In my dark hours.

There are certain people I have come to terms with in my life that I realize I need. All the people I need, I realize I need them for different reasons. The yen and yang of it all these are the people I keep trying to run from and destroy the relationships with. Goddamn lonliness is a ridiculous beast. I could very nicely put this in story form, or I could drunkly just list it. I'll do the latter.

Heike- My best friend from Berlin who has such hate for Americans and life, but desperately wants all she hates. She is the one who constantly reminds me of who I am, strangely. Our upbringing and beliefs are so different but without her I'd rot.

Margaret- The definition of vivacious. When I have Margaret, the Margaret I love... she makes me feel invincible, I want to tell her always(but I'm embarrased to embarress her) how amazing she is. What an amazing writer. It gives me goose bumps. She's always game, for anything interesting.

Jason- I love this person so insanely so, not in a love thingy, but a love that I could never explain. I absolutely could not live without this man. I make up lies about him merely because I can't understand why it is I feel so attached to him. It's awful and it makes me a monster, but in some strange universe it makes day to day missing a friend bearable.

Vic- This is the lady that when I sit to draw a cartoon involving myself I always draw myself like Vic. This cartoon is half me and half Vic, it's a girl sitting at a drafting table drawing and collaging things with the cat sitting on the table next to her, and of course a mountain of ciggy's. She's always making her and her cat laugh at whatever subtly hilarious project she is working on. I love Vic and her style and taste and intellegence that makes every conversation so alive and fun.

Megan- I wish I could write a way to perfectly explain how I see this one. Someone who has seen some pretty dark moments and because of the way her brain works it's like she's caught in some horrible night terror and constantly relives these moments, causing her to react to present situations with all the fear and hurt from her past situations. However if you give her a comfortable place to be she's a butterfly. This free spirited creature who you can have amazing life changing moments with.

Mag- The true meaning of unique. A beautiful creature who can see colors on a black and white wall. Someone who could probably train her cat to talk just through caring and believing in her cat. One of the most truely amazing and excitng artist's I have ever seen.

Al- You always feel safe around Al. Safe with your hopes and fears and friendship. Maker of great ideas.

Michael- Slick.

Jeremy Sue- My brother and my friend. I'm terrified for him to know me but want nothing more.

Lisa B- A breath of frsh air.

Nay nay- Too much to even write.

Alice- For the love of god woman, be you! One of the greatest friends and persons I will ever meet.

Chan- So godamned stubbornly smart.

Sean- The most smart, talented person I have known. Too fucking scared of himself and life to be so.

Dyaln- My best girlfriend, and he'll never know how serious I was about that.

Mandy- I wish I saw her more. Amazing.

Ange-Ange Gard







Andi

Andie

Dave

Darren

Sayra

Caila

Dog

NOTHING

What the hell have I been doing?

Sitting In The Nothing Factory
with the sweet memories of Winky.

Instead of coming up with crafty ideas and full stories I have spent the last month with little flashes of ideas I have thought were funny in my life just replaying them over and over again in my head. With no real meat to the matter to apply to anything of any substance at all. I believe I am losing my touch. On second hand maybe I'm really on to something here. By something I mean an enormous nothing. The kind of nothing that consumes your whole existence. You know like that movie from when I was younger called "The Never Ending Story", ya' that one. You see,though, I'm not one of the characters from the movie who is trying to do anything about it no I'm more of one of the small characters giving in to the nothing like the rock biter or the bat lovin' freak. Nothing interesting like Morla the ancient wise turtle, or Atreo the handsome 13 something year old charging on in his brave warrior way, I couldn't even claim to be the kid reading the story in his gradeschool attic taking a whole night to eat one PB&J, such control. I have given in to my nothing.
I used to draw a sinister character named Dr. Pincusion and his Nothing Factory. He tormented people with nothing. He scared the living snot out of children and adults with... NOTHING. Then one day Kapow and her Killer Daisies showed Dr. Pincusion and his Nothing Factory something. Something. That's all it it took because once you have let the nothing consume you, something is bound to kill you. These little flashes in my head, little flashes of nothing, have taken over my whole creative being. I can't seem to do anything but think about them again and again and again and again. I wish I had the abaility to say., "the reason I'm acting so odd right now is because I am upset about the this or the that", or "I'm really upset because Lou didn't make my turkey sandwich right" what do you exspect from a cat. However, I have no excuse... nothing. Instead I have this little nothing popparazzi and it's flashbulbs putting me in the classic deer in head lights position. Get dressed and face the day, or stand in your living room naked staring blankly at the front door diping your fingers in mayonaise waiting for the UPS man to deliver your future wraped in paper doilies. Nothing.

I keep thinking about this old dishwasher from a job of mine in the past. He was from El Salvador his name was Jose. Which I used to like to call out like Jerry Lewis whining "ladies"... "Jose". Which he would then come into the porno/travel plastered post carded walls of the dining area with Roy Rogers hangin' over the bathroom eating a delectable burger and all of its fake wood paneling glory. He would moan "ohh Winky" then start thrusting his empty bus tub on the counter getting out all his beautiful youth knocking the customers plates of food off the counter onto the floor under their foot rest on their stools. Jose didn't speak very well english, kinda' like I type, so I used to teach him really good phrases like, "hey lady your breakfast burrito looks mighty fine but do you mind if I polish my dick on your fingernail while you eat?", and I'm sure all the things he taught me in his own language were just the same. That was the beauty of it all. Anyway, one night I closed the restaurant with the cook, and good friend of mine T Dog, and we decided to check our garbage situation. Sitting on top of the pile was this filthy plaster cock-n-balls. We immediately re-unlocked the restaurant and sat at the counter thinking of the hyjinks this cock-n-balls could ensue. It then turned into this beautiful story involving Jose and his tooth. You see Jose had this perfect mouth of teeth except for his right front tooth stuck straight out of his mouth, to the point that he could never stop smiling because he couldn't close his mouth around his tooth(don't worry I hear he has since fixed it through our beautiful american dental system). So the story went like this....

Cigar, the uncle of our 300lb. black cook from Cabrini Green Phyllis who slept with all our delivery drivers in dry storage, who got his name from homelessly walking around all day with 20 cigars sticking out of his hat.. would come to the restaurant at dawn. He would do his usual ask Winky to put on her theme song then dance with the mop for everyone's pleasure, but here's the twist. On this particular day Jose would come from the back and place his plaster cock-n-balls on the counter stool closest to the kitchen, then he would very choreogragpically(my own word) take his time sitting on the cock (inserted into his bum of course)spinning around on the stool while his tooth grew out the front of his face. When he stood the tooth would go back. So he would proceed down the whole line of stools, doing the same, out the front door while Cigar or Uncle, to those of us who knew and loved him, danced with the mop to "Winky's Theme". Cigar, mind you is all of 6 feet 6 inches of pure muscle. Like the dopey guy from "Of Mice Of Men", not knowing his own strength breaking things, people, trucks, buildings and such left and right. He is also unhealthily obsessed with an 18 year old polish girl from Zakapownni, a heathen polish joint down the street. This nothing dances through my head. It didn't happen it's nothing.

There are many more nothings I will touch upon I'm sure but now I want dumplings from Chinatown.

I know I should be writing but.......

There really is no good reason as to why I haven't written in so long. I could blame it on the German for visiting this summer or the man I fell for in the last part of the German invasion or the fact that the second it was official I was someones girlfriend I got so sick I ended up in the hospital or that one of my pill poppin' outta work friends is constantly in a fit of tears convinced my new boyfriend is a junkie or the fact that my new boyfriend has moved into my house because the man who escaped from Mexico after killing a man who lived with him held him at gunpoint for several hours or the fact that I got ringworm form trying to help a homeless person with a very strange rash or the fact that my friend whom I am the godmother of her child calls daily with a new speech about how selffish I am because I don't call every holiday, occaion, affair, or day at that matter(I'm sure I'm worthless now because I didn't extend my warmest gratitude to them for Columbus day) or maybe I haven't written because everyone keeps harping on me to be more creative "paint something", "sew a puppet", "write something", "Why aren't you doing comedy" throwing a million mediums my way saying things like "the proof is in the pudding", well shit I can't make pudding when my recipe is all screwed up I'm just making brown soup here, or maybe it's because my ex just got married and all anyone wants to do is talk to me about how upset I must truely be when the fact of the matter is I'm too selffish to give a flying hootenanny. Or maybe it's because my best friend spent a good chunk of the summer here from Germany and I realized in her visit I've been hiding from myself for a long time now, or maybe it's because I met this guy who has completely swept me off my feet and was so great to me when I was so sick I wasn't sure if I was going to make it or maybe it's really hard for me to get my fingers around why it bothers me so much that my good friends see my boyfriend as yet another potetial heartbreak for me because all signs point to him being a fucking wreck and it scares the shit out of me, because I do love him or it could be the fact that my boyfriends friends don't believe that this escaped hoodlum form Mexico is doing anything wrong and now my man has lost jobs, friends, his home and car because of it.. and having ringworm most of the summer surely could effect a person because it's really gross or maybe when I forgot my god childs birthday it really made me realize how self absorbed I can become and this little sweet baby is the one who suffers from my lack of priorities then again it could simply be the fact that I am not being myself and I am not doing anything creative and I am just droning on and on and on doing anything I can to keep myself from doing what it is I actually want to do, when you fear yourself there is nowhere to go but down, or maybe it's simply put I was really affected by my ex getting married and not affected by the reasons you would think it's just a whole sleuth of emotions and the things that were said to me during all of my confusion with it didn't make me feel any better about the situation. I am a 29 year old female living in Los Angeles. I finacially support my mother, boyfriend and myself. I try and take on everyones problems but in return I realize I'm not a camel and I do things, go out of my way, to fuck shit up. I'm really tired of being a bartender and know damn well I am the only person who can get myself out of this sitution. My boyfriend has been asleep for 37 hours straight, I don't know exactly what to make of that... I guess he's tired and I guess I'm stir crazy. Bottom line, I will start writing again but until I get some things straight with me there all going to turn out like this so maybe I will take some more time before I attempt to write anything else.

The Men I've Loved

I was just sitting in my bathroom and I heard a boy yell, "Michael Jackson... come out" as if he were trying to beckon MJ out from the apartment complex next door. This made me laugh and realize, shit ain't the same as it was when I was a kid. I mean, for the love of God, I had a crush on that wealthy kid lovin' lunatic in gradeschool. I had a pin for my jacket with him all dolled up in a fuzzy yellow sweater vest with a white pollo underneath lookin' all tasty and chocolatey brown(this was, of course, before his magician like performance of turning white which still has me baffled). Then I started thinking about the evolution of my crushes on famous people, and when I started having crushes.

It all started roughly around the age of four. The first and probably the most memorable crush was, the one and only, King Kong. Yes, that giant ape stole my heart. I told everyone I could think of, "I'm going to marry King Kong". I loved how he held Fay Wray in his hand as he climbed the building. He loved her, and I loved him. Isn't that just the shit in the pot. My mom would try and explain that I couldn't marry Kingy, that he was an enormous ape and it would never work out. Everyone else would just laugh in my face, so when it came to my next crush I tried to keep a lower profile about it. Which didn't work because every time I saw Burt Reynolds climb out of his car in Cannonballrun I would start blushing and sighing with hearts jumping out of my eyes. Then I would scramble and try to get out of the room before my brother would say, "ooooowwww Winky's got a crush on Burt Reynolds". Which would send me into an explosive fit of tears and I would scream as I ran out of the room, "no I don't, I DON'T!". Oh but I did. I would draw endless amounts of pictures of Burt and I galloping around on unicorns, or Burt and I having dinner at McDonalds, or Burt and I on our wedding day. As quick as it came it faded away due to my sudden atraction to collecting boyfriends at Blackburn Elementary. It was cool when I'd tell a fellow first or second grader(this faze lasted a couple of years), "ya' you can be my boyfriend but so is Matt, Shawn, Ben, Joe, and Brian so I guess I'm six timin' you guys now.". I was always pretty to the point and honest about it all. The boyfriends would gather on the playground and make plans as to who gets to sit next to me on what days at lunch and so on. When I was a captain in kickball that was a very crucial moment because obviously my picking order would decifur my pecking order.

Then Pee Wee's Playhouse come around on the old boob tube. Then his Big Adventure. I was smitten. He was brilliant and so cute. I didn't want anyone to know so I told everyone I was Pee Wee's long lost sister, that would detour them from knowing I secretly wrote in all my folders, Mrs. Pee Wee Herman. However my big brother, the snoop, found out the truth and told everyone which I rebuttled and said, "no I AM HIS LONG LOST SISTER, HE'S LYING!!!". To prove myself, while sitting in the gymnasium at the long fold out picnic tables for lunch, I came up with a plan. I announced that I was Pee Wee's sister and just so everyone knew I was clear on this I would get on the stage and do the Pee Wee dance. Then I removed myself from the table with my buddy Allisa and walked over to Mr. Meyers our principal, who stood like a prison guard along the wall next to the stage, and asked if it would be alright if I did a little performance. He thought that would be ok so I walked up the stairs to my place on the stage, of course after I walked over to our goofy janitor and whispered in his ear to borrow his shoes(which were not platforms but rather an adult sized Hush Puppy). Allisa stood in front of our seated class and began conducting the music.

"Da dun dun na dun na na na....." the class bellowed out as I reinacted the entire bar scene from Pee Wee's Big Adventure. I even jumped off the stage at one point and climbed up on the picnic tables walking down them on my toes picking up milk cartons and lunch trays raising them up over my head then throwing them to the ground. "Tequilla!" everyone started cheering and slinging their arms around me having a hell of a time. The lunch bell rang it was time for recess. I employed my boyfriends as my body guards, all nine of them, because I knew recess was going to get a little hairy after a performance like that. Sure enough the whole class mustered up an army of immagination and as I walked toward the big glass doors leading to the playground I could see my entire class pushing to be the first at the door for when I exited. Waving whatevr object they wanted autographed into the air with pens and markers in their other hands. My boyfriends puffed up and made a circle around me, and we all walked through the door. There was screaming and shoving and and my boyfriend circle got knocked to and fro but they didn't break I was fully protected except for an occasional arm, squeezing through to grab at my clothing hair or person. I signed and signed my name over and over again, Winky Wee Herman, until I became exhausted in all of my fame and drama and collapsed to the ground. My fans screamed in horror as my boyfriends yelled, "back up... clear a path.", as they lifted me and carried me over to the log playground equiptment that sorta' resembled a ship with tire swings and chairs hanging all over it. I rested then we all went and played dimensions the game my friend Andi and I made up, and that was that... I was Pee Wee's long lost sister.

Then Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, apparently I have a thing for men with adventures. Mr. Keanu Reeves and Mrs. Keanu Reeves would like to cordially invite you and all of your pets to our wedding in the meadow by the creek in the back of the Johnson's berry farm, my gal pal and I would giggle as we passed our invitations to each other. Then we would pretend to drive, the couch, to McDonalds to buy something like 632 cheeseburgers and then have to write a check that we made out of notebook paper and sign them. Me... Mrs. Keanu Reeves, Allisa... Mrs. Tom Cruise. Then we'd sit on the front stoop talking about all the famous dinner parties we had to go to, and all the normal famous person gossip.
"Did you hear that Corey Haim and Kirk Cameron both kept flirting with me at George Lucas's party.... Keanu was sooo mad we had to go home." me.

"Oh my gosh, ya' I was talking to Jo from The Facts of Life and she said Keanu has been calling her." Allisa.

That wasn't true and I made sure she never said anything about it again.

Then I became a nerd and I had no friends, well Nani and Brenna were always nice to me but no real friends. I didn't even have the ability to write a check for the McDonalds in my mind. All I had was my scrap book with all the magazine cutouts from my short lived cool life all glued in there mocking what I had become. King Kong, Burt Reynolds, Pee Wee, and Keanu never knew. They didn't love me and the reality set in. Still, I sometimes like to pretend they did love me and they occasionally pull out an old photo of me and have a tender moment remembering all the fun we had.

A Good Joke

Once again, while cleaning my house I stumbled across a random piece of paper with something I apparently thought was funny written on it. This particular funny thing was a dream I had written down that an ex of mine, that I lived with, once had. Here is what I had written down...


Last night Jason sat up in bed out of a deep sleep to tell me a joke. It goes something like this....

What do you call two wet noodles next to each other?

A big fucking asshole.


I remember when this happened, it was many years ago, and I remember trying desperately to figure out what it could possibly mean. Finally after all these years it dawned on me. It's an easy one and I'm very suprised I didn't pick up on it then. Here is my dream evaluation.

Noodles consist only of the "x-y" chromosome combo, thus making all noodles male. There are no female noodles. I know this is suprising, but it is a scientific fact. From chow mein to Raman to fettuccine, all noodles are male. Because of this, all noodles are also gay and gay sex involves anal intercourse. In noodle society, "wet noodle" is slang for slut. If you call someone a "wet noodle", that means they get around. So... if you have two wet noodles together they must each have especially large assholes, which combined make a big fucking asshole. Get it? It really is quite hilarious.

So now many years later I would like to tell my ex Jason a long overdue "good one". Although I fear he won't remember the joke and I will once again come across as a loon. I just wouldn't feel right about myself if I didn't pay respect to such a brilliant joke. So brilliant it took me this long to figure it out. Hah.

Date: 6/9/05
Time: 3:00 a.m.

My Lack of Posting: Until yesterday at 2:30 p.m. I have not had internet access at my home for almost a year. Why, because I'm lazy. I'm so lazy that I am sitting at my computer looking at a cobweb with bugs from, easily, year 2003. I have been sleeping in a bed that I tore apart to wash the bedding at a friend's house four days ago, and since have been sleeping on a stained matress with a dirty uncovered pillow.

I must vacate. Bon Voyage.

No I'm not leaving blogland.... just LA, and not even for good. I decided today I need a vacation and the second I said it out loud to my friend Pattycakes he said, "can you drive stick shift?". "Sure 'nuff I can." I responded.
"Then to Portland we shall go, how about Monday?" Patty
"Ok" Me.
"Do you want to get some free tatoo's?" P-cake
"why not" me.
So it was settled I'd be leaving for a lil' road trip with the wise and wonderful Pattycakes for free tatoo's, then the fear instantly set in. For, you see, my dear old crazy mama lives in Oregon. I swear she has my phone tapped because the second after we made the plans my call waiting went off and who should be on the other end... old nut bag herself. In my excitement I blurted out I'm going to Oregon next week. Then she started working the leave a day early game and stay at my place it's right on the way off the 5.

Don't get me wrong I love my mom it's just we don't have the best history with our visits. Like the time I left her in the Dallas airport on our way home from Mexico when she was supposed to come and stay with me in LA, screaming stay the hell away from me you crazy bat, that's it i'm through with you... DONE! Or there was the raod trip we took when I was younger and she wouldn't stop pulling my hair and poking me which in turn made me cuss which made her pull and poke more which made me cuss more and so on and so on I'm not even sure who started it. We eventually had to pull over and seperate for like twenty minutes, by seperating I mean we walked in opposite directions down the moonlit highway mumbling to ourselves. Then there was the time we were camping and and she pooped in the lake while we were swimming and told me to grab the stick. She also likes to "borrow" money from my purse when I'm not looking. It always makes my vacations the best. I also have this terrible thing that I do when I see someone I love for only a brief moment in time and have to leave them, I turn into a raging bitch. I'm a monster and I didn't know for a long time until an ex-boyfriend of mine came to visit my mom with me and taped the goodbye at the airport. When we got home he played it for me... I was horrified. I laughed my ass off watching it, but I saw my flaw. So now after several years I have to prepare for yet another visit.

old

I wonder what gets in the air sometimes. I mean something funny definately gets in there and then everyone starts getting all crazy. It can never be that just one person at a time in my life is going to get all nutty, no, it has to be a whole crew of bumbling morons knocking into each other like a bunch of idiotic jerks. The same thing applies to when one person is feeling the desire to get all felt up like a junior prom date the whole goddamn city is getting titty twisty grabby feely. We're in one of those, the latter, right now.

It all started last Wednesday morning when I came home from my friends house that I've been house sitting for, which apparently under my watch cats die we'll talk about that one later, when I found on the caller i.d. not one but twelve calls between the hours of 1am-3am. I had been feeling pretty Randy the night before and was noticing that my man appetite had grown increasingly since the prior weekend. Calling hours to my knowledge usually stick to the normal 8am-12am for most, but not at the Wink Manor, no no. My calls come in many forms and colors throughout the night 12am-6am, I guess I have the late watch... which gets in the way of my middle of the night plumbing job which I wasn't aware I had until recently. The majority of the calls came from a young gent whom I would love to say something glamorous like we dated but it was more or less he'd come a knockin' on the bedroom window in the wee hours and I let him in for the old cat and mouse. This has been going on for atleast a year, "knock three time on the ceiling if you want in.. twice on the pipes if the answer is no oh my darling(two booming sounds) means meet me in the hallway". I try and make myself feel better about my slutty behavior by saying things to myself like, "It's exercise", or "All my guy friends do this shit all the time".

Hmmm...

I keep waking up with wet sleeves. There is something going on around here.

Poor Bus 1,2,3.

So for the last three years I have lived in a quaint one bedroom house in the serene echo'd hills of Los Angeles, or rather the filty run down block of Bonnie Brae. I have over time gotten to know and really like all but two of my neighbors, and really it's only one I "don't like". The other is this shifty slothed eyed dimwit, who doesn't know any better but is always good for stirring up laughs from the rest of us less slothed eyed people. To the left of me lives a nice quite elderly couple that likes to garden do taxes and take long walks in the park. To the right of me lives Fidel the guy who was my cook at the Club I used to manage. He likes to lean on my fence and smoke cigarettes and have small talk although neither of us has any clue what the other is saying due to the language barrier. On his right lives 'Grandpa', the oldest guy on the block who has lived on the block since he was a kid. He's who you go to if you're having problems with say... not recieving your mail, gang fare, if someone is following you home at night. He is not who you go to if you need illegal weapons, no that's the house that sits kiddy corner to the right of my house. Yes, the infamous house that is repeatidly busted for their illegal goods. Sharp shooters all gracefully posed on my roof aiming their one eye of death upon these kind poor bastards. Across the street lives the old guy in the brown leather jacket and baseball cap who sits on his porch all day long sipping from his brown bags. He is married to the woman who waves at me alot and has a long dark braid that falls to her coccyx like a horse tail. She has an identical twin who also waves alot and spends her days across the street with the family, her husband is often found sipping on the porch as well altough he wears all white, from his cowboy boots to his cowboy hat. To their right lives the parrot lady. Often when my car is about to be towed I will find the parrot lady at my door in her flowered pajama's with the parrot on her shoulder telling me to "Run... save your car!". Which I do, then we drink coffee and smoke cigarette's while sitting in my car. At any given moment the chinese terettes lady will be seen pacing up and down the street screaming god knows what in her native language. At the end of my driveway sits the icecream truck who's music is so loud I can rarely have a phone converstion in my own house. Now here is where it goes sour, next to the gun club lives this old man whom the other day when I was backing into a parking spot he swooped in from behind in his oversized blue truck to take the spot I was in the process of parking in. His theory was, "My dog and weed wacker are right there... so it's my spot". Of course, how could I be so stupid if you leave things on the sidewalk next to open parking places obviously it is your reserved spot. That wasn't really what upset me I went, while laughing, and parked elsewhere. It was when I walked past him on the sidewalk(he was gathering up his dog and tool) and he said "white cunt" to me that set me off. All I could think was wait a couple a days buddy and it's gonna be a real bitch trying to get to work with four flat tires, which I never did it's just fun to act out in your brain. Now for the meat of this story....

The dimwit...

I am not exactly sure where the dimwit lives I only know what he does. In his good behavior you can find him skipping, six foot four 300lbs. and all, up and down and up and down and up and down the street.. for hours. I think about buying him a jumprope purely for my own benefit. On his bad behavior you can find him doing things like taking all you garbage throwing it all over your yard then rummaging through for I don't know what. If you appraoch him to ask what the hell he is doing he hisses like a rodent then scampers all hunched back in the opposite direction. I have often said he will never be complete until his eyes go a permanate beedy red. One morning I was awaken by the sound of clanging outside my bedroom window. When I pulled the curtain back I saw the dimwit there banging on the faucet where my hose is attached with a wrench. When he heard me open the front door he took off running, so I chased. We ended up behind old sippy and horse butt hairs house where he was rummaging though a box on their back porch. Old sippy followed me and was drunken giggling behind me as I laughed and asked dimwit what the hell he was doing... he just took off running to the next house. "Doing some neighborhood repairs" I smurked to sippy. We patted each other on the backs and I realized I was barefoot and in my pajama's so I went home. A while back I sat on my porch and watch the dimwit putting what seemed to be flyers on all the doorsteps and cars on the block. I walked out of my yard to the first car and removed the paper from under the wiper and this is what it read....


Jesus is Coming
July 7, 2005

Echo Park-8:00pm
DEGREE FOR SCHOOL FOR SCHOOL KiDS
WHiTE SEA BiRDS~OCEAN
COMiNG DOWN
BECAUSE THE GROUND GOiNG dOWN
AUG-THATS WHY JESUS COMiNG
3 THOUSANd BiRDS COMiNG FROM
THE OCEAN-ON MAY & JUNE- 2 MONTHS
BEFORE RETURN OF JESUS- FOR POOR
GiFTS FOR ALL- THAT SHOW UP~
RENT DOWN- POOR BUS 1,2.3.
_______________________________________
JESUS iS COMiNG-BA AVENIR
ECHO-PARK 800 dE LA NOCHE
3000 PASAROS BLANCO dE LA PLAYA
GAHOTA DE LA PLAYA- MAYO- JUNIO
PAPELS PARO LOS dE MEXICO
BAnADAR PARA LA GENTE quE
SE PORTAN biEN PARA TOdA
lA GENTE ASiSTA AL ECO PAR
EL diA. RENTA- POOR
ECHO PARK AVE & SUNSET L.A.
BUS- 1,2,3.

I've sat on this flyer for a month now not knowing exactly what it is I wanted to do with it. Then yesterday Big Sue and I were talking and I read him the "important memo", as my neighbors and I like to call it, and we started coming up with some ideas. First of all I am going to go to all the bakeries in town and get all their nightly toss out on July 6. I will then go and scatter the bread crumbs all over Echo park so the seagulls flock. Then I will have my Jesus looking friend come to the park, in Jesus garb, on the morn of the 7th. He will casually walk around with his arms out palms slightly upward, when anyone walks by he will offer them a gift if they will just climb on the poor bus(my friend has a bus for their band and I'm going to paint poor bus 2 on it and park it by the park). On the bus spider rings and kazoo's will be handed out to the poor, and of course the school kids will recieve their scholl degree's. Then I decided, to prepare people for the big day I will start making cardboard cutouts of poor bus 1,2,and 3 and many cardboard seagulls and I will, in the night, start distributing them around the neighborhood. I am under negotiations with some other people who want to be a part of the big day. I will keep everyone posted.

Glass Rose, Blue Hairs, Space Hog and Zebra Dog.

It was more like a dream than a reality, in fact I still can't believe there really is such a place.

Time: Friday Night, 10:30pm.
Location: The bar which I work.
Comments/Details: Ali and I were sitting at the bar having some tasty cocktails making plans for the rest of our evening. The options we came up with were go to the sew fest, which I am still unsure what the hell it is, eat or go to my friend Sara's suprise birthday party at the All Star Lanes. Seeing that I had accidentally left my sewing machine at home I recommended we did not attend the sew fest and to skip eating to hot foot it over to the suprise party. Miss. Ali agreed, so we were off.

We pulled up out front of the bowling alley, or rather we crashed into the light post in the lot because as Ali says, "It's really quite a bore using brakes" so she's constantly driving over medians and crashing into walls. This could be the reason her front bumper is in the back of the truck, and her radiator dangles out front of the beast, who knows. We headed into the lanes to see Sara and tell her happy birthday and pepper her with lil' kisses, but it was a no go. She hadn't arrived yet instead the lanes were full of 'The Croutons', as I like to call them, a tatoo'd ruffneck mob of a motorcycle club who frequents my bar. I saw Tommy, the crouton I'm closest with, and I slo-mo ran and twirled and rolled and kicked all the way into his arms. He in turn sucked on the side of my head for a hello. I said my hello's to the rest of the crew and grabbed at Ali and stated it was time for the bar.

She said, "after the bathroom".

So of course we both went and here is where my magical night started to give me little suprise nuggets, and I AM talking about what happened in the bathroom... it's just may not be what you think. We rounded the end of the dank locker corridor into the womens bathroom. Coming out of the stalls were...

1. Portly woman with an aerosol sprayed cotton ball like puff of a head that was actually the softest peach color I have ever seen gracing the top of an old one. She was in a snug teal shiny jogging suit that had a gold chord swirling all across sewn on the jacket.

2. Short miniature woman roughly early 30's in a stone washed mini skirt and flowered button down. Her hair had wings!

The two of them were standing in front of the mirror cackling away as Ali and I chose our stalls. As we were filing our papers, the big one belted out "Well hell one of you got old over flowy and the other one got old spitty.", then she laughed and lauged. We all laughed and laughed and had now joined them at the sinks to wash our hands as the toilet spit and the bathroom flooded.

"Come on girls, lets get a drink." The miniature woman said.

As we all walked and laughed over near the entrance of the bowling alley to the bar I heard the sounds of Queen getting louder and louder... this wasn't normal Queen ,however, that was not Freddy Mercury's voice I was hearing. I pushed aside the shiny green wrapping string curtain that had been placed in the doorway and walked into my very special, and newly favorite, insane assylum karaoke time warp. Had I died and gone to heaven? I couldn't have found a more perfect place, and the night hadn't even given me it's best yet. It was a visual overload, and I couldn't even grasp it at that moment in time. I walked over to the bar recognizing the bartender and said, "Aren't you one of Jodie's friends?". She said, "Ya' but that's not how you know me, I met you one night with Patrick and Anna.". This I suddenly remembered, Anna used to be my roomate and Patrick was a crazy bartender I used to know that I called Ground Beef. The three of them, Ground Beef Anna and this bartender, stumbled into our house one night coked out of their brains with an empty bottle of Beam all rearin' up for a threesome. I gently detoured them to Ground Beef's house where apparently Anna did some crazy monkey moves on the kids and wet his bed.

"My name is Winky." I told the bartender afraid she may not remember.
"Amanda", she said and we shook hands.

I grabbed my vodka soda from the bar as they called Julie Irene to the stage for her big number. It seemed she was quite well known and very popular with the old folks at the back table, you could tell by the way everyone screamed and clapped. I couldn't even tell you what song started up but it was some Taylor Dayne/Juice Newton-esk 80's love song. The blue hair's rushed the stage like molasses, and I turned to see where they were going. I almost dropped my drink at the sight that lay before me when I turned. I stood paralyzed. On the stage stood Julie Irene in very tiny purple denim shorts and a lavender frumpy sweatshirt. She had long skinny legs with white hightops, the kind with the velcro strap around the ankle. This woman had an honest to God mullet, not one of those 'cool' mullets all the kids have been trying to sport over the last couple of years, a mullet she had probably had since 1981. She was very thin, face all sunken in, looked very hungry like maybe she wanted a sandwich or something. I imagined that by the way she was twitching around and holding the mic like it was trying to get away from her and the funny faces she was making while belting out(actually sang well) her song that she had recently rehit her crack pipe, or more likely... never put it down. You've seen the sort the one rummaging through the grocery store looking for the glass rose and chore boys. The blue hairs had made it to the area in front of the stage now and were deep into some serious slow dancing. I just stood and stared.

"Close your mouth", Ali said as she nudged my arm.

I closed it as Julie Irene jumped off the stage, still singing, and walked(walked kinda' like Frankenstein legs all kicking to the outside taking too big of steps) over to the middle table where two large american indian woman sat straight faced with their palms down on the table. Julie Irene slung her arm around the neck of the one facing the stage and threw her body back, kicking her leg to the heavens, poiting her elbow up as she crooned with all her might. The women gave no reaction.

"Close your mouth", Ali said as she nudged my arm.

I closed it as the song came to an end. I hadn't even noticed my birtday buddy had come in and was staring at me like "hi are you going to say happy birthday to me?".

"Happy Birthday, were you suprised?" I asked.
"No I knew all about it." Sara responded, "This place is right up your alley huh?".
"I can't believe it." I said realizing we both looked and sounded like we may have died because our eyes were racing around the room surveying all the nuggets.

Sara left to go be at her party on the lanes, I found a booth in the bar as Ali sat next to me flippng through the book to find something to sing. She submitted her song Bonnie Tyler 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart', and I decided to go have a smoke. I walked outside to find another crack head this one however was wearing a long camel colored coat smoking one of those long skinny cig's with flowers on it. She immediately grabbed my arm and told me she liked my tatoo then showed me all of hers. She had her kids names on roses on her wrist and some crazy trbal thingy on her lower back and the ever popular dolphin jumping out of a wave on her ankle. The lady finished her smoke and told me to join her and her friends when I came back in. As she left me the hottest guy came walking out, so hot I wanted to pull my arms off. We smiled at each other and struck up a conversation and flirted and shuffled from one leg to the other. My head was getting hot so I had to walk away but I made sure I turned back and gave him a wink from Winky before going back in.

As I made my way back to the booth Ali was being called to the stage.

"...every now and then I get too fucking tired of the sound of my fuckin' tears, turn around, I can't fucking look at Winky 'cause she's makin' me laugh tooo fucking hard, turn around bright eyes,....." Ali sang while sitting on the edge of the stage as I realized we we're beginning to get a little sauced.

She finished and the host got on the mic to say, "I don't mind if you cuss if it's in the lyrics of the song but try and keep added curse words to a minimum".

Ali laughed and asked if the guy standing by the indian women was good looking or was she just drunk. I told her if she liked guys who wore coats with fur lined hoods and pants that are waiting for a river to blow through all hiked up in their mangina's with karate shoes and an independent T shirt then she had struck gold. So she called him over and they started their own little flirty conversation, as Tommy found his way to the booth and placed himself next to me to suck on the side of my head some more, then the hot guy walked in and layed eyes on me with old head sucky. He lowered his head in disappointment and turned and left, I wanted to call out "he's just my friend who acts all crazy and sucks the side of my head or licks my forehead sometimes", but I couldn't because Tommy was trying to cram his hand in my mouth. What was happening around me Ali was now making out with the stranger Tommy was wasted the blue hairs were cutting some serious rug along with old camel coat cracky. Purple Shorts cracky looked like she was trying to chew her face off starting with her lips. My head was spinning, I had to get out of there but Ali was now lip locked with old weirdo and Tommy was climbing all over me like I was a damned jungle gym. I slid under the table and began to crawl from the whole nightmare, or dream depending on how you look at it. As I hit the entrance to the bar I saw through the green string someone else on their knees crawling toward the door to the outside world. I peeked through the green and it was the hottest guy ever, again. He leaned forward in his crawl stance and gave me a kiss. We both jumped to our feet, because the kiss was explosive, and he thrust open the front door and yelled, "run"! Which I did, I ran and ran and ran and some many miles later I realized when he said run he probably meant for us to run away together. I don't know what happened when he said run it triggered some sort of race horse instinct in me and I took off. I stopped running and looked around a bit, I had no idea where I was. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"Dang, what am I gonna do now?" I said outloud to myself.

Out of nowhere, I mean nowhere it was like she fell from the sky, this woman in a chemical suit gas mask and all came whirling up on a scooter. She handed me a Miller Lite 12 pack box for my head and told me to jump on, that we had to move quick 'cause the 'Zebra Dog' was hot on our tracks. I asked no questions, put on my box and hopped aboard. She putted along at a raging 30 miles per an hour, just whipping around the bends. Somehow we ended up in front of my bar at the stop light, I jumped off. Startled she flipped her head around and asked what I thought I was trying to prove. I responded, "World peace does exist and I now know it is all up to you space hog.". She meowed loudly like a cat in heat and sped away at 30 miles per an hour.

I walked into the bar to see all the familiar faces, found a cozy stool and ordered one Fenet Branca neat. I woke up two days later in my tub wearing a gas mask.

Winky Report

I have a lake for a house, or a house made of lake.

I have a dead Gremlin, car... not grose little monster.

My cat has fleas.

I have fleas.

I'm broke.

I put down money on a used Volvo that my friend owns... she wrecked/totaled it Sunday.

I have bronchitis, a urinary track infection, and a yeast infection all at the same time, feelin' great.

I have recently been very dissappointed by people.

I have to move and I can't find a place, unless you include that mold, bug, and stench infested home in the hills.

I'm happy for Vic and her new job.

I'm grateful I'm another year older and I got to spend my birthday with a bunch of friends.

I'm sure glad I don't have to wear diapers except for at housewarming partys.

I'm going to blog for real again someday I swear.

I have to go rid my life of fleas now.

Up for a party my deer?

I should have know it was a bad idea when I was leaving the loft at 8 in the morning, carrying a plastic deer light (you know one of those decorative one's you find in peoples lawns... or my living room) to head to the 'Yee Rustic Inn' for bloody Marys and hot wings.

I had been up since the prior morning and had spent thirteen hours working at the bar, no food, little booze, and not a lick of sense left in me old noggin'. As soon as I walked in my front door, already daylight, my friend phoned me and told me to come down to the loft party she's at downtown(near skid row to be exact). Without hesitation, due to lack of brain cells, I hopped in a green cab and headed to where the action was. I pulled up to the loft, Ali and a tall dark stranger awaited out front. They led me inside to where, I was told, the party was. They led me up a dark staircase where the sounds of sniffing and murmed talk were overshawdowed by the loud music. As I rounded the corner into the bright daylit room I saw 'THE PARTY'. On the couch straight ahead was a 40 something year old balding man with a paisley shirt, beret laying half on his shoulder and half on his head(with scraggly grey hair sticking out all over the lower half of his head), khakis tight rolled at the cuff, loafers no socks. He was passed out and mouth breathing all crackly and loud. To the right was the rest of 'THE PARTY' standing at the little bar. There were four more 40 something year old artsy types speaking to each other in their best dulled uninterested voices, wanting to sound curious and intellegent, eyes leering around the room with their heads down peeking out from under their brows as if at any moment their eyes may stumble upon their next brilliant art masterpiece. They were all speaking with their hands, slowly up and down in this wave of an arm farm. The sight of 'THE PARTY' made me laugh out loud, and in turn made the goers fall silent. I tried to play it off like I to was full of curious wisdom and art... it worked, which made me laugh out loud again only this time they joined me in laughing, not quite sure if they missed something but they didn't want to appear stupid.

"Give Winky a line" my friend Ali shouted out to the goers.
"Ah no, thanks.. really I don't need any." I said waving my hands in front of myself.
"Come on, just a line... Ya' just like two lines.... Just a bump" the goers all droned at me while grabbing at their little bags of powder.

They pushed and shoved and put a mirror in my hands. I picked up the straw that lay next to the razor blade and snowy mountain, pointed the straw by the long skinny curvy line and inhaled through my nose. The goers and Ali were all so busy talking, with their dry little slugs clicking away in their mouths desperately seeking liquid, that they didn't even notice that the line I did was an imaginary line. I just put the straw down next to the line and snorted the whole length of the line inhaling nothing. I lay the mirror in front of the guy who owned the place and said, "Your turn". Which he replied, "Oh thank you.", and snorted away. I immediately went and found a comfortable chair and had a seat.

Next thing I knew I was jolted awake on the couch by the fact that I started to pee a little. I came to my senses, shit I'm still at 'THE PARTY', and crap I about wet my pants... but I didn't(fully). So I got up and went to the bathroom. I washed my face a little, finished peeing, and pulled myself together. Man I was recharged after my little nap, heck it's my turn to start drinking. I had been pouring drinks all day and night for others and damn if it wasn't my turn.

I came back out to 'THE PARTY' and, "Hey Winky is the best bartender ever, I bet she could make something out of what you've got left", Ali said through her grinding jaw and sniffles. I wanted to make myself a drink but they all really looked like they could use something very wet and very stiff. So I walked behind the bar and surveyed all it had to offer... Vermouth, Tequilla, Sugar Water, Lemon Juice, Cranberry juice, and Limes, there was only one option with this one... Cranberry Margaritas. I mixed in my usual furry and presto, everyone now had a chance to come down via a Wink-tastic cocktail. I turned to the owner and commented on how I liked his plastic deer light and, "can I have it" figuring it never hurts to ask. He said no, then I told him of my extensive collection in my living room and how great it would be for the deer to come home to his people. He couldn't refuse, I unplugged the old girl and rounded up Ali, went and woke Braun, and told them all it was time for mommy's bloody mary breakfast.

We parked out front of Yee Rustic Inn, finally my turn had arrived. We sat at the first table by the door ordered three bloody mary's. Ali started yelling to the bartender, I quickly muffled her which caused her to bark, "I hate your guts.", I laughed and sipped my Mary. Then my friend George walked by trying to leave, but I wouldn't stand for it. So we all moved to a bigger booth in the back, he call Noah his fiance upon my demand and told her to come out as well. Once there were three, now there were five and 40 hotwings and two pitchers of beer. I went out to smoke and when I came in a miniature doggy came running up to me, so I picked up the lil' booger and sat at my table.

"Did you see who was here?" Ali said pointing to the booth across from us.

Sure enough there was the guy I had gunned for about a month and a half ago and had recently given up due to his lack of interest in calling me, but still just last week got drunk and had to step out to the back seat of his car with him. Never again I say I'm more than just boobs, but I guess I keep forgetting. All this was too much for me at that moment so I didn't bother saying hello for atleast 15 minutes even though he was all of two feet away from me. Next thing I know Ali is missing and Noah and I can't find her anywhere. We run out front to see her in her truck trying to get her key in the ignition all the whilst prank calling people on her cell phone.

"Give us your key now", we said.
"I hate your guts", she replied.

We took her keys anyway, as the back seat boy walked up.

"Bye Ali give me a call later," back seat said.
"I hate you", she said.

Then he toussled my hair with his hand like I was some freakin' dog. "Bye Wink.".

We rounded up Braun and George and the three of us who were still making sense decided it was best if we got Ali home, and all of us to bed. It was three in the afternoon now, and really did we need to continue? No.

George and Noah started to drive away while Ali was standing out front of the Rustic, arms out like Jesus on the cross, singing,"Yee Rustic did me in, it did it again, oh Yee Rustic.". We all laughed, it was ridiculous.

Finally I was home, I gathered up my little deer light and walked straight into my house and fell asleep with my newest posession in my arms. I awoke at nine p.m. cuddling old deery, and hungry. First I checked my messages, and found that Ali and Braun didn't go home instead they went to the bar I run and harrased my bartender. I only knew this from the 12 prank calls she delivered to my inbox. I cleaned up and went to see my bud Jodes at work. I knew she'd be done bartending soon and I could easily persuade her to go eat with me. Just as I suspected she was all game, and she was all drunk... which I didn't realize at first but when we arrived at the restaurant she ordered us two pina colada's and immediately spilled them and the whole table in my lap. Thankfully the mofia that runs that place likes me, so they just laughed and, "send our sweetie some more drinks... on me", the boss said in his 'I own the whole world voice'.

The night went on... but I just can't anymore.

Too much typey type for old Wink.

....to be continued

in 2008.

Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver

I have for weeks, maybe even months, now been making grandious promises to two(well now three) guys I have employed as my saturday regulars at the bar.

Like clockwork I set up the bar and at four o'clock sharp I open the front door. First in is Chrissy, tall skinny rocker whose usually hung over and twitching with hilarious stories from the prior night. Then enters my first and most loved regulars, the one's I will someday cross over from drink boss to friends with. These are the two guys whose friend was accosted by The Old Crusty Prostitute. Both of them being so wickedly charming and funny I constantly find myself trying to be more funny than I have ever been, pulling out all of the old and new tricks from my bag. I must make them laugh, it's the only way I could ever repay them for all the long hard nights they have worked drinking PBR's and shots of Maker's Mark at the bar.

Side Note: Eric, the shorter of the two regulars who sounds like Wolfman Jack and has these crazy piercing blue eyes, told me a story last week about how when he was a toddler he and a toddler buddy, all naked because they snuck out of their bath, busted out two beers from the parents beer coolers and started tossing them back. When the mother saw this instead of taking the beer away she took a picture and laughed while the boys got all jacked up. When he was teething she would hand him a cold beer can to suck on. I dream of being that kind of mom.

Now about all these promises.....

It all started when someone came in and played every disco song they could find on the juke box. Somehow it came to be that I was going to start wearing crazy disco onesy's that gave me camel toe(or moose knuckle as they say in Canada), have big puff pony tails sticking out to the side of my head, on rollar skates, with glitter all over my face, and a big furry jacket, disco dancing behind the bar. The whole town would be a buzz about this crazy Disco Winky. I would rollar skate to and from work with my disco tunes blaring from the radio the guy who walked behind me carried. I would twirl and spin and back skate while throwing my arms up and out and all disco-eee around me. People would drive by screaming from their cars, "Hey it's Disco Wink".

Then it came to be that I shouldn't always be Disco Winky, that it should change week to week. I then became the pirate wench who would serve the swill and cuss and smoke a lot. I would wear old whenchy dresses with my boobs all hoisted up under my chin. Aye! When I was Madam Whench I would have a parrot who would fly and land on shoulders of innocent young boys at the bar and squawk, "Raarr, he farted... it was him, raaar". I would then in all my whenchyness toss the poor young rascal out onto the curb.

Then I decided I wanted to open my own bar called Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver, and every night of the week I would come in as one of my alter-egos that they had donned a name for. I would either be Madam Whench, Disco Wink, Skank, Bernice... and what not. I would have my fart blaming parrot, a chimp that smoked and served drinks with his furry little fingers all up in their cocktails dropping the glasses down on the bar in front of his chosen customer. There would be a moving walkway behind the bar so when you went to serve someone at the other end customers would just see you face forward, still as can be, moving down to the other end(this would be a highlighted feature for Disco Wink, strike a disco pose and float to the other peeps). I would have a kareoke machine hooked to the t.v. behind the bar but I wouldn't let anyone but myself use it. I would just stand, while the chimp slaved over drinks, and croon horribly into the mic. The place would be packed, everyone would want to go to Captain Flapjack's Regal Beaver. The name of the bar is getting worked on because as Eric so kindly put it, "A name like that, Skank, it's gonna' quickly became the hottest dyke bar in town... which I'll still come.". So maybe I'll think about it.

I fear if I don't show up as someone other than myself this week I will lose my Good Time Charlie's. I fear if I do show up as someone other than myself I will lose my job. "Winky we're going to have to let you go and these gentlemen in the pretty white truck with the white jacket are going to take you to a lovely little place where you can get some rest.".

Ah woe is me.

The Sue's Believe

Since I was about eight years old my brother and I have called each other Sue, him of course Big Sue... me Little Sue(even more charming his one year old daughter has now become The Lil'est Sue), even though neither of our names in any way even come close to being Sue. So, I was talking with Big Sue the other day and and(what was that do I stutter when I type?) we both admitted that there is still this funny part of us that believes in all these events that were amp't up from our childhood immagination. Like...

1. One day after we had finished catching crawdads in the creek and were heading up the hill to our street, we were suddenly startled by a fox. Now alive in both of our memories is Big Sue, screaming like a schoolgirl, running a fully olypic run home cutting through the back yards of our neighbors. Here's the tricky part, we both remember him hurdling about ten chainlink fences. He was six, still we are both convinced he did this and boast the story to others as often as possible. We both also remember I stayed behind, and like some child who had spent her life lost in a forest, befriended the fox and shared a laugh about Big Sue and all his girlyness.

We believe this happened.

2. Another creek story. One hot summer day I remember sitting on the bank of the creek, in my overalls frog in the chest pocket, with Big Sue, in his short red shorts and white mesh tank top, catching crawdads. This was a pretty regular event for my brother and me. We liked to catch crawdads then take them home and boil them and sit around commenting on how much they tasted like chicken, to a couple poor kids from Missouri this seemed like a sophisticated affair. On this particular day we had invited the Johnson gang along. They were the rotten sibling pack we had been troublemaking with since birth. The memory stands like this... Good One Honey, The Prick, Pizza(that's my big sis, often called Sissa or Neyney as well) were wading their way up the creek, which was surely just sewage water, to where Big Sue and I had found a goldrush of craws when the air was peirced with death screams from the oldest of the bunch, Queen Lisa Beth. Big Sue and I jumped to our feet and we all looked back down our kid river to see the Queen sinking in quicksand(mind you this is Missouri). She was a good forty feet back from the rest of us, just sinking away, so we had to think fast.

"Good One Honey, tie up the craw bag and give me that rope holdin' your pants up. Pizza, grab that big stick over there. Lil' Sue, you and The Prick take the bucket and put as much dry dirt and grass as you can in it... GO!", Big Sue was takin' charge.

The hillbilly army worked fast Good One Honey, Pizza, and Big Sue ran to Queen Lisa Beth to get that rope tied around her seeing that she was waist deep now. The Prick and I hustled to fill that bucket with dry goods, and ran to Big Sue who now had Pizza holdin' tight to the other end of the rope while he held out the big stick for the Queen to grab onto.

"Now hurry put the dry stuff in around her so we can get her out!" Big Sue barked his order.

The Queen got up to her chest, and just when we were losin' hope the system started to work. There was grunting and moaning and sweating, and with all our might she was finally on dry ground again.

Then we all went back to our house and boiled up some crawdads.

"Taste like chicken".
"It does taste like chicken".
"Yes chicken".

We believe this happened.

3. We used to sometimes spend Christmas at our Auntie's house in Walla Walla Washington, land that proudly claims Walla Walla Sweets(or more plainly, an onion) as there claim to fame. This one particular Christmas Eve Big Sue, Pizza, myself and our cousins Bobby, Cheryl Anne, and Anne Cheryl were all playing Star Wars in our Underoo's(I by the way always demanded that I be R2-D2) in Bobby's room when we heard the sound of jingle bells coming from what seemed to be outside his second story window. We all fell silent and stoped dead in our Death Star tracks, it couldn't be. We clammored, pushed, and shoved to be the one's front of the pack looking out the window. Big Sue and myself faces pushed up to the payne couldn't believe oue eyes. There through the trees we could see the shape of a giant sled with, what looked like, eight really in shape horses flying out front of it. The sound of bells faded as this moment of magic disappeared in the night.

We believe this happened.

4. The very first house I lived in was a small two bedroom house on White Oak in a scraggly white trash ghetto in Missouri, the house was puke green. There are so many of these events that took place in this house that I am just going to have to list together, because it would take years to fully tell them all. At this house I was often found out front eating dirt and ants next to the big oak tree, in nothing but my underware Big Sue in tow, watching the Baker's(all 10 children) across the street. They had a three bedroom place. When we weren't watching Billy and Willy Baker, the two eldest boys, dancing on the roof in nothing but cowboy boots waving their BB guns in the air... we were watching the once a week bath line up. You see the Bakers had a summer tub outside their place which was just a big metal bin filled with water, and once a week all ten of them would line up shortest to tallest. One by one they would pull all their cloths off, stack 'em in a big pile to the side of the wash tub, and climb in searching for the bar of soap, suds up to their own personal liking, climb out use THE towell and run over to the cloths line and put on their other outfit. This was always a good hour of entertainment for Sue and I. Then their was also the day willy walked over to Sue and I and held up his bare foot and said through his missin' tooth mouth, "Looky". And I'll be damned if he didn't have a nail stickin' all the way through his foot. Then he shrugged and made a face like 'ah well', and walked away.

Inside this house was a hole other mecca of excitement. Their were elves working hard in the vents. Sue would feed me bottles of Scope. Fluff our gerbil lay dead in the corner in his platic ball. A blue lady named Roberta lived in the closet of our bedroom the three of us shared. Roberta was very sad. My mother, who is certifiably insane(no really I was born in the Sanitarium, no joke), placed phone calls to Bob Barker, and re-carpeted the whole house using nothing but mis-matched carpet swatches. The reason, you may ask, why she did this was.... education. My mother used to line Pizza, Sue and I up in the kitchen and make us jump from rectangle to rectangle shouting out the color and type of carpet each swatch was.

"Yellow Burber!" Sue yelled
"Green Shag!" Pizza would follow.
"Black Astroturf!" I would say even though I knew damn well I was on a swatch of woven stain-fade, static-resistant fiber mix of geometrical design in an erray of varying shades of red.

This would cause my mother to throw a full box of ice cream in the kitchen sink and scream, "I suppose you think this belongs here!". Then she would sulk to her room for under the bed mommy alone time. Then my father would say, "she's all yours kid, you made her this way.".

This was also the house Pizza, Sue and I saw an ambulence fly down the street, but this ambulence had a window in the back that was open and George Brett's, 1985's baseball superstar, leg was sticking out of it. We saw George Brett, and we told everyone.

Oh the salad days.

We believe this happened.

5. The third house we lived in Big Sue got his own bedroom. I, however, shared a room with Pizza. Pizza hated this because I would scream and cry, while she tried to sleep in our shared bed, until she placed her hand over my eyes(this was apperently the only way I could sleep). Some nights were different, I was a brave loner, and I would pull my lamp and my recorder with the microphone into my closet and stay up all night recording the greatest radio show ever. This is the room where we saw the black panther(actual animal) climb the screen outside the window(Missouri, remember) Big Sue and I both saw it.

Big Sue at some point began to feel bad for me in the shared room, and petitioned by eating an entire bottle of asprin to have Pizza move to the basement. After the stomcah pumping I found myself in a small bedroom all of my own and as a room warming gift Sue built, using every piece of furniture and door knobs, a giant spider web out of kite string that was strong enough for me to climb on and sit. He knew I still spent many hours of the day crying for Charlotte, so on my web that day I sat and cried and become one with Charlotte... her memory lives on.

It was at our third house where Sue challenged me at two in the morning to stand up and ride my bike as slow as I could. I tried, but while riding I fell asleep, fell off the bike, hit my head on the curb and got a concusion. I slept for weeks before Sue and my father could get me up off the curb. Only to have me walk five feet into the lawn where I fell asleep again hitting my head on a rock. I was at the hospital for a while after those naps.

The third house is also the house we saw my father, from my bedroom window, carrying a bloody girl my age down the street.

We believe this happened.

I am now feeling restless, it could go on forever... but I would hate to put you though that pain.

See you all at the table.

My Very Own Table Party

Oh kids, these are the things Grandma Wink thinks about.

You see I have never been a, how do you say, computer wiz and quite honestly this has been my first time my snarled fingers have tickled my keyboard to dance with the other folks in this mysterious cyberland. It's true I have never chatted online, just recently was made aware of the demon I call I.M.ing. Never have I run amuck in any websites, except the brief one I had with an old comedy group... Winky likes to look at herself, narcasistic... a little.

I have always thought of myself as someone who would have conversations with people face to face. I'm a people person, hence my 9 million jobs I've had dealing with "the people". So as of lately I have found myself on numerous occasions creating faces and background history for all of you I frolic with in this here blogland. I find myself even changing the appearance of the people I know personally, the ones whom I know their background history and faces. These people I have created change day by day depending on my mood, and what people have wriiten. I even like to draw little sketches of everyone, the way I see it in my head that day, sitting at a long table laughing and smoking and drinking vodka with a computer in front of everyone.

So for today here is the way I invision my great table party.

At the head of the table is Victoria, however she doesn't sit she stands smoking a very long skinny cig. She is dressed very professionally and wears a hat over her black finger curled hair. Every minute or so she turns to Blog Ho who is sitting by her side, tilts her hat to him and says "Ma'm". Which of course he responds with standing, pulling out the sides of his tutu like a little girl, and says "sir". Ho you can tell is very experienced by the numerous tatoo's he has, all being horrifically fantastic scenes from his life. Like the one on his right forearm, it's a young Ho, deep at sea on a large ship with an unrully crew. He is standing out front of the others with a sword.. as to fight off the large sea beast that is threatening their lives. Next to Ho sits Pj Smorg, he is a giant head that is all, this one is not too far from the truth. He has enormous crazy eyes bouncing all over the place and he is jabbering on about the stock market "It's dirty dow makes me rise and fall", and so on. While this is happening You've Got What I need sits next to him in her old timey west bar dress gun slung over her shoulder with her cowgirl boots kicked up on the table. She has a jewelled eyepatch over her right eye that while Smorg carries on she keeps lifting it to him saying, "I see". Next to YGWIN sits Margaret Louise, she is very tiny, like 2 feet tall. She is a simple and pretty little one. She types, nervously looking around the table. She's on to something grand and we all know it, so we let her type. Next to her sits Thoresen Wells. He is an old man, very large, wearing a very nice vintage suit. He sits back in his large wooden chair boasting to and fro. He has a long curled pipe from which he tokes, however unlike the smell that would normally come from a pipe his presents a cloud that more resembles meat. I sit next to Wells an a stool that is far to small for me. So I look abnormally large lurching over it in my race car driver onesy. I'm balding, in that bad way where the front is missing but the back is a long scraggly thin blanket for my shoulders. I have a very pretty face though. I am smoking, not one cigarette but the whole pack which I have just ripped off the bottom and lit, surrounding myself in the most dense cloud... to the point that everyone keeps asking where I have gone. There is a mountain of pocket change next to me on my left that I keep trying to give handfulls to Vic. When she doesnt's notice, because she is lifting her hat to Ho, I just drop it on the pile that has formed next to her right foot. For some reason I assume at todays party there is a short fat horse galloping around all of us whistling the theme from the Golden Girls.

It just makes me feel a little closer to everyone. I wish I knew how to upload images, this party would be much better if it was illustrated. There's always next time.

Whatever Happened To Baby Winky?

I awoke this morning, like many mornings, fully clothed shoes and all laying on my back with my arms crossed like Dracula which incidentally is the way I thought you died as a child except your tongue would stick staight out of you mouth like a rigid slug. I also assumed when you died x's would magically appear over you eyelids.

Hold on, my bartender wants me to come out of my hole and watch the bar so he can smoke, "wah wah wah, I'm a little puss.". I need to start thrashing and whipping these people.

Ok where was I. Oh ya' waking up. I, lately, have been addicted to renting movies from the library. This round was full of old movies and 2 modern crap films. So I started out this morning grabbing my left over smokes from last night and a pot of coffee, I do mean the full pot sitting on the floor next to my couch with my mug standing like a good soilder nearby, and Easy Rider. My VCR ate that one so I moved on to the Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?. You know, I've seen this movie a million times in my life but for the first time today something dawned on me. I don't know if it's because I'm older, or if it's because I grew my hair out, or if it's because my hair is now a bleach blonde... but I realized I am kind of like Jane Hudson. I'm a complete loon. I could totally see myself, convinced I was right, serving parokeets and rats on silver platters to loved ones. Or dressing like an overgrown seven year old, prancing around my living room like I got a goddamned audience, listening to Connie Francis or some other old bit of nostalgic music from my past. I always fuck up my relationships, just like Jane, cause' I'm doing something wrong or goofy in my house and become afraid to answer the door. Then I started laughing at the poor sister in the wheel chair rolling in circles gut moanin' into the air while Jane laughed like a pirate in heat in her lush bedroom AHAHAHAHAHAH. Crazy! Strangly I physically resemble the crazy old bat as well... big bulgy crazy eyes, wild long blonde hair, grunting and moaning all over the place desperately grabbing at empty bottles of booze so I have something to drink while I cry over a pile of old photos and scrapbooks. Weeping rivers of mascara on the floors, the walls, the bottom of the fridge, Lou the cat.

I finally came to the conclusion that my aging process is not going to be pretty or graceful. It will be more that of a sand sculpture crumbling over time, or a piece of forgotten fruit, a wax lady. People will whisper when I walk by "Whatever happened to baby Winky?".

Head Poop!

Yup' it is definately Valentines Day. As I was walking to work today I was suddenly blasted by a hot gooey substance globbing all down my head into my eyes nearing my mouth which of course made me start spitting and cussing all over the place. I threw my head back and stared hard to find the little feathered bastard who annointed me, and there staring back at me, fluttering his precious lil' asshole wings, was none other than that creep cupid. Cupid took a dump on my head! He's a gross little turd. Watch out people old Jerko is serious this year.

Another Day In The Park

I'm pretty certain while sitting in the park yesterday writing, an activity full of whimsy, a big white duck was flirting with me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye as he, watching me, slowly stutted his way toward me. Now thinking he was like all the other ducks I didn't want to make any sudden moves, like looking up, and scare him. He got to be about 1 foot in front of me, I still had my head down pretending to write up a storm, as he leaned in under my face and looked me dead in the eye.

"Quack" he said.
"Oh hi" I blushed and put my head down and pretended I was busy.

I was nervous. He backed away a step and turned and walked over to the pack of mismatched ducks across the sidewalk from myself. He started talking to them all then looked over his shoulder and gestured toward me. They all started laughing and talking amongst themselves. I tried but I just couldn't make out what they were saying. Then the one I said hi to barked loudly to me and when I looked up again they had all stood in a straight line facing away from me. My duck quacked three times and they turned their heads around over their backs and stared right at me as they all started shaking their tail feathers. I couldn't believe him, what a crazy bastard. I laughed, kinda' lowered my head, and smiled innocently while looking softly at him from under my brow. All his duck friends exploded in quacking and nudged him with their beaks in my direction. He strutted back over to me..

"Quack?" he asked. He was strong.
"Winky", I then asked "What's your name?".
"Quack" he replied.
"That's a real nice name" me.
"Quack" him.
I laughed, "thank you".
"Quack" he asked and lifted a wing.
"I guess, sure". I folded my notebook over and tucked the pen away and stood.

He moved his wing around me and and rested the tip on my right hip, he of course was on the left and we walked around the lake slowly. We talked and laughed, it was a real nice afternoon.

When he climbed abruptly out of my bed later that night and hurried to the front door he quacked and said he'd call me today. I sat by the phone all morining and late into the afternoon, no call. I was starting to get pissed and was terribly confused. It seemed like he liked me I decided to go to the park to find him.

When I arrived to where I first layed eyes on him there was no sign of him or his guy friends. Instead there was just this group of big butted female ducks huddled up quacking under their breath to each other looking over at me giving me the eye. I just turned around and went home to get ready for work.

I'm at work now in my office just daydreaming that when I walk out to bartend he'll be here. He was flirting right? Was I just some cheap piece of human flesh for him? Am I going to lay an egg now? I'm so stupid, he doesn't care about me. Next time I see him he'll act all cool and say something smooth like, "Quack". I'll foolishly melt, next thing you know badda-bing we're back at my place and I'm watching him run from my bed. Not me, not this time! When I see him next I won't even look in his direction. And when he talks to me I'll say, "Do I know you?", then laugh with all my friends and walk away. I don't know maybe I shouldn't be drinking so much before I go to the park.

Viva Las Vegas, You Crap Town!

I frantically searched through my oversized trashcan I call a handbag for a single dollar bill. Fives, tens, twentys, even a hundred dollar bill wadded in the bottom corner but no single dollars. I pulled out a fiver and slipped into the brightly lit death box, or Wheel of Fortune slot machine. Twenty credits... I gotta' make it last. I bet one credit, reached my right arm up to the long silver lever with the bulb on the end and pulled it toward me.
"WHEEL OF FORTUNE!", the machine yelled at me. Something happened it seemed good, and now I was getting to spin the wheel.
Round and round the wheel went 1000x10 being the highest 35 being the lowest. I struck it lamely at 35, of course. Bet another credit, nothing. Bet three credits, nothing. I was beginning to panic, my brow started to dampen, but I sat with a complete stare of boredom at the machine letting long exhausted bits of air escape through my lips so that if anyone around me, that I knew, happened to look my direction they would think I wasn't concerned with the winnings of a slot machine. But I was! I stopped and thought about how I really needed this lucky break and how I would do so much good if I could just win a bit of money. I began to pray, something I only do when I want to win money, or find money in a mysterious unmarked envelope on the sidewalk, or when I want to win money on a bingo scratch card, or when I want someone to show up at my front door with a gigantic check with my name on it.
"God pleeease let me win I swear I will share it with other people after I take care of my debt", then I thought to myself this isn't how prayers work I gotta' pray for others happiness then I will be rewarded, "actually God let the person next to me win I don't need it, I'll survive. Let everyone else, all the diaper wearin' blue hairs, in this casino win.. for the people God".
My wishes came through, my last credit... I won nothing. The people... won everything. Even this one dope who was with Pj Smorg, Margaret Louise, The Mayor, Durwood, the others, and me stuck one freakin' dollar in and won $250.00 bucks. Why him, he looks funny and has a lame girlfriend. A girlfriend who complained of the smoke in the shared hotel room with my friends and dicked them out of the rooms bill by demanding her own smoke free room. What did she think going to a wedding in the sinfilled town of Las Vegas agreeing to shack up with two smokers for a weekend, go back to church camp Mother Teresa! I was bitter now, once again I was in cheap crappy fanny pack sweat suit stank Vegas. All I wanted out of this shit town was a giant stuffed unicorn or a million dollars, that's nothing. Instead all I got was a hangover, and a chance to run into this guy I dated in Chicago for a brief spell who whenever we'd start to get it on would turn into a dog. Barking and panting, licking himself, and begging for treats and frisby tosses in the park. I got an attempted salad and mac-n-chees from the ever so lovely Harley Davidson Cafe, the kind of place you want to return your meal in the toilet seconds after digestion. The only thing worth remembering from the Vegas trip was the ride to and from where I spent many hours laughing and making road trip jokes with The Mayor and Margaret Louise, and the 45 seconds I spent on the rollar coaster at the casino where I saw the Dog Man.
I've spent the last 48 hours trying to escape the bling bling ching ching doodlydoodlydoodly sounds of the slot machines that are dancing unforgotten in my head, as I sit and wait for Ed and his giant check. One day, I know it, I'll be the big winner. Then me and the Dog Man can go get a ranch in Montana where he can run and run and run.

Old Crusty Prostitute

Last week when I was bartending I felt the overwhelming boredom fall over me as the tumbleweeds came blowing through the saloon doors at the front of my establishment. Just as I was about to walk out front into oncoming traffic, seemingly my only way out, the phone rang. It was Margaret Louise, one of my very dear friends, and she informed me she was going to come down and hang out with me. Thank God I thought, that'll save that poor bus driver from having to clean me off his grill after he'd hit me. No more than five seconds after I placed down the phone some customers started walking in.

The first two were these men roughly 30 years in age who appeared to be a couple that came in atleast once or twice a week. About a week ago at the end of the night the apeish looking one started the "tab is wrong" battle. As he put it so eloquently, "you just want to fuck me". As if that were why his bill was a whole whoppin' $42.00. I laughed out loud and said, "I want to fuck you? HAH!". Then I walked over to his table and counted all the bottles and glasses, seeing as how I hadn't cleaned a table all night, then calculated it out loud in front of him and said, "now sign your fuckin' tab bozo". He did.

So the lovers were back at the bar, the mousey one said to the Ape, "she's the bartender you were fighting with last week.".
I walked over, "ya' you WERE fighting with me.".
Ape, "you were waisted though and got my tab wrong.".
Me, " No YOU were waisted and do you remember the reason you thought the tab was wrong?" He looked confused, I continued, "It's because aparently you thought I wanted to fuck you and because you were unwilling I jacked up your tab, bring back any memories sport?"
He apologized, we laughed, and we made our ammends and poof! they had whiskey again. Following in a few moments after the ape and mouse was this beat up, sad eye'd, cheap rings of black eyeliner, peroxide job, in her 40's looking woman. She sat a few stools down from the boys and ordered one four doller glass of chianti. Within a couple of minutes the whole rim of the glass was covered in impossible to remove red lip prints.
Thirty to forty minutes had passed and the Ape and the Mouse had found their way to the Wine Whench. The boys were getting sloppy on their shots of whiskey, and her with her wine(glass now completely red from lipstick even the stem), and they had started the all too popular, "I love you bartender routine". One day they hate you cause' you want to fuck them, next day they love you. Then she started...
"..you have to love the body, want to kiss it everywhere. If you have a man(she was now directing it to me) you have to kiss him from head to toe," she reached around and started patting her own rear, "even every part of this gets kissed, you know what I mean?".
The Mouse spoke up, "you mean kiss the asshole". This made him giggle.
At this point the Mouse and the Ape were what seemed to be swording it out with their little nubs in a moment of gay rage underneath the bars edge. At the same time they seemed to be flirting with Old Crusty.
My attention thankfully was taken by my off duty security guard and 2 friends coming in for drinks. Two bud lights and a Shiner boch. Then Margaret Louise enters. I was thinking in my head, as she headed to the empty stool next to Old Crusty, oooo she's in for a treat.
More customers came in so between orders I would slide back over to where the Mouse, Margaret and Old Crusty were exchanging stories, the Ape was dancing around the middle of the bar alone. At some point the Mouse squeezed in to the other side of Margaret so she was in the middle of the two, a hard sandwich to swallow. Then as they were getting more excited about whatever sordid detail they were on would take turns hovering over the bar in front of Margaret. She was just laughing at the ridiculous invasion of her space. I wasn't there for the conversation but at one point I picked up Old Crusty saying, "... you got to do it everywhere, thee kitchen table, thee bedroom, and even sometimes you go out to thee car and(she put her arms bent by where her waistline would be and started thrusting her hips slightly forward) ugh ugh... you know". She looked at me, "you are very beautiful, what is your name?".
I told her my name, she then decided to tell me she loved me and that she wanted to open her own bar, just a wine and beer joint with possible appetizers. Her and Margaret started a conversation, the Mouse was dancing, as I went to serve 2 bud lights 1 shiner boch. I headed back over to my friend in need, then asked Old Crusty, "what's your name?"
"It is Amy.". She replied, this was a familiar name to me.
At one point Margaret excused herself to the bathroom and when she returned she sat at the other end of the bar near my off duty security and friends. They were filled in on the female trouble at the end of the bar.. they decide to further the fun with Old Crusty. My security walked over and within two minutes was pissed and came back over to our end. She had started scolding him for being mexican and not speaking spanish. This for whatever reason set off Tony, my securtiys Latin American friend. Tony and OC get into it. It's now 2am and I'm kicking out strangers, and somehow Tony ends up leaving with OC.
"What's that about?" I asked.
"We convinced him to take her home," his friends start laughing.
"You know he's getting murdered tonight." I say in all sincerity, that ol' bag didn't seem so stable.
No more than 15 minutes passed when there is a banging at the back door. It was Tony and him and OC got no further than two blocks away when she tried strangling him. I laughed. We all laughed. We spent the next 30 minutes or so filling each other in on the different things she had said to all of us. It seemed through all the stories she was apparently a prostitute whom liked women not men, maybe that's why she tried killing Tony.

On saturday I was at the other bar I work at when two of my customers who frequent my shifts at both bars came in. They were laughing and excited to tell me some story. It turns out on Thursday they had come to my bar and been acosted by an old crusty mexican prostite, who said she wanted to open her own hair salon. I couldn't have been happier and can't wait to hear more reports.

Getting to the bottom of it all.

Ok I was going to post this today anyway because it's been on my mind. Today I was asked about the man who has been all over the news, from here in LA, caught in the muddy flooding WITH HIS PANTS DOWN. The thing is is he wasn't alone in the depantsing. There have been three different situations involving three different men all of them being depanted by this wicked storm. My question is, what exactly is mother nature up to? She's swallowing this town whole by using force of water but then, as if to rub salt in our wounds, is ripping the britches right off of us for all the world to see. As if everyone doesn't already have enough to laugh about when it involves this here city, they now have mutiple images of all of us floating bottoms up. And how exactly is this happening. What, did the whole damn town just give up and decide, 'well hell it's raining I guess we'll all just wear our drawstring pants(undrawn) out today'? I'm taking no chances, I have duct taped my pants to my waistline and made a makeshift harness that goes between my legs and over my shoulder, as to keep my pants in place. You won't see me floating around in that muck toosh to the heavens, hell no!

Well I guess I'll hop in my canoe and paddle home now. Bon Voyage.

The tape, she used the tape!!!

I was sitting in the small wading pond, that was recently installed by either God or my landlord over the last week.. or maybe it was merely from the non-stop bible worthy rain(this IS a religious story), this morning while chain smoking and drinking coffee when I was startled by a very odd sound. It was the sound of someone or thing scampering past me in the kitchen toward my library/den/office/guest bedroom/media room/closet/sewing room/dry storge/garage/back half of my living room.

"What was that?". Lou asked as he casually stole a hit off my cigarette that was perched on it's ashtray.

"I have no idea buddy," I said as I got up to further inspect the situation, "finish that I'm gonna' look around a bit".

Lou pulled the ashtray closer to him as I went after the mysterious sound. I stepped into the next room and I noticed that my orphan's bed was empty in the guest room. Hmmm maybe it was Orphan #7 and I just didn't see her fly by.

This was possible being that this particular orphan showed up on my doorstep after an unsettleing 8 year stay on hippie island. For three months now I had been training my brain and eyes to not see her as she ran from room to room, because more often than not she thought clothing was optional. I had tried many times to explain to her, inside does not equal birthday suit but it was taking the hippie time to adjust.

"Orphan #7, is that you?" I called out.

Just like in some bad horror film I heard giggling, then the scamper again, and then I felt her pass through me. I clutched my sweater that was tied around my neck, "she passed though me, I can smell her on my cloths," I said totally grossed out to Lou who was now eating a sandwich next to me.

I started tearing through the house following the laughter and thudding of her wicked footsteps.

"Damn you filthy hippie!" I cursed into the air just as I was making on my fifth lap around the house.

I stopped in the bathroom and bent over with my hands above my knees to catch my breath when I noticed them. There on the bathroom floor laying next to each other looking up at me and, seemingly, smirking were the tapes. Not just one but both of them. I grabbed the Scotch Magic tape threw it up over my back and shouted "Dirty". Then with my other hand, that was still resting above my right knee, I reached down and grabbed the Scotch Invisible tape throwing it in the air forcing my body upright and shouted, "Hippie". She used the tape! I started screaming and spitting and rolling all over my house. That stinking hippie pulled one over on me. She used all the magic and invisible tape and is now walking all around my house, surely, clothing optional getting her hippie stink pore juice everywhere. Lou was so repulsed he ran to the toilet and yaked and hurled like a bolemic after a trip to Old Country Buffet.

I ran out front of my house grabbed the hose, turned it on full blast, and tore back into my house like Turk 182. I sprayed the couch, the walls, the beds, the books, the fabric sheets, Lou, and Orphan # 7. Slowly before my eyes an Orphan #7 stood before me, piece by piece as the tape melted away, in her birthday suit. She was scratching the sides of her thighs manically saying over and over again, "A penny saved is a penny earned..."..

And indeed it was. I went straight to the bank and deposited one United States Of America penny.

My Golden Slumber

There I was standing on this neon sign lit corner in New York. It was late but there were still cars and people everywhere. I heard this sound rushing toward me. The sound vaguely sounded like a fire engine, but one with a New York accent. It was nearing just as a beat up sedan came screeching up to a halted stop in front of me. Two cops came flying out of the car piercing my ears with the shrill of their slide whisltes. I covered my ears and lowered my head and closed my eyes. Through my hands, covering my ears, I could hear the muffled sounds of choas and yelling. I opened my eyes to see the two cops trying to put Woody Allen, and some other guy, in their red pajama's in the back of the car. I yelled out, "why isn't he laughing he's supposed to be laughing, cause' it's crummy!". Alas, he was not laughing in fact Woody Allen was crying. He looked up at me and reached out his closed hand and said, "get this to..", as he was saying this I had already reached out my hand. Before he could tell me who to get it to he had already done it. He had dropped three or four dancing cockroaches in my hand. I screamed and and began to shake about like I was being electricuted, with my eyes shut again. Suddenly, I heard waves, and laughter. I stopped moving and opened my eyes to see a bunch of my customers from the bar laughing and drinking and playing beach volleyball on this breathtaking beach. I had my back to the ocean and was face to face with Fancypants, this is a boy who often frequents my bar to attempt to court me but I can't stop laughing at his fancy pants long enough to do anything about it.

I started to relax and giggle and was trying to explain to Fancypants that I thought I was with Woody Allen and that's why I was acting so weird. He just turned to carp me to everyone else. Then, I hadthis overwhelming urge to turn and look at the ocean. OH SHIT A TSUNAMI, and damn it's a big one. "RUN!" I scream but they all think I'm a weirdo now cause' I thought I was talking with Woody Allen when indeed I was talking to Fancypants. "Screw them", I mumbled to myself and took off running back toward the city. By running I mean my feet were movin' like molasses and my knees were so close to the ground that I kept having to push myself up off the pavement. I rounded a corner with a huge salmon colored cement parking structure on it. At this point there are three dogs running with me. Real dogs. There was a tall building attached to it and I pushed open the door and ran straight to the elevator. I wasn't the only one with idea at this point there were four of us in there. One of which I was aparently in love with however I have neer seen him before in my life. I thought this was strange but we kept on going.
Henry Mancini was softly playing in the elevator as we all casually stood around biting our nails, talking about the bar on the roof of the building, exchanging funny little looks, and shiftingour weight from one leg to the other. The doors opened it was mayhem. Women and men plunging to their deaths down the open center of the building. I looked over the edge just in time to see the tsunami coming. It's filthy brown water engulfed the base of the building, yet the whole time the sky above was the most beautiful blue with big white cumulus clouds just sitting around. The city looked like a big dirty lake from my stance at the top of the building.

Oh no I left Lou outside.

I started bawling, "Lou is dead, oh Lou... Lou" then I grabbed a passing lady by her collar, "maybe he climbed the tree, he's so smart he just has to be safe".
I was turning to head back to the elevator when someone yanked me to the ground by the back of my collar.
"You're late!" the man was screaming in my face all drunk with magarita salt all over his chin.

He must've been my boss cause' he tossed me behind a bar and yelled again, "I want a martini dirty with two olives and so does everyone else!!". I turned my head to see everyone else. The bar starting stretching longer and longer before my eyes, it was a mile long and silver. There were atleast eight people deep down the whole goddamn thing. I started mixing like I have never mixed before. Bottles were flying and I suddenly had 6 sets of arms at the same time shaking martini's. It just didn't seem right so I looked down to survey where these new arms had sprouted from and it turned out it was just my fellow bartenders standing behind me sticking their arms under my arms so the boss thought I had more arms and I wouldn't lose my job.

I was done, everyone now had their martini's. I knew the boss would think I was some sort of miracle bartender now.
"What the hell, I wanted olives!" boss yelling.
"I know martini's for everyone, dirty two olives sir!" I said with an obvious attitude cause' there was nooo way I screwed up.
He held out his martini and what do you know there's no olives. Nope insted there was sauerkraut.

I'm running again through my molasses, I'm near my house, where's Lou. All the houses around mine have been wiped out by the tsunami. He just had to make though I knew it.
"Lou, pal.. come out, where are you... LOU", just then out of the corner of my eye I saw Lou limp out from under some debris.
He was seemingly fine except the wet fur and the one leg that was now four times the length and width of the other three. I scooped him up and fell indianstyle to the ground.
"Oh Lou we'll get youto the hospital, I love you Lou... I do". I kissed his forehead over and over again.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

While making coffee this morning with Lou I realized something. Sauerkraut in martini's hmmm, yup I'm gonna make a million. Also, I don't think I should eat so many greasy spicy foods before I fall asleep.