Another Good One

“Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home.”

–Sherlock Holmes

Cookie

So, this morning when I got off of the train for work, I ran into a girl that I used to know. I can’t really remember her real name, but back when I met her, we called her Cookie.

Now, Cookie was one of the only witnesses to my first drunk experience. About five years ago, my family and I went on a cruise to various islands in the Caribbean. While we were visiting Cozumel, I was very very thirsty and I saw that my mom had a giant drink (a yard stick). I thought that this drink was a simple strawberry smoothie, so I sneakily took it from her and ran off. I drank the whole thing within half an hour, and began to stumble around here and there. When my mom found me buying a Jack Daniels t-shirt in one of the little shops lining the dock, she realized that I had drank the entire drink and rushed me back to the cruise ship. Once on board I escaped my mom and found the soft serve ice cream machine waiting for me. From what I heard, I was seen laughing uncontrollably, running around the cruise ship, eating ice cream and speaking fake languages to people for my own amusement. Unfortunately for me, Cookie found me doing the electric side with a group of Germans and dragged me away to the 11th floor, only to sit on the stairs and listen to her story about a boy that she had a crush on. When she noticed that I was eager to escape her fat fingers, she dragged me to her cabin and locked the door. This was all fun and games to me because of the imaginary game that I was playing with everyone else, a hide and seek of sorts. After listening to Cookie for about 20 minutes, I started getting really bored so I decided that I needed a plan of action for this escape. I told her that I really needed some water, and if she poured me a glass, then I would do what she asked (go to the crushees room and deliver a letter from Cookie). When she walked into the bathroom, I took the opportunity and bolted for the door. I ran as fast as my stumbling feet, and laughing mouth could carry me. Down stairs, through winding passageways, through a formal gala, and back to the ice cream machine (I needed a re-fill).

I found my small group of friends sitting on the Lido deck. When they saw me, they laughed because they knew that I was really drunk. Michael got up to –well I don’t know why because I thought that it would be funny to run away from him too. Off I went again looking for more people to play with. Finally, during one of my games of ding-dong-ditch I knocked on the wrong door and my mom found me hiding behind a pillar with my hand over my mouth laughing really hard. When I saw my mom, I tried to run but alas, she caught me and was forced to accept defeat once and for all. The story does not end there, however. Once back in our cabin, my little sister, my mom, and a few of my friends were discussing what to do with me, when I started tumbling on the bed and singing “Why can’t we be friends.”  Well, when the opportunity arose, I ran off again wearing my bathing suit. Little did I know that Cookie was still hunting for me. I was found in the pool, entertaining a group of Italian women. My nemesis had returned to claim her prize, me. When I spotted her, I dove for cover behind one of the larger women. Unfortunately, she found me anyway and when she reached out to grab me, Michael popped out from behind her and got a hold of me first. Well, I had to choose between one or the other so I chose Michael. We ran away from Cookie and got some grilled cheeses and coffee. When I sobered up, he walked me back to my room, and he went back to his boy friend.

Seeing Cookie today brought back all of those memories and I can’t help but laugh. I think that she was still a little mad at me for not delivering her note, and not telling her that Michael, her crush, was gay.

What a Day, What a Day!

Today has been one of the most ridiculously busy days of the entire time that I have worked.  The chaos in the office was difficult to handle without smoking anything at all so, I gave in and smoked half of one. Oops! Today, I got a client that was really upset because he let his sister dog sit his dog while he was in the hospital, and now she refuses to give him his best friend back. When I told him that we don’t take cases like that, he yelled at me then claimed that he has been so depressed without his dog that he lost 20 pounds in a week.

Amanda came to work with me today to see her boy friend, Sebastian. I took them on the filing errand at the court house, and after the filing was done, we proceeded to explore the 30th floor. Sebastian and I played a pretty funny prank on Amanda today: We were on the metro and it stops and jerks around from time to time. When the train was having one of these little fits, we acted like we did not know what was going on, then told her that the last time that this happened, the train fell off of the tracks and killed 200 people. The awesome part about this was that we got our whole small section (including my mom) to play along with us. Of course, she fell for it and freaked out for about 60 seconds before the train was safely on its way again.

The cigarette withdrawals weren’t nearly as bad as they were yesterday. Now I am off to my favorite book store ever, Books and Books, to read some Sherlock Holmes and possibly meet some authors.

She would hate me if she found out about this

Here it is

“Whither will this path yet lead me? This path is stupid, it goes in spirals, perhaps in circles, but whichever way it goes, I will follow it.”

-Siddhartha

Quicksand

I have not had a cigarette in 24 hours. I feel my mouth clenching, and my nerves are making my hands shake. This is weird, and a bit too much for me to handle while I work. I really should quit asap. I want to run a marathon again! How am I supposed to do that if my lungs take in more smoke than they do oxygen? I guess the worst part is almost over. Big Red makes the quitting process that much easier. Another strange thing is that I can tell if someone has smoked, even if they are in the opposite room, I can smell them. I wonder what tomorrow is going to be like… ooof!

RIP cancer sticks...I wish you weren't so bad for me =(

Oatmeal

Last night turned out to be one of the most ridiculous nights ever. Here is what happened: I left my house for Stephanie’s at about 8:30. On the drive there, I was under the impression that we were just going to the mall  but I was wrong, as always. When I got to Steph’s house, I said hello to her parents and Stephanie told me that she was house sitting for her aunt and that I should spend the night there. I politely declined because today is Amanda’s birthday and I didn’t want to miss the big 15.

Within 5 minutes, we were on our way to her sister’s girlfriend’s house for a Michael Jackson memorial fish fry. We hung out there for a little while before heading out to Stephanie’s aunt’s house. We made cranberry juice and rum drinks that tasted like jolly ranchers. I let Steph make mine so I should have known that an hour later I would be stumbling around. We sat outside and caught up a bit, then laughed and laughed to the point where my stomach was clenching and my eyes were watering. Roxy, Stephanie’s other sister, invited two of her other friends over to drink and hang out for a little while. I can only remember the names of one of the girls, Melissa. Melissa invited us to a gay (literally) party, and of course, everyone accepted the invite. Roxy, Stephanie, and I left in the yellow mustang. Stephanie and I were pretty buzzed and were laughing at anything and everything. After driving for half an hour, Roxy announces that we are lost. Stephanie calls her friend, Mercy and asks her where the party is. After hanging up the phone, Steph looks at me and starts laughing really hard again and I asked her what she is laughing at. When she finally catches her breath, she tells Roxy that she needs to look out for Oatmeal Condominiums. Upon hearing this breaking piece of news, we all broke out in a fit of laughter and sat at a red, green, yellow, then back to green light until Roxy could pull herself together enough to open her eyes and drive. Because we laughed and drank so much, it was only natural that my bladder would be begging me to release Niagara Falls before it exploded. When we parked, Roxy and I both had to pee really badly so we ran to the first condo that we saw in front of us, assumed that it was where the party was and waltzed on in. Once inside, not only was it so quiet that you could hear a lizard fart, but there were huggies and baby stuff all over the place. Suddenly, Rox turns to me and tells me to run. We ran out of the apartment and I ran head first into a tree on the way out. When we found the right door, and walked into the apartment, the first thing that I saw was a stripper pole, the next thing that I saw was the bathroom. I should have knocked, I really should have knocked because I opened the door, and saw two girls kissing and groping each other. I also saw the faces of these two beautiful women and was surprised to see Roxy’s ex girlfriend staring back at me.

After the party, I thought that we were going to go back to Steph’s house and that I was going to get into my car and drive home but, As usual I was very mistaken. Instead of going to Stephanie’s house, we all (8 girls) squeezed into two seperate cars and drove to the beach. By this time I was significantly drunk so I can’t really remember exactly where we were. All of us wanted to go dancing, so we went to this hole in the wall lounge where the air was thick with the smell of perfume and cigarette smoke. Immediately, the girls started buying me drinks and I accepted. We danced and danced and sweat and danced some more. It was a blast, and probably the most freedom that I have had in a long time. It felt really good to just be. To just let my body move with every beat and every moment, without inhibitions. I don’t know how long we were dancing but it must have been a long time because when we walked out, sweating and drunk, the sun was already beginning to creep above the horizon. All of us were very drunk and very hungry so we drove to the nearest Carreta and ordered massive Cuban breakfasts. I had my usual, cafe con leche y tostada. All of the girls were couples for the most part, making me the only straight one among the 8 of us. It was pretty awesome hanging out with a completely different crowd of people; especially awesome people like them. It must have been 7am when we left La Carreta. We squeezed ourselves into the car and drove back to Stephanie’s house, and I drove home.

I love when things don’t go as planned. It makes life so much more interesting.

Violet

Work was interesting. I woke up at 11:15, showered, drove to the metro station, forgot to pay for parking, and hopped on the train at 11:45. I managed to make it to work just in time for the midday round of coladas–yummy. I sat at my desk answering phones, rejecting people, and staring off into space. At about 1:00, this middle aged skinny q-tip of a woman with a Velcro fro walks in with her tongue sticking out. Laura gives me the look…the don’t laugh look. But of course, I couldn’t help it and I broke out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. This woman is a regular at the offices apparently. She usually comes in at the same time everyday and nobody knows why, she has just had this same pattern for the past 15 years. After she left, I learned that her name was Violet. She is homeless, but by far the happiest homeless person that I have ever seen. While I was laughing, she was standing at the window staring at me, then broke out in a fit of laughter, and I sat there laughing with homeless, toothless Violet, and homeless Violet stood there laughing with me. She can’t talk, she just mumbles, it is one of my favorite things about her! She seems to not like Laura very much, because whenever Laura tries to talk to her Violet just stands there and laughs at her then pretends to not understand anything that she is saying. She has a funny walk, too. Her shoulders droop forward, her back is slouched, her belly sticks out and her giant feet seem to be dragging the rest of her body along. She kind of looks like a backwards “S”. Well, anyway I’m off to Stephanie’s house. I wonder what adventures I’ll be getting into tonight.

Ciao!

Neykevme

Last night was a lot of fun. Kevin came over around 7 and we instantly started drinking…or, I started at least. After half an hour and my second glass of wine, I pulled out our old 7th grade yearbook. We sat around making fun of people and having many nostalgic moments until Neyleen came outside to show us a ridiculous video of the biggest pimple ever, being popped. I later took the liberty of showing this to Amanda and my mom. Amanda sat next to me gagging and dry heaving, my mom was telling us to turn it off, and Kevin and I were laughing so hard that I started drooling, and he fell off of Amanda’s bed. Later, Neyleen decided that she wanted to start drinking too, and Kevin’s Vodka mysteriously disappeared so he also needed to get mas vino. Neyleen, Kevin, and I set out on a gas station/ Windixie adventure.

When we got to Dirty Dixie, I suddenly had to break the seal. I drunkenly ran through the aisles looking for the bathrooms. I found the sign in the very back of the store, partially hidden by a mountain of boxes. I shoved through this cardboard mass and realized that I was in the warehouse back part of Windixie. In my foggy state of mind, this discovery made me really excited! I felt like I had just discovered some sort of hidden treasure or something. For some unexplainable reason, I started running around, playing with things, and ate someone’s peanuts. After I realized that the peanuts were not mine, and how drunk I was, I remembered the reason why I went back there in the first place. Eventually, I found the bathrooms and while I was peeing, I got my first real cigarette craving ever. SO, what did I do?…I lit one up and smoked a cigarette in the Windixie bathrooms.

When I walked out, I found Neyleen and Kevin in line waiting to pay. We walked back to my mom’s house, and talked about the San Juan festival. When we got home, we wrote down all of our troubles from last year (mine was really intimate) then burned the sheets of paper, and watched as our problems turned into ash. At this point, I was a bottle in. Kevin and I started talking about the meaning of life and love and what we live for, when the porch started spinning. I knew that I was going to puke and there was no stopping the inevitable so I ran to the bathroom, hung myself over the toilet and prepared for Armageddon. The next thing I know, I am sitting on the couch all snuggled up in blankets, watching The Cosmos with Kevin and Neyleen. I look over at Kevin and ask him how I got there and he tells me that after I puked, I brushed my teeth and jumped on his back for a piggy back ride but while I was on his back, I passed out. He told me that he swung me over his shoulder and carried me to the couch. Apparently, I kept saying “Mas vino! Mas vino!” during my 15 minute nap. Kevin also said that when I opened my eyes a little, I asked for him to put The Cosmos on, which he did. After, I drifted off to sleep again, only to wake up happily bundled up and watching Carl Sagan talk about –well, everything.

The End!

Keviiiin!!!!!!!

Work

I have a new job. I am officially a secretary at a legal office. People walk in and tell me their life stories then I tell them whether or not they qualify for legal help here. So far, I have gotten 3 domestic violence calls, 4 child support calls, 15 divorce cases, and about 12 homeless people. It sounds depressing, but it is actually very interesting. I work next to Laura and she is ridiculous. I am hungover…very, very hung over and am fiending for coffee. ooof!

Ch.1 – Marie

Here is an interesting story about a girl whose name was drawn out of a hat the moment that she entered the world.  This is a story about Marie Antoinette Bourdeux, the fifth to youngest of nine siblings, the second to the most impulsive and imaginative of nine siblings, and the walking definition of the “black sheep” in her herd.

One teacher, four doctors, three lawyers, one prostitute

Hello, my name is Marie, and I am a prostitute. As you have read, I am one of nine siblings, all from different mothers and fathers. I was born on a winter’s night in the middle of nowhere, France.  My mother was as fussy as her hair; red, wild, and never taking the same shape.  My father was as boring as his glasses; big, square, and with a crack in one lens.

I was raised in Southern France, and home-schooled there as well. I lived on a fairly large piece of land in a fairly large house with all of my nine siblings; four younger sisters ranging in hair-color from the deepest shade of red, to the palest blonde, four older brothers; ranging in eye-color from the clearest shade of blue, to the deepest shade of green. And then there was me; ranging in hair color from the darkest shade of black, to the lightest shade of black, ranging in eye-color from the darkest shade of yellow, to the lightest shade of yellow.  My brothers and sisters were almost always playing, studying, fighting, and talking together. I was almost always playing, studying, fighting, and talking to myself, or with my imaginary friend, Anne.

Because I was home-schooled, I knew next to nothing about the world beyond our wrought iron front gate. I knew the obvious things, like history, and math, and science; but I did not know people. The one thing in the world that I yearned to learn about, I knew nothing about. When I was eight years old, I read my first novel. When I was 10, all of my tiny bedroom walls were lined with hundreds of novels. By the time that I was 15, not only were the walls of my room lined with books but the floor of my room had so many piles of books that I had to shovel a narrow path to my bed, and another to my closet. Although I had not physically seen the world beyond our land; I had lived through the most intricate life situations, and seen the strangest lands known to man through my only friends, my books.

My entire family thought that I was mute. I never spoke to anyone, they never spoke to me, and I liked it that way.

When I was 16, and more curious about the world than ever, my oldest brother, Napolean Bonaparte Bordeux, was accepted to a very esteemed university in the heart of Paris. Upon overhearing this news, my mind began to tick, like a clock. I wanted to go with him, and because I wanted to go, I would most certainly accompany the bluest of all the eyes in my family to the City of Lights. Not in the conventional way, however.

The day of his departure started off in the same fashion that most of the days in the Bordeux household began. All of my siblings ran down the wooden stairs and into the kitchen for breakfast two hours after the sun rose. I was the last to enter the kitchen, as always. We all sat at the long wooden table waiting for our mother to serve us our usual bread and butter, porridge, juice or milk, breakfast. My sisters chattered noisily, my brothers threw pieces of bread at each other when my mother wasn’t looking. I sat, quietly planning my escape, not touching any of my food. I noticed that my father was staring at me over his square spectacles from across the table. He never stared, let alone, looked at me. I found this particularly strange.

After breakfast, Napolean went to his room to gather his things before the train ride to Paris, and I ran upstairs to mine. Among the few things that I grabbed for my own journey were: two of my absolute favorite books, an extra pair of under wear, my tooth brush, my life savings from a small jar hidden in my closet, and the clothes on my back.

I walked back downstairs and opened the closet beneath the stairs. I looked up and down, to my left and to my right to make sure that no one was watching me. I reached into the darkness and found the suitcase that was half my size; this is what I was going to travel in. I had prepared it the night before. I had attached a large card with Napolean’s name, and address on it. The suitcase was fairly light for its size, so I knew that the extra 120 pounds would not seem like much other than a really heavy check in bag. I looked around one more time, partially to make sure that no one was around and partially to take in my home one last time. I strategically placed it directly in front of Napolean’s door, unzipped it, and crawled inside. After making myself as comfortable as possible, I zipped it shut and crouched in the darkness hoping that my clever plan was clever enough.

Alas, I heard the sound of knocking on my brother’s door, the voice of my mother fussing about in her usual way, and the handle of my suitcase being pulled. I heard my father ask my brother why the suitcase was so heavy, and I could almost hear my brother shrug, in his usual nonchalant manner that has ruled him since he was a boy. Finally I felt the suitcase being pulled over the marble floors, felt the jolt of every step down to our gravel front path, and eventually being thrown into the vehicle that was to deliver us to the train station. My plan worked! I was almost free.