I am blessed by "Bob". I always have been. In fact, my father's
name is "Bob". I'm the person you want to be with on a trip to a
foreign country. I get to the airport late, but that turns out
for the best because the flight I would have taken ends up in
flames in the sea, and the flight I end up on happens to have
been an experimental flight where they try having a gourmet chef
onboard and are playing "91/2weeks" alternated with Warner Bros.
Cartoons. I get the fastest taxi with the driver that actually
understands English. I get great waiters with senses of humor. I
get the deal that they really didn't want to make but just can't
resist because they'd really like to fuck me. Nobody checks my
luggage at customs. I make international calls and never get
charged. I'm the one who accidentally gets their reservation lost
so the hotel gives them an upgrade...free! When bad luck happens,
it's usually good luck in disguise. Take the last two weekends
for example.Friday morning my husband called me to tell me that
our dog had been killed. This was no ordinary dog, this was a
SubGenius Bitch! Her name: Kali She wanted the most of
everything. She was the canine embodiment of Slack! She got
kicked in the head by a cow...not a good move. Anyway, Saturday
night the Individual Artists of Oklahoma had their annual
fundraiser, the erotic arts festival's "Biting the Apple"
exhibition. My poetry was being performed that night in
alternation with monologues by another writer. I was
kinda excited about seeing someone else do my stuff, since I
always recite it myself. I'm all dressed up in this killer black
beaded dress and fuck-me pumps..when my car refuses to start.
All my friends are gone. I miss the show. Color me pissed off
and cranky. I still haven't seen the good side of my dog dying
yet, but today I got a letter from my friend Katherine telling me
that the show was great and people were very curious about me.
Maybe I'll get a rep for being reclusive and mysterious. But
let's face it, if that's the worst to happen to you, you're not
doing too badly. This weekend was different. I had all day
Friday off and cranked out a nice little feature article for this
magazine I write for. Then I got to spend the rest of the day on
the net without feeling the least bit guilty, so I indulged most
of my worst habits and enjoyed myself thoroughly. This morning,
I slept in late and then got resoundingly laid. My best friend
called me up and took me out for Dim Sum, her treat! And just
when I thought "Shit...things are looking up." She dragged me to
this New Age bookstore/giftshop in the
I'm-too-rich-to-wear-socks-with-my-cole-haans, part of OKC. I
was wandering around looking at the books when a felt a strange
tingling in my cooter(think of it as the 'thinking' part of a
SubGenius female's gonads). My lips grew fuller, my nipples got
hard, there was a sudden slickness rushing down my thighs, I felt
the beginnings of a seizure, so I went quickly to my knees
pretending that I wanted a book on a low shelf.....there it was,
yes brethren and sistern, right at mouth level in the middle of
New Age Yuppiedom, like a sacred cow in the Kansas City
Stockyards, like the Menendez brothers at a family reunion,
the sacred writings were staring me straight in the
mouth....REVELATION X and TWO-FISTED TALES OF "BOB"!!! Quickly,
I snatched up the blessed tomes and hurried them to the cashier.
They are safe now. And I, well, I plan on having one hell of a
fuckfest this weekend. I got "Bob" upstairs in my bedroom...Ai
Ai Ai Ai Eeee!
--
"For me eroticism must be ugly, the aesthetic always divine,
and death beautiful." - S. Dali
*****
Rideo ergo sum-Tarla
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