Just once I would like to be able talk to you without wanting to repeatedly slam my open palm across your face like a busted shutter, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
Just one time I'd like to control myself when you're trying to have a civilized conversation with me and discuss our daughter's schedule, and not blurt out, "YOU FORGOT TO CLEAN THE GERBIL CAGE!!!! IT STINKS!!! CHRIST!!!!"
Just for a laugh, to see what it'd be like, I would sure like to bury the hatchet. Let things go. Do what I keep telling everyone I'm trying to do. But really do it. Instead of twisting my mouth into an evil-clown frown when you come into the room and mutter monosyllabic things under my breath at you like fucking Tarzan..
Instead I visualize punching you in the back, hard, as you're walking out the door.
Kicking you in your flat ass as hard as I can as you're sauntering down the stairs, so that you lose your footing and fall face-first on the marble staircase and shatter all your front teeth.
I'm not saying I want to like you all the time.
Just, maybe, like, I dunno. Once.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Ich Hob Zol in Bod
In honor of Passover, I thought I'd share a hebrew phrase I learned today.
Literally translated, it means, "I have you in the bath,” or “I hope you sink like a ship.”
Either way, it's a wish that someone should disappear from your life. It means that he should be drowning by Thursday. And let him drown in the bathtub.
Also, I just learned that high fructose corn syrup is NOT kosher!!!
Motherfuckers!!!
But they are currently making coca cola with actual sugar (who knew they weren't?) for all our Jewish neighbors.
l'chaim!
Literally translated, it means, "I have you in the bath,” or “I hope you sink like a ship.”
Either way, it's a wish that someone should disappear from your life. It means that he should be drowning by Thursday. And let him drown in the bathtub.
Also, I just learned that high fructose corn syrup is NOT kosher!!!
Motherfuckers!!!
But they are currently making coca cola with actual sugar (who knew they weren't?) for all our Jewish neighbors.
l'chaim!
Friday, April 3, 2009
I am sorry.
I forgot H-week. And I'm sorry.
However, I'm a little incensed that you all ignored the homework I assigned back during F-week. (ooh, F-week sounds so much more interesting than it really was, doesn't it?)
However, I'm a little incensed that you all ignored the homework I assigned back during F-week. (ooh, F-week sounds so much more interesting than it really was, doesn't it?)
Idyllwild
Doesn't that sound like a perfect and fun place to cut loose on vacation? I know lots of people who've gone there for those reasons. But not me. I've never been. I'm kinda jealous of people who have. Almost as jealous as I'd be of people who've been to Utopidrunkfun.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
If I show you
He was a boy who lived next door to me. We had identical houses except that his smelled like band-aids and he had too much brown furniture.
He was one year younger than me and his parents were from Spain. He told me his father beat him with a wiffle ball bat when he was bad.
We were squatting in his driveway one week day in July, looking at a dead fuzzy caterpillar that was being eaten by fire ants. There was steam coming off the blacktop and sweat was running down from my forehead to my lips. I was self-conscious about the hair on my legs. I was probably about ten.
And then he slipped his hand under my shirt. And stroked my naked back.
It felt really good. Like, electric current up the spine good, but also comforting.
Like he was telling me without words that he would be gentle to me.
I still don't know why he did that. We never spoke about it but he did things like that sometimes for no reason. We would be playing a game in the street and he'd whale me with a ball one minute and the next be holding my hand.
One day in the pool he pulled down his swim trunks and exposed his little rubbery penis to me. So I pulled down my bikini bottom and let him see me. My heart raced when we did this but nothing ever came of it. We grew up and moved away and I think he is a doctor or something. Or so my mother keeps reminding me.
I'm not even really sure why I'm thinking of it now. It's really weird being a kid.
He was one year younger than me and his parents were from Spain. He told me his father beat him with a wiffle ball bat when he was bad.
We were squatting in his driveway one week day in July, looking at a dead fuzzy caterpillar that was being eaten by fire ants. There was steam coming off the blacktop and sweat was running down from my forehead to my lips. I was self-conscious about the hair on my legs. I was probably about ten.
And then he slipped his hand under my shirt. And stroked my naked back.
It felt really good. Like, electric current up the spine good, but also comforting.
Like he was telling me without words that he would be gentle to me.
I still don't know why he did that. We never spoke about it but he did things like that sometimes for no reason. We would be playing a game in the street and he'd whale me with a ball one minute and the next be holding my hand.
One day in the pool he pulled down his swim trunks and exposed his little rubbery penis to me. So I pulled down my bikini bottom and let him see me. My heart raced when we did this but nothing ever came of it. We grew up and moved away and I think he is a doctor or something. Or so my mother keeps reminding me.
I'm not even really sure why I'm thinking of it now. It's really weird being a kid.
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