You Take The Candle Cake Who

Tis' the season.

2010-12-18T15:28:00.000-08:00

I have hung my t.v. on the door and dusted off that old saltine for the tree, in hopes that Santa doesn't skip past my house this year. I really have tried to be so good this time around. I mean, I have awoke every morning and removed one single cat poo from Lou's hope chest so he has the room to tuck some more dreams away. I have conserved energy and water, to help the fading existence of our world, by only changing the channel on my cable box once every three months and doing my dishes on the same day. I have a whole new outlook on the creatures of the world and no longer kill the spiders in my home, instead pull the sheets back on the opposite side of the bed so they too can get a good nights rest (even though they are such pranksters and like to bite me all night long, it's a funny game but I have to accept that all cultures have different upbringings and that is the game they were raised to believe is fun). I no longer have judgement toward other scrabble players and accept that the following words and their definitions knowing it could only help the progress of mankind.

Shirbi- Actually an animal similar to a gerbil with qualities of The Ferbie.
Ozadreacus- (Big Points) Russian for when the whole room is a wreck.
Etatureo- French/Spanish word for fashion made from food, usually spaghetti.
Hivno- When you get happy test results.
Pedo- What you wear to a Latin pool party.
Quemp- the word used to describe when you are a person who chooses to be quiet about your hemp habit.
Onesi- When someone shows up to work still all messed up from the night before.
Wacondix- no definition necessary.

I have learned that if you do want your new life to begin you have to call 1-800-GET-THIN, and that we were wrong the whole time. We shouldn't be exercising and eating healthy... NO we should be sitting and watching tv so people at the cable companies have jobs, and we need to drive and buy gas and get our "Double Downs" or "two cheeseburger combos" to support this society and all we have to do is get lap bands and those snooty Europeans will no longer make fun of us for being the fattest country in the world. Also it shows the world how inventive and ahead the game we are, one adjustment of the belt around our stomach at a time, and gives us an opportunity to stay atop world economy.

All this being said I would like to attach this, one typed letter to the rolly polly man in the sky.... Santa.

Dear Santa,

Hey dude! So I only really did one bad thing this year and that was when I got so drunk while working the bar that I hid all the contents of my purse and the registers in two black witches cauldrons, and tucked them away in the fridge. BUT... in my defense, why the hell were there two Halloween witches cauldrons behind a bar in the middle of December??? Riddle me that fat man? Anyway, I would appreciate the following items under my tree in unmarked brown paper packages.

1. One winning California Mega Millions lotto ticket.
2. One half man half goat, that stands 1 foot four inches.
3. A three legged dog named Sally who farts theme songs from 70's-80's television shows, oh and the farts smell like angel whispers.
4. Oh whenever I daydream about something, just make it happen for at least that day.

That about covers it y'know, a nice simple Christmas, not too much. Ooooo and maybe I'm just hungry right now but if you could just have someone drop by a pizza that would be great.

Ok signing off Mr. Chubs!

You're sweet little solider,
Me.

And all the trimmings.

there

2007-05-10T23:46:00.001-07:00

The following are just crazy old posts I never posted.

Nothing

2007-03-04T22:40:00.000-08:00

I really don't know what I am doing anymore. I am trying, what for, I really don't know why. I wouldn't say I was sad, numb maybe.

I have wanted to write so many things over the last year, but I feel like I have been in a constant state of shock. Like I can't even figure out what it is I think. I feel like someone kidnapped my ability to understand what it is I truly think. I don't act like myself, I don't dress like myself, I don't do the things I usually do. I feel like I am walking around in disguise. I'm a secret agent. Sent from the higher ups to figure out nothing.

movin' right on through old savies

2006-11-25T15:41:00.000-08:00

I find it very entertaining that everyone who lives at my house, when the premise of them living at my house is that they have no where else to go, always hits a point where they feel they know better than me how I should be living my life. I like to put things in the wrong place, I like my cloths on my floor, I like to have cartoons on the wall, and if I feel like sleeping on the kitchen floor then I will. I don't expect anyone in my house to do anything but one thing and that is be nice to me. If you don't like who I am or how I live my life I didn't really ask to pay for your existence I just thought it would be nice if you had somewhere to go. It's funny when people start feeling stable in other peoples environments they think they have some say about it. Look if I am truly hurting anyone all you have to do is tell me and I will more than likely change. I do not enjoy making people uncomfortable nor do I enjoy hurting anyone. I was trying to be nice. I can sure as hell guarantee if anyone let me live in their place whether it be a relationship beyond friendship or not I would never do anything but be grateful. I have been on that end several times and I was nothing but polite and grateful. People expect too much and don't give credit where credit is due. It's easier to blame someone else for your shortcomings rather than create some longcomings for yourself. BORING!!!!!

I apparently started writing this piece some time ago. I apparently started writing a lot of them. In my past posts there are a ton of drafts I just never finished writing. Spoutings of anger to put in some form of writing to keep myself from getting too depressed. It's funny for someone who said for so many years that I like to be alone... well I think I've only been alone for a total of a few months in the last ten years. I find it very interesting. Maybe I don't want to be alone at all. Maybe I was blaming others for my shortcomings, my inability to live with others without becoming too attached. I like people, I like having special friendships and bonds with people. I like sharing secrets with people, I like them to share secrets with me. I don't think I do like being alone. In fact, I know I hate it. I don't like what money does to people. I don't like how past relationships consume and ruin people. I don't like being lied to. I have a hard time with people when they hate themselves. I hate it when people can't share, or don't know how to. I hate it when people blame others for everything and can't accept the fact that we create our own happiness. Someone else can't make your life anything. They can give you little pieces that help glue it all together, but really they don't have much to do with what you want and can have in life. There are a lot of people who genuinely get excited to see you do things you love doing and support those things but you create it.

Man Woman Nothing.

2006-11-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

This was an old perfomance piece of mine back in the salad days, Man Woman Nothing. I don't know where a copy of it is but I keep thinking about it lately. It went something like this...

There is nothing on the stage except a woman in a perfect dress with an apron. Lights are very cold and strangely dim. Woman is just standing staring at nothing when in walks man in suit with briefcase, sets case down and stares in opposite direction.

All converstion is very monotone and unemotional.

Woman- Welcome home honey.

Man- Thank you.

(Music starts very quietly and it's Danny Elfman'esque horror film music, as converstion moves along it progressively gets louder)

Woman- How was work?
[Long pause]

Man- Fine.
[Long pause]

Woman- Good.
[Long pause]

Man- How was your day?
[Long pause]

Woman- Fine.
[Long pause]

Man- Good.
[Long pause]
( the lights are slowly throughout conversation changing to a very eerie dim green until the whole stage is consumed. Music is getting louder)

Woman- Are you hungry?
[Long pause]

Man- Yes.
[Long pause]

Woman- Ok.
[Long pause]

Man- I will pay bills tomorrow.
[Long pause]

Woman- Your ex called.
[Long pause]

Man- Are there any clean dishes?
[Long pause]

Woman- I'm going to bed.
[Long pause]

Man- I'm going to work on the computer.
[Long pause]

Woman- I love you.
[Long pause]

Man- I love you.

Lights fade slowly to black as music becomes obnoxiously loud. In the darkness you hear the faint sound of an old fasioned jack in the box. Music fades down as lights fade up. Woman is sitting legs out straight on floor with jack in the box between her knees. She is hunched over jack cranking the handle watching the top of it. She cranks it very slowly and music fades until it is just the sound of the jack in the box. The lid pops open and jack pops out. The woman starts laughing in a very deep evil villian sort of way as she begins to manaically scratch her outer legs. Creepy music suddenly is on and louder than ever as she scratches and laughs.

Lights fade down first, music follows.

I think that was the same show I stapled ham to a crappy novel. Apparently I wasn't a woman of many words back then.

Overcast With 90% Chance Rain.

2006-11-18T23:25:00.000-08:00

Very Old piece I wrote.

I know the old saying "when it rains it pours", but c'mon now this is getting a little ridiculous. I am asking it to stop now, for the love of God please stop.

I was raised by a lunatic religious woman, who now bounces back and forth between worshiping God and worshiping Manaschevitz. Manaschevitz being the booze that after she drank an entire bottle placed a phone call to me to tell me she felt a little sacrilegious drinking this wine, let alone the whole bottle but... it was ok because after she poured each glass she knelt and said a prayer to God. This you should not doubt for a second and if you were raised by this woman you'd fully understand. Anyway back to my story.... so as a young girl I only knew what I was being taught by my siblings, teachers, and parents. From each direction came the same answer to every problem, "pray to God.", "put it in his hands". So when my young feeble mind was perplexed I prayed. I also was told to live this certain way, a higher standard of being human. Lift your brother up, help the less fortunate, be good and decent and kind. These things I took very seriously, no one clued me in to the fact that most of these God loving liars just told others that's the way to live but didn't apply it to their actual lives. However, when I was young, I was still hopeful and optimistic. At about 8 or 9 is when I realized most people just talked and didn't practice what they talked, and my youthful take on it was that these people were just not strong enough to actually handle what the world had to offer so it was easier to keep it at an arms length. Why hurt, be really happy, or feel anything at all when there is all this glorious numbness. So my way of dealing with this was praying. I must have prayed the same prayer three hundred times. It was always the same, "Dear God seeing that all these people cannot deal with what they have made of this world give me all the crap. When someone needs to see pain, death, sadness, or difficulties just give it to me. My back is strong I can take it. Amen". Man if a human being has ever wanted to eat their words.... I just don't know what eating them would do for me.

Up until this last year I have been able to handle everything that has been thrown my way. I have always been proud of my ability to be resilient, and my ability to handle the life around me. Take this down... I can not handle it anymore. Takebacksee's on that old prayer of mine. I hit a point where all I want is one good thing to happen around me. A nice elderly person in the grocery store saying "hey you dropped your bag of ramen noodles" would be good enough for me. Anything! Instead after I have struggled with an on again off again tweaker as a live in boyfriend who I'm crazy about when he's the guy I met who was full of jokes and understanding and kindness, and not an angry tweaker. The kind of friend I have dreamed of meeting. But now has given me hell over the job I had when I was the only one paying bills and rent. Who, when my closest friend in LA shot himself in his heart and I was cleaning out his house preparing for the funeral the week before my already planned birthday party and I asked him to do one thing for me, which was go to the funeral with me and my birthday party because I knew they would be really hard on me, slept instead. I understand... it was too hard for him. He couldn't deal, so he slept. Who, when I took him to Oregon to meet my mother and sister and my ma's family for my grandfathers 90'th birthday had a temper tantrum because we weren't running around for the two days there doing what he wanted. Got into to it with my mom, which I'm not always her biggest fan but there's this thing when you just suck it up to make it easier for the one you say you love. Who, goes on two month spells of not looking at me or touching me. Who, has made it perfectly clear to me that he's had thinner, prettier, and kinder. Who, when I was raped in Chicago in September which I know is apparently taboo to talk about but fuck it... it happened and what I'm supposed to pretend it didn't because it makes people uncomfortable... well how the fuck do you think I feel, asked me to tell him that I needed him to get through this and the second I did he turned his back because his ex had problems and told me it was all too much for him. So I dealt with it on my own and now it's a problem because I'm not including him in my healing process, well make up you freakin' mind. Then I got canned from my job where I was supposed to be a partner and they just stuck their cold hard dick up my ass, I'm not worried though they'll get theirs. There is an evil side of me that wants to screw them but I don't play that way, as a dear friend of mine drunkenly once said "Bec Bec don't play that". I had saved enough money that I wouldn't have to work for several months and be OK then last Thursday at 4 in the morning I heard my boyfriend in the living room(I was sleeping in the bedroom) saying "Fuck, goddammit, ...oh no". I ran in the living room to see my tiny kitten laying in front of the couch in a pile of his own shit and drool gasping for a breath. Apparently he fell off the couch. "The kitten is going to die", he said. "No he's not", I said, "not on my watch(I wasn't making sense yet)", and grabbed a sweat shirt wrapped it around the kitten and headed to the emergency clinic. The clinic told me they were going to have to put him to sleep.. ironically my boyfriend had just called me to tell me not to go to that clinic because they have a shitload of bad reports on the Internet saying they are euthanasia crazy there. So I told the doctor exactly that and said my cat isn't dying today, not on my watch(still not making much sense). So then they said the only thing that may help is a blood transfusion and that they had an in-house cat with the same blood type but they were closing at 8, it was 7:15am. Funny because their sign said 24hour emergency service which is obviously 10pm-8am. So I called another hospital they didn't have the blood type there but could help. So I had to pay these pricks 780.00 dollars for a bag of blood. So here I am with a shit covered dying kitten in my lap drooling and silently meowing at me for help and a bag of blood next to me in my dead best friends crappy Ranchero racing to the next hospital. After being there for an hour stinking their waiting room up with the poisonous poo smell all over my lap they told me the little guy would be getting a sugar/water i.v. and blood transfusions all day and to come back at 5pm. So I headed home and when I arrived home Boobies one of the other cats was on her death bed. So I grabbed her, and Tremendous the other kitten even though he seemed fine but I wasn't making a third death run. I headed to my normal vet but when I got all the way over there I found out the vet's office had burned down. So I called my boyfriend and asked him to go online and find the vet closest to where I was. Gateway, I got there and they checked the other two out. Turns out Tremendous who seemed fine is the sickest of them all with a life threatening 106 degree temperature, Boobies 105.3. So they got thrown on i.v.'s. At 5 pm I went to gather up all the babies to bring them home to sleep here before taking them back in the morning when my boyfriend call to tell me he was on the toilet when a big grapefruit sized bulge fell from his stomach. I told him he just had a hernia, and I would be home soon to take him to the hospital. So here I sit with dying cats. I can't get their temperatures to go down and I can't afford to take them back to the vets because all my not working savings went to emergency pet care which I wouldn't have it any other way but now I'm screwed. Old hernia apparently went missing. He left today at 1:30 to see his son and ex. It's now 1am and he's not home I guess 3 year olds stay up later these days. I'm tired I miss my best friend who without a doubt would be here helping me with all this shit. He would just sit here and hug me which is all I need. I miss having at least one good thing to hold onto. I'm falling into the numbness, but I won't pretend and tell everyone I'm being nice and holy and great. I'm not... I hate everyone and I'm sick of this disgusting planet we call home. I'm sick of this disgusting place I call home. I owe nobody anything and have done my share. I have worked hard my entire life and have been a very decent person up to this point. Quite honestly I don't give a shit what anyone thinks anymore and I honestly cannot believe how selfish, lonely, and just plain gross this world is. Doesn't anyone have any heart left in them??? Planet of the Apes! Losertown U.S.A.. Society of the Damned, Earth.

Long story short I can't take it anymore.

*Note there may be serious grammatical errors just posting old stuff.

Well I'm At It Again

2006-10-10T15:59:00.000-07:00

One hell of a year... leaving me so chalk full of brain candies that I don't even know where to begin.

This was not the year I recieved a golden unicorn atop of a marble cadilac. This was not the year the I moonwalked from Denver to Berlin. This will not be the year I solve all of my problems.
This is the year I turned thirty. This will be the year I go back to school. This will be the year I crawl out of my drunken depression and start living life again.

I have to give a fond adiou to riding around in a hazy stupor on the back of a mo-ped with a Miller Lite 12 pack helmet. It is time I say goodbye to awaking next to strange men and introducing myself with my new black eye. I will let go, and always remember, all the couches beds floors and dashboards I have relieved myself on. It has come to the ripe point in my life that I feel it is necessary to put down my red smearing lipstick and party moomoo and focus on the functioning outfits that hang in my closet(by closet I mean bedroom floor... and hanging more in the sense of just hangin' out.).

My head is so full right now and I want to write everything down but due to the fact that I suffer from the disease of wanting immediate results my writing is coming out like...

To whom it may concern:

lKLUHJHNXHCI 1230999 NCKDIX;X;D DNJDSNAL;JV JS??//?/ FJIOW OWNNF FOLLOW THE HOLEDKJ dncjlK ;cndjhd somewhere to the left of me. hjo IH ndmdlh N lkj then gun to the heart<<< ,, kdj d KHJ hjdjjh;ifbv, and I couldn't even tell you who he was. h jHJKh dhfnn84 jf v skj zmnx hilv therapymn a, ; ... ja jijd ijd Chicago copsk; kh jssk;ncjs. All the Broken ;LJH dnmaja xj l Alone. ,m c hh nnnakj .zjc k. $10,089,00 over the last year. Jh !!!! hj; hkdj iamd.dk ;;j d

Angstrom Niagurala
executive council to the family

Which is incidentally the exact same email I recieved from some family member in Africa who wanted my bank account info. In light of my new being I immediately forwarded the proper information to this lost family of mine. I can't wait to lunch with my cousin/uncle. I guess I am just going to tranfer his 10 billion dollars into my account so he can come over here to the states to live. He said he'd compensate me for helping him but, man, he's family. I'm just glad I was able to help. I wonder if we look alike at all? To think all this time I've lived unaware to the fact that I had family overseas. Who knew. Things are really starting to look up for me now.

I can feel myself slowing down a bit, unwinding. It feels sad and good to not be so wound tight. I feel like I have been sprinting, running fro so long and not breathing. Then my chest got so tight that I had to just stop, fall to the ground. Now I am just taking these really long deep breaths and soon I will be able stand up and start walking and then one day I will be able to jog. Then somewhere in the future, after the extensive knee surgerys, I may be able to run again.

Till then my friends.

Blinky

2006-09-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

When do we stop? Not to smell the flowers, screw that, no stop and be.

All my post's that layin draft....

2006-07-25T00:15:00.000-07:00

I do write, I just don't finish writing. I have draft after draft after draft that I would like to put in words, but the time of life never allows. I wish I was one of those people that could work a job that they don't give a shit about and come home and write about something, anything. Unfortunately, I am not one of those people. I work, and I work... and it seems no one in my immediate surrounding has any clue what I'm doing. Nor do they care to see beyond the tip of their nose to see or listen to what I'm up to. So, that being said I have come to this...

I am not being taken advantage of.
I am not, not being heard.
I have not completely lost myself.
I am not lazy.

I am all of the above.

Have you ever worked someplace that sucked the soul right outta' you and yet you still felt some strange loyalty? I talked to Big Sue today and he said that him, my sis, and me all suffer from this same complex. Hence why we all stay in crappy jobs trying to convince everyone they aren't. I supposedly own my own bar. I deffinately went into partnership with money people who are lying to me, stealing from me, and telling me to fire all of the great staff I hired. I'm tired, and I wish more than anything I could invest all my time and energy into my home and fixing my relationship. So that's what I try doing but it's hard to see me for who I am when I'm being what I'm finagled into believing what they think I am. I can say what I think I am over and over and over again, but they see a little money machine.

old

2006-06-08T02:10:00.000-07:00

I recently had my boss tell me she went to this 4 day seminar/retreat about renewing herself. How at this retreat they taught you to live without the knowledge of your past, forget it... move on. Then she said, "I'd let you take a vacation to go to one of these seminars.". And, I started thinking. Ok I have not really had a full, and I mean full, day off since November 21st. Ok, issue #1.

1. If I am going to get a 4 day vacation from work, about the last I wanna' do is go sit 8 hours a day for four days to forget all the little stories that make my mundane work life bearable. I like my memories, good and bad. I like my past, all of it.

2. If I have 4 days off, I wanna' spend it with my boyfriend whom the major problems in our relationship keep breaking down to the thought that we never get to have any time together. If we get a chunk of time alone together we actually get along swimingly.

3. There is no way on God's green earth I'm gonna' pay $450.00 to have someone tell me your stories from the past should be forgotten. Now I can understand the theory of learning from your past, or not letting the past control who you are in the here and now, but straight up removing what led you to everything you have been that makes you what you are as a person is absolutely ridiculous to me.

Now, on to greater explorations of this topic. My past... how do you say... normal, different, oh thees language confusses me.

Praise Be to Thee on a Knee with the Gawlee.

2006-05-02T01:02:00.000-07:00

So I started thinking the other day about church. I was thinking about how every week on a particular day maybe even two or three, depending on your religion, this same group comes to gather in this persons home. This person is never there mind you but behind he has left this book(his great great book), a couple in some churches. Now the group "congregates" to, often, first go sit through their weekly class to discuss different parts of this book trying to dicifur exactly what it's content means. Then the different classes(usually seperated by age groups) go to this very large ornate room surrounded by colored windows to sit in seats they lovingly call pews to listen to whomever is at the front behind the wooden stand with the microphone try his or her best to break down this books meaning, many times applying it to stories from their own life. Then occasionally they take a break to sing together about this great book and its wonder, or to dip a child in a pool, or to drink wine or grape juice and eat bread or wafers while pretending it's the main character from the books flesh and blood. So for centuries we have been trying to figure out the meaning of this book and how it applies to our lives and how to better life by this book. There have been wars and death and much confusion about this book and it's characters, one of which is a zombie "walking dead" who hung on a giant cross with nails through his hands and stuff until he died. Then they stuck him in this cave with a big ol' rock in front of it, and he rose from the dead to tell us he died for our sins. Who is this guy. A couple days in a cave and this dead guy thinks all our sins are his, that'll eliminte our guilt for not being responsible. The people who are going to these places to talk about this guys and his stories are loving that he did this for them, they are eating snacks(may I remind you) pretending they are eating him. I thought it was the zombie that ate the people and their brains, not the other way around. Then I started thinking why doesn't this phenomena happen with the other books? Why don't people meet once a week to have classes and services, singing, and trying to unravel the works of Dr. Suess? Eating jelly beans and drinking Mountain Dew pretending it's the fur of the Wozzit in the closet? Is it a better life to lead, like Sam, not eating green eggs and ham?

Suess 116
I love the Suess:
Because He hath heard my voice and my supplications.
Because He hath inclined his ear unto me:
Therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.

Then we all rise and break into song.

Fellowship with Suess
Draw Thou My Soul, O Suess

Draw Thou my soul, O Suess, Closer to my Voose in the Caboose; Breath into every wish Thy will divine, the gish in the dish. Raise my low self above the Nuv in the glove. I do not hath the guilt I am I do not hath it Sam I am. Closer to thee Suess away from guilt and wrong. Closer to thee Suess I am a felt thong. A-men.

Then the congregation will say a prayer and gather into the fellowship hall for a potluck of gelatinous green and yellow and red dishes. Imagine the holy wars then. Would Whoville be the holy land? Is the Grinch the devil? We have love in our hearts for him but he's the dark force to follow. Watch out for Grench worshipers, and their metal music. Instead of wearing crosses we'd have Wockets in our pockets.

Ok enough already!

Excuse me while I play Bridget Jones....

2006-04-04T17:01:00.000-07:00

Ok the fact that I even want to reference a side of my personality, that I hide like the most precious possesion I have, my softer crappy movie/book loving side.. is already a tell tale sign that you may want to turn back now. Abort the mission. I am a little shocked at myself right now. Not only but a few moments ago did I do something that brougt to light such a side of me that even I want to get the hell away from myself. Im not even sure I can unravel this one, and it's me I'm dealing with. What's the one thing I thought would never cause me to act like so many women I have watched and been confused by in my life? Men, what else. I don't have a problem with men or atleast I didn't think I did. Nor did I ever think that a problem I had with men would compell me to write the thoughts down. Aghhhhh, what's happening to me. When did my writing become a therapy session, when did I want to stop writing about mo-ped rides with boxes on my head, or sauerkraut martini's? Dang!

Ok something is happening to me. I jumped on the computer when I came home and went to check my My Space account. My Space something I have laughed at about myself numerous times, and I don't even run the thing my drunken friends figured out my password and have been goggly eyed adjusting it for months now. Anyway, I saw that my boyfriend had apparently set up an account because the "remember my id" thing was checked and his email address was in the sign in box. So I searched his email address to make him my My Space friend, so we could laugh together. But when I got to his page I requested his friendship and read his profile which said he was single. I should have stopped and thought but instead I walked straight into the bedroom where he was sleeping still from the prior day and said, "why did you set up a my space account saying you were single?". He, rightfully so, responded "What are you stupid?". Which I don't think I have been terribly stupid up to this point, but I gotta' question things now. In one split psychotic reation I realized a big something about myself. I think I have become insecure. This did happen once before and I swore it wouldn't happen again and that it would only cause greater problems for myself and others by being so. So then I started trying to remember why it is that had happened in the past. It was a long time ago but what I can remember is that I had this amazing relationship, and all was well, I was doing comedy and making art and creating and thinking at a rapid pace, all day every day for one day only. My man at the time was in school making movies and music and we were both going, going like rocket ships in the night. Then out of no where my creative process stopped, I became domesticated I was afraid to hang out with friends because my boyfriend was upset that we never saw each other. All aspects of our lives seemed to come to stand still. I started assuming things, he started ignoring me, and before you knew it I was cheating on him with a clown from the circus. Here's where I'm going with this...

I don't think under any circumstance in a relationship that anything is just one persons fault or another. By certain actions and behaviors of your lovers you can be triggered into all kinds of unknown territory. For now, though, I'm going to unravel my own... the men of my heart they can think for themselves. My relationship has been shakey for the last 5 months. Not due to lack of love or anything like that due to unforseen circumstances(there is a lack of love but not the love you feel in your heart) . I realized today I may be really selffish, AND I'm always trying to curb my stubborness. I think out of a protective nature people naturally want to find all the things that their ex lovers did that pissed them off and hurt them to resolve why they are acting the way they are acting. I don't necessarily want to do that, but I think I do. I am at fault as much or more of that than' the man. Today he kept repeating that I was stupid, and told me I had asked him if he was seeing someone else more that one time in the past. I don't think things are so healty around here right now. That really freaked me out. I have always said if a lover of yours repeats themself on a jealousy issue more than once it's because they are feeling it themselves. I think that about any issue really. Which makes me really have to sit down and think am I happy, do I want to see other people, am I the one that is keeping this relationship from moving on any further. Do I have secret boys on the side that I'm not telling my lover about. No lovers on the side but I'm definately not happy. I love this man and want to be happy with him and have told him the same... but you boys have got to start including your lovers in more that hi and byes throughout the house. And if your not going to include them in your life than atleast give them some memorable sexual daily activities so they don't even have the time to think about the problems, I try and do the same. I am sure this is something new and unsettling in my own world but I do think a little kiss and some tender love go a real long way.

Here is the other thing I was thinking, should I just leave this man because obviously I am really confused at the state of affairs surrounding me. Or is that yet another really selffish thought again. I do think he loves me, but at this point in my head I do think he could be happier with someone else... [Back to what I said earlier I'm saying things about someone else I should evaluate if it's my own thoughts] then again we are pretty awesome together when things are good. But if I were to try and leave him it would only be because I can't figure out if the good is better than the bad or vice versa. I'm not keeping this post from him and I'm sure he'll read it and I'm sure as the sun comes up in the morning what ever needs to be needs to be, but I get proved wrong every minute of the day.

Bottom line is, I'm not creating anything except bad right now. My creativity is at a complete dead, an all time low, and I'm scared. I see things in my head, I write comedy for other comedians all the time, I can see what I want to do... but I got nothing. If you don't have yourself, you have nothing. I'm turning 30 in a couple of weeks and I'm crap! I'll come back I'm sure, I always do... I'm just a bit concerned with these new thingy's around me. Am I one of those creepy people who thinks there not affected by things, but are????? Ahhhh suck an egg! 30+Me=ok, must quit smoking, but I love writing and smoking together... SHIT!

Today is as good as any.

2006-03-22T18:15:00.001-08:00

Today I attempt to blow the cobwebs off my fingertips. Yes it's because I have been sitting in this one position for the last couple of months trying to think of something to write.

In my dark hours.

2005-10-22T03:16:00.000-07:00

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

2005-10-21T16:21:00.000-07:00

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.......

2005-10-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

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

2005-06-20T14:30:00.000-07:00

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

2005-06-10T17:12:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-09T02:55:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-06-06T19:47:00.000-07:00

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

2005-06-06T15:03:00.000-07:00

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...

2005-05-31T19:37:00.000-07:00

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

Poor Bus 1,2,3.

2005-05-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-05-03T16:42:00.000-07:00

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

2005-03-28T02:19:00.000-08:00

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?

2005-03-14T20:16:00.000-08:00

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

2005-03-10T14:53:00.000-08:00

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

2005-03-01T11:24:00.000-08:00

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

2005-02-27T12:14:00.000-08:00

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?

2005-02-20T18:58:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-02-14T15:28:00.000-08:00

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

2005-02-03T20:13:00.000-08:00

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!

2005-01-25T11:15:00.000-08:00

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

2005-01-18T11:25:00.000-08:00

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.

2005-01-11T14:03:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2005-01-10T14:44:00.000-08:00

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

2005-01-05T14:41:00.000-08:00

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.

RUBBISH

2005-01-04T17:19:00.000-08:00

After recent hooey I witnessed in blogland I decided to attempt to hone my own slang.

This one goes out to a mysterious 7.

Wuzzup taxi noodle to tell ya da' truff....

Tryin' ta git ahole on yer ass wiff dawgs rollin like tarzan PG-dippin honey mustard all ova' dis 14 ounza.

Where ya' cupfart at biaaatchhhhh!

Hate cow buffin' the great pumpkin but until you put it in pork fried rice I won't dump my new dusty log on ya'.

Keep it coming true,
The Pink Cigar

Ok... I believe I got that out of my system. As of tomorrow I will resume to my normal Winky self.

My Darling Mexican Telephone.

2005-01-03T13:07:00.000-08:00

This morning when I awoke to a telephone call I realized I need to take a class to learn how to speak Spanish fluently. Let me back track...

Two in a half years ago my friend and I made the decision to pack up a 15 foot hauler and move from Chicago to LA. Lou, the cat, sat on the dashboard smoking his Camel Lights telling us we were making a great decision. Ania and I were skeptical. Four days later we arrived. We unpacked the truck as soon as we landed and headed to the bar, for a well deserved ice cold Pabst Blue Ribbon, or twenty. It wasn't our intent but it happened. The first bar we came across was exploding with music and laughter. It was this thumping dance music so we thought this should be entertaining a Monday night and a raging dance club. Nope, we rounded the small entry way to see 2 customers sitting in the flourescent lit smoke filled bar with a bartender, male, with his feather boa and cowboy boots dancing up a storm.
"Hey girrrrrls", the bartender said as he did this twirl into a ta-da stance arms out.
We stayed for a round or two laughing with this man and his two man 'Too Wong Foo' following. He then told us of another bar next door that was supposed to be great. We said thanks and decided to check it out. We were greeted by the Boston native bartender who refused to let us pay for any of the ungodly amounts of fermented beverages we consumed. At the end of the night we looked, crosseyed, at the kind man behind the bar said something that resembled goodbye, layed down a gracious tip(3beans, a dirty kleenex, and a wood chip that looked like Abe Lincoln), stepped outside where we took turns pushing each other home in the shopping cart.
The next morning when I awoke in the bathtub, I realized our travel phone didn't take to the overnight bathing so well. Lou tried to fix it but he was pretty preoccupied with making breakfast. So I walked over to Ania in the sleeping bag on the kichen floor and woke her up and told her it was time to get supplies. On our way to the bar the previous night we had noticed a .98cent store.

THE LIST
1. Toilet Paper
2. Soap
3. Disposible Camera
4. Styrofoam cooler
5. Beer
6. Bread
7. Cheese Slices
8. Bananas
9. Ice
10. Telephone

We had turned on all the utilities before we arrived. So after a long day of playing on the mechanical unicorn out front of the store we finally headed in to purchase the supplies. They had everthing except the beer, so we checked out payed(2 beans, 1 Clue Candlestick, 3 out of five, winner takes all, games of rock scissors paper... we won). Stopped by the King got the beer and headed home. We put the house together 1 cooler in the kitchen by the stove, supplies inside. One disposable camera on the mantle. One bundle of bananas on the breakfast nook. One telephone plugged into the wall. We sat and waited for our first phone call.

Six months later the phone rings. We had long forgotten about the phone, and it's obvious lack for making sound, and couldn't remember where we had last seen it. Lou answered it and said he couldn't make out who it was. I took the call anyhow, and this is what I heard...

"Domingo, Domingo, Domingo...machaca, por favor, ademas verdes tipicos" or smething similar.

All the while I also heard a more familiar sound, the faint sound of a friends voice.

"What the hell is that sound, hello... hello Wink, are you there?"

I was there but so was the mexican radio station.

So this morning when the phone rang and I heard the all too familiar sounds and I realized I'm not living up to my potential. I could be bridging the gap between two worlds by merely answering my telephone... if only I spoke spanish fluently. I will rectify the situation and apologize to any of my callers I have let down.

Yo soy uno coneja con un sombrero muy bonito.

There the first step has been taken.

We're Storming Boner Hill!

2004-12-28T15:17:00.000-08:00

Today as I was taking a frolic through my finger wonderland, and that's nothing dirty you perverts.. and I don't mean dirty in that fell down and got your knees all messed up with dirt sort of way, I was reminded of this time last year and all it's hilarity. I live in a one bedroom hut, but for the last year there have been 6 or more different squaters staying on my living room floor. Orphans I like to call them. Anyway, this one particular Orphan was my good old buddy Dave from Chicago. He rolled into LA in Novemember last year. It was one of those things where I got a phone call,
"Hey were you serious that I could stay for a while with you?".
"Sure" I replied.
"Good 'cause I'm in Iowa now, I'll be there in a day or two".
Sure enough he arrived days later in his beat up maroon Ford Escort with the jimmy rigged CD player in the tape deck. I was so excited to see where this was going to go. Another stay at home adventure. Dave was the perfect thing to ad to my collection of misfits and unwanted toys. The moment he arrived the pranks and knee slapping humor began. I was reminded today about this one particular afternoon. We were laying around my living room watching 'The Parker's', I'm sure, making fun of pretty much anything we could make fun of, sides splitting in laughter or from the slow gas leak, when somehow we got on the conversation of storming Boner Hill. As he so kindly reminded me today we were strategizing for the retaking of Boner Hill. There was a glitch though General Wang never came. As Dave so nicely put it,
"He has left us with the head of the operation Leiutenant Johnson", who just couldn't get his unit up the hill in time.
"We'll never get to the top... it's too hard". Was surely something I would have interjected with at some point.
I know somewhere in my house is the piece of paper I was writing on that day, I have an obsessive thing where I write all the things that make me laugh really hard on paper. Now I am going to go home and tear my house apart so I can further this ridiculous banter.
I think that may have been the same day we hung the sign by the front door that was shaped like a flower. On the outside of the petals it said welcome to Neverland Ranch. Then on the inside it said 'Smile or I'll fuck your children' with a drawing of a heart, a peace sign, and a cat's head underneath.

A Week Ago Today.

2004-12-27T15:54:00.000-08:00

So there I was, sitting, waiting to board my plane in the luxurious LAX when I noticed a man conversing with the gentleman who was to take our boarding passes. He was explaining something about taking care of someone, that he wouldn't be flying with him. As he was talking my attention was diverted to a man sheepishly moving through the croud. He had a large round red nose, dark brown hair that was poorly cut like some farm boy from Nebraska who had just taken off a baseball cap. He was about five ten with a round belly under his wrinkled obviously free tee shirt, and faded blue jeans that were far too long for his strangly penguin like short legs. Under one arm clutched tightly, to his chest, he had a blue back pack. Under the other arm he held an old black and white spotted stuffed puppy dog. You could tell it was old because the fur was all matted and dirty. He leaned into the dog and whispered something as he looked up and made eye contact with me. He smiled and seemed to be giggling, but his smile was not that of a 30 or 40 something year old that he appeared to physically be. No it was more of the kindness of a 7 or 8 year old. The man talking to our boarding pass taker said, "Here he is". He then seemed to introduce the two and the guy working the gate looked to the puppy guy, "you just wait here until we're ready to board.". Then the first guy said his goodbyes and left his mentally challenged friend. I thought to myself, "hmmm I want to sit by him". This whole time I had also been keeping tabs on this awful fussy toddler whose parents were exhausted from trying to maintain her. She kept running over to this other family and trying to get in their baby carrier, when her mother or father would come after her. This act would cause her to shrill once again and collapse on the floor with her knees tucked under her stomach and her face flat on the ground nose first. I thought to myself, "I want to sit by her". It was finally time to board. My entertainment boarded and I was left to wait in the line with all of the normal day to day drab people. I was one of the last to board and as I walked down the aisle guess what was one of the only available seats left. On the left side of the aisle was the awful toddler with parents in tow. To the right side of the aisle was the dog-man sitting in the window seat with two open seats next to him. I placed my bag in the overhead and sat in the aisle seat. I thought, "Alright.". While waiting in the line to board I had picked up reading my book, so when I sat I proceeded to finish the chapter I was on. When I finished I closed my book, looked up, and smiled at the kid across the aisle... she smiled back. Her parents then looked at me, glared and, like vultres, raised their wings to sheild the child from my glance. Then I turned in the other direction and smiled at the retarded man, he smiled back then nervously turned his face toward the window and blushed. All the whilst the gay male flight attendant, or air hag, who somewhat resembled a Keebler Elf, and the sraight female flight attendant, or boeing wench, fought for the attention of the strapping Clark Kent type who sat in front of me. Then the dog-man spoke, "Are you going to Missouri?". "Why yes, yes I am," I then asked, "Are you from LA or Missouri?". He replied, "LA, well Missouri, but I live in LA now.". "Oh, what do you do in LA?" me. "I go to school." him. I thought to myself 'Wow, maybe I was wrong maybe he isn't retarded. He spoke like anyone else, he's going to school, he seemed not so challenged. But why does he need assistance on this flight, why does he seem different?'. As I was thinking all of this I turned to glance back over at him just in time to see his stuffed dog writing words into the palm of his hand with it's nose. "My dog wants to know your name?", he said. I told him my name and asked the dog, "and what might your name be?". The man then pointed at the back end of the dog. I thought is his name Butt, Old Reary, Asshole... what? Then I realized he was pointing to the color not the area, "Black?". He made a look like I was hot on the name of this dog. "Blacky?" me. "Yup'," him. "You guys are pretty close huh?". "Yup' he goes everywhere with me". "Well he seems like a nice enough fella'". "Ya' he's my best friend". I said, "Cool". Then there was some awkward silence filled with spuratic smiles at each other. Then a little more silence, and... "my name is Adam.", he said while shyly bowing his head and giggling. We then exchanged stories of our journeys. He was heading home, during his school vacation, to see his mother. She had told him she would fly him home either his birthday in October, or for Christmas. So I said to him, "Oh so you picked your birthday.". He said, "yes.". I paused. Then I asked him what he studied in school, to see if I could figure out about where his mental age was, he told me reading and writing. Then he offered, "my favorite part of school is recess". Man , I thought, that is so cool. This dude is, what seems to be from his stories of living everywhere he has for the length he has, 40-45 years old he's studying reading and writing and gets to have recess. My life really sucks. Then Blacky started fevershly writing in Adams palm, "he wants to know how your doing?", pointing to the crossword puzzle, in the complimentary Spirit magazine, I had been filling in during our awkward silences. "Blacky, would you like to help me?", I asked as I turned the magazine slightly toward the dog. Blacky stared at the page for some time while I filled in words. He said nothing, he just stared. Somewhere in my head I had convinced myself that this stuffed dog probably was going to help me, that he would know all the answers to the challenging clues I couldn't figure out. But he didn't, he just sat and stared. I looked to Blacky, "do you know any of these?". He started palm writing, Adam laughed, "he said he never got past looking at the diamonds.". He was referring to the ad that was to the left of the crossword puzzle. "I understand," I said a little disappointed, "it happens to me all of the time.".

The plane landed in the Kansas City airport, I retrieved Adams and my bags from the overhead. While walking to the baggage he told me his mother was working 'till late and that he had to wait at the airport for her. I stepped outside for a smoke, Adam headed ovet to the vomiting baggage belt. As I was smoking I looked in and saw my brother and brother-in-law headed toward me. I ran in to hug them we grabbed my bags and I surveyed the room to say goodbye to Adam. He was standing on the other side of the belt smiling and watching me. I waved to him and yelled "Merry Christmas!". He giggled, blushed, and lowered his head... Blacky started writing. "Blacky says good luck.". "Good luck to you Blacky." and I left.

I was really hoping they would be on my flight home, and I spent the whole week with this sadness. I felt bad for leaving Adam to wait alone, why didn't I stay with him? When I got on my plane to head back to LA I eagerly looked around at all of the passengers, but there was no sign of my friend and his dog. So I sat in the only available seat next to a sixty something year old couple, and proceeded to get drunk with them. A story for another time.

To Adam and Blacky wherever you may be, I wish you luck.

HOPPY BARFDAY!!!

2004-12-22T10:29:00.000-08:00

Come one come all in Blogland U.S.A.. Today is a historical day for it was the day Winky's very dear friend Victoria was born. Happy birthday genious woman, beautiful lady, super hero, and secretary of making me laugh. May you get that tiny pony, all expenses paid vacation to Evanston, a grain of rice with your face carved in it, everything you ever dreamed of and more. I wish you the world my sweet and dear friend. I Love you, and miss you! Eat cake. Or eat my traditional cracker with whipped cream, cherry tomatoe, and a cigarette sticking out of it. But you gotta' drop that one on the ground before eating it, cake's easier. All hail Victoria, for she's the jolly good fellow which nobody can deny!

Up up and away, my beautiful baffoon.

2004-12-21T10:11:00.000-08:00

Monday morning, 9 am the phone rings and wakes me up. Strangely it is the third time this week, this week meaning last, at 9 am a person has called to wake me up. The same person, the electrician I've hired to work on the bar. "Good morning, are we going to finish the work today?" he asked. In my finest Keith Richards morning voice I simply said "no", I explained I only had four hours left to pack and run errands before my plane to Missouri left( the plane ride is a hell of a story that I will share later, it involves a man and his dog and that spoke through him by writing words with his nose on the palm of his hand. Oh ya' the dog was stuffed). He then became very sheepish and stumbled through the question, "..did I, uh... well um.. did I happen to call you at about 2:30 this morning?". I started laughing because, indeed, he had. Two-thirty, just a couple hours prior to the conversation we were having now, the phone at the bar rang. I was finishing up my bartending duties and prepairing to face, count and paperclip all of the green when my barback hands me the phone and says,"it's a boy, oooohhhh". "Hi, hhouww aRe yeou?". I didn't recognize this drunken voice, "who are you?", I said matter of factly. "It's me Adam, are we werging tomorrwww?", I said I didn't know. "I had a realnice tiame with you yesstur...day.". He was referring to the previous day when he came in to fix our shotty wiring. I occasionally came out of the office to ask how he was, or if he wanted something to drink like a soda or juice or something, you know the fun stuff. He babbled some more nonsense about liking me, I was counting money, and at some point he either passed out or hung up. I hung the phone up and thought to myself, hmmm the electrician is calling me in the middle of the night drunk... ok.
The next morning on the phone I said, "Ya' you called last night, but don't worry... you were just asking if I wanted to finish the work today, it was harmless". He seemed relieved. After I told him we weren't finishing the work he told me to have a great Christmas, to travel safe, and to call him as soon as I got home. I agreed then hung up the phone.
I sat on my front porch drinking coffee and smoking cig's for the next couple of hours, until I had 1 hour to prepare for my trip. The gun was shot, and they are off! Winky races through the front door right past here friend Andi. Andi turns, she races past Winky and tears open the travel bag. Winky panics, oh is she going to be able to execute this, oh! She does she pulls her self together by grabbing an armfull of cloths and cramming it in the bag. Andi comes up from behind and, woah.. she's got the makeup and shower products. She turns, fakes a left, and squeezes around the right side of Winky. She shoots... SHE SCORES, right in the travel bag. The croud, meaning my cat, goes wild. Just under the buzzer Winky packs her bag.
I'm in Mo-town now at my brothers, my brother 'Sue's', computer and everyone keeps hanging around the office door making small conversation. I think they want me to not be in here, so I will tell 'The Great Airplane Story' later. Tomorrow is a very dear friends birthday.... I can't wait.

I will learn soon enough..

2004-12-17T16:58:00.001-08:00

I was looking at the computer and I realized my tired fingers should not be typing right now. I'm putting m's where there should be n's. My I's are i's, when all along they should have been eyes. Will this horrible bar ever vomit me up from it's deep dark belly. It's like the modern day Moby Dick.

I will learn soon enough..

2004-12-17T16:58:00.000-08:00

Here I sit and wait....andwait...and, ah who am I kidding.

2004-12-17T15:47:00.000-08:00

I started work yesterday morning at 10am. You see I run a bar in the sinfully lost town of LaLa land. My bar opens at 4pm, however yesterday they were filming a commercial for that robust horse beer from St. Louis Missouri. I had to be there so theycould ask me intellegent questions like, "How would you turn this light off?", they would knock on my smoke filled office door. Then, for one brief second of time, I would get to stand up from this chair I am now one with. I would walk over to the wall behind the pool table, where all the light switch plates are coralled, I would reach for the switch and say, "Well I personally find this to be the easiest way to turn a light off". Then I would, with caution of course, turn the switch to it's off position. The room would then errupt with mind blowned "Ohs", and "Ahs". Then I would turn, with my head held high, and walk back to my stinky little ashtray I now call home. The night rolled around the shoot came to an end and I suddenly realized my bartender had not shown. See I had this small window of opportunity to escape the bar for a couple of hours and eat, change, smoke a ciggy outside and now that was all just a dream out of my grasp. I took on the job and I made cans of beer fly open just merely by shooting them the 'you better open yourself up you lazy pig' look. I was shaking 8 martini's at one time, all the whilst flirting with that cute man I think I flirted with on June 10, 7pm, 2004. I was flying with the Wallenda's. Two O'Clock finally rolled around. I grabbed my broom and started sweeping the people who had fallen, from my fermented beverages, to the ground. One last guy to sweep out the door, "see ya' later Tommy" I said in english. "Goneudder fly ind der hort beys", he replied in english. then I began to tuck my bottles away and wipe down the bar. I saw the long booth and I thought to myself, I could sit for a moment and rest.

The phone rang and I awoke, and it was now 9 in the morning. Shit I fell asleep at the bar AGAIN! It was the electrician coming to fix the wires and to hand the new chandelier. It really is a beautiful chandelier. I thought this is a 3 hour job max, I'll be home and eating and taking a shower and brushing my teeth before you know it. It is now 4:19 in the afternoon. That was 7 hours ago. I have now officially been at work for 30 hour straight. I have smoked a pack and a half in this small office over the last two days, it smells in here. The electrician went to get parts but every store he goes to fails him miserably. At one point during the day he called to tell me that he had driven from one store to the next with his wallet left on the top of his car. Then he proceeded to tell me how he had just done that two weeks ago with his new liscense plates. How he had to back track all over the city to locate his lost plates. Turns out a construction worker had found them and was going to take them home to mount in his garage for his collection. He just called and said he had finally found the parts I said, "Do me a favor... don't put the parts on the top of your car.". So here I sit and wait....and wait.....and wait.... Shit Victoria your birthday is nearing, I just thought of that. Hmmm strange.

Letter To The Editor

2004-12-17T14:36:00.000-08:00

I'm happy to have Victoria back on my side.

To: Victoria
Pertaining To: Winky

In your latest comment you ask for the bold permission to call me Winky. I say to you Victoria, with a history like ours I would exspect that we would both feel more comfortable being on the first name basis.

Yours Truely,
The Management

Now I can safely say this looks like it may be a long trip, so maybe I packed too little. Hmmm.

I'm in Blogging Country!

2004-12-17T13:52:00.000-08:00

Ya' I'll get back to that later.