|
Tuesday, Aug. 20, 2002 / 1:22 p.m. ~Odors and Eye Candy - Another Day In Hell~ I just came back from the bathroom (10:00 a.m.ish, cubicle time) and I must say (yes, I must), my hair looks fabulous. It's still wet, but it's doing this curly thing up front, and I'm actually digging the wispy white hairs lately. They grow in groups, and I'm cool with that. At least I've had time to accept it. No hair dyes for me. Au naturel all the way. In fact, I'm experimenting with letting my leg hair grow all the way back out too, the first time since I got my new tattoos. Really, I'm not being vain, or not too, but it's rare I'm truly pleased with my physical appearance, so when it happens I go with it. Quincey has a cloud of deodorant smell around her. It's been a while. I used to wonder what the smell was, then I realized it was she. Then it went away, and today� Aiyeeeeee!!! It makes me want to gag, it makes me feel I can't breathe, I feel I'm in a toxic haze - I've had my fan on, but she walks by and the air is suddenly this powdery cloud. My guess is she ran out, she used another brand, then last night she went to the store and got her usual smelly brand. I can't possibly say anything. "Um, 'scuse, but Quince, hun, you are making me gag with that crap you've slathered under your arms", then what? "Oh, sorry, I'll never wear it again". Pshaw. I looked up earlier and saw a man coming out of the ceiling. He is running blue wire up there now. I see jeans, nice ass, belt, torso�mmmm�not bad. Usually, the only men around here are gay or married, or sometimes both. So the straight amongst us, the single amongst us, who are few, only have the occasional workman to ogle. Well, I guess the gay men are ogling too. A little eye candy can be nice. It's hard to be surrounded by all these women every day. Speaking of� OY! The yakking. I haven't mentioned it here in a while. It's crazy. This is Lulu's social life, these are her friends. She comes in every morning and has to tell everyone about her previous evening, what she cooked, what the kids are doing, blah, blah, blah, and the thing is I have to hear it. I put on my headphones and I can still hear it. I press the earpieces to my ears, I increase the volume, I inhale the toxic deodorant cloud, I want to scream, I want to run and never look back. What is wrong with me that I sit here every day like it's my penance? Who says it is? Right. I did. I do. The Iraqi Embassy in Germany was overtaken today, so I heard on NPR a bit ago. I sincerely believe this is the latest ploy by George Jr.'s cronies to drum up the support needed to go in and assassinate Saddam. Whom GW called "Sad Dam" the other day, no lie. I awoke to some news program on TV early this morning (I fell asleep before the Vines came on Letterman last night), the female talking head was asking the political/warmonger guy what to do about the growing dissent in the US, the lack of support for a "first strike" on Iraq. I forget exactly how she worded it, but she mentioned that this attack is unprovoked, and as I lay there, sleepy, groggy even, unsure what I was hearing, I was cheering inside. YEAH! Tell him! Who is he? Tell him anyway! Of course no one was watching this but me, this proclamation of protest. It was too warm in here, now it's too cold. Outside it is expected to reach the low 90s. I am ready for Autumn. The leaves are already falling to the ground, but that is no doubt due to lack of rain. It seems every day the sky darkens and threatens, but where I live I never see rain. I look out windows and see wet pavement, but the rain has been eluding me for months. Evading? Avoiding? I watched the hamsters in the BB house last night as they prepared a simple meal of what I fondly refer to as 'slop', ground beef, onions, bell peppers, maybe potatoes, and I wanted to cook the same. Only mine will be seasoned with fresh garlic and oregano maybe. It made me so hungry, made me want to cook, to chop and saute, to stir and inhale aromas. I think of shopping, of going to the grocery store, but then I think of the temperature in my car, 90s outside, 100s in the car, and I cannot follow through. I await the days when there are no excuses. The man in jeans, the one with the ladder, is still removing ceiling panels, routing blue wires. I am still here, trying not to breathe. When I got up for good this morning I had a song from Moby's "18" stuck in my head. Then when I thought about voting in the Primary today (Cynthia McKinney, yeah!!), and Election Day, I switched to Paul Simon's "Armistice Day", off his debut solo album� "On Armistice Day, the Philharmonic will play�", and I wanted to go home and put that album on the turntable. Then I switched to REM's "I will try not to breathe�" because of the fumes on the highway. I need to get away. I know this. Actually, I'm impressed by my fortitude. I endure so much shit. But I just keep plodding along. Oh, the odors. The curse of a sensitive olfactory system. System? I have actual work to do, and NPR to listen to. Yes, I'm ending that sentence with 'to'. Sue me. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |