toilet

so. you know how people say "i walked into a door" and that's a euphamism for "someone slapped me silly"?

well, I actually walked into a door.

yes, i'm that smart.

i walked into a door and I have a nice little cheek bruise.

i met a girl friday night who thinks a cold hard slap to the face is totally where it's at. we'll call her slappy. slappy also likes hot candle wax, and being black and blue.

last night iota, tonia, ari, pixieboobs and I ate .. and then went into the best bar EVER. it was empty and had a sign that said "if you have thin skin, dont' come in". old man bars are the best. ex-boy and i used to have our favorite old man bars.

the bartender was completley crotchety and slammed the bottles around. he was awesome.

we shared poop stories. beginning with pixie's scoobysnack stories where her sister would fart in her hand and make a little pixie smell it. moved on to me smearing my poop on my wallpaper because i was scared of the little indian girls that adorned it. to tonia pooping in her sleeping bag on a camping trip and tricking her dad to then switch sleeping bags with her, so she got to sleep in a clean bag and her dad slept in her poo. to ..ahem..the tiny little one making poo meatballs with flour . paddycake paddycake.

they said i had a weird childhood, which i never thought. see, i lived in a small town when i was a kid. and the only thing to do, when you were 12, was to join a youth group. it was the only real social extravaganza for anyone under 15. the thing is, the best youth group belonged to a church that believed in The Rapture and regularly had people begin to speak in tongues at services. I didn't go to church much, except with my best friend nikki when i stayed over. my parents had allowed me to make up my own mind about religion, and by age 12 i'd pretty much decided i wnated none of it. but i joined the youth group because i was a lonely kid who lived in the boonies and had no siblings.

I know i've written about this before, but ... I should be allowed to repeat myself if i want.

I got baptized 3 times, because I had no idea it was a one time thing.

I was momentarily scared when they told me that non-believers and anyone who hadn't completely accepted jesus christ as their personal savior (so anyone still questioning) would be left behind when The Rapture came and soon have 666 stamped on their forehead.

At summer camp (we'd go to a lake during the summer and water ski and lake-dunk-baptize) we'd play The Russians Vs. The Christians. which was a game the pastor had come up with. The Evil Commie Russians (played by counselors) would walk around with flashlights, while we sweet christians would smuggle bibles to a fixed point to help the downtrodden russian christians who weren't allowed their dose of god.

We would wriggle around on our bellies, behind trees (this was a game played at night) and under bushes, and if we were caught by a flashlight beam. we had to go start over.

of course, i had no idea in 1983 that this was at all a weird game. to me, it was a cool spy game that involved belly-wriggling. i fucking loved it.

years later i remembered it and realized how hysterical it was.

i guess pastor dave forgot each year that i'd already been baptized and would go ahead and dunk me again.

i was so jealous of the people who talked in tongues, and when i was in the bathtub i'd try to give myself up to the magic of god-tongue. but usually i'd just fake-gibberish-talk and start giggling.

my poor mother. she was horrified by this church, but i obviously wanted to be there. She'd go and talk to pastor dave and tell him of her fears about the lessons this church taught to children and he'd just smile his cherubic chubby smile at her and basically pat her on the head. he was probably infuriating.

and do you remember jaws from James Bond movies? he came to speak to us about God and ..you know..how good god is n stuff.

and i shot him with a rubber band.

HAHAHA. i shot Jaws with a rubber band.

i've always wanted to put cellophane over the boys toilets . anyone done that? did it work?

when i was in vermont still, i belonged to a a horse 4-h. can you imagine what a score it would be to have a horse 4-h and a bunch of 11 year old horse crazy girls? basically you'd have free child labor. we'd clean 3 barns for hours and then get ..oooh. an hour trail ride.

so, shovel shit for 3 hours. and then a measly little trail ride. dude, they hit gold with that whole 4-h idea.

i just realized now i'm just writing to write. textual babble.

i'm going to go scrub the toilet.

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