Girls in Trailers

Needful Things

2011-07-18T11:29:00.001-05:00

Look, it's not you. It's me. I need some time. I need some space. I need to reevaluate and assess and process and I need to do it without you. Without you talking, or touching, or texting, or thinking. I need to be quiet. I need you to be quiet. I need nothing from you right now. Please. Please, stop. Go away. It's not you. It's me. I need. You need. We both need. Just go need somewhere else.

Reckless

2010-08-09T15:37:00.000-05:00

When you're lain bare in someone's arms it is an intense experience. It's as if their touch defines your limits. Wherever they don't touch you is where you cease to exist. Your breath stills and your heart beats and for one moment you are too enveloped and lost and scared and complete to recognize that the moment will end. And when it does, and you are still skin and bones and muscles, your mind believes in kindness. Love never abandons you as long as you love without abandon.

Musings from a Broad

2010-08-08T22:11:00.000-05:00

It's been 8 months. My life is saturated with indecision and punctuated with stress. Life has thrown me against a wall and has been thrashing me about for a while now. I like myself at this moment and I am still smiling and 5 years ago I would not have been smiling. I would have been coked up and drunk and puking in a toilet, and crying that life isn't fair and that I should end everything. And while I am living in the same place, and dealing with similar problems, I am not drunk. I am not coked up. I am not even frowning. I have a persistent toothache and chronic stress but I'm smiling and muddling my way through.
I don't know who I am right now. I don't know what defines a person. My hobbies, my home, my friends, my job? I'm starting over. I'm a blank slate. I've been erased and boiled down to my base instincts. I pretended for so long that I became someone I didn't recognize and inevitably someone I despised. I've learned to dig deep enough and to be honest enough with myself so that I can find bits and pieces of me that are real. Now they are scattered all over different states and different countries and threaded through the hearts of others and I am collecting them and trying to put myself back together.

Tales of Online Dating Part 5 (Daniel's Finale)

2010-01-04T15:22:00.001-06:00

Once we left the restaurant, Daniel suggested we stop at the local supermarket and get some champagne. To a young, dating-naive girl, it suddenly sounded as if the night might be looking up. I had never had champagne. I especially had never had champagne on a date. The positivity crept back in for a moment. And then it was all ruined.

We parked at the supermarket and I got out of his car. I didn't wait for him because I thought he might try to hold my hand and I wanted none of that. Even though I tried skittering away quickly, he yelled for me. He called my name and told me to come back to the car. As I did, He walked around the front of the car and hopped on the hood. He sat there and watched me walk to him. I was thoroughly confused by this odd turn of events. With my head cocked, I asked him what he was doing.

Instead of answering me, he told me what a beautiful night it was and that it would be such a shame to waste any of it. He told me to sit beside him and appreciate the stunning view that the supermarket parking lot offered. In terms of weather, it really was a wonderful night. It was balmy and breezy, and the sun was just beginning to set. However, a spectacular view, it wasn't. Far from it, in fact. The parking lot was facing another parking lot filled with a trash, a McDonalds, A Burger King and a Radio Shack. It was so ridiculous that I was actually becoming angry.

We hurried through the store in search of champagne, and I hurried him right back into his car and to my place. I only wanted to the night to be over. His stay wasn't even halfway complete yet. I drank one glass of champagne with him and told him I was going to bed. He obviously thought our date had been magical because he asked to sleep in my bed with me.

Don't judge harshly, but I said sure. I don't remember clearly why I agreed. I think it was probably a combination of thoughts. I might have a chance to get off if I get a little more drunk and pretend he's someone else. I do sort of owe it to him for driving all the way here. I don't want to tell him no, I only want this night to be over with. I really don't know what I was thinking. I fell asleep quickly with him beside me and awoke to some tragic version of Eskimo kisses with his greasy face. It was the middle of the night and he had smooshed his face against mine and was rubbing it back and forth. I rolled over, way over, and counted minutes until morning.

The minute he was awake I told him how uncomfortable he made me, and that I was sorry but he needed to leave. He was very nice and gracious about the whole thing, and looking back I'm sure he was heartbroken with rejection. He packed up and left within the hour and I never spoke to or heard from him again.

I do hope he is happily married with a wife who likes to sniff spaghetti and watch sunsets over parking lots.

Tales of Online Dating Part 4

2009-12-22T08:00:00.001-06:00

I realize that having dinner at a nice restaraunt is considered a normal first date. A fun date. A good date. I disagree. Dinner dates are boring and I would much rather be skiing, or playing pinball. But obviously, this is where Daniel and I ended up, ever the reluctant diner that I was.

Everything about Daniel was awkward. He had a strange walk, he brought only khaki pants and sandals, and he was very...feminine. The first two are forgivable. The latter is not. If I'm dating a man, I want a man. A man who drinks whiskey and punches strangers. I was the most surprised by the femininity he exuded. I felt right away that he was trying too hard to impress me, especially once we got to the restaraunt.

My town is small with a population of less than 10,000 so you can imagine we don't have much in the way of dining experiences to choose from. We opted for the mom-and-pop cafe instead of McDonalds.

Let me pause here for a second and ask if any of you have seen the Friends episode where Phoebe dates Alec Baldwin and he gets incredibly annoying very quickly because everything is wonderful and spectacular to him? His character was like the cancerous version of positivity. This was Daniel the very second we stepped into the restaraunt. So much so, that it was simply embarassing. He stopped to look at the old pictures framed on the wall next to the cashier counter, exclaiming "Wow!" and "Amazing!". They were random pictures of ducks, or geese or a museum, nothing more. It was quite odd. And it certainly did not stop there.

Once we got to our table, he lauded the waitress for giving us "the best seat in the house". He was in awe of the plastic tablecloth because the color was "just so spectacular". Yeah, the color maroon was suddenly fascinating to Daniel. I briefly wondered if he had taken some kind of drug. He hadn't, by the way, he was just fucking weird. When our food arrived, which wasn't quick enough, his odd behavior continued. He had ordered a plate of spaghetti. Once the waitress sat it in front of him atop the red plastic tablecloth, his face looked stunned. The waitress walked away and Daniel slowly lifted the plate of spaghetti to his nose and inhaled deeply. He also exhaled deeply and I was mortified. Apparently all that deep breathing was his way of thanking the chef. It was my cue to eat as fast as possible and get the fuck out before anyone I knew saw us.

Tales of Online Dating Part 3

2009-12-19T08:20:00.001-06:00

Chemistry is either something a couple has, or doesn't have. There is no gray area. You either want to kiss them passionately, or you don't. I knew this even before meeting Daniel. I had broken many hearts without thinking twice because of a lack of chemistry. It just didn't occur to me that you could have amazing chemistry during a chat session, and feel a total disconnect upon meeting them face to face. It didn't occur to me, because this was the first time I attempted to turn an online connection into a real life romance.

As I pulled along side him, while he relaxed himself against his pretty red car, I decided that I wasn't even going to get out of my car. I was sort of panicked at this stage. I felt instant disappointment as I saw his real face and body, instant panic and regret because I would be responsible for his entertainment and satisfaction for an entire weekend, and I instantly knew that I wasn't going to get out of my car to hug him.

He wasn't a repulsive man, let me be clear. There are just some things you can't or won't see on a small grainy webcam screen, such as his loathsome fashion sense. As I pulled up, I rolled down my window and said hello. I had decided to soldier on with this weekend-long mistake.

He followed me back to my place, and we quickly said goodnight. I was ever so grateful that it was well past midnight and he was tired because of the long drive. I had been anticipatorily emotional all day long as I waited for Daniel to arrive, so I was exhausted as well, especially after such a heartbreaking turn of events. I quickly handed him a blanket and pillow and showed him the couch. I was one thin wall away from him in my bedroom, with the door closed, wondering how the hell it went so wrong.

In the morning, I woke up and went out into the living room where he was already up and about. I think he was watching TV or something. I clearly remember trying to look as ugly as possible because even in the dark light of the previous night, I could see loving eyes staring at me. That afternoon we played board games and talked. I don't know what about, but I know it was torturous for me. Everything was awkward and forced from my side and I tried hiding it. I think I must have done pretty well. On into the evening, he asked to take me out to dinner and I agreed. And that's when things started getting really weird.

Tales of Online Dating Part 2

2009-12-18T09:37:00.000-06:00

Daniel and I met in a chat room when I was 20. I don't remember much of any particular conversation we had, I just knew that he was older, mature and he made me laugh. For whatever reason, I let myself be myself with him. He knew I was short, clumsy, dorky and self-conscious. I never pretended to be a nurse, or a karaoke queen. I never pretended that I loved musicals and hated cats. Not with Daniel. I was easily me around him and he made me feel beautiful. It was because of him that I bought my first webcam all those years ago. I was no longer hidden behind the veil of anonymity and I slowly let him in, piece by piece, day by day.

A few months of chatting led us to talk of meeting up someday. And those conversations quickly escalated to setting a date. He lived a few states away. We decided that he would drive to me, and stay an entire weekend. In my trailer.

This was my very first online meeting in real life. It never occurred to me that those meetings should typically be short in nature in case things don't pan out as beautifully as expected. It seemed to me that if we got along so famously online, we would obviously enjoy each other's company just as much and probably more since we would be sitting right next to one another, gazing deeply into loving eyes and holding hands. Right? This is why Daniel spending an entire weekend with me in my trailer was just the most perfect idea!

He drove all the way to Ohio in his kickass Dodge Avenger (which is one thing I do remember speaking to him about at length). He found my town a little after midnight, pulled off the highway and called me on a payphone to meet him so he could follow me back to my place. Still, none of this felt like it could in any way be dangerous and I happily drove to where he told me he was parked. And it was all downhill from the moment I pulled into the parking lot.

He was posing on his car as I drove up. He was doing the "I'm a cool guy and to prove it, I will lean on this car with my arms crossed casually" pose. Instantly, I was heartbroken and repulsed. He looked like someone's father. He was only 26 and had already fallen into the trap of wearing socks with his sandals. He was also wearing sloppy, ill-fitting khaki pants, and beyond that I don't remember much else of what he looked like. I just remember the pose. I felt the chemistry die a sudden death even before I got out of my car to greet him.

Tales of Online Dating Part 1

2009-12-17T21:00:00.000-06:00

I was 14 when I discovered the joys of online flirting. I used to play a mIRC game called "Realms of the Dragon". The scrolling screen was black with green text and you could rob trolls or marry a gnome. You could collect gold coins and become a wizard or learn potions and become a witch. Or something.

I never really played, just talked to random strangers. These strangers tended to be over 20 and male. I also realized that I never had to be me. Sometimes I was blonde with green eyes. Sometimes I was a tall secretary. Once I was the lead singer of a punk band. They were so easily distracted with my claims and falsehoods, and I was equally distracted by their attention; so much so that when they wanted to send me gifts, I had no problem giving them my real home address or phone number. A few calls from strangers (and once, a stranger's wife) and some flower and gift package deliveries, and I was taken with online dating. I understand that this wasn't actual dating, but from that time on, I was enamored with the anonymity offered through late-night chats where secrets were flung about and my naturally coquettish nature was bountiful.

After mIRC, I advanced to other arenas of online flirting, mostly in the form of chat rooms. For years I never took anything seriously during online chats. I lied constantly about my age, appearance, my occupation, etc. It was like living a new fantasy every single night. And each night the random men got easier and easier to read. I could tell quickly if BobRuffRyder2989 liked gangster chicks or if PaulFromTacoma preferred a Southern Belle. They were all easy marks.

This is why I was caught so off guard when I met Daniel online one night. I call him Daniel because I honestly do not remember his name. He was an important part of my life for months, but to this day I have no idea what his name was. That's how badly I want to forget what happened. But, alas, I cannot and so the awkward tale must be told.

Tomorrow.

Randomocityville

2009-12-14T11:03:00.003-06:00

-Either my expectations will be completely blown out of the water or I will be severly disappointed that I won't actually wake up to rainbows, unicorns and The Sydney Opera House.

-How do you figure out what not to wear to the gym? You wear whatever you want and when it rides straight up your ass and you have to keep running anyway in order to keep your heart rate up even though you know people behind you are wondering why your ass is eating your pants, then you decide to not wear those pants anymore. Also, after you realize there is a hole in the crotch, but not a hole right between the legs that can't be seen, but a hole in the front part where you can clearly see you did not wear underwear to jog on the treadmill; stop wearing those pants.

-Yes, that is your girlfriend, running on the treadmill, sans panties and looking uncomfortable.

-Why won't you sell me a book of stamps with my credit card? You are a lazy, fat bitch and I veto all of your cashier power right the fuck now!

-I am fairly certain that someday I will get salmonella poisoning. It won't kill my body, only my pride as he points and yells, "I TOLD YOU SO!!"

-Friends are supposed call you to say hello and to make plans, not when they need help with their computer problems. Shame on you!

-I really didn't want to like Pawn Stars, but I do. I really do.

-Please stop asking me if I got all my Christmas shopping done in such a cheerful fashion. I do not like smiling and lying to your face.

-I will miss Panda.

Mad World

2009-12-08T19:49:00.000-06:00

I do not think this is a designless world. To think so would mean that all the pain you have experienced was in vain and if that were the case, what kind of life could you live?

The X Files

2009-11-17T12:04:00.000-06:00

When I was younger, I wanted to be just like my father. The only thing strange about this is that I didn't know him, save for a few pictures and the same crazy stories that had been retold a dozen times over. I wanted to be just like the man in front of the camera holding the 10 pound bass with a crooked grin. I wanted to be just like the teenage boy who let loose a horse inside his highschool. I wanted to speed, and crash cars and get drunk and be crazy and I wanted stories told about me again and again while people laughed and shook their head.

What I wanted most was to be able to not feel. I wanted to be able to walk away from people who loved me without feeling remorse. I wanted to be able to drink away pain and smoke away guilt. He made it look so easy. I wanted that. I walked away from love and was able to drink away memories, but it was never easy. It was bitter and labor intensive to be so aloof and uncaring. Ultimately, I got just what I wanted. I was exactly who my father was. I had pictures and stories and scars, so many scars.

The irony is that all the years I was striving to be just like a man I didn't know, I did finally become him and hated myself for it. I hated seeing his smile on my face. I hated looking through eyes that weren't mine. I hated seeing the bottle in my hand every time I felt something. I hated everything I was, everything I did and everything that my future saw.

After so many years of proving to myself and everyone around me that I was just like my father, I now have a new goal. I must spend my time establishing a truth that no one believes. I am not him. I am better than him and his world is a very sorry one because I was never a part of it.

Saturday Night Live v2.0

2009-11-07T23:50:00.002-06:00

"I call him Mr. Fuckable."

"I would pet the cat with my penis if I had one."

"Take your pants off."

"You can put me on the toilet if you want."

"I'm putting on this lipstick so I don't look special."
"It's not the lips that make you look special."

"...and thats when I smashed the Oreos."

"My husband has never seen me naked."

"And our babies will be dual citizens!"

"TADA!"

"Remember the bottle of Triple Sec and the sand?"

"Big D!"

"I wanna stand with you on a mountain..."

"Why was I wearing combat boots with shorts?"

"Ask him if he wants some gooood lovin' tonight. With 5 o's."

"I passed him a note after class saying I wanted to break up."

"He's a doctor now."
"Probably an OBGYN."
"No way, he is definitely scared of the vagina."

"We had a real emotional and mental connection. He was such a good guy for me. Until he jizzed in his pants. You can't recover from that."

"Did those people just sell their baby?"

"She is absolutely a mail-order bride."

"...and I asked her if I should call 911."

"Yeah, he was WAAAAY retarded."
"I think you mean severely retarded."
"Same thing."

"I am almost positive it was crackhouse. I sat on the bed and watched the whole game on a tiny television set and then took off."
"You watched the whole game at the crackhouse on his bed?"
"Yeah, I didn't wanna be rude."

"I thought I had AIDS for 2 years when I was 13."

"...and she called me Mud!"
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't know, but it wasn't good."

"I will rap battle you."

"Then took her shoes off and ran after me."

"They just all felt really sorry for you because you were such an ugly kid."

"Do you remember the kid with herpes on his hands?"

"That's when the retard kid tried stabbing me with the popsicle stick."

Saturday Night Live

2009-11-03T10:49:00.001-06:00

Some favorite quotes from Saturday. From what I can remember.

"Hey."
"What?"
"Hey."
"What?"
"I fucking love you."

"Theres a jello shot in my pocket!"

"Want me to see what's under her shirt?"

"REDNECKWOMAN!"

"The stripper pole's integrity has been tested. By me. It's safe."

"These ninja hands are weapons of mass destruction."

"Don't turn around! Your cousin is flashing her boobs."

"Yes, she's 14. Stop staring."

"I would go to jail for you."

"I like how you can look around and be able to see who is getting laid tonight."

"Yeah, my hat is cool. No, you cannot have it."

"I've heard so much about you!"
"You can touch. I don't mind."
"That's okay. My fingers have herpes."

"I will hug-rape all of you."

"He's lying."
"How do you know?"
"I don't. But he sounds like a liar."
"But it might be true."
"What are we talking about?"

"Please don't fall into the fire."

"I am a respectable drunk. I can still walk."

"I have friends. They're all married, but what they don't know won't hurt them."
"...."

"You can call my friend Jimmy. He's retarded."
"Aww, be nice."
"No...he's really a retard."
"Why are you hanging out with retards? Is it because they have the best candy?"

"You are not doing a kegstand."

"She likes it rough."
"No, I like it good. That's why I'm marrying a Turk."
"I'm a sexy hobo!"

"My mom is the ugly one."

"Do you have a number?"
"ONE!"

"I have to work tomorrow."
"What do you do?"
"I work in a tractor store."
"Here. Drink this. It's okay. I play Farmville."

Random Abandon

2009-10-30T13:14:00.003-05:00

-The Animal Planet Channel should not make me want a sandwich. Nor The History Channel.
-That wig is just awful.
-That wig is ridiculously expensive.
-I will never ever go blonde.
-He was definitely Turkish.
-Pony is a stupid fucking name.
-What if your name was Zbigniew Brzezinski? I suppose I could ask the Former National Security Advisor of the Carter Administration.
-I love to sweat.
-The amigdala is the part of your brain that causes the flight or fight response. I love physiology.
-That could have been him.
-Hug-rape
-Singing in the passenger seat.
-I know some things I want for xmas. They all direct relate to Australia.
-That will quickly become a warm, damp evironment and will be extremely umcomfortable.
-Oh, Bret Michaels.
-Spaghetti on the wall: Myth or truth?
-Leftover Easter candy is NOT appropriate for children who are trick-or-treating.
-She better come to the party. I need a shopping cart.
-Rolling over in bed and not being alone.
-Bright sun!
-I am a girl! See!
-Recliners should be outlawed.

Thats How I Roll

2009-10-06T10:41:00.002-05:00

Originally posted in 2007

Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed at night, I pretend I’m giving an interview. This helps me fall asleep. Sometimes I am interviewing with a reporter from E! and sometimes it’s People Magazine. The reporter needn’t have a face. The cameras are on me anyway. I imagine the interview to go something like this.

"…Oh the dress? Yes well it was only a last minute decision. It was very time consuming trying to find the right dress for a night like this. I really think the angel wings glued to the back complete this ensemble. What do I think about the nomination? Well, being nominated as The Best Person To Ever Exist is really overwhelming. Being the only nominee means I really have to practice my acceptance speech! (laughter)"

I am asleep by this time, but then I dream of how to spend my award money.

Hijacked

2009-10-06T10:38:00.000-05:00

Original post dated April 4, 2007
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Happened…just now…I’m still kinda sweaty…

I take my lunch in the company kitchen most days. I usually wait until around 2 PM so I can ensure no one will bother me. I like being alone with my food. It’s a thing.

Today was no exception. My Tupperwared soup and I travel downstairs and walk into an almost-empty kitchen. There was one other guy standing at the vending machine, a guy I work with but rarely speak to, as I hate everyone at the company.

I walk past him, not making eye contact, as I do not want to stir up fake-polite conversation. My soup and I walk directly to the microwave which is right beside the vending machines and co-worker. The microwave is almost too high for me to reach. They have it on a tall stand and I my arms can barely shove cold food in there.

I’m in a semi-daze as I reach up and punch the button that opens the microwave door. I notice two things instantly. Co-worker shoots me a look and wafting smell of burrito assaults my nose.

Co-worker was cooking a burrito in the microwave which I just opened. Oops.

It was a strange thing that happened next. I felt like I was at a "no-turning-back" point, so I didn’t. I pulled his burrito out and simultaneously put my soup in.

I punched in 2 minutes, the start button and then stepped back to watch my food warm.
Co-worker is still staring at me in disbelief (who could blame him) and I tried to ignore him, but…his burritos were right in front of me.

I said, "I was…just…really hungry."

Why? Did I really have to say anything at all? It didn’t make those 2 minutes go any faster.

The microwave dinged and I took my soup out, then hurriedly moved past co-worker and mumbled something about sorry for hijacking his lunch.

What is wrong with me?!

*********************************************************************************
EDIT: Post-hijacking

You would think that the microwave-burrito-hijacking story could have ended there, yet it did not. And this is my life.

I don’t see the burrito-lunch-co-worker often at all, so I am not TOO ashamed about the hijacking.
Imagine my surprise when I see that he has parked in the same lot as me.

I am exiting the building, and he is standing right beside his car, unlocking it. I have to walk right passed him to get to my car, and once again, there was no going back. He had already seen me.

I had to keep moving towards and subsequently passed him at this point. I do NOT make eye contact. I keep a serious face the entire time while my mind is shrieking "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY YOU WERE SO HUNGRY?! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO REMOVE HIS BURRITO? FUCK!"

I am walking by him, I’m right beside him and my Tupperware container that once contained the soup flies out of my hands.
More accurately I dropped it and it lands right beside his car door, near his feet, as he has not entered his car yet.

Wanna know what I do next?

I look at the Tupperware and I keep walking.

I did that. Seriously. I kept fucking walking, because for the third time today it was too late to go back.

I gave my Tupperware nary a glance as I got in my car and drove out of the lot.

Now, I’m a bitch AND a crazy litterbug.

AND I have one less Tupperware container to bring in soup to work.

Mmm...Pancakes

2009-10-06T10:33:00.000-05:00

Originally posted May, 2008

First things first.

Why are you bringing your babies into movie theaters? Did they ask to see Iron Man? Do you need to see Harold and Kumar that badly? I know babysitters aren't cheap, but you did just shell out 9 bucks for the movie. Why don't you save some of that money for an extra week and get yourself someone to watch your kid? There are so many reasons that a baby in a movie theater is wrong. I will judge you harshly. You are rude, a horrible parent and your baby will have their little eardrums blown out. I am so ready for government-made mandatory sterilization.

Second things second.

I never thought I would actually have to watch or listen to a traffic report before and after work. There is something that troubles me, and it happens every single day. Who is leaving furniture on the highway; specifically mattresses? How does this happen? I always imagine this scenario.

Dan and Rick just picked up a queen sized Serta Mattress from Mattress-Mart. They tie it securely into the bed of the pickup truck. As they are doing 70mph down I-40, the mattress flies right out of the truck. Then I imagine the conversation going something like this:

Dan: Oh man…there went the mattress.

Rick: Holy shit! That was awesome!

Dan: Fuck the mattress. Let's go get some IHOP.

And thus the mattress is left on the highway to be reported to me during my morning commute.

Pickle Advice

2009-10-06T10:31:00.002-05:00

Originally posted April, 2008 when I was working for Mad Science.

I seriously received this email today. What you may not know is that it is entirely serious and we have a show that includes the glowing electric pickle. I love my job.

Okay has onyone got the electric pickle to work impressively? I need your advice.

I have done the experiment numerous times and only ended up with the tip of my pickle glowing...I expected a more intense reaction. I want the audience reaction to be "WOW look at that pickle!" rather than "is it working yet?" What am I doing wrong?

It has been suggested that it is the size of the pickle that matters, so I have tried a number of lengths and thicknesses, but the only thing that came out of that is the discovery that with pickles that are too thick there ends up to be discharge to the base, which I don't believe is intended.

Any suggestions?

And the Winner is...

2009-10-06T10:29:00.000-05:00

Originally posted elsewhere sometime in 2007.

You! Cause I say. And life is my bitch.
I have decided that we need more sports on TV.
I love football and baseball. They broadcast professionals in all arenas. We see billiards, bowling, poker…log rolling…and a fuck ton of other miscellany.
I want something more.
I want Pro Putt-Putt tournaments. It would include things like the Windmill of Death, and Triple Hole Hell. The commentators would sound something like this:

"Well Mark, this is last chance the challenger has to claim a championship. Do you think the Clown Carnage Hole has a win waiting for him?"

"Julie, we saw what happened last year at the Putt-Putt Perfection Tournament. This is the hole that he just CANNOT get past. He has since told reporters that it is due to his fear of clowns. We know how detrimental that can be in a series like this."

"Right you are, Mark. Let’s hope he can make up these points on the Twisty Top of Terror."

I was thinking of Professional Lamp-Turner-Onners. We can all do it, but do some of us do it with more flare? I think so.

"Julie, this is it. The final competition. Can the champion keep his title this year?"

"Mark, let’s be honest. No one has the wrist rotation that this champ has. Let’s watch."

"…he going for a lefty-switch flick, his signature move…would you look at that speed. Julie, this is incredible."

"Indeed it is, Mark. If he doesn’t get a perfect score for the arc in those phalanges, I think the judges need glasses."

Also, how about Professional Teeth Brushing. Players will be judged in 3 categories. Stroking, plaque removal, and overall rinse, bonus points given for the pre-rinse category but very few can pull it off.

"Mark, that is brush like no other. Let’s be honest, if you want to win a cutting edge competition, you need cutting edge tools. I have never seen a gold-plated toothbrush, Mark."

"Right you are, Julie. Look at the stroke the challenger is using this half. He has switched from a right roundy to a left sweep. I don’t know if the judges will like this."

"Well Mark, I think this technique has been known to remove more plaque than any average right roundy."

(and my original post stopped there. Apparently I had no more brain juice left.)

My Roulette Girl

2009-10-06T10:25:00.002-05:00

Posted elsewhere on March 17, 2008

I am the Ugly Betty outside of the fashion world.

My shirt has been inside out all day. Again. Why doesn’t anyone ever tell me? I need to start getting dressed with lights on.

I was walking down the hall today, here at work, and ended up flat on my stomach. I was walking down the hall pulling a utility cart behind me. The cart caught up, jammed itself into my heal, went onto three wheels (Are you imagining this is slow motion? You should be), my foot was then completely under the cart that is twice my size and now there is no saving grace and no graceful save. Cart flipped, loudly in our quiet corporate hallways, and I land, belly down. I think I groaned a little. I laid there for probably….14.5 seconds. I have no couth.

I’m okay but my shirt is still inside out.

The Ruination

2009-10-06T10:24:00.000-05:00

Originally posted elsewhere, March 16, 2008

In 2005 I was looking for a new place to live. I decided to move into a trailer with an acquaintance named Laine. Laine was cute and short, chunky and spunky. She was a virgin, saving herself for the special one. She worked as a pharmacy tech and went to school and maintained a 3.5 GPA. She was super responsible, had nice things, nice furniture and a nice car. The trailer was brand new and was very nice as far as trailers go. I would have my own bedroom and bathroom, this is sounding like a super fucking deal. It was a pretty super fucking deal for months and months. We were young, single 20-somethings and we got along fantastically. Come to think of it, we never had a fight about anything. Not once.We both knew lots of people that the other didn’t so we doubled our friendship size in mere months. Fuck, those were good times.

One night, I get some visitors. Some friends from WAAAAY back….way back when I was young and dumb and had naughty naughty bad friends.

Jeff and Greg knock on my window. It’s late at night. I peek through the shades and see who it is and immediately think "FUCK" because these two are NEVER up to anything good, or nice. The three of us grew up together, but I was the only one that did any growing. They are those guys who never have money and always want beer and pussy and nothing else matters to them. It didn’t hurt that they were handsome funny fellows who had [stupid] women fawning over them all the time.

I shoo them away. I hadn’t seen them in about a year and a half and my track record was looking good. Ha, I say to myself, they don’t know I have wizened up and no longer associate with losers! SHOO!

They will not go away. I ignored their knocking and subsequent pounding and yelling for about 15 minutes until Laine comes into my room and asks what’s going on. Thank goodness, I say again to myself. Laine will know what to do. She can tell them to leave.
Instead she lets them in and is immediately taken with Jeff. I warn her to stay away from this evil boy, but she does not listen. I try to ignore them and go back to sleep after some quick heavy-eyed introductions. She let them in, she can entertain, says I!

This night leads into weeks of beer-buying (by silly, smitten Laine) and partying with Greg and Jeff. Laine doesn’t seem to notice that these boys don’t want to hang out with her unless she buys them beer. Classes are being skipped, work is being called off. Drunken nights turn into drunken, sex-filled weeks. Laine has gone from responsible to naughty depraved girl herself. She shows me her diary entry which reads something VERY close to this (I remember because I thought it was pathetically hilarious):

***********************************************************************
Dear Diary and Dear God,Thank you for bringing Jeff into my life. He makes me feel like a real woman is supposed to feel. I love him so much. Please make him love me back. I’ll do anything, please God, please please please! I just want him to love me back and love me forever!
************************************************************************

During this time, nothing much has changed for me except that Jeff and Greg are at our place all the time, Greg constantly assaults me with wicked-sweet compliments like "DAYUM, you gotta juicy ass, lemme lick it, baby", and now the air is frequently perfumed with Laine-Jeff sex.

It’s been almost a month since Laine has been introduced to Jeff, and she drops out of college. She quits her job and finds something more suitable for someone who could potentially be Jeff’s girlfriend. The problem is Jeff doesn’t want a girlfriend. Jeff doesn’t want Laine’s attention or affection unless he is fucking her or she is buying him alcohol, and on the sly, he’s been telling me how he has secretly loved me since we were 10. I try to lead Laine in the right direction. I try letting her down gently, and I try pointing out the obvious and all the things a friend is supposed to do when another friend is getting trampled on.

Unfortunately Laine would rather amputate a limb then give up that easily on the man of her dreams (who has no job, 2 kids and a failed marriage at the ripe age of 26).

One night her laptop gets stolen. Wasn’t me, and it wasn’t her…Greg and Jeff are questioned, timidly, by Laine. Of course they didn’t steal it, so she lets it go. She completely lets it slide that one of these guys just stole her laptop. Finally, Laine grows some balls and says "no more beer". She won’t buy them beer to come visit anymore, so they stop visiting. This was actually the last time I saw either one of them.

Laine was devastated. She had ruined her college graduation which had been just around the corner, she worked in a nursing home doing laundry and she had no boyfriend. A few weeks after that she met a guy working at Taco Bell. She started offering him rides to and from work since he was riding his bicycle (he was 29). They developed a pseudo-relationship which pleased her just fine. She moved him in, I moved out and now they have 2 children 3 Rottweilers and she’s been asking what friends she has left to come have sleepovers with her…

This is the story of how I ruined one woman’s life.

The Birthday Series

2009-10-06T10:19:00.000-05:00

Originally posted elsewhere March 15, 2008

Fucked up shit happens on August 7th of every year because that is my birthday.
Perhaps I will start a series called "August 7th". This will serve 2 purposes. First, you will get to laugh at me and my fucked up life. Second, you will remember that August 7th is my special day.
I think today I will pick August 7th, 2005.
It was the most boring of my birthdays but also the most relaxing. I did nothing but help my mom bake my cake in the afternoon and had a nice dinner. What could go wrong?
I don’t care for cake. I don’t like pie. I don’t generally like sweet things. I like meat. I like potatoes. I like vegetables. I am notorious for this in my family. Everyone knows I do not like dessert foods so that means more for them, and they do not need to consider me in their party planning. It’s win-win.
Once-a-year-chocolate-cake is my flavor. My mom knows this. My mom also knows that I despise frosting. It makes me gag.
She bakes a delicious looking chocolate cake. We’re standing in the kitchen, her back is to me.

(For the next paragraph, indulge me and imagine this in slow motion.)

My mom turns around but…what’s that? She has something in her hand. Ney, something in BOTH hands. A butter knife and a tub of chocolate frosting. I scream "noooooo Mom! What are you dooooing?!"

(I hope you read that to yourself in a deep voice that was actually in slow motion otherwise it won’t be nearly as funny as it was in my head.)

I calmly ask her what she is doing with icing. She knows I do not tolerate icing on or around my cake. She comments that others would like frosting, so she will put some on half.
This is unacceptable to me. I tell her as much and she laughs.
This is not funny, methinks.
I tell her I am serious. I tell her it is MY birthday and I do not want frosting on the cake, anywhere!
We go back and forth for a few minutes until I realize she is not going to back down.
Complete silence ensues and we are staring each other down.

I pick up the cake that is still in the pan. I bring it to my face and fully flat-tongue lick that fucking cake from top to bottom.
I sit the pan back down. I look at my mom and say "There, now put the frosting down."
It was a proud moment for me. She put the icing down and walked out of the house completely.

She was pissed. When my mom is pissed it’s just so much easier to give in. It was my birthday, no use in fighting. I tell her I didn’t REALLY lick it. It only looked like it.
I assure her several times I never really licked it and we get a good laugh. I allow her to put the goddamned sonofabitchin’ icing on half of the goddamned sonofabitchin’ cake.
We all eat and be fucking merry and have a grand time and the cake is a smash.
We’re all gathered around the table finishing the crumbs of the cake and I stand up to help clean.

I look at my mom and say "Hey, guess what," and I can barely contain myself. "I really did lick the cake. I licked it again when you walked outside too."

In retrospect, that was a really good birthday.

Raised with Animals

2009-10-04T11:13:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is very hard to be seen with my family in public. It's not the fact that they have no care for appearances and it's not that they drive old beaters. It's because they're rude. They are either out and out rude, or they are rude via ignorance. Neither one is acceptable to me.

It's very anxiety-inducing to go to a mall with a cousin, for instance. I am constantly covering up for her impolite behavior. It is completely possible that I am the most polite woman in America, but I would rather wear that badge than be rude.

When I say "thank you" a proper response would be "you're welcome" or "no problem" or even "anytime". The most annoying thing my family does (and when I say family, that is ALL encompassing) is say "yep" in response to a thank you.

"Thanks for picking me up, I really appreciate it."

"Yep."

WRONG. This is not okay. Assholes.

And when you are speaking to a cashier, waitress, plumber, whoever...is it so hard to smile and answer their questions instead of ignoring them like they are invisible? Is it so hard to make eye contact and nod your head when someone is speaking to you?

This is why Mowgli and I have a lot in common.

I Throw My Money on the Floor

2009-10-04T11:00:00.000-05:00

"When all the trees have been cut down, when all the animals have been hunted, when all the waters are polluted, when all the air is unsafe to breathe, only then will you discover you cannot eat money."

This is a quote my mother really likes. The punchline is, she doesn't believe in it. She thinks she does, and I believe that she believes this quote in theory. But in practice? No, no, no.

For as long as I can remember, the only safe dream I was allowed to speak of included me becoming a lawyer, a doctor, a CEO. Money, money, money. We never talked about how being in these professions would make me feel, only that my paycheck would pay my bills. My title wouldn't matter; my salary was the only thing that did. I have no interest in court proceedings, surgeries, or corporate meetings.

I've tried explaining to her that money means very little to me and she doesn't understand. I realize this stems from her childhood and her generation full of underachievers. She believes that money is more important than happiness. Luckily I don't.

Make Your Penis Grow!

2009-10-02T03:52:00.000-05:00

There is something that is simultaneously dangerous and disturbing about late night television. What is it about 3:30 am that makes you realize you need the Ab-Lounge? It makes you feel a little dirty to know that 10 years, 50 pounds and a bucket of fried chicken is the only thing that separates you from the woman calling into QVC to talk about how happy she is with her new cubic zirconia bracelet. You suddenly feel the need to pay more attention to the fine lines and wrinkles around your eyes so you never look like the before picture for the air brush makeup kit that you may have to buy one day. You try to convince yourself not to get out from under your warm blanket to get your credit card because you just realized that the Salad Shooter is the last thing your kitchen needs to be complete. You remind yourself that you most likely have 90% of the songs on the 11-disk set of Romantic Songs of the 70's. You squint your eyes and scratch your head when you come across Kevin Trudeau selling the idea that your deodorant is giving you cancer and that the government will pay your mortgage if only you had his book. You don't know whether to believe you really will get a $380.00 value for two easy payments of $29.99 but it sure makes you wonder. Will the 10 Minute Trainer get you into a size 4 if you call now? You never knew there was so much you could say about a colon cleansing juice. If you loved America, you would buy the Time Life 15 DVD set of the Vietman War.

So, kiddies, keep your credit cards away from the bedside nightstand and turn your phone off, or you're gonna feel trashy in the morning...or you'll feel like a stallion when the Extenze is rushed to your door in 5 to 7 days.

Glue

2009-09-16T14:52:00.004-05:00

I used to think I was too broken to love, or to be loved. I used to think that two broken people could never save each other. I was wrong. One broken soul understands another.

"I though you'd be bigger."

2009-09-15T08:48:00.000-05:00

I have had a busy morning! It started at 6 am and is now only 9:42 am. In less than four hours:

My brother faked sicked to try to get out of going to school. I took him anyway.

My mother vomited on the front porch.

My Aunt J. told me that my cousin, his wife and his son moved back into her house at 1:30 am this morning because they were kicked out of their own house. That's another post unto itself.

My grandma called me and asked me to take her to the hospital because her back hurts. She weighs 400 pounds. Here's my prescription, grams: Lose weight.

My cousin Beth called crying. All I understood was that she is in court right now, and her husband moved out last night and that she needs a lawyer.

And Patrick Swayze is dead and I miss him.

2009-09-14T14:49:00.000-05:00

In years past, my anger knew no bounds. My pain was easily shifted and mutated into anger and I was prone to irrational outbursts at any given time with any given person, stranger or no. I have since gained control over my anger and as constricting as it may seem, it is actually the opposite and feels quite freeing. Once in a while, the angry outbursts crop up and I deal with them accordingly. Sometimes things happen so fast that I don't even have the opportunity to rein myself in and hold myself back. Today, for instance (and I have no idea where the seething anger sprang from), I had one such outburst. I was parked in a school zone where parents park for their children. To my left, there were parking spaces perpendicular to me. A man and women walked out of the school shortly after I had parked in the unofficial "parental pickup" zone. I had turned my car off and sat waiting patiently. The man and the woman got in a car, facing away from me but at a direct right angle. None of the specifics matter much. The woman was driving and was trying to back up and out of the parking space, and she felt that I had not given her adequate room to do so. She did have room, she was just bad at backing up her car. Again, these specifics matter not.

She honks. I look at her and say, quite loudly, "What the fuck do you want me to do?!"

There really was no reason for me to be snippy. It wasn't a big deal. I could have backed up a bit and let her go, but the honk set me off.

She honks again and I back up a little. She apparently felt that she still did not have enough room. I make a grand gesture suggesting the she has plenty of room to maneuver. She sticks her head out of her window, cranes her neck to look at me and says, "Can you please move?"

I say, "You have plenty of room."

She says, "You need to learn to some manners."

I say, "And you should learn to drive."

She says, "I hope you're not a parent."

I say, "Don't think I won't punch a PTA bitch."

She says, "Oh...oh, thats, thats really nice."

I was so happy that she was flustered because I was just getting warmed up. The man in the passenger seat sat there calmly and did nothing.

I say, "Why don't you fuck right off, you cunt!"

She seethes and stares for another 5 seconds before gingerly working her car out of the lot and out of my view. This was typical behavior from 5 years ago. Not now. I am a bit ashamed. But I still hope I made her cry.

Dinnah!

2009-09-14T12:32:00.001-05:00

I had a very serious post ready to write up today but that changed when I saw the little cardboard sign in my neighbors yard.

This is, in fact, the neighbor that has an incredible garden and other topiary masterpieces situated within the confines of his very small yard. He is a very nice man. He gave me some vegetables, so that proves my point. Nice. He's tall and slender. He has tan, leathery skin and according to his tattoos, he was in a war. Most likely Vietnam, judging by his age. He rarely wears shirts so I see them quite often. He has Osamaesque facial hair with the perpetual cigarette hanging in the corner of his mouth. The sign is simultaneously sad and amusing and it also makes me cross my fingers for him.

The sign, written in bold, black marker on a 2x2 piece of cardboard (i'm pretty sure it was once a pizza box) says:

15" Submarines
For sale

Now, it says some other stuff, but I haven't taken a closer look just yet. Let me just reiterate.

We live in a trailer park. He has one of the ugliest trailers here. It's bright blue, and he has a small partical board box that he has built around his front door. I don't really want to call it a deck, because it's not. It's a box. Of partical board. Around his front door.

Now to his credit, I do see a lot of visitors, so maybe he is giving Subway a run for their money. I'll keep on eye on things.

Tomorrow Tomorrow Tomorrow

2009-09-13T13:40:00.000-05:00

In the nighttime hours, when positivity runs thin and the grass doesn't smell as sweet and your heart and your mind are struggling to gain control over one another, you tell yourself "one step at a time." And thats what you do. Take one step instead of sprinting. Take one small bite, chew chew chew thoroughly. The days are going to come and go whether you make daytime progress or not. You start, you quit, you smile, you cry and all the while the sun moves in the sky, making room for the moon. The totality consumes you and if you don't drink of it, it will devour you. You hate and you love and you create boundries and draw lines and erase them and start over in order to become gray instead of black or white. The time is mine says the clock, but this life is yours. Starving and aching and grasping and all the while, smiling smiling smiling. And the control has been handed over and divided between heart and mind and now the smile is coming from a real place that does exist because you say it does. Thieves and addiction and vandals are gone gone gone. And this is happening. Finally.

A Warm Gun

2009-09-08T19:59:00.000-05:00

Something has been rattling around in my head for a while now and I have just discovered what it actually means. The fact is, and I hate when I actually hear people say it out loud, you really need to be happy with yourself before you can be any kind of happy with anyone else. This makes sense, and my past has proven that it is quiet clearly a fact. If you don't love yourself, you have nothing to share with anyone else. FACT FACT FACT. So here is the quandary: How do you get happy if you've never known what true happiness is?
For 28 years I have been fighting to keep everyone around me happy and content and satisfied, but I have ruined myself and my relationships in the process. If I treated myself the way I treat my brother or my best friend, I would be one happy motherfucker. How do you start? Where do you learn happiness? What do I do first? I honestly do not know how to make myself happy and content but I know that before moving on to the next phase in my life, I must figure this out. If I don't, I will only have a small chance of making any relationship worth having work.

Dreamscapes

2009-09-07T08:49:00.000-05:00

My nightmares have quickly and strangely evolved over this last week. It could have taken longer but it's possible that it was too subtle for me to notice. Usually my nightmares consist of the same characters and same plot over and over. It's always a man or group of men. I am always running from them or trying to escape them in some way because they are nasty, devious creatures. In the end I am always captured, sometimes raped, always murdered in creative ways.
Last week, however, there was one woman in the group of men. She tried helping me in the end but failed. The next night, there was another woman in the group of men but she betrayed me after pretending she would help. The following night, there were two women with the men who helped to kill me.
And last night, there were no men at first. There were four women chasing me, only one carried a knife. I had barricaded myself inside school foyer, but the foursome broke in and stabbed me in the chest. They walked away and then the strangest thing happened. Four men saw me injured and they saved me.
I was saved by the same sadistic characters that have tormented me in my nightmares for years and years and years and longer.
I'm sure this has some deep meaning. Or maybe not. I don't know. It's just a very strange turn of events.

Labor Intensive

2009-09-06T21:21:00.001-05:00

1. Beth's house does indeed smell like piss. The air was heavy with the stench. It was actually like you were wearing the smell.

2. My salad cup carrier is fucking sweet.

3. I am awesome at kickball, even though we were the most "unfit" team.

4. No one knows how to be happy for anyone else in my family. Or maybe they're all jealous of me and don't like being happy for me. Instead, they prefer to try to bring me down a notch. TRY, I say!

5. I am funny.

6. I love tomatoes and I picked a whole garden of them today. Then I had to immediately leave and take a cold shower to stop the itching. The delicious treat was worth it.

7. The fiercest enemy is one who has nothing to lose.

8. A yard full of dried grass is not a good place to slide into home.

9. No, that does not mean you can come into my bedroom.

10. Thanks for letting me know you want in my pants.

11. Those last two have nothing to do with one another.

12. The cut on my foot is not better, however I do not think it requires stitches.

13. My next fictional piece will start out with something like this: "She dropped her luggage and ran towards him with arms spread. She grabbed him, clung to him, hung onto him and buried her nose in his neck."

14. I do hope that the bank calls me and I am offered a job there.

15. I do need something other than good time, Bret Michaels. I do.

16. If you were a gay person, would you tell your mom "I'm kind of a mo" when coming out of the closet? I am unsure about how I feel.

17. I did my moms homework again today. It's so fun. And shame on you, Prozac!

18. My grandma is a hoarder in the most unhealthy way. A hoarder and selfish. Very selfish.

19. Funnily enough, the word selfish explains everything about my family so wonderfully.

20. Thank you, Benadryl.

21. God, I really love lists.

22. I think you have to be physically strong to be a paramedic.

23. I tried making sure all these posts had a title of only one word, but I can't do it. It stifles my wit.

24. I wonder what happened to that guy I worked with who was in that band named "Stifle." Why do I remember that, but not his name?

25. My favorite quote of the day from my mom after I told the grillmaster to burn my hot dog: "Yeah, she likes 'em black." My racist relatives were not amused.

26. While my little cousin Matty was in the garden, Misty said said "He's so tan, he looks Mexican" and I replied "Thats why he's picking tomatoes." I was greatly proud of that one.

27. My uncle told me (very seriously) "You try to be so funny on Facebook, but you're not." I had no reply since I don't often try to be funny. I'm just me and I am pretty damn funny. Mostly. And if you don't laugh with me, you laugh at me, in which case is also totally cool. Yes, I realize this is sort of redundant (see #5).

28. I wonder if I missed a number anywhere. I don't care enough to double check.

29. I do not want to know what was in that shopping cart. How dare you bring it up!

30. That was such an adorable hugfest. They had no idea I was watching.

31.

Football

2009-09-05T14:00:00.000-05:00

Holden had a game this morning. I love football and I love watching my little brother play. I was excited this morning and woke up early, had a chat with Orhan, had some breakfast and then we went on our way.

My mom was driving and we were taking Holden's girlfriend and her friend with us. We get about a mile away from the football field and we get a flat. We were already running late, had no jack to fix and no AAA to rescue us, so we all hopped out and started walking. We walk about a mile down the road and please keep in mind that this is a rural area. We notice the tall lights that belong to the football arena as we were peering over a cornfield. We decide that we can and should cut through the cornfield and get there faster.

We cut through the corn stalks without incidence, but then we ran into a 4-foot fence. A 4-foot fence that I am voted to be the first to hop over. Obviously this makes sense since I am the shortest. I gingerly put one leg over and I as try pulling the other foot over, my mom gives a helpful shove and I get snagged on a piece of wire. And then I stay there. I was completely stuck, completely immovable and no one can stop laughing.

They did stop laughing once they realized they actually needed a knife or some scissors to cut me out. My mom walked to the nearest house, explained our bizarre situation and borrowed some shears. I made it to the football game with one pant leg.

Reads

2009-09-02T14:55:00.000-05:00

First, I just read an incredible short story by Mary Richter called "Bread and Bombs". I highly recommend it.

Second....HAHAHA! (?)

Animals

2009-09-02T11:54:00.001-05:00

If you adopt an abused animal from a shelter, you can love it into a normal, productive pet. If that abuser happens to come around though, Fido reverts to animalistic instincts; ears flat, tail tucked, cowering and whimpering. So it's no surprise that when a person is abused, the same sort of thing happens. Chemical, emotional, psychological things. Instictual behavior. Thankfully I understand this logic, as do most, but that doesn't stop the body and mind from taking over when they think their host is vulnerable or in trouble.

Everytime he comes around, I try standing my ground. I try being polite. I try not letting the protective barrier I have created become so obvious that he might smell fear. It always ends the same. I try standing up for myself, but before my mouth can open, I cower away, tail tucked. And once I have cowered, the shame comes. I shouldn't let him have that control. And then the need forces it's way in after the shame begins to subside. I don't need him to like me, I just need him to not hate me. And so he wins. Everytime. And we are all just animals.

Truth

2009-09-02T09:27:00.000-05:00

Disney Pocahontas was way hot, right? Right! And also, most illustrations are pretty fine too. And then you think "Wow, no wonder John Smith was tappin' that Native Booty." But then you get too much time on your hands, and your mind wanders while you're hand washing last night's dishes and you say to yourself "...But...really?"

And then BAM! No, not really! And all your fantasies are shot to hell. She was most likely smelly and very hairy, and probably a little annoying. Now you're thinking though, huh?

Like, like, like...Ariel! Sexiest underage mermaid in the sea! Her beautiful flowing locks would totally not look that good, and she would smell like tuna and seawood. And it's not like you can eat her! And now those precious memories have been tainted.

But Belle, beautiful and lovely and honest Belle. She would most definitely help the Beast. And I would totally lock her in my room too.

Tyranny

2009-09-01T21:45:00.000-05:00

In case you are not well versed in trailer park living, rules that apply in the regular world do not apply to this domain. I have previously written about these unspoken rules that trailer park dwellers share with one another and here are some more.

You never have to wear shoes and shirts are also optional. Let it be known that the shirt is usually an opt-out.

If you're a teenager and are walking the streets, the police driving by are an automatic reason to run.

If you have popsicles, be prepared to share with everyone.

If you have a garden, watch it carefully, or pounds of produce will mysteriously disappear. Every night.

If your children are wearing diapers, they are fit to be outside. Also, if you have children, you never have to watch them, no matter how far they wander.

Your dogs never have to be leashed. If the pooch runs away, we all know where it belongs. It'll be returned, possibly after being fed beer and marijuana.

Your neighbors are in close proximity. Do not play football in your front or back yard because you will hit tin.

If there is not ample parking on the road, feel free to park in someone's yard.

If you do not have someone to pick up that old mattress/toilet/stove and discard it for you, that's okay. Just leave it in the yard. Where the children can play on and inside it.

Do not point your television screen towards a large window. If you have cable, you will be sharing it. And they will use lawnchairs.

You don't need to hear the tornado siren to know when the weather is coming. Just watch the people flock from their homes and their friendly honks will alert you to evacuate.

If you get your neighbors mail, go ahead and open it and then decide if they really need it.

If you have real guns and rifles, feel free to leave them on your porch, or better yet, you could play "war" with them as long as they aren't loaded.

if you run out of anything, it is completely acceptable to knock on your neighbors door. This includes ice cream, toilet paper, medicine or tampons.

Only one person in a 5 trailer radius needs to pay for the internet.

Everyone knows where "The Spot" is. It's that cracked rock at the end of the road thats large enough to sit on and smoke cigarettes.

We all know what should be "knee-high by the fourth of July". If you don't, maybe you should come visit.

Blotter

2009-08-31T20:47:00.001-05:00

The front news of my local paper has few interesting stories today. I know that the schools have a new superintendent, and that fees for this year have been determined. I also know that they are having another painting raffle at the town festival. We have also been informed that there is to be a dock lottery for the nearby lake. But the best pages of my local newspaper are the law enforcement blotter pages. Heres a rundown of what we have today:

-A woman called the police to report that her husband was drunk and she didnt want him in their house any longer. He had been running around, cheating on her and drinking for weeks. Once the police arrived, they came to the conclusion that the woman was the instigator and aggressor, and they arrested her.

-A small child was running around outside an apartment building with a knife and a pizza cutter. A concerned neighbor notified police and upon arrival, they returned the three-year old tot to his 20 year old mother. The mother explained that she had been napping. The concerned neighbor also told police that the boy had been wearing a dirty diaper for quite some time, and the filth was running down his leg. The mother explained to the police that junior doesn't like having his diaper changed.

-The school's athletic director called police to report that someone dressed like a gorilla ran through the middle of a soccer game..."The gorilla was not located but was last seen leaving the scene through a thicket of trees behind the soccer field."

And the moral of this story is...morals don't come from trailer parks.

Rules

2009-08-30T13:01:00.000-05:00

Common rules don't apply when you live in a trailer park. If you have a bbq, your neighbors will come over once their noses distinguish from where precisely, the smell is coming from. Dogs are not on leashes and feral cats run in packs. If a police car pulls up in front of someone elses trailer, you do not hide quietly and occassionally peek out the window, but instead, you grab your Marlboros and walk outside in your pajama's in order to see if anyone else knows whats going on. And someone always knows.

So, it was no surprise to me when I heard someone coming in my back door last night at 3 am (thats what she said). I heard some shuffling, bumping around and then my bedroom door opened. All I heard was whispers of "Don't be mad at me. Please don't be mad at me." This is no surprise, and was no surprise that my cousin found it completely appropriate and logical to sneak into my bedroom and tell me about her exciting night at the local bar where she ran into my very inquisitive ex-boyfriend.

Then I slept until 1 pm, because thats what girls in trailers do.

Catalyst

2009-08-29T13:45:00.001-05:00

It's quiet in my bed, but my head is screaming. These are my words and I have chosen to share them with you. Use them however you wish; to shelter you, or to create a storm; to feed your tears or fuel your laughter; I will be your catalyst. I myself have ignored tears for far too long, and as such, I have ignored a vital part of who I am. The tears curdled inside me and stained my soul. I can no longer ignore these things that make me who I am. So here I stand. Here is my heart and although it may bleed through these sleeves, I will smile because it is real and it is okay and it is me. And now my head is screaming less and less.