Tuesday, October 24, 2006

RANT: Bathroom Time = Private Time!

Dear Family,

First off, let me say that I love you dearly. If I possibly could, I would spend every moment for the rest of my life with you. As we live in the Los Angeles area, it is necessary that I work full-time outside the home. Between shuttling Son to school and other activities, working in a busy office environment, and handling most of the household needs, I figure I get about 20 or so minutes a day of time to myself, with no one else present (10 of those minutes is the time it takes me to get to work after dropping off Son at school plus the time it takes for me to leave work and pick up Son). The other ten or so minutes of time I have to myself, I spend in the bathroom.

Husband, I know we are very close, we don't hide anything from each other, and we are comfortable being naked around each other. Hell, I LOVE being naked with you. You fart around me, I fart around you, we have nothing to hide. However, when I am in the bathroom, I want to be left alone. I don't want you peeking in the bathroom that is adjacent to the living room when I am in it. I don't want you throwing the door wide open when I am in there. I don't want you looking at me when I am sitting on the pot, doing my business. I don't want you to watch me wipe. I especially don't want a hug or to kiss you and I REALLY don't wish to be fondled or touched in any way while I am taking a crap. I know you don't have any sense of personal boundaries when it comes to your wife, but I really don't feel my sexiest when I am pushing waste out of my asshole into the toilet. It's worse when I have gastrointestinal distress, because you will come in and laugh at the noises my bowels are making or critique the odor I have produced. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I will be your perfect wife again.

Son, I can't believe you're ten years old already. It seemed like just yesterday you were crying when you didn't get your way. Oh wait, that *was* yesterday. I mean, it seemed like just yesterday that you were in diapers and I was teaching you how to use the big boy toilet. I let you in the bathroom with me while I was doing my business because I wanted you to see that I was okay using the potty, I wasn't going to fall in or be eaten by some potty monster. I explained that boys have a weewee and girls don't. We went through that a very long time ago. You've since learned to aim (sorta) and wipe yourself (mostly) without me. So, honey, when I'm in the bathroom, please let me be. You want to ask permission for something? Go ask your dad. You need my help with your homework? Ask dad! He can't help you because it's English, science, math or anything other than history? Then go on to the next assignment and I'll help you when I'm done. You're hungry? Well then, I'll be sure to fix you some of the food I've got stashed next to the toilet paper and the crossword puzzle book we keep on the back of the tank. Please, I beg you, leave me alone and when I come out I'll make dinner and help you with your homework.

Thank you, family, for giving me ten people-free minutes to go to the bathroom. When I'm in there, I'm usually trying to figure out what I'm going to make for dinner, what things we need from the store, when and where is Son's next baseball game, about what tragedy is going on at work, whether or not that blouse I want to wear tomorrow is clean/ironed, etc. So please, give me my space, and I'll give you yours.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Look Me Up

me [fr. Du, Eng, Fr, Calif] (1961) --adj 1: a little bit blonde 2: a little bit green-eyed 3: a little bit Jewish --n 4: a gardener who knows a clarkia from a columbine 5: a hiker who knows a kingfisher from a kinglet 6: a bachelorette who can cook when she puts her mind to it 7: a fulltime professional finding ways to make sparetime for art 8: an editor who knows the rules well enough to break them

you [origin unknown] (n.d.) --v 1: like my definitions 2: have some definitions of your own, and maybe a synonym or two 3: would like to find a reference you can stick with

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Shrill Frigid Nag Seeks Unemployable Shemp w/Breath Like Hot Garbage

My ideal man takes me to the park to amuse ourselves by pretending to have Tourette Syndrome when kids or parents are within earshot. "SPERM BURPING WHORE!!!" He shaves a marriage proposal into his backhair. He promises to always "love me", even if he has no teeth and has to gum me. Will he gum me when I'm old and my hoo hoo smells like 1st & Beale at low tide?
He won't mind watching Temptation Island while sorting the packages we got from carjacking that UPS truck. He won't mind that doc sez my rash will clear up "real soon".

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

His Name is Not George

Hello, how are you,
Thanks for clicking and reading –
This post’s for a guy
Who is really worth meeting:

He’s a great catch and a good friend of mine
Who works long hours and simply doesn’t have time
To find a sweet girl, so for him I endeavor
If his description intrigues, you truly know never…

“I’m posting your info,” I tell him, “on Craigslist.”
As expected, his voice is raised to fast protest –

'Craigslist is fun, and I don’t intend to be mean…
But I really don’t think cyber-dating’s my scene.'

“A good point,” I acknowledge, “but please keep in mind:
Even though virtual, who knows what you’ll find?”

And then,

A nod! His permission is granted!
Girls, listen up, this guy is fantastic.

The City is proud to call him one of her own,
(it’s so rare these days to find a native at home).
He knows the way from Broadway to Lake
Wouldn’t a tour make a pretty fun date?

Or perhaps you’d prefer to kick back with a beer,
Conversation comes easy to this engineer.
Yes, a degree from Berkeley but don’t think he’s a nerd,
He’s up to go out and down to party. (Yo, word).

In fact, his intelligence is such to warrant conceit,
Yet he remains modest, surely no tiny feat.
And speaking of feet, his are quite big…
(Take this statement as you wish ~ you dig?)

Though he claims to be shy, an observer of others,
You will be comfortable having him as a friend and/or lover.
His touch is gentle, he only bites on request,
And the fantasies he inspires may be your best yet.

Enough of this poem: no justice does it do,
If a match is in sight, let him know who are you.
Send him an email to set up a date –
Girls grab him now, before it’s too late!

It is best if you are also in your early 20s, college-educated, intelligent, friendly, passionate, talented in a particular arena, funny (or can appreciate humor and love to laugh), fairly sane, well-traveled or at least interested in the world beyond your social sphere, and looking for a fun date but not a serious relationship.

Note: Please don’t judge him based on the poem (honestly, my poetry skills are lacking to an embarrassing degree). For the record, I'm a girl and I vouch for him completely:

He is such a good person ~ has a kind soul, knows just how to hug a girl, and sometimes, as you go about your day, you will catch yourself smiling. You will catch yourself smiling, almost on the verge of giggling, of laughing aloud. And you will, at this moment, realize that you are thinking about him. So please write ~ you probably deserve a great guy.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Enemies Wanted

Life is getting boring, so I am looking for a few good enemies to stir things up. Let's talk behind each others back, blackmail each other, call up each other's bosses and destroy our lives. Are you up for it? You must have experience. I need at least 2 references from people that will not step into the same room as you. If your parents have disowned you thats a plus.

Friday, April 07, 2006

You stole my stereo and the key to my heart, er, CAR

Ah, yes, I don't remember seeing you, in fact I never did...but I wonder if we've made parting glances on the streets. I bet you were wearing black and a sexy ball cap, and my oh my you have an awfully BIG screwdriver. I know because you used it to break your way in through the lock.

You were so kind to leave a few bits and pieces of items broken off on the floor of the passenger side. You did indeed get to my stereo, and I know you'll absolutely love the way it plays. Let it always remind you of my undying devotion to the CD that is inside. You'll note that the Indigo Girls were playing the last time I was in the car, and that the CD was from a very kind friend who helped me through some rough times I faced before. I hope that it means as much to you as it did to me.

And then, you had to be so kind to leave the door ajar, running my battery down, emotionally and physically. To top it off, you certainly left an impression, messing with my brain (of the car), stealing the Electronic chip that would have allowed me to drive to the Police Station, after the tow man came and talked about what you had done to so many others...I should have heeded his warnings.

Well, my new found passion, I'm sure I'll see you in my dreams, well, rather, on the bus, where I'll be riding because I can't move my car. I thought true love was expensive, but for the $100 you get for that stereo, I know that you'll see someday, there's much more profit in the otherside of the business. You too could make $100 for using that screwdriver in other ways, perhaps repairing the damage you've done to so many others.

I hope to see you someday, and I hope you'll see me, and you'll know exactly who I am...I am everyone in the world...I am everyone and you are alone and cannot be with everyone because you are against them.

God bless you, my newfound passion. and please, God bless me.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Dinner whore?

I'm a woman. Sometimes I go on dates. Often, dates involve dinner. I almost always offer to throw in some cash. Usually the guy who asked me out won't accept my money. If I don't want to go out with him again, should I mail him my half of the check in an envelope? Am I a 'dinner whore' if i don't? I don't think so.

It's hard to find that chemistry we all seek. It's hard for men, and it's hard for us women. The first date is to see if we feel anything for each other. If I don't feel we clicked, I don't want to waste my time or your time by going on a second date. Maybe that's the case with the girls you call "dinner whores." They just don't really want another date with you. I doubt they'd endure all that awful, awkward getting-to-know-you chitchat just for a free dinner. A bad date (even over lobster) is as boring as a timeshare seminar, and timeshare seminars at least offer you a free week in Vegas at the end of the presentation. Christ, people.

Aside from a few sociopaths, women aren't predatory creatures scheming of ways to seperate you from your cash. Shit, if we can afford to live in San Francisco, we can afford our own dinners. Like you, we're just fumbling along, hoping we find someone cute and fun who won't hurt us too much.