Thursday, January 31, 2008

ambush makeover

I have overheard conversations from women who have expressed how horrified they would be if they were the victim of one of those makeover shows on lifetime/the whatever channel. I am not ashamed to espouse an entirely different point of view. If someone even took the time to notice me on a street somewhere and volunteered to assist in my state of appearance and offer some much-needed pampering, I'd say "sign-me-up-and-who-do-i-have-to-blow-now?" So, if any of you; ahem, either of you; ok, you........wants to get me ambushedly-makeovered, feel secure in your decision.

"how was work today, honey?"

  • significant budget cut, as of last night (was already in the red, due to previous cut)
  • kid carrying .22 cali, loaded, 3 bullets
  • staff knowing about above for at least a week, and not reporting it, priceless
  • # of trees slaughtered for above incident, 3000.
  • brain cells and hours lost=infinite
  • pregnancy & soon-to-be-abortions (sorry to be redundant)
  • 2 (false) corporal punishment allegations
  • 3 physical assaults upon staff, involving minor injuries but even worse....big loogie in teachers face.
  • and about 300 more "minor" incidents, fights, stolen/broken property etc that i never even got around to and never will.

oh, fine.

Monday, January 28, 2008

things i fear

1. getting my throat slit. ughhhhhh. enough. ughh.........(i will be up all night just from writing this)

2. needles. hate them. not afraid of the pain, just the entrapment, not good at it. contrary to my personality, could never become a junkie.

3. dying, in general. i just don't want to die. i want to begin investigating the vampire thing, because i would rather do that than die. bonus=i would like to be a vampire

other than that, i don't think i am afraid of anything. i am strong, have an extremely high threshold of pain, and am prepared.

ok, one more thing. i get afraid for my friends/family in the event of a disaster. that's why i am prepared for it, i need to share my plan with peeps in case of an awful event. stay tuned. i'll lay it out soon


just today, i have a kid run into my office ready to blow and take down everyone around her. she is 17, crazy, has been abused (in every way imaginable) and is smart. for some reason, i am the only person that can de-escalate her. she has beaten up 3 staff members and is strong as an ox. she is prolly 6', 200lbs, and wild as they make'm. she loves me for some reason, and loves to spend time with me (in crisis state or not) and just hanging out with me for 20+ minutes calmed her down from beating up someone. in our discourse, she revealed to me that her best buddy (and lesbian lover-also one of my students) was pregnant. I listen, a bit incredulous because they had been staunch 'girls-only' girls for sometime. Then i hear, "You know 't' (that is my official school name-"t") pussy gets stale after awhile.....".

Long story short. PG girl will be having her 4th abortion,16 yrs old.
My fan. Has already had 4. age-17
My fans mother, has reportedly had 10. age 42

I am a very pro-choice person. But i am finding abortion as a means of birth control, a bit, um, unsettling.

dreams. almost, but not yet, debased.

throughout college and for awhile after, i had peace corps applications at my fingertips. i filled them out, multiple times. then, they would sit, get stained, lost, wrinkled. i would then request another application. apply, rinse, repeat. i had visions of going to scary-cool places and truly helping people. i still entertain these notions, even though i now have a clearer understanding that a government sponsored program, has 'our' government at the forefront of interest. Nonetheless, i still long for the ideal. gihyb and i started some preliminary talk tonight of just subletting our place and heading to some place, some where, some day, soon, or maybe soonish.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

sunday nights

Sundays, after 4pm, have inspired agita in me for 15 years. I mean, real agita ( i cannot stand that word, sounds so long-island-jewish-housewife to me, but it is the best descriptor i can think of right now), i can barely sleep. I don't hate my job, it's just so incredibly stressful and full of violence, tragedy and non-stop action that it's hard to get prepared for, and impossible to look forward to. We casually refer to our school as the 'emotional emergency room'. When I am there, it is ok, and I can still do it, and still well, i believe. I just brace myself against it. It's become too much. I have tried to become more of a glass-half-full person (still trying) but on Monday mornings, the glass is not only empty, it's fucking shattered. with glimpses of who I'd rather be, or could have been, just taunting me in it's reflections.


In mid-high school I worked at at restaurant adjacent to a mall. Every so often, after our shifts, my friends and I would go to this chinese restaurant (also adjacent to the mall) that had been around since the 50's (bear in mind that malls were very different then than now). We would get food, but the main attraction was that they would serve us booze, no questions asked. We would walk in and look at the wall full of crazy glassware in which they served the booze and would order by the glass we preferred, as we really didn't know the names of drinks. It would really involve us just pointing and then being handed something, whatever. After going there a bunch of times, my friend pointed to this brown ceramic bowl with monkeys all around it. We all pointed to it and then this magical bowl was carried to our table with 4 straws in it. We were wide eyed. Despite it being sickeningly sweet, it became our drink of choice, mainly for the sense of bondedness, we were all drinking from the same bowl (ok maybe a little gross, but high school girls are physically close, borrow clothes, et al). In fact, we even asked what the drink was called. "Scoben", replied our waiter. So we continued to frequent the place and frquently order "scobens". Then, I'm in college, freshman year and new friends decide to go to a chinese restaurant. I say, "let's order a scoben". Um, ok. Waiter comes, "a scoben please?" In perfect english he corrects me. "I think what you might want is a scorpion bowl?" I sheepishly say yes, and wish that I was back drinking 'scobens' with my real friends.

Monday, January 21, 2008

lisa zimmerman

she was the last person who totally beat my ass. gave me a whooping. 9th grade, at bus stop we had all shared a joint. then we get on bus and she starts popping about my clothes. i was a total thrift-shop-hipster-back-in-the-day, and i admit that my costume was probably outrageous. i wore really crazy clothing but, i was all of 90 lbs, and could get away with it. she was pushing 200 and even though we puffed together, she was in a piss. So, we yell back and forth on bus, and i ultimately outwit her. as soon as we get off she clocks me like nobodys biz. i was dizzied, fell to the ground. lisa won, i lost. go lisa zimmerman. wonder where yer at now?

Sunday, January 20, 2008

child labor

When i was 12, maybe 13 (not good at this) I worked on a farm. Not like a real hard farm, it was a farm in ct that sold berries, pumpkins and xmas trees. I was on the berry end. My friends and I all signed up for the summer gig each year and our assignment was pretty easy. We had to pin down strawberry runners. carry on. on occasion, we picked strawberries for lazy people, boxed'm up and whatever. we had the best times ever. We spent our days laughing and tanning and gossiping over strawberry mounds. We were happy and all in love with one another (except of course, when someone was 'in the outs') but even that always subsided and loveliness carried on. The farm rules dictated that you could only carry your lunch bag down. So, we would be so creative in our 'lunch bags; there were usually around 10 of us, we would alternate, someone would carry the baby oil, someone would carry a beach towel, something to drink and so on. Then we would take turns. Someone exclusively tanning at any point, turn-taking. Oh, i guess i forgot to mention we all wore bikinis under our "uniforms".

On a side note. One of my best friends at the time was JM who happens to be the 'model' for the covers of the new nancy drew series. (and by new i mean the '80's)

Mr. Donut

I was 16, ( i think? greg...?) anyway, i worked at a joint called Mr. Donut. It rocked because, I went in to work at 4 or 5 am (in those days, not a problem), and was done by 11am. It smelled really good, was pleasant, easy and i got to eat lots of donuts (even though i was tres skinny at the time) My friends swung by at 11, picked me up and we went to the beach all day. Then we would go to someones house (never mine) get "dressed" and go out. I'd get home by "midnight curfew" and repeat.

Anyway, one day one of the dudes who worked in the back (actually making the doughnuts and from greece, with limited english, and smoking hot) starts flirting with me and teaches me to juggle (yes, i still can sort of juggle, but not well). We are using the donut 'holes' to practice our dance. Stupidly we were juggling in the storefront. Unbeknownst to me, some 'regular' snitched and the next day I was called into the office by the greek owner. He tells me, "you think my pastry is some kind of joke? I fire you!, You no work here no more!!!" I start to cry, ribbons of tears. He says. "ok, you still work here." and then he gives me a bag of figs (which, of course i had never seen or heard of before). I get fired, re-hired and a bag of figs.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

shopping on saturday in nyc

i generally avoid commerce in general on weekends if possible. it's the time you truly see the id of society as a whole. proof of the puddin'? today. gihyb, lil g and i head to union square for some necessary monetary trade. we went from one store to the next for listed items (not being browsers, nor window shoppers) and in each and every store there were so many people that i am certain all were exceeding their fire code capacity. in b&n, at one point i got so trapped i had to lift the stroller over a display, hit a guy in the head doing so (no big whoop he was an uber-douchebag anyway) and then fled to a corner outta fear of a who-tour-like trampling. books bought=zero. and so on, in each consecutive shop . yet the point being made here, is that in each store, as i cruised with stroller i got looks. not nice looks. looks from people that said "ugh, you stupid breeder, in my way, inconveniencing my douchebag life", or the semi-pity, "sorry that you are so saddled (um and you're kinda old)" or "i see your plight, and do not give a flying fuck at all" or "your kid is cute, i'll flirt with him for one minute then trample him to a bloody little pile of death get to the register ahead of you". i was getting nervous. too many people in too little space. i guess people shop. a lot. who knew?

then there is the whole customer service piece. and that in itself is a different post.


can this be real? i think i threw up into my mouth a little. but, i do believe in reflexology........

Thursday, January 17, 2008

skills i lack

I hate working with other people when it involves a lot of bandying back and forth and deliberation. I like a fast deadline, and a purposeful goal. Drives me crazy when people have to state obvious and unworkable ideas and I have to be nice and say, "well, i don't think that would work because.....". but, i am getting better at it, despite it's wasting of time.

being clutter free. i like having stuff that i may someday use. but i'm getting better at it.

Accessorizing. Seems anti-clutter-free, but.....i'm not getting any better at it.

remembering when shit happened, dates etc. i'll never be good at it.

auditory hallucinations?

I'm on my way home from the torture chamber, aka the ghetto, aka work, aka my profession. At a red light and I hear a tune coming from the car beside me. (I drive home from there in silence to try to keep day chaos at bey). Not your usual thanksforsharingyourshitbagearwaxmakinggarbage. And, I might add, a tune one would not expect to hear on the corner of Bushwick Avenue, Brooklyn. I cock my head and try to process what I am hearing. It is!! It's the song from the silence of the lambs when Jame Gumb is dancing with his front-tail tucked betwixst legs. (aka Goodbye Horses, performed by Q. Lazzarus, written by W. Garvey) I almost snap my neck to lock eyes with whom i know will be my bff and what-the.....? It is a hispanic man in his late 40's-50's. Hmmm. I cock head again, waiting for the 'sample' to turn into a full toodle fest, or even a hip hop massacre. But nope. I smile throughout the 10 seconds it takes for the light to turn green. Goodbye my bff-o-h-m. Hope you have a good life. Thanks for a little sunshine in my pj window...

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

my job

my friends/family occasionally get pissed when i tell them how hard my job is (big martyr, so leave, blah, blah) i rarely discuss it anymore. but i know very few people who often get punched whilst on the clock. i am sporting a pretty sore arm right now, and i ain't seeing no purple heart anyday soon. come on lucky seven...

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

more on my grandfather

He was a bit of a **cough** drinker. One day, when I was about 11, he shows up to my softball game w-a-s-t-e-d and cheering way too loudly. Ok, more like a red-faced hooligan at the world cup. People kept looking at him and then me and then back to him, waiting to see if we would put an end to it or probably hoping I would run off the field from the humiliation. Startled by my own response, I was laughing my head off. I could barely pitch, from doubling over. I also, felt this weird feeling of pride. Glad that HE was MY grandfather. The kicker....he was wearing a denim suit, complete with vest and matching denim pimp hat. only wish i had a photo.

Monday, January 14, 2008

fly on the wall

The story is that my grandfather supposedly died with an oil painting i had painted in his arms. While I doubt that to be true, i loved him so dearly and had such a hard time contending with the fact that i would never see him again. i was assured by everyone that he would be watching me. For a long time i felt solace in the fact that we still had an "in-road", he was taking care of me from above. But after a while i started getting freaked out that he was watching me when i was doing bad things, which i usually was. Then I started getting angry when anyone died. I was pissed because I knew that there was one more person who would be able to watch me, when I didn't want to be watched. I spent half of my time as it was trying to 'not get caught' doing...whatever. It felt unfair. Once you die you get this super-hero power of "judgement" where you get to just look down and watch everyone and ultimately judge everyone. I call bullshit. I hate the idea of angels and the afterlife (well that's a whole other story). I just don't want anyone looking at me anymore ( as in my mind they have been for decades).

Thursday, January 10, 2008

skillz i have

Things that are facts about me....
I have better than perfect vision, even at 40, tested, true.

My sense of smell is like a bloodhound, i can smell what you ate for breakfast (3 days later).

And i have the most incredible sense of direction. i always know what direction i am facing and how to get from there to where.

And lastly, i think 'mathly'.When i am not communicating with people directly, i am doing some sort of mathy problem in my head. On a road trip, i do algebra probs to pass the time. If it is walking down the hall, i either count steps or do 'if a train leaves from....' i'm like a really dumb rain man.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008


Gilly was so sick this am, i had to bring him back to the doctor. Done by 12:30 so had to decide, 'go to work, or ?' I decide to go to dmv to clear my name and ensure no arrest warrents for me. I get there and ask 1st guy what line to stand in. grunts and points. sure, that i am in wrong line, i ask again. grunts and points. he is replaced. i ask new guy. grunts and points. i go again and explain my situation in greater detail. grunts and points. 55 minutes later, find out in wrong line. the line i was supposed to me in, and whole ordeal...20 minutes. cleared and got $40, go figue.


sometime within the last decade or two, some guy had his name officially changed to "trout-fisherman-of-america". i have been deliberating about having mine changed to " fucking-white-bitch" which i hear at least 30 times per day.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

witness 2

when i was about 10, a jehovah witness joint (temple, church? what do ya call it?) opened up about a mile from my house. slowly, they started combing the neighborhood and offering up inspirational pamphlets etc. One summer day, the door bell rang and i answered the door. There was a giantly tall black jw there trying to preach to me. I told him, "i'll get my mom", he pushed the door open and was a bit forceful, even as wild as i was at the time, i found him to be intimidating. My mom went nuts, as he refused to leave, and was preachin jehohovahs vaues. she called 911 and dude was arrested in 2 minutes, when i think about it, i bet it was because he was black, but not for nuthin, dude should have been arrested for b & e.


when i was in elementary school, we had (at 1st just one, then eventually 2) jehovah's witnesses kids. of course, no one had any clue what that that was about, including the teachers and administration who had to get their instructions via parental notes. anyway, what it meant to me, was that there was a kid sitting outside the classroom with his desk pulled out, just sitting there, while the rest of us ate cupcakes and cheetos inside. now i am not going to lie here, i was a pretty mean kid. i would easily make fun of these kids on any other day of the week, but i must posess some sort of soul, because on these holiday celebrations it really drove me nuts that they were excluded. so, i i would regularly excuse myself to the 'restroom' and bring them goodies. Never once did they ever reject my offerings. i just kind of 'dropped'm' and they were psyched. i felt the world was a better place for my breaking-the-law. FYI- i am still mean and think that that the jehovah witnesses are crazy.

such a pretty face

so what happens? already feeling lowly 'bout self and praying for invisibility. 1st night out in awhile. 5 minutes prior to departure, head-butted by gilly and break my nose. in pain and swollen all night. fuckers grounded.

funnier later....
conversation at bar....
ugly girls are better in bed because they 'have' to do things pretty girls don't. friend says to me, wow, you could probably fuck circles around me...........

Monday, January 7, 2008

about parenthood

no one says it. as fucking-a cool as it is, sometimes it just blows. when you want to do anything, you realize there is a monkey on your back and it makes the easiest task a mission. i think biology is correct. we should have kids when we are younger, so much more able to deal.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

boy grows into a woman

The majority of my life has been spent in the company of boys. From early on, i was the quintessential tomboy, and girls were an unnessary fuss to me. we played ball, fist-fought, got dirty. thats what we did. funny now that my most valued relationships are female. there must have been an undiscernable moment when i suddenly just grew up and had girlfriends.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008


resolutions might be stupid, but i like them because they indicate hope. i absolutely without question, must stop smoking. i want to live. i don't want to die. i am so afraid of death that i literally start shaking when i think of being the asshole who dies at 45 because they smoked. the other night i watched beaches (yes i am a gay man), and cried so hard that my face was swollen the next morning. of course the gallons of beer i consumed while watching did not help. i also resolve to cut that down too. oh, yeah, and get skinny and rich and.............
am i beyond help? i feel pretty helpless. i need to get stronger. but all my vices make me so weak.