||[Oct. 11th, 2006|05:23 pm]
I was walking down Willakenzie Road and it turned into a New Zealand nowhere. Just a road with green everywhere. And more green after that. In the middle of the green I saw a house. I was walking toward the house. I was walking through an orchard and took an apple from a tree.
"Hey!" Someone yelled. "That's not yours!"
I turned around and it was Billy Zane. I said: "You're Billy Zane. You can't tell me not to eat an apple. You don't even live here!"
We walked to the house and my mom was in the kitchen. She can't cook, but she was in the kitchen. We, all three, sat at the table and had some tea. My mom claimed Billy Zane:
"What are you, anyway?" she asked. "Italian? Italians aren't white. Greek? Greeks weren't even white till 1935 (this is true). Are you Mexican? You may as well be Black."
Billy Zane was laughing. My mom did that to everybody. It was her effort to claim people and make them her own. "Irish? Hell, you may as well be Black". So my mom made lunch for Billy and me and we went walking. She made sandwiches because there's no cooking involved. We had lunchboxes. We went on an adventure. We went to the next village. Everyone was tall. Not just taller than me, 'coz that's easy. I mean everyone was TALL. Yao Ming tall. Shaq tall. Billy and I were nervous.
"Are they going to crush us?" He asked.
"Shut up, Billy," I answered.
We attracted a crowd somehow. One of the tall-town women came over. She slapped Billy across his pretty mouth. I didn't like that.
"You can't slap Billy Zane!" I said "Only I can do that!"
We circled each other and someone shouted: "They're breakdance fighting!"
I did the helicopter, I did some popping and locking. I spun on my head. She muttered her apologizes and walked away. I pointed my finger at the crowd, challenging the next person. No one came forward. Billy Zane and I stopped at the village square and ate our lunch in peace. The end.
Yes. I'm sleepy.
There is a reason I haven't written much about work. That is because it's going well. They pay me in fecal matter, but I just flush it down the toilet and keep going. It's because of the people there. They are all insane and I fit in for the most part. Here are some of the characters for your approval:
The Sicilian: Hirsuite and cute. Not tall. Goofy and going to school for psychology. He's disgusting and loveable and I sometimes take a strip of scotch tape, slap it on him and rip off some hair from the back of his hand. Or his leg. Or the top of his feet. He occasionally drives me home. I occasionally pay for gas.
Sugartits: My favorite of the ladies at work. She's a big girl. She's sexy. She can be loud and obnoxious. She's very smart. She's got super long hair that she lets me braid. She's pregnant and jokes about calling the baby my name. She gave me a nickname: Muffin Crotch. So. Yeah, Sugartits and Muffin Crotch in the house.
Red: He's one of my favorite supervisors. Here's a narrative he told in one breath as I left the room to go pee: "So, Lula: what if you went to the bathroom and you were feeling really bad and you didn't realize it but you had a twin. And you're in the bathroom lookin' in the mirror and feelin' all bad and you SPIT at yourself. Only it's not yourself it's your twin and your twin comes over and starts to kick your ass, but then you block her and punch her in the gut. But you ARE in the bathroom so she PEES on you and then, bom-chicka-bwam-bwam PORN music starts and..." I left the room shaking my head. He's hilarious. He told me I looked like a writer which is silly but endeared him to me forever. He's tall, thin, pale and has a HUGE, deep voice. He occasionally screams loudly for no reason and we'll look over and the veins in his neck will be popped out in relief and his face will be all red. "What's wrong with you?" We'll ask. He'll shrug and say:"Sometimes it just feels good to yell."
The Mama:So kind and sweet. I like her 'coz she gets as flustered as I do. And she's a supervisor. She buys us dinner. She occasionally drives me home. She crocheted a hat for me. She's all good.
Those are my favorite three. I think The Sicilian and I are the closest. He's a romantic. I laugh at him. But that's only because I am, too. He was head over heels for some girl and she told him she still wasn't over her ex...from two years ago. I told him to move on. He's waiting for her, though. They occasionally make out. I think she's using him. So it goes. He asked if I believed in true love. I told him it turns out some folks seem made for each other. I'll grant that. At this point, I don't see marriage. "You never know," he said. It's sweet he's so hopeful.
There. I was sleepy and had nothing else to talk about. I was up late doing math homework. I mean up till 6a and then had to get up at 9a the next day and go to class then work till midnight. It was a rough day yesterday. The seven hours I had last night feel like nine hours. I like it 'coz I slept with no tossing and turning. I think I should make myself exhausted more often. I sleep better...