SHE'S A LIFESAVER

I HAD FORGOTTEN. CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.



happy weekend





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AIRE: SHE PLAYS BEAUTIFULLY

when she went to work, when her feet took her there, it was all autopilot, she didn't need to think. the dangerous stretch of sidewalk that butted up against the raging traffic full of people raging about their lives inside their cars before the beach walkway was part of this trance. despite the fact that the hat completely covered her face, she went along, she ambled, she somehow negotiated the dangerous track each time without incident. there was no time for incidents, injury was certain, she was late and would have to explain herself to Abdiel. she hated unnecessary talking.

a hop skip and a jump through the brick library elevator that served to lift both books and people up and down, and she was there at her morning station. she loved it, it was situated at a far corner of the library where the broken water fountains were, no one came there anymore. she could get away with things her co-workers could not, she was for instance out of view of the cameras. she was the only worker who had a huge comfortable rolling exercise fitness yoga ball as her workstation chair, she hid it with her butt when she was working and rolled it under her desk when the day was done. her desk was strewn with all manner of dog paraphernalia, knicks and knacks and collars and bones both for teeth and of milk. her one framed standee photo was of a dog, not Firstee but the dog that came with the frame who looked like Firstee, and Lassie.

Abdiel happened upon her. he was eating a vanilla ice cream cone.

"WANT ME?, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK"

Abdiel: no, Jil, what for?

Jil: i'm minutes late.

Abdiel laughed out loud with a half-laugh and dripped his ice cream cone everywhere on his mouth and the library carpet.

Abdiel: you are funny, Jil, you should talk more.

Abdiel took off Jil's hat before she noticed.

Abdiel: i will ask you to take off the hat each time, though. it's company policy....(pause with a half-smirk)........i really want the guests to see your pretty face, it will drum up business. wow, your hair is so luscious and i'm sure you haven't washed it in forever.

Jil: forgot the last time.

Abdiel: you don't have to try so hard to prove you're an artist. besides, it's fruitless, no matter how hard you try, you'll always be a beautiful woman with perfect hair that the others are not jealous of but happy for you. i suppose you not acknowledging that makes you even more beautiful. it's a losing game, you might as well embrace it, it's a fact whether or not you admit it. the town loves you, the town just loves you.

Jil: where's my hat?

woman: excuse me, i'm ready to check out.

Abdiel ignored the woman and continued facing Jil and hanging off her workstation. he then realized his point was made. the air was starting to get stale. he hated that. he blew Jil a half-smile and sauntered away, past the woman, ignoring everything and everyone until he reached his own workstation plastered with posters of hot Hollywood babes.

Jil punched up Instagram on her computer. her favorite person she followed was also Abdiel's but for different reasons: Lilienthal, nicknamed Lozzo, an actress who was the current co-star of the global sci-fi phenomenon tv show at the moment. Jil felt so blessed that Lozzo counted her among her 28 million unknown followers, she hadn't blocked Jil yet. Abdiel had been blocked. each day Jil checked out Lozzo's insta for her latest pics and liked each one, i mean, it was Lozzo, what was there not to like, of course she would always produce a fine picture of whatever. sure, Lozzo's selfies got a bit excessive, Jil appreciated the artistic pics more, but it was Lozzo, Lozzo was drop-dead gorgeous and shiny.

Jil called Abdiel on the landline cream phone.

Jil: have you seen her latest instapic?

Abdiel: are you making fun of me? maybe we should cut down on the chatter, this is a library after all.

Jil: Lozzo is sticking her tongue out at her fans on the set of the latest episode. that is ingenious.

Abdiel: hilarious the first time, stale air now. why are you torturing me with this?

Jil: you can always come over to my computer to see her again. why did you get blocked?

Abdiel: i played the game everyone online plays, i typed in the comments of her pics how i thought she was a insert bad name here.

Jil: why? don't you like her?

Abdiel: i'm indifferent. it's to get her attention. you have to insult first, then when the celeb gets hooked by your bait, you ease them out of it, type furiously, comment back how you were just kidding the whole time, she's not really a talentless bitch fame whore, that in fact you are her number 1 fan, and you go from asshole troll to creepy stalker. ain't the internet grand?

Jil: that seems like such a waste of time and space, and a soulless way to live. you should always represent your best self online whenever the opportunity presents itself, show who you are to online strangers with your words, they are all you've got to represent yourself with. i liked her four new pics today...

Abdiel: all in a day's work. wanna grab an early lunch with me?

Jil: not until the best part.

Jil's real work was as a comment writer under instapics. she was a librarian second. Jil would think for a moment but only for a moment, she was quick with the quip and reply, she could riff off anyone's clever comment instantly, she could see an ironic pic and pick up on the pic's irony instantly and provide the perfect rejoinder that was equally as clever. the guests would marvel at Jil's hands on her keyboard, they were so graceful as she would glide her fingers from one end of the keyboard to the other, she was playing an aire on her piano, no, an entire symphony. when she typed on the computer, she was playing her piano back home in private, and it was private, her private thoughts to her celebrity crush, but it wasn't private, for the entire library witnessed her performance, the tapping of the keys, the clicks all arranged and lined up and sounding one after the other in unison to form the bridge then the verse then the bridge again then the chorus. at the end of Jil's thoughts came the applause from the gallery, in golf claps.

Jil: i added a Sartre quote to Lozzo's pic of her in the tunnel with the caption NO EXIT. i commented on Nietzsche's big forehead on her pic where she's on her knees kissing her debonair leading man and the caption reads GOOD HEAD. i think my in-depth analysis of real fame vs. internet fame on her third pic will be appreciated by her, if she ever sees it through the thousands of other comments. i wish Instagram didn't have a character-count limit, i'd write her a novel. i could also tell her what i really want to tell her through clever hashtags, but there's a hashtag limit as well.

Jil scrolled down and saw a photo of a token. the caption underneath it read:

this is my one-month's sobriety token. i am so grateful to have you in my life, my Instagram friends, please like this pic so i know you're out there. i'm lonely, it gets lonely sometimes, this is so hard, i want a sip so badly, but then i think of all my support out there and i bite my lip. i do this for you guys, i stay strong for you. God bless, stay safe, you are in my heart.

the pic had no comments underneath it and only one like, hers, the author of the token pic. Jil scrolled past it to look at the next pic but she returned to the token pic seconds later and looked at it again and read the caption again. lunch was in a few hours.

TO BE CONTINUED...  



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TMIT: WHO

it's hottest when it's interspecies.

1. think about having sex with your lover. what's the first image that came to your mind? i'm working on this, i've been selfish in the past, i used to think about that website The Art of Blowjob, but ever since i went to that conference i'm reading articles like Make Love Not Porn.

2. what is the most memorable thing you or your partner said immediately after sex? we made it past a minute!

3. a body part of yours is to be shown on a huge billboard in the heart of town. punishment? reward? unclear. which body part do you choose? i show some skin, it's my largest organ.

4. you are about to lose your power of speech, what's the one thing you tell someone before that happens? olive juice. i mouth the words olive juice to her...

5. you are stricken with a disorder in which you blurt out the same single phrase every time you orgasm. what is this phrase? oh God, get me to a doctor, i blurt out this same single phrase every time i orgasm.

bonus: if you had to make out with a friend (same or opposite sex) to save the world from mass destruction, whom would you pick? okay, so he can't be imaginary, right? then i'd choose the only friend who has lasted with me this long since we were kids, my one and only BFF, the Italian guy, the one who moved to Italy, or maybe he's moved back here now, i hope that's the case, we lost touch. one thing's for sure, i do love the guy.

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DOOR PORN

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BE SURE TO ENABLE THE SUBTITLES!




happy weekend :)




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AIRE: SHE WEARS THE CROOKED HAT

she lived on that patch of isle far enough removed from the annoying filled streets but close enough to be able to walk the unspoiled part of the beach to the brick library. her house was always complimented upon by the tourists but especially by the locals during the summer when the red poppies would bloom in the patch of land between her rusty car and the cobblestone driveway. oh how they marveled at the rich, sobering beauty of those poppies, the red which spoke of past trials, their fingers shook as they tried to capture the perfect angle with their clumsy ipad minis. blue forget-me-nots spoke of blue times during the winter. the gardeners did all the work, not her, she never talked to the gardeners when they did their secret work, she was always asleep. she never talked to her neighbors or to anyone in the community unless it was an absolute necessity to continue moving, that was why she was so liked in the community. part of it was curiosity as to her thoughts and stances on things, the other half appreciated the quiet in a world of everlasting noise. the locals named her house Still Waters, for they were sure still waters ran deep in her case. she didn't give her house a name, it wasn't home to her.

the alarm rang at 7 and

THIS PLAYED ON THE RADIO, ANTICIPATING HER NIGHT THE PREVIOUS NIGHT AND THE ONE TONIGHT, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

she tossed and turned trying to remember a dream to analyze, but before she could blink, her pen fell from her hand and onto the green notebook on the floor and she dozed off again. she regained awareness again at 7:30. she hated that. it happened every time, her body could never quite get up at 7, it always needed an extra 30 to fully recover. her body was teasing her.

no time for a shower and only time for a quick banana. at the kitchen, the howls began, the plaintive howls of a poor soul left alone while their owners played. it sounded again, the howl, the howls which entered her mind and festered there as a constant reminder, erasing any silly dream analysis, this was real life, a real-life problem that wailed for a solution, real life is what matters, not dreams.

"oh how i love that dog, that poor dog, always left alone, he's so lonely, he doesn't know i'm here right next door to him," she said to herself as she peeled an orange, "i wish that dog was mine, i'd take care of him better than those people."

there was a reason why she never spoke to her neighbors.

with the orange in her gob, she left the trap of her enclosure and went outside into the searing heat. she opened the first gate and then the second and made her way to the fence separating the two properties. the fence had a gaping opening where the slit used to be, and the dog was handsomely sticking his nose through it. it was cute not just cos of that but because the dog wasn't really stuck or anything, the opening of the empty slit was big enough that he could fit himself through and enter her backyard. it was as if the dog was testing her, seeing what she was all about first, she had to earn his trust, but he was willing and curious like a cat, and anyone was better than his owners.

she approached the pooch lovingly and petted his wet nose. so desperate was the dog for attention he nibbled her fingers up and down, slobbering his heavy tongue all over her newly-cut fingernails and fingers, whimpering and half-barking and almost eating her fingers like they were candy dog bones.

"there, there, my precious pet," she comforted, "you can visit me anytime you like, go on, run free in my backyard, it's big enough to get some exercise but not too big that you'll get lost and lonely again. know that i am always here, right here next door, to help you through your dry spells and howling fits, i am here to relax you and guide you, aid you through this troubling life, i love you more than anyone else, more than myself, more than life itself!"

she pressed her face against the animal's, which he found rather curious but continued licking and caking with his spit. she reverted to animal form, laying there on her back, rolling over, not caring whether she dirtied her skirt, aware in the moment, not thinking about today or tomorrow in the world outside her house. but that glass moment passed as all moments do, and with a heavy sigh, she returned to the schedule that was placed on her, the burden she never asked for.

there was only 5 minutes left.

"damn. if only i could capture those 30 minutes in the morning. i hate feeling rushed, i need time to think and plan my responses."

but she decided there was just enough time to soothe the dog with a short passage on the piano. the piano room was conveniently located just off the location of the fence opening, so opening the window would allow the pooch to hear anything played fairly well. dogs had great hearing anyway. she tickled those ivories with love and compassion, it was short but sweet, and the lovely melody swallowed up the surrounding air, connecting man and machine and man's best friend for another glorious glass moment. the flowers in the front even swayed at the sound. this time, the dog howled out of pleasure, he was adding his dulcet tones to the overall melody.

she was so happy at this vignette playing out, at the concept of it, her big beaming radiant smile forced her to go back outside and pet the pooch again.

"oh my beautiful bae, my furry friend, my bestest, my Firstie, you look like Lassie but you are the first and the best, i'll be right back after work, Firstie, i promise."

she scratched under Firstie's chin and patted his patches. his fur was a palette of brown and black and beige and white patches. Patchy would have been too ordinary a name, though, too much of a mutt's name, he was too good for that, too regal, he needed a name at least on par with someone noble like Lassie.

she couldn't move as the moment ended, she tried to break through the glass but couldn't, she was stuck in invisible mud, in a sand trap of her body's doing. she couldn't muster up enough strength to take the next steps to the second gate then the first gate then the inside entrance then across the hall past the piano room and the brand-new laptop computer still with the packing wrapping on it to the front entrance, to the cobblestone driveway and along the beach walkway to her job. she couldn't move. her body was willing but her spirit was not having it. she froze there stuck in time. depression was one thing, but this was immovability.

a few dog barks snapped her out of the coma, but she was still in a trance. she hazily forced one foot in front of the other until she found herself by the hat rack near the front door. she touched her white hat and the dream state lifted. she chose the only hat on the rack, a white hat the kind you see on Kentucky Derby Saturday. not as fancy as a fascinator, but enough of a hat to be fashionable and fascinating, fashionating. she plopped it on her head and turned it the wrong angle. instead of having it be mysterious by turning the hat to the left and down so only her lips and not her eyes would be visible, she turned it the opposite direction down so it literally covered her entire face. it was a miracle she could see where she was going right in front of her. dangerous, too, the walkway on the beach does make a detour into the traffic of the streets at some point, you have to traverse those sidewalks carefully.

"damn. i'm already late. i hate being late. it means i have to talk to explain myself."

TO BE CONTINUED...

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TMIT: THE PERFECT DATE

"you are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug..."---Trent Reznor in "The Perfect Drug" and when he's at the drug store.

guys, i'm planning the perfect date with my special someone, my perfect drug. no, not Hell Dust, YOU, yes you, my girlfriend. i'm willing to do everything and go everywhere in one day, i have my schedule cleared of busywork just for this one day, so let's get it.

for each of the following, imagine a new place has opened up on your block. tell us whether or not you would attend, and would you go alone, with friends of the same gender, or with your significant other/lover:

1. sports bar: with my girlfriend and a bunch of guy friends, she says she loves them, but only if they show tennis, specifically that match between Sampras and Federer at Wimbledon that seemed to form an invisible link between the two eras. do not show any French Open finals except that one with Soderling and Fed's tears. Fed's tears cure cancer.

2. brew pub/beer hall: with my girlfriend and a bunch of her girlfriends, i love them all. i've never been to a bonafide authentic pub, i want to ring that little bell when the home team gets one in the back of the ol' onion bag. Tommy Smyth just left with all of my girlfriend's girlfriends...

3. wine festival: alone. i don't do alcohol, i just want to stomp the grapes barefoot the way Lucy did on I Love Lucy.

4. tanning salon: i'm goth...

5. sex/kink event: i'm not into all that fetish stuff at all. my already-skinny legs would look ridiculous in leather pants. however, i wouldn't mind going with my girlfriend to one of these things to get inspired with new ideas for future use in our bed, and of course the inevitable run-in with your high-school religion teacher whipping her new boy toy.

6. strip club: alone. that's not weird or anything, is it?

7. sex toy store: with my high-school religion teacher, she wants to buy a new whip, her old one is worn out.

8. upscale spa: by upscale, do you mean there are two sets of jets in the jacuzzi, one for relaxing in and one for that other thing?

9. adult sex education conference: alone. i want to study hard, ace the final exam, and surprise my girlfriend in the bedroom and when we talk afterwards, showing her how cultured and enlightened i am about various authors and theories and practices. sure, i first learned about sex by reading Mad Magazine, but i've grown since then, i've grown many inches, and i can now as a fine country gentleman of letters say with confidence that i do in fact subscribe to Playboy only for the articles.

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HE'S TRYING

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happy weekend




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EATING AN ORANGE

the nails started to throb again, the fingers hurt, Maghie knew this was pain that just wouldn't go away, at least not soon. the bus landed on the spot, the mysterious place, the city, her new home, new hometown, she was a stranger in a strange land, knew no one, especially her daughter. actually, she knew of this place, but she always drove by it, like the monastery. she was in it now, down in it.

Maghie made the gesture again, hovering her hands right by her face, covering her face, she was nervous, and this was her silly go-to instinctual defense mechanism. actually, she just didn't want to see outside, maybe if she didn't see her new city through the bus windows it wouldn't exist, wouldn't be made real and final. final destination comes for us all.

the bus halted to a stop loudly and proudly. all the passengers scurried off like mice to their various smelly cheeses out the bus door, so comfortable was everyone with these streets. alone stood the one uncomfortable, sticking out like a sore thumb. Maghie's thumbs hurt especially. the bus driver, who happened to be Maghie's daughter's soon-to-be husband Weldon, extended his hand in Maghie's general direction.

Maghie: thank you, you may take my suitcase.

but actually Weldon was offering his hand to pick up Maghie's daughter Algina from her bus seat to dance with her in the empty bus aisle. the two rubbed shoulders and danced a slow waltz. he rubbed Algina's pregnant belly as he lay cheek-to-cheek with his betrothed, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Algina whispered about their son that would soon join their family in his ear. this was a level of smarmy cuteness which clearly wouldn't happen in the presence of a full busload of cynical people. Weldon had a badass karate-man reputation to keep. this was a private moment meant to be shared with family. baby bump. Maghie was suddenly thrust into this family now after so many years of estrangement.

after the impromptu planned dance which was so slow it seemed to slow time itself, the two lovebirds disembarked the lonely bus but not before Weldon extended his hand to Maghie.

Maghie: yes, you may have this dance.

Weldon: no, i was just offering to take your suitcase.

never had Maghie's fingers hurt so much from cutting her fingernails too finely. Maghie quickly threw her purse over herself, shoved the suitcase in Weldon's general direction, and scampered off the bus to avoid living in this moment anymore. she entered the cold unknown air of the city as a lost rat.

Weldon had some repairs or some karate to do so he quickly disappeared into the day. Maghie kept walking forward as her mother always taught her to do whenever she found herself in a rut, and soon she and her beautiful daughter Algina were walking side by side toward the bookstore along a beautiful cobblestone street in the heart of downtown. the first half of this walk and talk was decidedly silent. it would be beautifully made symmetrical by a bridge. the two women said not a word to each other until they crossed a bridge overlooking a babbling brook in the middle of the city. that's when they started babbling.

Maghie and Algina simultaneously went to the center of the bridge, then to the edge of the bridge and looked down into the brook. first Maghie saw her reflection in the water, the brook was babbling but still still. then Algina saw her reflection next to her mother's. as the brook started to pick up again, creating waves from banging against the huge rock in the middle, the two reflections became glassy and hard to distinguish, the two reflections merged together as one face, one spot of water, one wave crashing and spitting out white foam, the merged face spoke of generations united, family line, as the water quickly flowed from its ebb and lost its shape, becoming formless again ready to repeat the cycle.



CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.



though nothing was said of or about this incident, the conversation which followed surely flowed from this incident. inspiration hit both women like a crashing wave. Maghie was dying to tell her story that she just remembered.

Maghie: Algina, lately i've been noticing that the simple things in life really matter, they feed your soul.

Algina: you're dying to tell me a story, huh mom? we got time, we're halfway there. but please make it better than the greeting cards we sell.

Maghie: one day i was out of orange candy. there was only fruit. i was forced to eat healthy for the first time in my life. i looked around for my orange juice, but there was none. if i wanted orange this day, i had to pick up from the bowl, wash, and peel an orange, an actual orange, the fruit itself, and the only one left in the bowl was a particularly huge misshapen green orange. your dad never knew how to shop for things.

Algina: he gave me a football for Christmas. i've loved soccer ever since.

Maghie: i'm telling you, the experience of peeling that orange was existential.

Algina: as long as it wasn't Deconstructionist.

Maghie: i hadn't peeled an orange by hand in ages. people of the world, throw out your plastic orange peelers, get rid of lifeless machines which disconnect your touch to nature, feel your fruit with your own hand. i felt the slimy skin of the orange. this one would not reliquish its inner core easily, that rind was rough, it was put on there tight as a motherfucker. i pushed in my nails, my fingers, as hard through fast rough as i could, matching the orange's rough, until my hurt fingers caught an opening, an edge, and the first peel of rind came off, exposing the juicy white interior. the poor guy was crying, the juicedrops which came out of the orange were teardrops, the spritz of juice which flew in my face every time i removed another piece of rind made me all sticky. this, when combined with my sweat, made me feel like a farmer after a hard day's work in the beating sun. i earned this orange, i could taste it with pride. i savored it at first, licked it, then examined it in the beating sun with the light from my kitchen window. there was no more orange to this orange, it was a white ball of interior goodness. its white matched the sun's white. i bit into the heart of it feverishly, its juices branched into rivers all over my lips and tongue, washing me away like a steady brook. that was the greatest meat i've ever tasted, it was so good, so refreshing, so rewarding. it was sweet but not, naturally sweet, nature's perfect ration of sweet allowed for each human at each sitting of fruit intake, just enough to tease but never to drown. i gobbled it all up in seconds, but i do think i also relished each bite. glorious, i hadn't eaten an orange in ages...

Algina smiled.

Maghie: your turn.

Algina: i've got it. i've got you beat. i love sandwiches, rich, hearty sandwiches like they make at The Store across from our bookshop. the more layers, the better: meat, cheese, olives, cucumbers, more cheese, smelly cheese, peppers, lettuce, tomato, olive spread, juices, juices like rivers, and of course kicked up by various healthy slatherings of sauces: mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, chipotle, red-pepper mayonnaise, thousand-island dressing. i love the particular way Gus makes my sandwiches every lunch break, he knows what i want, knows what to do, knows i'm in a time crunch, does it fast. i love watching his hands attack the bread and meat and toppings. like cards, he shuffles the focaccia and the meat together masterfully, sprinkling in salt and pepper to taste, my taste, a few sides, and plants that sucker in the oven. when it comes out of the oven, the aroma is overpowering, delicious, it whets my taste buds and i can't wait. stack upon stack, layer upon layer of food, until the damn sandwich is as tall as the ceiling. my favorite part is when he smashes all the layers down into a smushed rectangle with those strong fingers, i can see my sandwich, all the tiny hidden layers in it, the red and green and yellow lines pinched together like a fossil waiting to be discovered. i've already orgasmed at the making of the sandwich, the actual eating of it is afterplay.

Algina smiled at her mother again.

Algina: okay, you win.

Maghie: i was gonna say. are you sure you don't want to marry Gus instead?

Algina: Weldon can chop my sandwiches in two without a knife. Gus needs a knife.

Maghie: i look at the food channels on tv and am aghast. what is with this trend of making Frankenfood? humans are trying to come up with the craziest combinations of foods, we are desperate to try something new. we humans are so bored, there's nothing left for us to discover, so we force newness and originality by smushing old things together like a sandwich. i'm sorry, but i don't need to try hot beer, that drink that's a mixture of coffee and tea, or bacon-ice-cream scoops on top of pepperoni pizza. classics are classics for a reason, nature will never let us down, we must all see and feel the simplicity of peeling and eating an orange. what's old is new again.

the two women arrived at the front entrance to the book store, a giant sheet of glass divided into a big glass door and glass windows. Algina rummaged around for her keys and opened the door and let her mother into her home. also in that rummaging she took out two nameplates, one which read:

ALGINA BARNES, Supervisor

and the other which read:

MAGHIE BARNES.

Algina handed the nameplate to her mother, showing Maghie where to pin it on the blouse part of Maghie's ripped dress.

Algina: ready for your first day of work, rookie?

Maghie: no, but it's okay, i'll figure it out myself. i know you're busy.

the next couple of days did not make things easier. Maghie was smart but she found it hard to keep up with the system of cataloguing books Algina had created. on Tuesday, Algina's soon-to-be husband found a day off from his bus to come visit his bride. Maghie distinctly saw Weldon make Maghie's hands-covering-the-face gesture while in conversation with Algina. Algina smiled and looked at Maghie, then looked at Weldon who looked at Maghie and smiled and looked back to Algina, who was looking at Maghie again and smiling.

the weekend came. Algina spotted Maghie working the shelves on Saturday, or was it Sunday?

Algina: mom, are you okay here alone today?

Maghie: yes, thank you, i've discovered that if i put some of the books in my purse as i stack them, it makes the job easier, it saves time, i get done sooner.

Maghie looked at the pile of books she needed to organize and stack up and place on the shelves. it was up to the ceiling, a huge, towering pile cluster made up of smaller piles, a mountain with branches slithering down like a snake, filling up every corner of the bookshop, forking out, rivers of books stacked, smushed together into pile upon pile upon pile. at the mountaintop peak was the book The Little Prince. this would take all day. Maghie's fingers throbbed at the prospect, her nailbed areas trembled in pain. Maghie is in pain, she doesn't know what to do or say next.

Maghie: have fun at your wedding.

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TMIT: BOTTOMS

i don't drink, but i'm still at the TMIT Bar ready for some cheesy pick-up lines. this is so exciting! i've never been picked up before, which is strange given i'm so skinny. this is how i would respond to the following lines thrown at me:

1. would you like to fake an orgasm with me tonight? sure, i'm an actor, my whole life is fake.

2. did you just fart? cos you're blowing me away. yes, my favorite food is Taco Bell. there's gonna be a lot of farting during our lovemaking. when we simultaneously orgasm, i might fart also, but know that i'm thinking of you, during the orgasm, not the fart.

3. you're hot. i'm ugly. let's make average babies. there are no average babies, all life is precious. do you believe in God?

4. i'd like to kiss you passionately on the lips, then move up to your belly button. wait, what? i'm an alien? fuck me, that explains a lot.

5. you must work at Subway cos you just gave me a footlong. no. Jason Biggs was a Subway sandwich artist, now look at his twitter.

6. you look like a hard worker, i have an opening you can fill. me, too. my mangina. i'm Old Gregg.

7. i don't feel good, i think i need a shot of penis-illin. you have a sore throat you say? chicken soup works for me.

8. if i told you i worked for UPS, would you let me handle your package? okay, but here are the rules in bed: you can't take off my UPS brown-uniform shorts.

bonus: belly up to the bar. what's your pleasure? which one drink would you order and why?:

Slippery Nipple, After Sex, Leg Spreader, All Night Long, Sloe Comfortable Screw

CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK

why? because the world would be a better place if cops twirled their batons instead of using them on people.

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THE LEGEND OF ZELDA IN REAL LIFE

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as if i could love Robin Williams more. everyone who has ever lived has at least once in their life stopped what they were doing to imagine what it would be like to be the child of Santa Claus, i mean, Robin Williams. happy weekend



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EATING AN ORANGE: SKIRT

Maghie had to fill the empty air, the worst thing was continuing the vacuum where boredom grew and grew stronger and begat tension. that was worse than anything, worse than the pain underneath her fingernails, worse than her ripped skirt, there was no more need to keep up appearances here, Algina didn't care about looks with her scraggly hair and filthy jeans, she wanted truth, results.

Maghie: it's my own fault for having a daughter, of course my daughter would take after me and inherit my smarts, and she would surpass me one day, like Picasso teaches about the son artist who kills the father artist with his superior artistry. did i think i could outsmart you or something? too bad you didn't inherit your dad's athleticism, we could have remained strangers forever honestly because i hate sports and would legitimately have nothing to talk about with you.

Algina: what was that? something about hating your family?

Algina cupped her ear in disgust and continued slamming her foot on the back of the seat in front of her, greatly disturbing the bald gentleman trying to take a nap in that seat.

silence. is. not. golden.

this was a tension made more awkward with awkwardness. it was so difficult for Maghie to even start to speak, to respond, to address something, what did she have to say really? nothing of consequence. when the talking diminishes, the breathing gets heavier. Maghie could feel her heart in her throat, because that was the only murmur of sound which broke the pervading silence of it all. Maghie was a ball of fits and starts, she didn't know where to start, what to do, what to do with her hands, something was always not quite right, out of balance, askew, tilted, SOMETHING WAS ALWAYS WRONG, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK.

Maghie wanted to ask how her estranged daughter had been, what she had done all this time, who she was with, if the sex was good, what got her interested in books, Maghie had the perfect story to relay about her own moment the book bug bit her, but all of these things seemed plain and ordinary and what a usual mother would ask, like it didn't matter the answers, it was just something to say. Maghie had to prove herself to her daughter, interact at her level, show her that she was a special mom, she was extrordinary, singular, supermom. Maghie reverted back to the old family days but hopefully not the old family ways.

Maghie: we're a philosophizing family...

Algina: were. philosophy is useless. i learned that the hard way. life's a cold bitch.

Maghie: ...i noticed something as i was perusing our old encyclopedias before we donated them. i looked up famous philosophers' articles and looked just at their portraits. look at their foreheads, they're huge! they all have big heads! seriously. it got me thinking as i studied the portrait of Nietzsche and asked myself if he was correct in his thinking after all or crazy. i don't venture to guess that, i don't want to offend anybody...

Algina: you don't want to offend me.

Maghie:...but when you look at Nietzsche's head, his forehead, i think to myself that maybe some individuals are blessed, born with bigger brains than other humans, a bigger capacity to think, think, think large thoughts, thoughts and thought patterns that other humans with smaller brains simply are physically incapable of doing, they don't have a big enough physical brain to process such grand ideas. Nietzsche could expand and expand his thinking in his inner world as his head expanded and expanded in the real physical world. he was able to make pronouncements others could not understand because Nietzsche could crawl inside heretofore unknown spaces in the mind where secrets dwelled. those dwellings didn't exist, they couldn't be accessed, in the rest of the pea-brained human population who then called him crazy and strange because that's what humans do when they're scared of new ideas. different and complicated equals must be something wrong. humans like things simple, explained, streamlined, codified, and packaged into a product for mass consumption: God exists, period.

with that, Maghie took a breath and felt a little confident, a little more sure of herself. she even chuckled at "pea-brained", and it was a sincere chuckle, not a forced one. she took out her ipad mini and gave it to her daughter so she could see the picture of Nietzsche. their hands touched for the first time in a decade.

Algina: maybe. but nothing will ever excuse Nazism and the Holocaust.

how do you respond to that? you can't. Maghie wished she hadn't chuckled before. she stood there face forward, stone-faced forward, and looked slightly down at her torn skirt. Maghie remained silent waiting for this round of silence to pass, to be upended by a fortunate hitting of a pebble on the road by the bus's tire, something, some distraction. never was a flat tire so hoped for.

Algina glanced at the ipad, frittering the time away because she already had her comeback story in place. Algina turned to face her mother, who had her face in her hands, but it was weird, it wasn't the normal head-in-hands, Maghie's face remained straight up and her hands rather hovered by her face, very close to it but not touching her face.

Algina: shit, i remember that, what is that anyway? that ritual with the hands like that? something passed down the generations?

Maghie: just something i always did when i got nervous.

Algina: i do that sometimes do, inexplicably. Weldon worries, thinks i'm spasming.

Maghie: i'm glad you learned something from me.

Algina: my forehead memory concerns you when i was six and sick. remember?

silence. is. not. golden.

Algina: i had the worst fever ever in the known parts. i was close to death. nothing could break the fever, no chicken soup had the right ingredients, until Dad got the right color of purple onion. the doctors apologized for overmedicating me for nothing. i was still wheezing when you came into my room at midnight. you put your hand on my forehead and i felt your warmth on me though you had dragged some of the outside snow with you into the room. you said nothing to me, you were busy talking on the phone as usual with the other hand. the blizzard flew away as quickly as it had come. the ice queen departed. but i do remember that.

bald gentleman: politely stop kicking the back of my seat, witch!

Algina: you don't know your front from your back anymore, gramps.

bald gentleman: i'm bald, not old! and i'm a gentleman.

the gentleman motioned to get up to get ready to fight a woman without qualm nor reservation. that's when the bus suddenly screeched to a stop. Weldon, the bus driver, ever had the keen eye on his passengers through the giant mirror bolted to the inside front of his bus. nothing escaped eagle-eye Weldon. Weldon threw the giant joystick in reverse with his sinew, and all the passengers had whiplash. it was halted. everything was halted: the bus, the trip, the ride, future plans, until a man-to-man was had. Weldon patiently tucked in his uniform shirt and proceeded to leave his driver seat and walk step-by-step in his heavy work boots along the only middle aisle of the bus straight toward the gentleman.

Weldon: sir, i'm right here, i'm not going anywhere, and neither are these folks. my hands are up in the air, it's time to throw hands, i'm exposing my six-pack, punch me in the stomach and let's get this settled. save that punch you were gonna use on my lady and instead use it on me. the first shot is free. this is happening, this is real, a man is nothing without honor.

the gentleman quickly without pause started swinging on Weldon, such was his rage transferred like a light switch turned on.

Maghie: man, old dude must not have had his oatmeal this morning.

Algina smiled at Maghie. Maghie dropped her hand visor from her face and looked anew at the world post-smile.

Weldon made quick work of the gentleman, flipping him out the bus doors without harming a hair on his bald head.

Weldon: simple martial arts. use your opponent's charging force against him. a quick grab of his punching fist and i transferred his kinetic energy and momentum through the potential-energy chi in my body, making it my kinetic energy and momentum as i tossed him on his keister. ain't that right, babe?

Weldon rubbed Algina's belly and Algina smiled.

Maghie: oh, she smiles at everyone. i'm not special.

a lot of the work was withering away as Algina and Weldon embraced in front of Maghie and Maghie felt isolated again being physically right next to her family. this was her family after all. strangers don't care about you, your family has to, they have to notice you at least, acknowledge you, that you are in fact a member of the family.

as the bus ride resumed, Algina took to Maghie's ipad furiously, it was now Algina's ipad. Algina looked up this and that, no porn, which was strange, but that would be the usual thing, so not so strange. she seemed to be looking up street locations.

at various points along the city path, the bus would stop and Algina would dump large cardboard boxes of unspecified but clearly heavy stuff from the compartment at the bottom of the bus to the nearby sidewalk curb. Weldon loyally helped her. the operation was clean and concise and well-planned, not a second wasted, in and out without anyone noticing.

Algina: we make a good team, huh?, though i do all the heavy lifting.

Maghie: what's in your box?

Algina: that's what he said. just stuff i don't want the cops finding out about.

oh no. here it comes finally. it couldn't be a fairy tale forever, it spills out now, Maghie's years of neglect had transformed her bright child who had the potential to be Hillary Clinton into a common thief who wasn't loved enough by her mother. Maghie was the mother. Maghie damned her existence and cried internally, no real tears came out in the real physical world, perhaps too much time had passed. Maghie's daughter was a methhead, she was a lab worker, and not the cure-cancer science kind.

the thing is, though, Maghie felt she didn't have a leg to stand on, she couldn't just inquire more naggingly like a normal mother would, or even discipline her adult child as a normal mother would. it was too late, it was all too late, and it was all her fault, so who was she to judge? all she could do was wish her daughter well.

Maghie: i wish you the best. Weldon seems like he'll be a good husband, you do work together like one person, which is what marriage is.

Algina: we're not married yet. Sunday. you're not invited...

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Algina: ...unless you want to come?

Maghie: no that's okay. i mean, yes, i want to come. of course i want to come. i have nothing else to do in my new hometwon, so i'll be there. i mean, i'm your mother, i want to walk you down the aisle. i'm mommy, i love you.

whatever just happened, words came out before Maghie stopped talking, and an agreement was reached. somehow. yes. so that happened. Maghie was going to the wedding, that was something, that was progress. but what was she gonna wear? all of Maghie's clothes were ripped.

the bus made a stop for refueling next to a food court. the passengers disembarked. Maghie stayed on the bus as the lone survivor, staring out into space. eventually she got hungry and wandered into the food court. Algina and Weldon were at the far other end of the mall chomping down on a shared pizza slice. Maghie took the closest empty table in front of her so as not to disturb anyone. it was filthy and slathered in pizza grease and peppers. Algina noticed her mother from afar from the corner of her eye as she lifted her head occasionally from the screen of her ipad. she noticed Maghie, but looked back down to that exciting information and those colorful images on the screen. Maghie wasn't eating. Algina looked at her mother again, sighed, excused herself from her strong man, touched his muscle, and sauntered over to her mom.

Algina: my turn. one thing i've always noticed, let's see, got it. you know when you're looking up something online, say on wikipedia for the episode descriptions of a tv show you remember from the '80s, like Punky Brewster? well, when i looked up Punky on wiki, the Punky theme song immediately pops up in my mind, starts up in my brain, and i'm silently singing the theme song constantly, i can't get it out of my head. then when i look up Bleach, the theme song to that anime replaces the Punky song and becomes the current earworm in my head. i wish adult swim would play the Bleach intro song again, it sucks that they stopped. does this happen to you?

Maghie ate one of the peppers.

Algina: this is the part where you relate to me your story of earworms so we can connect more.

Maghie: sure, sure, except i'm looking up Downton Abbey and Nietzsche. Nietszche doesn't have a theme song...................................................uh, y'know, but then i look up Welcome Back, Kotter and of course everyone in the library knows that classic tune so well they might as well be singing it out loud with me as we lock shoulders and sway back and forth. and the library building itself starts to sway.

Algina: i like that you still go to libraries. libraries are dying but you're not, you're still here as a symbol of my ever-blessed and enduring life. you're gonna love your new job. bibliophiles unite!

Algina winked her left eye and punched her fist in the air and smiled at Maghie again. i guess this was as close to a hug as Maghie was gonna get. kiss was never happening again.

Weldon: let's go, ladies. break over. no more food, you've had enough. on the bus. your new life awaits.

more progress. Weldon addressed Algina and Maghie together as a group, as if they belonged in a group together. but what new life was he addressing? Maghie's or his and Algina's new life together with baby on the way? both? family?

TO BE CONCLUDED...

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TMIT: CAUGHT!!!

1. you walk into a party of friends, one of them suddenly strips down naked, which area of her body do you check out first? her mind.

2. have you ever masturbated in bed when a platonic friend or relative was sleeping in the same room or bed? my platonic friend taught me how to masturbate. we respected each other so much we remained platonic even after the lesson.

3. when was the first time you had a nocturnal emission aka wet dream? i learned to play the organ at an early age. the neighborhood kids made fun of me as they walked past me on the street on their way to their piano lessons. if i wanted to play my organ at night, i had to remain quiet about it, so i learned to play my organ under the covers.

4. have you ever been caught naked by someone? once upon a time, in a Burger King bathroom...

5. think of your dearest friend. do you think they are sexy? why or why not? to me, sexiness is about radiating humanity, and my dearest friend does that in spades. love you.

6. if you had no choice, how many days could you go abstaining from sex including masturbation? if i had a gun to my head, i'd tell him to pull.........it out and let's have some fun, that would diffuse the situation.

bonus: what gets you wet faster, phone sex or sexting? sexting is more immediate, more lightning-quick, especially if you have Comcast. it's hard to get in the mood with a phone when you're trying to get out of the way of the long long long long long long Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman coiled phone cord, although that cord can be used for games by yourself later.

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DRAGON BALL Z IN REAL LIFE

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happy weekend






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