. If he had said, "Come on, I need money to get hopped up on heroine and then crash out on a matress covered with empty beer bottles..." I would have beleived that and maybe have given him a quarter. But then again, it was hard beleiving anything coming out of his mouth because of his dirty cut-off shorts, long ape-ish leg hairs contrasting against his pasty calves, and his pungent stench of slim jims.
I got off of my stool irritated and tired. This conversationw as draining me. I looked at him face to face and said, "Sir, I--I--I--ACHOOOO"
And there it was.
My sneeze all over his face.
It was quite disgusting but so entertaining. I watched his face contort into a twisted ball of shock. As the realization seeped into him, he shivered and slowly began to walk away. I watched as he walked out the door, paused, wiped his face on his already dirty shirt and walk off into the distance.
Well, that took care of that.
Having allergic rhinitis sure comes in handy when you need it to, I tell ya what.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Daddy's Little Girl
My father thinks that I'm a lesbian....but I can't be quite sure.
I'm not though. I'm not, though? (Raised eyebrow...) Confused, I guess...no..no Questionable...curious....but anyhow...
We haven't talked about it face to face. Just little hints and vibes I get from him. Like curious sideways glances as if trying to probe my psyche or quick headshakes of frustration...
The thought of it sorta makes me laugh and want to help the charade along by maybe buying more guy shirts and cutting my hair shorter than it already is. Or maybe putting K.D. Lang's picture as my desktop. (Genius!) But then I don't want him to have a heart attack...or a broken one at that.
It started when I began working at our family store. My days were perfectly scheduled to make time go by faster and just be more efficient. Get in at 10:30 A.M. Restock the scratch-off tickets, put out the latest results, change the lotto jackpot sign. 11:00A.M. stock the soda machines and chip racks. 12:00-1:30 p.m. take care of the lunch rush and Pick 3 rush. 1:30 p.m.-3 p.m. miscellaneous dusting and stocking.
And then the time of day when the sun seems to shine a bit brighter....3 p.M. watch the Ellen Degeneres Show. She's funny and it makes me smile. My dad noticed my little afternoon pick-me-up and even began watching it with me. He thinks she's amusing in a weird androgynous sorta way, i guess. Whenever the signal would fade on and off for that channel, he'd hurry to the roof to correct the fuzziness. He's a sweetheart and it was good doing something we both could share and enjoy.
But then word got out about her homosexuality somehow. The cat was out of the bag. I dunno...maybe he was watching news or something and a blip about her new mistress bubbled up to the headlines. Or one day while standing in the grocery line he saw a tabloid headline...something about how Ellen prefers smaller chested women with blonde hair over a slim waist and big feet...those darn tabloids..! Or the article about how curiously similar Ellen and Owen Wilson look...that darn Owen Wilson...god bless 'em. Anyhow, Dad was talking to my little sister and my little sister reported back to me, "Annie, Dad says Ellen is nasty because she likes girls."
He never joined me in watching Ellen's show ever again.
Which was fine. I could be a solitary spectator. But I had to admit--I missed him.
But then there was the night I was online and I just so happened to be in the market for some new undergarments and was perusing through the Victoria Secret website (which is a horribly, non-user friendly site) and I didn't notice my father behind me watching television while simultaneously glancing in my direction with a confused look on his face wondering why his daughter was so staunchly concentrated at looking at the skimpily clad models on my screen.
That night I heard my father's exasperated voice question to my mother, "Do lesbians run on your side of the family?"
I'm not though. I'm not, though? (Raised eyebrow...) Confused, I guess...no..no Questionable...curious....but anyhow...
We haven't talked about it face to face. Just little hints and vibes I get from him. Like curious sideways glances as if trying to probe my psyche or quick headshakes of frustration...
The thought of it sorta makes me laugh and want to help the charade along by maybe buying more guy shirts and cutting my hair shorter than it already is. Or maybe putting K.D. Lang's picture as my desktop. (Genius!) But then I don't want him to have a heart attack...or a broken one at that.
It started when I began working at our family store. My days were perfectly scheduled to make time go by faster and just be more efficient. Get in at 10:30 A.M. Restock the scratch-off tickets, put out the latest results, change the lotto jackpot sign. 11:00A.M. stock the soda machines and chip racks. 12:00-1:30 p.m. take care of the lunch rush and Pick 3 rush. 1:30 p.m.-3 p.m. miscellaneous dusting and stocking.
And then the time of day when the sun seems to shine a bit brighter....3 p.M. watch the Ellen Degeneres Show. She's funny and it makes me smile. My dad noticed my little afternoon pick-me-up and even began watching it with me. He thinks she's amusing in a weird androgynous sorta way, i guess. Whenever the signal would fade on and off for that channel, he'd hurry to the roof to correct the fuzziness. He's a sweetheart and it was good doing something we both could share and enjoy.
But then word got out about her homosexuality somehow. The cat was out of the bag. I dunno...maybe he was watching news or something and a blip about her new mistress bubbled up to the headlines. Or one day while standing in the grocery line he saw a tabloid headline...something about how Ellen prefers smaller chested women with blonde hair over a slim waist and big feet...those darn tabloids..! Or the article about how curiously similar Ellen and Owen Wilson look...that darn Owen Wilson...god bless 'em. Anyhow, Dad was talking to my little sister and my little sister reported back to me, "Annie, Dad says Ellen is nasty because she likes girls."
He never joined me in watching Ellen's show ever again.
Which was fine. I could be a solitary spectator. But I had to admit--I missed him.
But then there was the night I was online and I just so happened to be in the market for some new undergarments and was perusing through the Victoria Secret website (which is a horribly, non-user friendly site) and I didn't notice my father behind me watching television while simultaneously glancing in my direction with a confused look on his face wondering why his daughter was so staunchly concentrated at looking at the skimpily clad models on my screen.
That night I heard my father's exasperated voice question to my mother, "Do lesbians run on your side of the family?"
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