|
© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy, but I like you."
|
The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
Welcome to my journal, you red hot vixen.
What The World Needs Now 16-February-2006
Since the official day of love is still lingering in the air like the stench of steamed broccoli, I guess I'll get all kinds of mushy and talk about love. So, here's this.
Some lovely beast with a desire to advertise their services by way of a useful gift left this work of art on my doorstep. (I removed the advertisement to protect the innocent.) You know what this means, don't you? This means that since I don't engage in the murder of flies or other creatures finding their way into my home,* I get to use this lovely heart-shaped flyswatter to spank myself silly. Isn't that spiffy?
Speaking of spanking myself, and also speaking of love, I did have my way with myself earlier. I was home alonewhat do you want from me? Self-love is important. Just dispelling a bit of that leftover religious guilt from my youth. I am not religious, but I'm nice. And I believe in love and other beautiful things. Beautiful things like...getting naked with myself.
I've come up with a few euphemisms for a woman enjoying herself, if you know what I mean. Please enjoy, because I do these things for you.
polishing the good silver brushing up on your French ("Just brushing up on my French in here, honey! Could you start the roast?") dowsing for water sending in the clowns slipping into something more comfortable bowling for dollars waiting for Guffman (???) rocking the Casbah taking the bacon (could be used for either genderthe inspiration for this one is here, if you're so inclined) tending the flowerbed taking a dip feeding the lion reshaping your wig tinkering with the tulips
and my favourite:
frosting your cupcake (thanks to The Lovely Bea for this one)
Well, enough of that for now. If you have any homemade euphemisms for that activity, please feel free to share. Also, please feel free to condemn me to hell. I have already been there so I know what to expect.
A lovely reader from Vancouver, Canada wrote to me, concerned that I may have died. I am in fact still alive (dead people don't frost their cupcakes). I haven't felt well, hence the hefty number of days between updates. And on top of that, I have a mother of a sleep disorder, which tends to cause the days to bleed into each other, giving me a wonky sense of the passing of time. If you ask me, yesterday was January. So, don't ask me. I plan on making it up to you by singing "Suwannee River" backward, without my teeth, wearing my best disheveled wig and a freshly tie-dyed dickey.
I am going to make a list of some things I love, mostly because it keeps me on my twinkles. I've done this before and hope to not repeat myself with any of these, but if I do, please call me on it and send me to my room. Spank me with a heart-shaped swatter if you must.
I love:
the smell of vanilla the way the warm water in the shower feels after a swim when people call me honey or sweetie or something similar (but they have to mean it) petting my cats with my feet enchiladas soft lips following my own rules butt massages thin crust pizza the word petal remembering the first time we went out and how I knew I loved you in that one certain moment and how I knew I had known you for a million years, or longer when complete strangers brighten my day when anyone brightens my day reevaluating my beliefs walking beneath the night sky imagining climbing into the Big Dipper and taking a bath amid the other stars the feeling of falling (without injury) secret pockets when people think for themselves hardy snowbitches my formidable collection of men's pants being a woman imagining I'm a cool guy referring to certain individuals as "tools" reading the dictionary before I fall asleep and dreaming of the words the kind of kiss that goes right through me shadows and light respite (however brief) from this fucking pain swearing around people who claim they can't tolerate it challenging unfortunate thoughts about myself remembering my trip to Canada sheets with freakishly high thread counts my boobs the rock creature My Darlin' made as a kid in 1975, which is setting on the desk, smiling at me
And I love:
jubilantly singing these alternative lyrics to the song "We're In the Money": We're in the money, oh honey, honey! We're in the money, honeyasshole fuck-in' bitch! (A bit of joy from childhood.) shea butter all things Judy: Judy Garland Judi Dench Judy Davis Judy Tenuta Judie, my cat when people take responsibility for themselves the Yaz song "Only You" remembering that everything is OK even when it doesn't feel that way dismissing idiots that I have no need to compete with you swinging (on a swing) knowing that nothing is personal biplanes Land of the Lost Botswana eye agate feeling so sleepy that the things I would normally let bother me seem like nothing at all feeling beautiful beach glass the Bonnie Raitt song "I Can't Make You Love Me" because it breaks my heart every time I hear it when my hair looks good not being dependent upon happiness Newcastle Brown Ale (I know I said this last time, but it's good enough to mention twice) the feeling that happens sometimes during sex where I have a rush of love that floods quickly and powerfully to my heart, overwhelming the hell out of me my one and only houseplant, Fredwinna (Freddie, for short), who has been with me for about 12 years (the other plants [and their respective names] live outside due to certain extra-hairy members of my family enjoying far too many nibbles of those green beauties) pale pinks the word remarkable foggy mornings knowing I don't ever have to see you again Sharpie ultra fine point markers (I need another box) sticking up for the underdog feeling desirable the way short women look wearing big, chunky shoes (I don't have a foot fetish, I just think it's adorable) goat cheese dried roses telling people that I have an Aunt Butch and an Uncle Tootsie (It's truethey were on opposite sides of the family. It would have been delicious if they'd been married, but Uncle Frank would have missed Aunt Butch something awful. I know I do.) the natural chunk of ruby dangling from my neck the children's book Sleepy People by M.B. Goffstein, which I have kept near my bed since I was a kid (it comforts me and still makes me sleepy when I read it)
I also love:
my life adventure (I seriously require more of this) the memory of playing ding-dong-ditch and how exhilarating it felt scavenger hunts being grateful taking a swig from the bottle of Dissarono and claiming it will help my non-existent cough those quick tinkerbells of light that shoot up occasionally from a candle's flame the fact that Amy Sedaris makes cheese balls and sells them after her shows David Sedaris my bountiful DVD collection the movie Mad Monster Party macro mode my own personal Bozo (see photo at top) that one leaf still clinging to an almost bare tree, and how a breeze will make it spin and twirl but it won't let go unexpected tenderness staring into the darkness and watching the pictures that appear using the wrong fork purposely in the company of people who care about that shit succulent anticipation tomatoes cut in half with freshly and thinly-cut garlic piled on top with a bit of sea salt being well hydrated the smell of the water from a garden hose (from childhood) the smell of my mom's purse (again from childhood) one scoop each of Baskin-Robbins Daiquiri Ice and chocolate ice cream together in a cup the lapis lazuli ring Jodie Foster wore in the movie Contact (which I also love) the sweet sadness of missing someone meeting new and delightful people dirt roads blood red leaves knowing that I was the recipient of quite possibly the oddest fortune cookie fortune ever:
In addition to these things, I love:
Strike Anywhere matches who I am becoming soggy Corn Flakes writing (music, lyrics, stories, letters, etc.) stained glass pretending I am invincible learning to accept people for who and what they are this blue and black silk leopard print scarf I inherited from my grandma, because it is beautiful but mostly because it still smells like her after nearly three decades reading glasses Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (the original ones, not the jacked-up new varieties) holding the door open for people the way a gray day makes the green stand out hugging my cats yard sales feeling hopeful dreams that stay with me for days that feeling where you'll be looking at someone and you'll slowly begin to freak out that you know them, and they will almost seem to be a part of you, as if there is no space between you and them.
Love is everything. So, love as if your pants will fall off in public if you don't. Love as though tomorrow was canceled. It is all we have, I promise you that. It is what we are after the superficial layers are peeled away. We're just here, roaming about, trying to remember who and what we are.
Quote From My World
"Things are full of majestic wonder and insane sweetness where I am, as I was the recipient of a blizzard two days ago."
kk
Well, I'm off to write an essay extolling the creator of cake, whoever that may be. Either that or I am going to grab a certain someone and whisk them away to the movies with me. We saw Transamerica last night, which I found moderately enjoyable. One scene required Felicity Huffman to weep unabashedly, and let me tell you, that lovely woman can drool. It poured out of her mouth like a generous helping of syrup, and this happened not once but twice in the same scene. It made me imagine William H. Macy at home with her and the kids saying "Now kids, don't make your mother cry because we just had the floors cleaned."
Thanks for reading.
Linda
* with the exception of ants, because what the hell can you do?
|
|
