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Angelic Fruitcake

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Nonsense [Oct. 11th, 2006|05:23 pm]
Angelic Fruitcake
[Tags|]
[Current Location |School]
[mood |amusedamused & tired]
[music |click]

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...
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Comments:
From: cerulean_scars
2006-10-11 08:57 pm (UTC)
OMG, somebody else feels that "Sometimes it just feels good to yell"! I am not alone in the world! Hooray!

Sounds like a great office you have there. One of my close friends in Richmond is still hung up on a girl he DUMPED two years ago. So sad.
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[User Picture]From: lula_neith
2006-10-12 12:53 am (UTC)
The man is a nut. I have an exaggerated startle response. When I know he's the supervisor, I have to be ready to pee my pants. Seriously, at the TOP of his lungs he'll yell. LOL! It's a fun place to spend time and get paid for it.

I feel bad. The Sicilian is SUCH a nice kid. And this girl may be nice, but she sounds like one of those women who break up with a guy who is "too nice". Whatever that means. No connection or spark is one thing, faulting someone for trying to be there. Well.

Am I being cynical to think two years is enough time to move on, or at least be done with the pining stage? Perhaps I've never been 'in love'(mutually, with reciprocity) and don't know anything about it. I'd concede that much.
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From: cerulean_scars
2006-10-12 01:01 am (UTC)
Giggle. When I worked in Wicker Park, I would run out of the office and wait under the Damen Blue Line until a train passed and I could scream whatever I needed to say.

No, I don't think you're being cynical. Yeah, you can think about a person for a forever, but to hold yourself back continuously after two years is a bit self-defeating. My friend dumped this girl because she was his first serious girlfriend and he panicked that maybe he should have had MORE experience before settling down with the one. When he realized what a fuck-up he was, she wasn't having him back. He still has the girl's number in his phone, and I threaten to one day delete it. I already charge him a quarter for each time he uses her name in a sentence.
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[User Picture]From: lula_neith
2006-10-12 02:51 am (UTC)
Your poor friend. He should just take the hit and do better next time, you know? Keep charging him that quarter each time he says her name. There are nearly seven billion people in the world. There will be another that will fit as nicely. Then he's got to CHOOSE not to be a fuck-up this time. LOL! It's funny how people always think they're missing something out there...
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[User Picture]From: starsimplode
2006-10-11 09:05 pm (UTC)
You totally made me laugh, with these cramps I aughta send you a bouquet!

*smiles*
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[User Picture]From: lula_neith
2006-10-12 12:44 am (UTC)
Glad to be of service! tee, hee. I like Stargazer Lillies by the bye. How are you?
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