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2006-04-13 @ 10:39 a.m.
some people are just givers

I saw the funniest bumpersticker the other day on James St. It said, "I ran out of sick days, so I called in dead". And I can kind of identify with that at the moment. But of course it would have been even funnier on the Grim Reaper's car, right?

But what was really funny was when I Googled images for the Grim Reaper, I inexplicably got a promotional head shot of Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple Computers. Coincidental? I think not.

Anyways, I am going through what they call in the mental health biz as rapid cycling, which is basically what its probably like to be with Tammy Faye Bakker for an afternoon. happysadhappysad happysad happysad happysad happysad happysad happysad happysad. It’s not really THAT much fun. I took Tuesday off and just laid on the couch and watched 5 straight episodes of the last season of “Six Feet Under” for most of the day.

I did go over to the church food pantry in the morning since that is in one of my top 1.6 million top favorite things to do, you know, next to doing my own spleen surgery with a butter knife and knitting all of Guardcat’s stray cat hairs into scarves for Republicans for Jesus.

Fortunately this duo of Church ladies weren’t quite so vigilant as last month when I inadvertently picked up an extra can of tuna and God Himself nearly struck me dead for being so forthright. These ladies were chatting and one was nearly deaf, so my security guard “advisor” Loretta had to keep walking back into the main room and saying “Yes, Gladys, we did go to Florida this year, like we always do. You know that.” And of course, then and only then, I was madly scooping like 34 cans of primo white albacore tuna into my purse. heheheh. I’m kidding!!! I’m too ingrained with Catholic guilt to ever steal anything, especially in a Catholic food pantry.

When I got home and unpacked everything I immediately wanted to snack on some of the granola bars I had snagged. I don’t usually buy granola bars for myself. They’re kind of a luxury item, but when they’re at the pantry, I’ll grab them. So I go to open them and I happened to glance at the expiration date on the bottom of the box. It said: December 5, 2004.

December 5, 2004?

And what’s today’s date? April 11, 2006? Fourteen months past their expiration date? Isn’t that a little excessive? I could see someone giving a food pantry something that might be a day or two past their expiration date, but a year and 4 months? Fuck, people, what were you thinking? And then I was thinking about how that probably went down over at the McWorthington mansion on Woodcock Hill.

FiFi McWorthington is coming in from her 2006 Porsche with the last of her 17 bags of groceries. They just returned from wintering in Cancun and they are restocking their kitchen cabinets and Fifi is getting some help from her Super Model daughter Suzy.

“Suzy! Can you help me put the groceries away, please?”
“Mom! I text massaging Colin Ferrell. He wants to meet me for sex drinks in NYC this weekend.”
“Suzy. I need help. NOW. Tell him you’ll talk later.”
“But mom”
“NOW! Or I’ll take your iPod and Mercedes away.”
And then the Supermodel daughter slams her gold plated cell phone down on the counter and starts ripping through all the bags on the counter.
“No. I want you to get everything out of the cabinets first and put over there.”
“Why don’t we just throw it away?”
“Because we’re going to give them to the church”
The Supermodel daughter takes down the granola bars and looks at the expiration date and laughs. “Wow mom, these things are like over a year old. Maybe we should feed it to the dog.”
“No, I don’t want to waste it on that stupid dog. They’re fine. Just put them over there.”
Just then the Super Model’s little brother Regis Edward the III comes running in and tries to tear open the granola bars and the mother yells, “No! Don’t eat them! They’re really old. We’re giving them to the church pantry!” and he says, “Why don’t you give them to our dog?” And the mom says, “No honey, she might get constipated or choke.” And the little boy says, “Hey, I know, why don’t we give them to Cochita. Do Mexicans like granola bars?”

“Oh honey, that’s very sweet that you would think of Cochita, but we wouldn’t want her to possibly get sick. I’m having an AIDS fundraiser on Saturday and I need her to be available to serve hor-doerves. And besides, the people at the church food pantry are far more needy and are used to eating stuff like this.”

Thus is the story of the 14 month OLD granola bars and boy were they good. God bless the McWorthingtons on Woodcock Hill!!

I don’t think I cleaned anything last night, unless I have progressed into SLEEP cleaning.

Today I was 15 minutes late for my meeting with the 2 Jennifers because.....because....really no good reason. Ok. I was doing a SMED survey online (damn you SMED, you are hypnotizing me with all those surveys). And also there was no water in my apartment complex...AGAIN. And my car was out of gas. And I had to stop and gaze at.....The Guy Standing in the Creek Raking Garbage (tm). as I was leaving. He is now pulling large pieces of garbage out of the creek like apartment railings, cement cinderblocks and Eye-talian guys named Tony. Its just totally fascinating. Meeting was ok. Met with my case manager.

And then just when I was leaving, another male case mgr. who I’ve gotten friendly with (we’re on a committee together), asked me if I wanted to see a picture of him from a play he was just in. I felt guilty because I had said I was going to see his show, but then never went because of both health problems and I didn’t want to spend the $16 on a show that is one of the few musicals that I don’t care for. So wanting to be a good egg, I stepped into his cubical and he was firing up his computer so I could see the picture. He played one of the mean guys, which must have been hard, because he is such a nice and jolly guy. So the picture popped up and he did, indeed, look very mean. He then he said he had something on his computer to show me. And I was like....gulp. Because basically I don’t really trust guys when they say, “I have something to show you.”

But I wanted to be nice, so I stood there as this video loaded on his computer. There was some sound, but it was very low and then when I saw what it was I was about see I wanted to bolt. It was a bunch of bimbo girls in bikinis bursting out of a building giggling and holding signs that said, “Topless Carwash”. They were screaming and giggling and bouncing. I kind of shifted uncomfortably.

Note to self: Why do guys always think I’m the type of girl who would want to see girls in bikinis offering Topless Carwashes videos. Anyhoo....

He looked up at me and said, “I wouldn’t show you anything that would get me fired.” Why didn’t I take any comfort in that? So all these bootylicious babes went running out to this guy in a car and surrounded him trying to convince him to get his car washed.*

(*Interesting side note: I used to live on a hill above an adult entertainment club and got to see a naked car wash one summer afternoon. The girls, of course, were blocked off from the boulevard, but me, being on the hill above their lovely establishment, had a clear view of all the nude bubbly shenanigans. And oh how exciting. Yawn. Did any cars REALLY get washed? Not really. Just lots of twits with twits lolling around on the hoods of cars. It looked kinda silly if you ask me.)

So, like in any porn film, not that I would know about such things, the guy is “convinced” to come and get his car washed by the babes, and he has to get out of his car, where I truly thought they were going to start soaping his (ahem) headlights. But then this is where the video took a turn. Suddenly the door to the building bursts open again and a bunch of hugely fat topless guys come running out in slow motion with towels and that’s the joke. Topless Car Wash. Okay, you got me.

And then finally last night, I went to my nude drawing class for the first time in three weeks. I knew I needed something to keep manic me out of trouble. The class was the smallest I have ever seen it. Only about 8 people. Usually there are about 18. None of my favorites were there like “L” the hippy chick or Charlemagne the Obnoxious French Guy. I was really hoping that they would be, since that’s part of the appeal of the be able to chat with my friends. And to make matters worse, we had a dud of a model. I remember her from about a month and a half ago as the “Corpse model”. She never stood up when she modeled. She just laid on the floor of the staging area and stretched out her legs in different directions including the truly invigorating Full Metal Vagina pose. yeah, I got to look at her fully shaven vagina for a full half hour pose. Yippee!

Dear Model:
I’m not sure if you realize that the word “model” is not only a noun but also a verb. You in an action word. If we wanted to draw corpses, we could have just gone down to the city morgue and drawn somebody who might have actually had an interesting expression frozen on their face like “Ahhh! Don’t murder me” instead of your bland indifference “I Want to Fall Asleep I Don’t Care About You” expression you had the entire night. That is so fucking boring. You’re supposed to make our drawing experience interesting and challenging, not so tedious that I want to jam exacto knives into my eyes.

I actually had a little mini breakdown, which is only because of my faltering mental health at the moment. I started walking around to all my art buddies and telling them how hard foreshortening is for me. I told them I wanted to give art up. I’ve been doing this for 2 1/2 years and I still can’t make drawings appear 2 dimensional. I even left an hour early and cried all the way home in my car. I just don’t know what to do. Oh and here is the blank faced one dimensional corpse bride. Possibly a good match for the grim reaper guy from The only requirement? You don't have to have a pulse.:

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty