Follow by Email

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

The Turks

Ruby and I were driving home yesterday. She likes to have the window open all the way so she can stick her hand out.
Me-"Ruby, don't hold your new movie out the window like that. You're going to drop it and be very sad." (Title of the movie-Barbie and the magic Pegasus. The lavender Pegasus has the big liquid eyes and heavy mascara of a Japanese sex doll. Why, Barbie? At least it's not a Bratz doll, I am determined to continue resisting those Botox lipped whore dolls lest Ruby end up dancing on a pole someday.)

Me-"If you drop it. it will be gone forever."
Ruby-"But Mommy the wind wants it."
Me-"No it doesn't."
Ruby-"Yes it do! It needs something to take home to its babies!"
Me-"The wind does not need your new movie."
Ruby-"Mommy, you re not sharing."
Me, exasperated-"I don't have to share with the wind. It's not a person."
Ruby pauses for a moment, then "What,wind? The wind say that isn't nice. He don't want to be your friend."
"Get the DVD back in the car.'
"NO!"

These are the kind of fights I get into these days. I will be in the middle of one and think-oh right, this is completely stupid. I'm arguing with a three year old about the existential nature of the wind.
Then I will think-F you wind. Quit trying to jack my Barbie DVD. It's about to buy me 2 hours of precious computer time.
My dad bought me an expensive computer on his visit a few weeks ago. It's now the nicest thing I own, which is stupid because I only use it to check my email. I keep thinking of creative ways to use it to its full capacity. Maybe I can learn computer aided drafting now, or watch some youtube without it crashing and freezing. Maybe I will finally take up animation. In any case I love it like it's a new, flat screened person. Material goods can really bring you happiness. My fake nails, expensive yellow purse and new computer do buy me love. The Beatles had it all wrong.
I'm not really about material things but the recent slow in sales, though, has made me look for a "real" job. Every woman knows that you have to have your own money or you will have to justify buying that 20 dollar room spray. Plus I need money because I am responsible for paying daycare, which I would wither and die without. ( Hey childless people and Mormons-quit your judging nosy. People who don't have kids yet-your day will will come and I will laugh,laugh,laugh. Mormons-you have Jesus to get you through the day caring for your nine children. I don't have a celestial childcare helper, so quit gloating and make your homemade cross shaped cookies)
My attempts are half hearted and sporadic. I think this blog is cock blocking my job search, I get paranoid that they will google me and read about all the idiot fights I get into.
"Not good for customer service," they will think."She is going to brain someone with a price gun or stab one of her coworkers with a coat hanger."
I can't really say with 100% accuracy that it won't happen, either.
I went on an interview at Anthropologie, thinking "Discount".It was one of those stupid group interviews, held right in the middle of the store, with customers milling around all of us as the other applicants were chirping "I want to work here because I really like people?" so I said "I want the discount."
Maybe it's not the blog.
"What do you do when you get really frustrated by a customer?" asked the perky Sigma Aplha Theta manager.
"I take a break." said one girl.
"I take a Xanax." I said.
Yes, probably not the blog.
It just comes OUT. If someone makes me do something so clearly pointless, it makes my brain take a U turn into stubborn refusal. I think that's why I can't get my book published.
"Why do I have to write a proposal in this ridiculous perfect format?" I think. "F you agents."
Which is stupid. I'm trying really hard to get over it. It's what made me drop out of high school, it's what makes me continue to prank call a Greek woman who pissed me off fifteen years ago. her number is still programmed into my cell phone. Greeks, by the way, real ones from actual Greece, hate Turks. Something to do with a violent border dispute in Cypress.
"Congratulations!" I cry, each time."You've won a luxurious cruise to the beautiful shores of Turkey."
"Fuck you you little cocksucker!!" she screams."I'm going to find out who you are and cut your tongue out!"
It's the most gleeful joy I experience. I do this often.
This morning I opened my inbox to see a note from my favorite, favorite writer, a woman so funny she made me pee a little once. Every time I see her she could be on her way to meet royalty, so perfectly turned out, but so down to earth she could hang with Hank Hill by that fence and drink a beer. The note made my heart soar, really nice stuff about my writing that I'm too embarrassed to put on this post.
" Maybe I'll just do the goddamn proposal the way these idiots want me to," I thought. Maybe I will just suck it up, quit fighting the tide and stop arguing with the wind.

3 comments:

  1. I once had the age old argument with my pre-teen "Brilliant" Daughter about the wisdom of a gang leap from atop of a metaphoric Cliff. All parents must attempt this impossible battle ie. If they do must you too . . . . I could have gotten off easier if I had simply taken out my claw hammer and smacked myself squarely in the center of my forehead. Come to think of it it would be easier right now in that I might handle the memory a little less painfully.
    My Incredibly Powerful Daddy persuasion skill became clear later that afternoon in a gravel parking lot after a Barbie Gang version of Thelma and Louise mini bike movie escapade. Imagine if you have the nerve; finding your precious Daughter covered in blood,and wailing with abrasions
    everywhere. Please pardon my making this out to be the painful part because the real the real fun began when I had the honor of delivering our little "genius"
    offspring back to my Ex the next day. If you ask me about that I WILL smack you in the forehead too with this claw hammer- I swear to BezilBub!! So There to your little "the wind wants my $5 DVD whine"; HA! ! ! !

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wait...she's 3, it only gets better, mine are 26, 23 and 21 I can't count the hours spent negotiating/arguing and in the end...well my son Sean gleefully tells the story about him and his buddy playing on one of those roadway carpet mats it has a village with roads and a little pond with boats... I walked in as they were arguing over who got what boat cause there was an uneven number..after trying to cajole them into an agreement, I finally walked over with my big black marker and crossed the offending loner out...it's sunk no more arguing...and I wonder why they are disfunctional today...:)
    I don't want to embarass you but your writing is brilliant..captivating, I love it. Don't fight it, write the proposal if not for yourself do it for us...your loyal blog readers...please...

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm with Suzanne!
    Their are lots of us . . . . .
    Now get to it!
    No more whining and your self doubt is TOTALLY unwarranted.
    MAX

    ReplyDelete