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".