2005-06-09 @ 1:13 a.m.
AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): If you want to buy a personalized jersey at the National Football League's store, there's a list of 1,200 naughty words that you may not have inscribed on the back. The taboo terms
include "creamy, magic wand, fondle, glazed donut, lotion, ass clown, tang, got2haveit, love rocket, show time, and get it on". It so happens that you would be wise to make liberal use of all these concepts and others like them in the coming week, at least according to my astrological analysis. I hope you weren't planning to order a personalized NFL jersey.
Well, I could see making use of glazed donuts maybe...but Ass Clown? I guess I could get that one for my brother.
Anyways, it was so embarrassing today. I went to the zoo with my client "J" and we were standing at the elephant display. There was a small pond between us and the elephants, and there were two ducks swimming around in there. Did I mention the place was crawling with kids on field trips? Well, naturally, since its the last week of school.
So there's about 12-15 kids standing there watching the elephants swaying back and forth, when suddenly the two ducks started, having, well hot duck sex....RIGHT THERE!! In front of all the 2nd graders. How totally indiscreet of them, those damn Mallards.
Of course all the kids started asking their teachers what the ducks were doing. I didn't mean to blurt it out, but suddenly I turned to "J" and said, "Wow, duck sex!! How weird!" I even embarrassed myself with that one, but I think subconsciously I felt the need to divert the kids attention away from the fornicating fowl. I mean, do second graders even know what sex is? I'm 47 and I don't know what sex is. And Mallard Sex is particularly kinky. The male practically drowns the female in his attempt to insert his duck penis in her. Well, I didn't actually see a duck penis. I'm just assuming that there is one somewhere. Gee, I wonder if there's such a thing as fowl porn, you know, as in "Duck Throat". Hey, I'm just asking.
So maybe it was good that the kids got to see ducks having sex at an early age, because just moments earlier, I had been standing there and some kid had asked their teacher what those things were floating around in the water and the teacher had told him they were meatballs (they were, in fact, elephant turds). Just think how stupid that kid will feel someday when he grows up and takes HIS kids to the zoo and tells them about Elephant Meatballs and they all look at him and say, "Dad, what are you talking about...that's elephant shit." Oh, the therapy he'll need!
Anyways, other than fornicating fowl, the zoo was pretty dead. It was 94 degrees out after all and about 98% humidity. Gee witty, what a great suggestion...going to the zoo....as in, walking outdoors...in extreme heat....when all the animals are sleeping because its too freakin' hot to be amusing. Plus the aroma was pretty nifty too, especially around the monkey cages and the bird atrium. The water in the bird atrium was filthy. I felt bad for all the birdies flying around in there. There was some new baby Spoonbills. They probably wished they could go visit the giftshop, if for nothing else, than a shot of some air conditioning.
Plus I was also disappointed that our new penguins are still not on display. We got over 30 penguins about three months ago from the San Diego zoo, and they've yet to appear in public. The official word is that they are "too nervous", so their public debut keeps getting pushed forward a month at a time. I tell you, I really want me some penguins!! Maybe they can give them some Prozac. Can you imagine a California Penguin on Prozac?
I finally finished up the 5th and 6th poster for our St@ff Day at work. Can I say something? Like Duuuu-de!! I'm totally awesome!! The posters turned out really well, especially the last one whose theme is PEACE. The overall theme for our big day next week is 1960s psychedelic era/hippie-dippy/Beatles and who better to work on something like that than moi? I lived it baby! Well, not really. I was only a little kid in the 1960s, but I did live in the ultra-cool San Francisco Bay Area then, which I think totally contributed to the way I turned out, especially since I grew up in fabulous Marin County where I might (and did) bump into people like Janis Joplin in shopping malls. And everyday when I would walk home from school, I would walk by the entrance to Highway 101 and there would always be about 6-10 hippies hitchhiking. And then when I moved up to Sonoma County in 1972, the high school I went to in Forestville, was probably about 70% hippie type kids. It just was inevitable I turned out the way I did. It certainly wasn't anything my parents did. My Dad was a straight laced farmboy from Indiana. My mother was a telephone operator from NY. Neither one was a hippie. Or a Democrat. Or smoked pot. Everyone wore underwear. ;-)
So the peace poster turned out really pretty. And I had been having so many problems with it too. But last night while I was watching Letterman, it just all came together in collage form. Its so pretty, I might even keep if afterwards as a piece of artwork. Yay me!!
Man, it is so freakin' hot in my apartment tonight though! And I have an air conditioner too! But I have no one to help me put it in the window. Damn. I was hoping that one of my art class buddies might be available for some manual labor tonight, but none of them showed up. "K" wasn't there and Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy, who I know would LOVE to visit my bedroom, just so he could wiggle his eyebrows lasciviously at me every week, came briefly to class (like for 20 minutes) and then left. I know he would have helped me with it. Rather ironically, I was just rereading what I was doing one year ago this week in my diary, and I was nervously considering giving Charlemagne a ride somewhere, but I was too shy because I didn't know him very well then. Now, if he needed a ride, I would definitely give it to him. See what a difference a year has made, "A"? And you're always telling me I'm not making any progress.
Tonight in my art class, we were supposed to have the Two Model Night, but it didn't pan out. Supposedly one called in sick. I'm not entirely convinced that happened. I think, perhaps, our Fearless Art Leader, just wasn't sure, if financially, it was a good idea to have to pay for two models if the class was small. I have to say I was fairly intrigued by the idea of two women posing with each other and wondered whether they would acknowledge each other or whether they'd ignore each other or whether, gasp, they'd "touch" each other, in any way. I remember when we were discussing this in our meeting back in the winter, the guys were all over the idea of TWO WOMEN doing anything together. WooHoo!! Yee! Haw!! men...ya know!! (me rolling my eyes).
So instead, we just had our asexual model. At least, that's what she calls herself. Not sure why. She's definitely a girl. She just doesn't shave her armpits. I actually didn't do any work worth showing tonight. It was hot and sweaty in the artroom and the alternative radio station, which shares the space, was piping in music tonight and I didn't like the music. It was way too loud and really obnoxious. Almost every song had the word "fuck" in it. I prefer Gershwin.
About the good part was that the Professional Artist Guy, came and sat next to me. That always sets off two reactions simultaneously. 1) Oh goodie, the Professional Artist Guy is sitting next to me, I must be special, I think he's in love with me. 2) Oh fruck, I'm so incredibly insecure, that he might look over at my crappy, fucked up shitty drawing and say, "God, what a total loser...plus she's fat too."
But he sat next to me anyways...on the floor...next to my bare legs with my skirt slit up to there, with no panties on. Did he know? Meh, probably not. Why would he? I suppose if I had worn my NFL jersey with the words "creamy, magic wand, fondle, glazed donut, lotion, ass clown, tang, got2haveit, love rocket, show time, and get it on" on it, I might have had a slightly better chance of Getting him to at least turn his head away from a beautiful, naked woman.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty