My babies are the most important things to me in the world. I don't remember who I was before I had them. That person doesn't even matter anymore. Now that I am a mother I have this whole new lease on life. It's like, don't mess with my kids or I will kill you. That's why I am so glad that there are so many options of SUV's to choose from! Because if I don't feel protected on the road, my kids are in danger. And if I feel like my kids are in danger, the terrorists will have won.
I urge all mothers out there to arm themselves with an SUV. You can't beat the feeling of security that it provides! And of course, you need to live in a gated community. That is a really great feeling when you hear that gate closing behind you when you scoot your SUV into the cul de sac. You just know you're safe, you're among like-minded people. And that is so important to me, to be around people who think like I do. Every house in my development has a big beautiful American flag flying out front. Not a rainbow flag, or a Nazi flag, or a Pirate flag. An American flag. That's just how people are here in the Davenport Columns Community.
I really feel "at home" in my Davenport Designer Home. There are five models to choose from, and you get to pick the colors in the Great Room. You also get to pick the colors of your countertops in both the kitchen and master bathroom. Of course, if you just can't decide, they will hire a color specialist to choose for you. She will look through your wardrobe and figure out what will match your style the best. Even if you think you know what you want, you might want to hire her anyway....I was going to pick a mauve counter for my master bathroom because I just LOVE mauve, but when she saw my skin tone and the bathrobe I usually wear, she steered me right away from mauve, saying that it would cause my skin to look sallow and possibly injure my self esteem, so we went with a gray and teal flecked counter top instead. I never thought I liked teal, but you know I've never looked so good to myself in the mirror, so I think she's right!!
When the kids are a little older I'm going to get their colors done, too. You don't want a child starting out their day looking into a mirror that makes them look washed out when you could've just changed the colors of the walls. What is that going to do to their self esteem? I would just never forgive myself for that. Sure it may cost a little bit of money, but the children are our future!!! They are worth everything!
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
cafeteria guy haiku
cross and swastika
in pale blue ink on your arm
tell me you were jailed
in pale blue ink on your arm
tell me you were jailed
Market Street
Old bloated hippie in pink oversized dancing bear shirt and tie dyed leggings pushing a shopping cart.
Strange fat faced bug-eyed woman trying to jimmy a parking meter with a piece of wire hanger. Unsuccessful in getting any change but maybe successful in communicating with the aliens living inside, she licks the meter when she leaves, licks it and bites it's corner, as if it's a big bone or chocolate bar that she will leave her mark on and come back to later.
A group of business travellers; two innocent looking middle aged men and a young woman working hard to maintain their good attitude on a crowded street full of family dissapointments.
A posse of young people dressed in baggy black clothes. They sell weed hidden in their sneakers to disturbed looking men walking too fast- gay speed freaks, dealing with their paranoia by smoking pot. They live in Market Street weekly rate apartments or Tenderloin studios. Watching TV, reading science fiction, working.
Working? Do they work? Can they work? Mayabe they see a doctor every couple months and act crazy, verifying their continued need for care and financial support, receiving only the money, and not too much of it.
I roam with my walkman on, listening to my mix tape. These people and their problems are beautiful to me with this music as their background.
Strange fat faced bug-eyed woman trying to jimmy a parking meter with a piece of wire hanger. Unsuccessful in getting any change but maybe successful in communicating with the aliens living inside, she licks the meter when she leaves, licks it and bites it's corner, as if it's a big bone or chocolate bar that she will leave her mark on and come back to later.
A group of business travellers; two innocent looking middle aged men and a young woman working hard to maintain their good attitude on a crowded street full of family dissapointments.
A posse of young people dressed in baggy black clothes. They sell weed hidden in their sneakers to disturbed looking men walking too fast- gay speed freaks, dealing with their paranoia by smoking pot. They live in Market Street weekly rate apartments or Tenderloin studios. Watching TV, reading science fiction, working.
Working? Do they work? Can they work? Mayabe they see a doctor every couple months and act crazy, verifying their continued need for care and financial support, receiving only the money, and not too much of it.
I roam with my walkman on, listening to my mix tape. These people and their problems are beautiful to me with this music as their background.
Haiku 01
high heeled mules in taupe
ruined by dog poop in yard
now they're in the trash
ruined by dog poop in yard
now they're in the trash
LOST ANGEL
I've got to get out of this place It's killing me. If someone had told me twenty years ago that this would be my life, I would've told them to just shoot me dead right there. This is BS!! I can't believe I hitchhiked across America to live in Los Angeles and ended up here, a dental hygenist in this shithole shopping center in the San Fernando Valley.
I know I used to complain back when I was a waitress at McFrackle's, but it was a cakewalk compared to this!! At least there I could call in sick when I didn't feel like coming in to work, and I got free cheesecake. Here all I get is lectures on flossing from the cadaver that passes for a dentist. The only thing I liked about him was that he is a classical music fan and so my background as an opera singer impressed him, but thanks to the little bitches at the front desk, we have to listen to that horrible pop music with those no-talent bimbos who pass for singers. They don't know anything about music. They've never even been to San Francisco, let alone Vienna.
My only solace is Steve, my angel. Being able to go home and lay in his arms while I bitch to him about how much life sucks almost makes it all worthwhile. His job as a billboard installer ain't all peaches and cream either. He has to spend all day pasting up faces of the assholes he went to Hollywood High with. Right now he's doing the campaign for the new smash comedy "Your Mama's So Fat...", and it's really messing with him because he and that bald guy who stars in the movie used to be friends when they were little, but as they got older that guy started making fun of Steve's lisp. We never watch his show. Well, I sometimes do, but only when Steven is in the shower.
Our apartment is tiny and too bright and there is a family of 56 Mexicans living above us. We can't afford to move anywhere else because I've lived in this place for 18 years so my rent is really cheap. I've tried to get the Mexicans kicked out, but they're doing cheap work under the table for the landlord. I've thought of turning the landlord in, but I then I would be out on my ass so I grin and bear it.
I still sing once a week, but it's a stupid chorale made up of retirees and green college students who are doing it for credit. No one's heart is really in it. I sometimes wonder why I even bother.
If I could do anything, I think I'd return to my hometown in Tennessee. Steven and I could get out of this stupid, empty ratrace. No more traffic, no more porn stars butting in front of you in line at Trader Joe's. I could just till a garden and work at some quiet little po-dunk library or something, and Steven could work on his model airplanes and sell them at craft bazaars. It would be heaven.
ANYTHING is better than this.
I know I used to complain back when I was a waitress at McFrackle's, but it was a cakewalk compared to this!! At least there I could call in sick when I didn't feel like coming in to work, and I got free cheesecake. Here all I get is lectures on flossing from the cadaver that passes for a dentist. The only thing I liked about him was that he is a classical music fan and so my background as an opera singer impressed him, but thanks to the little bitches at the front desk, we have to listen to that horrible pop music with those no-talent bimbos who pass for singers. They don't know anything about music. They've never even been to San Francisco, let alone Vienna.
My only solace is Steve, my angel. Being able to go home and lay in his arms while I bitch to him about how much life sucks almost makes it all worthwhile. His job as a billboard installer ain't all peaches and cream either. He has to spend all day pasting up faces of the assholes he went to Hollywood High with. Right now he's doing the campaign for the new smash comedy "Your Mama's So Fat...", and it's really messing with him because he and that bald guy who stars in the movie used to be friends when they were little, but as they got older that guy started making fun of Steve's lisp. We never watch his show. Well, I sometimes do, but only when Steven is in the shower.
Our apartment is tiny and too bright and there is a family of 56 Mexicans living above us. We can't afford to move anywhere else because I've lived in this place for 18 years so my rent is really cheap. I've tried to get the Mexicans kicked out, but they're doing cheap work under the table for the landlord. I've thought of turning the landlord in, but I then I would be out on my ass so I grin and bear it.
I still sing once a week, but it's a stupid chorale made up of retirees and green college students who are doing it for credit. No one's heart is really in it. I sometimes wonder why I even bother.
If I could do anything, I think I'd return to my hometown in Tennessee. Steven and I could get out of this stupid, empty ratrace. No more traffic, no more porn stars butting in front of you in line at Trader Joe's. I could just till a garden and work at some quiet little po-dunk library or something, and Steven could work on his model airplanes and sell them at craft bazaars. It would be heaven.
ANYTHING is better than this.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
In Search Of...
Highly insecure single female seeks confident man to groom and define her.
Please be in shape, generous, and above all, wealthy.
Your success makes you sexy.
My beauty is your merit badge.
No smokers.
Please be in shape, generous, and above all, wealthy.
Your success makes you sexy.
My beauty is your merit badge.
No smokers.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Tots
Dani had three kids by the time she was 30.
I am 34 and I don't have even one kid. Sometimes I wish I had two kids-twins. Sometimes I wish I was still a kid and could do my whole teenage years over again. I never would've lost my virginity to Thomas Rousse, that's for sure. He turned out to be such a DORK. Plus I got pregnant the second time we had sex. I mean, I would have a 20 year old kid right now if my parents hadn't made me get an abortion. Maybe those would've been my twins. We could be swapping clothes and going out to bars next together. I'd be the hottest mom of any college junior around, HANDS DOWN!
Coulda Shoulda Woulda
Instead I got "the operation" and then went back to school the next day with a note from my mom excusing me from gym for the week, thinking that life would return to normal. WRONG. My reputation completely changed after the whole ordeal...I had been pretty popular, and once I got pregnant all those girls ditched me. Then, after the abortion, they got really really mean, and would do disgusting things with their lunch food, like with cherry Jell-o and corned beef hash.
The whole experience was a jerky whirlwind, like a bad carnival ride that's over before you've even figured out how to put your seatbelt on.
There was some dorky fat girl in our grade whose name I don't even remember, but that awful first day back, when the popular girls were at their meanest and I was at my weakest, the fat dork gave me her tater tots, which in retrospect was a really sweet thing to do. I of course didn't eat them, but I appreciate the gesture now.
I've grown up a lot since then.
I am 34 and I don't have even one kid. Sometimes I wish I had two kids-twins. Sometimes I wish I was still a kid and could do my whole teenage years over again. I never would've lost my virginity to Thomas Rousse, that's for sure. He turned out to be such a DORK. Plus I got pregnant the second time we had sex. I mean, I would have a 20 year old kid right now if my parents hadn't made me get an abortion. Maybe those would've been my twins. We could be swapping clothes and going out to bars next together. I'd be the hottest mom of any college junior around, HANDS DOWN!
Coulda Shoulda Woulda
Instead I got "the operation" and then went back to school the next day with a note from my mom excusing me from gym for the week, thinking that life would return to normal. WRONG. My reputation completely changed after the whole ordeal...I had been pretty popular, and once I got pregnant all those girls ditched me. Then, after the abortion, they got really really mean, and would do disgusting things with their lunch food, like with cherry Jell-o and corned beef hash.
The whole experience was a jerky whirlwind, like a bad carnival ride that's over before you've even figured out how to put your seatbelt on.
There was some dorky fat girl in our grade whose name I don't even remember, but that awful first day back, when the popular girls were at their meanest and I was at my weakest, the fat dork gave me her tater tots, which in retrospect was a really sweet thing to do. I of course didn't eat them, but I appreciate the gesture now.
I've grown up a lot since then.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)