2004-03-08 @ 12:16 p.m.
|You know, its just a little past noon and I've already had a shitload of culture. I truly have. And I didn't even have to go any further than my television remote. It was right there on the Maury Povich Show, dammit.
It was the "I'm in 8th Grade and I want a Baby" show. Hoo-dogie! I remember that feeling when I was in 8th grade. Oh yeah!
Ahh, well, maybe not. I guess I wasn't fornicating with "over 100 guys" when I was in 8th grade. I was merely studying my multiplication tables and drawing little pink hearts on my binder.
And I also wasn't 16 years old. Isn't that a little old for eighth grade? 16? And what's up with those ass hugging hot pants and peek-a-boo halter tops that would make Janet Jackson blush.
Hey mom, did you notice your daughter looks like a crack whore before you came on the show?
Of course, Maury's show tomorrow is really the keeper. It's the "Help, my son is drag queen. I want him to look like a boy again." show.
Wouldn't it be funny if some junior show coordinator flunky got the shows mixed up and tried to make over the teenaged crack whores into cute boys and the drag queens in mommies? I really think that would be funny.
I would love to have a drag queen for a mother, wouldn't you?
Look at all the fab makeup tips they could give me. And how supportive they would be. And we could listen to Broadway shows together. And they could choreograph "Cell Black Tango" from CHICAGO down at the Community Center Talent Show with me. It would be great!
Oh well, enough wishful thinking.
My ex-stepmother called me this morning from California. She was wife #2 for my Dad. Her name was Shirley, but my nickname for her was Whirley Shirley. And I only gave it to her out of sheer affection.
Shirley was a nice woman. Dumb, but nice. We had only recently reconnected when I called her trying to figure out who my Dad's lawyer was after he passed away last March. We hadn't talked since the late 1980's.
My Dad had met her through Parents without Partners. She had a son named John, and I truly think he married her simply because he was tired of dating.
She was a large woman. Blonde. Kind of a large homely version of Elly Mae Clampett on the Beverly Hillbillies. She loved animals. Loved her son. Had to defend him constantly to my Dad. He had ADD and was quite a handful. My Dad didn't understand this. He just thought the kid was wild and unruly. That was actually what eventually broke up the marriage. My Dad made her choose between him and her son, and she wisely chose her son.
But Shirley was whirley. She once thought an alien space ship was landing on the hill and called 911. She once thought she heard an intruder and got my dad's shotgun out and inadvertently shot a hole in the bedroom ceiling, scaring the shit out of everyone. (It was actually the wind blowing).
She also started many small businesses but every single one of them failed. It was kind of sad, because she had so much enthusiasm, but she would hire herself out as a caterer for instance, for a big party for 50. And then buy 10 napkins, 8 forks, and 4 chicken breasts and then freak out when she would realize it wasn't enough for a large party.
But she had a lot to handle with an ADD kid and an alcoholic husband. We got along very well. I liked Shirley. I never took advantage of the dumb thing. And I was sad to see her go in the late 1980's. Especially to see what replaced her (the Filipino Mail Order Whore). #$%#!!
So now since I called her last July, she has been calling about once a month and just chatting. I think she's lonely. She lost both of her parents in the last two years. She's still single and her ADD son, who is now 35, is still living with her. And is now diagnosed as bipolar and has obsessive compulsion disorder. Unfortunately, he is the dangerous kind of bipolar. The self-abusing, destroying property, 25 jobs in the last year, kind of bipolar. And in today's call, she told me he was just put in a residential care facility, which I'm sure is both good and bad for her. Good, because I'm sure she needs a little rest from watching a destructive bipolar tear through life, and bad, because basically, that is all she does now. Take care of him.
She did say however, she had just graduated from a 6 month course in hypnotherapy. I really can't imagine Shirley doing that, or anyone hiring her to do that. She has a dull, flat monotone voice that wouldn't really be conducive to getting hypnotized in my opinion. And she said she had a little trouble dealing with people who had sexual traumatized.
I told her I had been sexually abused, and then quickly added it hadn't been by my Dad, and she was totally surprised to hear that.
So, well see, if ol' Whirley can knock out a few people with her dulcet tones. I truly wish her all the luck in the world. She's a nice woman, and deserves all the best.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty