2004-06-18 @ 12:19 a.m.
|There’s nothing better than to be woken up by a relative with a container full of brownies when you’re PMSing. My Aunt Molly rang my door bell around 9:30. I, of course, had to jump up rather quickly. No discernable clothing, ya see, since I was sleeping. Grabbed a robe and swung open the door. YES! Brownies and a smiling face. She then asked if I wanted to come over to her house today for a dip in her pool and I said yes. I love water.
Water, water, water. Any kind. Swimming, bathing, boating, hot tubs. Hell, I’m Aquarius, the water bearer. I dig water. Also we were going to be celebrating a late birthday for mommy dearest. Molly had been away on my mom’s birthday, so we were going to bar-b-quing chicken and eating all fat-free foods today.
My aunt, you see, is a world renown expert on every fat free food known to mankind. You go to her house and as she serves you, she’ll say, “This peanut butter brownie?...I made this with grape skins and shaved iceberg lettuce...its fat free! This triple chocolate decadence hot fudge brownie?...Oh, I made this from from sand and dehydrated cocoa granuals fed through a de-fatting machine...its fat free!
We have to tether my aunt to the house when she goes outside. Because she too, is fat-free, and frequently threatens to float off over the garden.
So my aunt actually had me come over early to go in the pool. My mom doesn’t do pool activities. When I got there one of my favorite cousins was there. Alan. My aunt has 5 kids. They are all quiet, reserved, happily married, successful and religious...except Alan. Alan is a goofball (I mean that nicely though). Somehow when all the other kids stopped growing at about 5 foot 7, Alan shot up to well over 6 foot, dresses like a Hell’s Angel, has long black curly hair, laughs constantly and has never really had a stable job or marriage. He’s also very, very funny. My mom adores him. We chatted briefly, but my aunt kept saying, aren’t you going to go out in the pool? (She’s very into time schedules. She knew I had to leave for an appointment in two hours, and everything, from pool time to bar-b-quing to dessert distribution, had to be planned down to the exact minute).
So I finally got into my little Lycra print bathing suit. Its funny how when you shave your legs and bikini area in the privacy of your own bathroom, you think you’ve gotten all the stray hairs, but then when you step out into the light of a bright sunny afternoon, you look down in horror to discover you actually look like a Wookie.
So I quickly hurried through the kitchen full of relatives, grabbed a towel out in the garage and headed for the pool. My aunt lives at the end of an airport runway. The planes literally take off right directly over the top of her pool. Wanna say good bye to visitors leaving town? Go over to my aunt’s house and sit on her pool deck
We’ve had some hot days this year, but no extended periods of heat. How do I know? My toe knew. My toe knew the moment it touched the water in the pool. Yee-ow! What are the first signs of hypothermia? Blueness. Let me look...yup. My toe sure looks blue to me. So then for about 7-8 minutes I just swirled my toe around in the water. I really didn’t think I could get in, until my uncle came out to throw the fat-free chicken on the bar-b-que.
“Ya gettin’ in?”
“Yes, in a moment.”
Gee, I couldn’t come over and then just flake out. So I finally started dipping my leg in. First to the knee. BRRRR. Then to the thigh....BRRRRRRRR. And then my uncle reappeared.
“Ya gettin’ in?”
“Yes, in a moment.”
I finally kerplunked the money-maker into the frigid waters and looked over at my uncle who was laughing. What...you think this is funny? Just play with your bar-b-que fork, Mr. Uncle guy.
So I walked around the perimeter of the pool on my tippy toes for quite a while. It was freezin’ ass cold. I wasn’t about to get the boobs wet. And I know I looked funny. Even people flying overhead in jets, were looking down laughing. I walked around the pool quite a while before I discovered the real reason I was there. Umm...
Ya know how every pool has that really cool spigot that shoots out really high pressured water? Its sort of like a jacuzzi. As in its high pressured. Ya know...High pressured. As in...its kinda fun to stand directly in front of it. As in, its EXACTLY at the right height for maximum enjoyment with minimum detection.
So I kept walking around the freezin’ ass pool, then making my much anticipated pit stop at the spigot..OOooo, Ahhhh. And then walking around the pool again....and then stopping again...Ooooo, Ahhhh. I know the planes overhead knew something was up, by the way I was lingering at the north end of the pool each time I went around.
And then suddenly I heard this really loud noise, like the sound barrier was being broken and I looked up and there were 4 fighter jets roaring overhead. Evidentally they had picked up some unusual “activity” on their radar and had been dispatched to check it out.
Gulp. Ix-nay on the Spigot-ay.
Fortunately, by then, the chicken was done, and I went in and had lunch with the relative. Naturally I draped myself with a towel on the lower half...you know... to hide my Wookiness. Didn’t want to put anyone off lunch or anything.
Afterwards, unfortunately, I had to cut things short to head off to my anger management class. What did it accomplish today? Nothing, except to piss me off. Here I was having a perfectly nice day with my favorite aunt and uncle, swishing around in a pool, being ogled by air force guys at 10,000 feet, eating fat free chocolate thingies, and then I rushed down to go to this program?
The woman was late for the third week in a row. I have, but few pet peeves, and lateness is the biggest one. I absolutely hate when people are late. Married Guy is late all the time and it totally skeeves me.
So the woman gets there late. Starts even later. And then ended early. So instead of the program being 1 hour, it was barely a half hour. WHAT?!?!?! Why did I rush to get here? And then the shit she talked about today was really boring. The scientific explanation of anger. Woo. How the neurons get hijacked on the way to the brain. Why do I need to know about that? And why do we need a Power Point picture of a Rage Robot? It’s stupid looking. Why not throw up Glen Campbell’s arrest photo, and see what a pissed guy really looks like?
I am a rage robot...give me a cookie.
So I finally headed home. Stopped at my old bosses’ new print shop. Its on my way. I thought I was looking kinda hot. Had gotten some color out on my aunt’s pool deck. Had shorts and a tank top on. My old boss knew me when I was fat. Now I’m about 50 pounds lighter and my hair is long. We’re the same age. Who’s sorry now, ey “S”? His shop isn’t doing that well. His brochure that he showed me absolutely sucked. “S” is a hard worker, but has zippo artistic ability. I wanted to say something, but didn’t. Wanted to keep it light. Told him about my upcoming Nanny interview. He was encouraging like no one else has been (except for “A”). It was nice. He also gave me some advice on how to “Slap kids around when they’re bratty”. Thanks “S”. I’ll take that into consideration.
When I got home there was a note from “A”. Nanny interview tomorrow 2:15.
Can I say something about that?
I am beyond nervous. I’m on the verge of being unconscious. My stomach is all knotted up. I went to my drawing class tonight and was just miserable. I couldn’t concentrate, so I left early. I am so frightened about tomorrow, that I am blanking out. It’s like severe stage fright. I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of succeeding. I’m afraid of being rejected. I’m afraid of being accepted. What a fucking quandary!
But on a lighter note, I did have some really good E-Bay news today...an old record I bought for 25 cents two weeks ago at a garage sale, sold for almost THIRTY DOLLARS!! Sucka! Ok, I knew it was probably rare when I spotted it. I’m no expert, but it was obvious, that this piece of vinyl was something very unusual and I was right. Yay, me! Wish I could do this more often. I had only done this one other time when I had bought an old Mickey Katz record for 25 cents at an estate sale and sold it for $25. Who knew?
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty