wow….today i did something i never thought i would do. when i was at the gym, i ruptured something. i didn’t realize it when it happened, and couldn’t tell you an exact time when it occurred; but now, several hours after i walked out of gold’s gym (still having to concentrate on the name; i JOINED world gym, and have worked out there for the last two years; but they all got bought out by gold’s a couple of weeks ago) i can feel it. that indistinguishable difference….

the funk bubble that i’ve been trapped inside got a fucking hole kicked in it, and i walked out…at some point during my two hour chest/back/shoulders/cardio excursion. DAMN, it feels good.

(note to self: throwing your whole system into a chemical tail-spin via diet pills, sleeping like ass, AND listening to the cure a lot does NOT burst the funk bubble)

i knew the funk bubble had really wrapped me up tight when i couldn’t even put on the happy face for the person i LOVE to make smile; even over the phone it was blatantly apparent. and that was when i felt it REALLY needed to go. and go it did. the proof is laying on my coffee table.

understand, that in the three or four months (has it been THAT long?) that i’ve been writing this astrowhore stuff, there’s only been maybe a half a dozen pieces i’ve written where i actually read them the next day and think, “damn, that shit’s funny”.

and with my art work, it’s even rarer.

there are only actually three times in recent memory. and one and a half are inked on me – the tribal sun i did for my sister, but she had it HEAVILY modified before it was done on her, so i got the original on me. the other was a little, somewhat dainty tribal cross i drew as a mom memorial, but it was WAY too small for where i wanted it (around my bellybutton), so i blew it up on a copy machine, which further emphasized it’s daintiness, so i added a bit to it, and got it done.

once it healed, i STILL thought it looked a bit incomplete, so i rushed out a second part of it, had it done, and once all was healed looked at it and thought, “shit…that looks rushed as hell” never could do anything to it i liked, so i never got the third and final part drawn up. i started yesterday, planning on it being a two week project; one that would start on motherless day and wrap up just in time to get it done on may 24th, which would have been my grandmother’s ninety-fifth birthday.

but after the burst of the funk bubble earlier, and the perfect low-fat, low-carb dinner (a 16 ounce fat-free chocolate milk and an excalibur iii), i settled down at my coffee table and BAM, did it in two hours. and it looks REALLY good. i don’t know if i can wait two weeks; but i’m gonna try.

so the tribal sun would be one, the original cross (and the unfortunately rushed addition) i count as a half, and the other half is finished with the complete one that resides on my coffee table. as for the third, it is permanently inked on the lower back of someone VERY special to me; who chose NOT to have her custom design (a blend of wiccan and pagan symbols combined with my tribal/celtic stuff) re-tooled as my sister did, but instead had it done exactly as it was drawn…which made the fact she would put something i drew on the base of her spine for the rest of her life (and just north of a rather nice ass, i might add) all the more special.

just for that, i think she’ll probably be the only one to see the final cross drawing (kathi popped by earlier slightly drunk, and saw it about 99% complete) before it hits harold’s hands so the stencil can be drawn…even if she will only get to see it via fax for now. but that’s how she saw hers for the first time, and freaked…so this one might just blow her away.

so, here’s the deal…for some reason this year, above all other years, the whole “mom” thing, and all associated thoughts, feelings, and dates, has hit me more than ever. i know not why. it just HAS. which kinda made me cringe when i thought of mother’s day and what i was DAMN sure was impending emotional distress, especially since her mom (my grandma, for those who can’t figure out basic genealogy) went to go spend this mother’s day (and everyone thereafter) with her in that big momma’s lounge in the sky. i’ve always been told to look on the bright side of things (especially from the two women honored yet absent from this year’s festivities) and the only bright side i could think of was, “well, at least this year i only have to call ONE person???” (the “???” denoting, of course, that i wasn’t 100% sure this was a positive thing; but hey, at least i’m trying)

i also had said that this year i would be getting blind-ass drunk since i felt i had the right to. well, as luck would have it, the clock struck midnight to start mother’s day, and i was not sober. i was also not blind-ass drunk. just somewhere in the middle, and to be honest, closer to the sober line. what i call “happily buzzed” and pink floyd calls “comfortably numb”; except their version was off a LOT harder stuff then skyy blue, the vodka themed malt beverage i downed in reasonable quantity last night, which i DO recommend if you like the smirnoff ice / hard lemonade kinda stuff…it’s not as throat-clenchingly tart, not as sweet, but just as, if not more, potent than the others. thumbs up. especially if you buy it by the bucket, which i did. but since i was NOT at home, but rather on some sandy picnic area off nakoma and west, just a belch and a holler from 281 and the airport in SA, i didn’t cross out of happy-buzz land (the neighbor to “horny-buzz” land and a few doors down from “more obnoxious than a former child star at a las vegas strip club when they try and cut off his tab” land). so, we were all good for the trip home, a catch-up viewing of last week’s simpsons, and some late night wal-marting (still buzzed – always fun to carry 40 lb bags of iams dog food when balance is starting to be a bit of an issue since at this point it’s 3:00am on sunday and you’ve been up since 8:45 saturday – and as you’ll recall, had taken the “bucket challenge” on skyy blue just a few hours earlier). but, i digress….

so, on my way to olive garden for the motherless day’s celebration with my sister, my uncle, and his “friend” i decided to call nana, i.e. my other grandmother (like none of you have odd pet names for your grandparents…shut the fuck up) so i call, wish her a happy mother’s day, and ask how her morning’s been. out of her end of the phone, i hear, kinda slurred, “oh, it’s been lovely….they had a HUGE luncheon here (she’s in a retirement community), and a bunch of my friends came out, and i had too much food and WAY too much champagne; so i’m gonna go to sleep now…i love you…good-bye” i said i loved her, too, got out “good” and HALF of “bye” and heard the click.

nap time for nana. keep in mind, in almost thirty-one years of existence i’ve NEVER heard my prim, proper grandmother even REMOTELY intoxicated, so this kinda made my day. i had decided NOT too get “pass the fuck out” drunk, so nana picked up the torch without even meaning to. THAT’S family bonding.

and more than just a bit amusing.

yesterday was my only day off in the past thirty-five (yes, 35) days (i worked a bit today, too). i’ve spent the bulk of the weekend cleaning and laundering and such so i can get back to fucking PAINTING this place, since my birthday is about six weeks from now, i plan on having people over, and i want all the interior work DONE by then. but tonight, i think i’m gonna sit down, and FINALLY finish out the mom memorial cross tattoo that’s about 65% done on my stomach (i’ll be drawing on the paper of course, not me) and i’ve already scheduled for it to all be finished up on friday, may 24th, which would have been my grandmother’s 95th birthday, so that way it kind of becomes a dual tribute between my mom AND her mom. and that will be all the ink work for the summer, so i can actually go swimming this year; and tubing; and maybe hit schlitterbahn if i can get some folks together for that. anyone interested?

“ya’ see,…” i begin my rant, fueled by one too many of the neon blue concoctions known as saba island teas, post no doubt set-up, and post all-day SA excursion (more on that in a bit), “some white boys, no matter HOW old (he looked to be in his 50’s), just need a beer bottle to the back of their skulls after beer number three; THAT must be what the sign was about at the door…”
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so, i watched the piece on exercise addiction, and couldn’t believe what i saw….there was a “doctor” who said there were three signs of exercise addiction. three MAIN ones. are you ready for this?
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okay, so for all who emailed, and voice mailed, and called (’bout damn time you called!!! sorry…that just slipped out…did i mention i’ll be in SA most of thursday?), YES the ‘whore was “on it’s back” for most of the day wednesday, ocho de mayo. the comments were a mix of, “this sucks…i have nothing new to read at work” to, “honey..are you okay?”
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so, on my way to work today, i heard a spot for a piece that’s gonna be on FOX 7 tonight, that i just couldn’t believe….
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so, the other night after hitting a bar with josh in order to “cushion” out our week’s events properly, and a brief radio show stint (sneeze and you would have missed most of my air time, but hey – it wasn’t even my show), james, josh, and myself found ourselves at sugar’s for the big plate o’ nachos and other tasty temptations that’s don’t come on a plate covered in cheese no matter HOW much you tip.

one of the, “yes, these ARE real” lovelies that joined us during our evening was a mutual friend of both james and i who’s real name DOESN’T escape me but who’s stage name does so we won’t mention either here. she was going off on some of the arrogant pricks (at a strip club? NO!!!) that she’d had to deal with throughout the night and how one had tried to convince her to go home with him by telling her that he drove a ferrari. to which she replied, “so you must be gay”.

NOT what he was expecting. he repeated, “NO, i drive a FERRARI”.

so SHE repeated, “THEREFORE, you must be GAY. most women will see a ferrari and think, ‘wow..pretty car’. but they don’t know it’s a ferrari. hell, they may have heard of a ferrari, but they’ve probably never seen one. most guys who drive a ferrari do so to impress other guys; and if you’re trying to impress other guys, you must be gay.” interesting logic. makes me wonder about a lot of the guys in the gym who show off for each other; until i remembered what gym i normally hit and KNEW the truth on that one.

but it got me to thinking. what does what we drive say about us?

i drive a malibu, which could mean a couple of things….”the impala was too big”….or, “the taurus was too geeky”. but in my case, it just means, “i couldn’t afford the maxima at that point and time”.

but i know a couple others who’s cars fit them to a “t”, but mainly because they’re women. i think it varies per gender.

one woman who’s very close to me (though not as close as i’d like) has one that is basically her on wheels…small, sporty, cute; and enticing, sexy curves no matter what angle your viewpoint is. plus, when the top goes away, the REAL fun can kick in.

like latina, like miata.

another one drives a mustang convertible. classic, yet rebellious, and kinda all-american at the same time. plus, when the top goes away? well, she’s like family to me so don’t NONE of y’all need to be thinking about that.

but would the same apply if you’re a guy? i mean a GUY in a miata says one of three things to me…

1. out of college, so i ditched the mg; but i still can’t swing the z3, boxter, or s2000.

2. mid-life crisis kicked in after the divorce, wife has all the money, so i can’t get the mercedes kompressor.

or…

3. all the jocks in high school were right and i like the cock after all.

and what about a camaro convertible? if you’re a guy, it lets people know that you’re probably the type to start a bar fight over who was the better singer for van halen, dave or sammy (did you hear they’re supposed to tour together this summer? i think all proceeds should go to their own charity: eddie’s kids. but i digress) if you’re a girl, it says, “hey…i grind my ass on your boyfriend’s crotch for money”.

or one of those new volkswagen beetles? if you’re a woman, it says, “i’m hip and fun, but still girly and can appreciate the classic things in life”. and if you’re a guy? most likely you fit numero tres on the miata list.

so, what do YOU drive? what do you think it says? i saw a geo metro this weekend done all in camo, with 85% of the top sawed off and both doors missing while on small tractor tires so it looked like a ghettoish, trailer parked, jeep-inspired hunting vehicle.

what does THAT say?

my family tree didn’t fork where it shoulda.

and if you don’t even OWN a car? well then, you’re either needing to work your budget a little better, or maybe you’re just a walking mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a hawaiian shirt and tevas.

Replies: 2 Comments

and you never said anything about people that ride bikes.

. said @ 05/09/2002 05:40 PM GMT

i don’t drive a car. i have a canoe.

natasha said @ 05/09/2002 02:41 AM GMT

okay, so here was the plan…next week is mother’s day; i had a nice fun, happy post for today, and then tomorrow (the official “one week” mark) i was gonna do a somewhat light-hearted bit about how that (as in mother’s day, NOT tomorrow) was the one day of the year i felt it was TOTALLY justified for me to get blind-ass drunk at home alone since mom passed away six years ago and the day basically sucks for me and will until i have kids and therefore a woman and can kinda make the day HERS.
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okay, so the last couple of lists i’ve done have been quite well received; those being gym attire tips, and the hippy thangs my life could do without. but a few people were upset the gym thang was ONLY about clothing, and not about working out; and josh pointed out that i WAY limited myself on the hippy thing (he swung up and hung out for both nights at la zona with me), so here’s a friday morning bonus for y’all…another five of each.
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“hippies….hippies….everywhere…..they say they wanna save the earth, but all they do is smoke pot and smell bad…” – eric cartman, south park
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