Saturday, 3 March 2012

daily pleasures

Hot bananas squish under my feet as I tiptoe across the kitchen floor. There are mice hidden all over the place. They've come for the bananas. So have I.

A young man is sitting in front of me at work. I explain to him why I cannot deposit a cheque payable to two people into one of the payee's account. I am full of banking knowledge and he is obviously impressed by this. "You are no longer a trah-nee", he remarks in his broken English.
"I am no longer a tranny?" I don't know why I say this. I know this gentle man is not commenting on my transition from tranvestite to run-of-the-mill female banker wearing female banker clothing.
"No" he says, with the hint of a smile, "I don't know how to say this word: traaiinnhhheeeyyy."
"Oh, I am no longer a 'trainee'."

Why are there unpeeled, hot bananas littered all over the kitchen floor? Why has this woman squeezed her derriere into these tight, black, stretchy pants? Someone must have put them there for my squishing pleasure.

Sunday, 8 January 2012

misdiagnosed

His voice is higher in pitch than I had hoped.
His forehead is angled at a peculiar slope.

His little tattoo is dangerously feminine.
He speaks of mundane things like Minnesota weather men.

He can't grow hair on his ultra-smooth chest.
Feels like a baby when I lay my head for a rest.

He lied about his height, his age and experience.
He says he's easy going but in fact he's too serious.

He touches like a man but feels like a child.
He keeps himself composed when I wish he'd go wild.

He says that he's Catholic then denies he's devout.
I breathe in his scent then spit it back out.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

stranger interactions

I ride my bicycle slowly in the dark up to the sidewalk, preparing to dismount.
Old man: Your lights! Where are your lights??
Me: Up my butt
Old man: *grumbles*


I ride my bicycle up the street. It makes a squeaking noise every time I peddle.
Lady: *mocks bicycle's squeaking sounds*
Me: Why don't you mind your own goddamn business?
Lady: Sorry, I didn't mean to...

Sunday, 14 August 2011

gutterances

Besides bringing her wonderful self, Peggy, an avid quilter, brings me a lovely little Peggy-made packet for the small necessaries that one keeps in one’s purse.  It is pretty and perfect, impressive in its neatness and exactness.  If I were to sew such a thing, it might look pretty, but it would not look impressively perfect.  I am a true blue imperfectionist.

She also, unfortunately, brings Jim and Jim, not surprisingly, brings his laboured breathing and no-can-do attitude. He lowers his heavy mass of a body into my neat and well kept recliner. I don't know how pretty little Peggy puts up with it. A deep sigh emits from within him. "I'm in quite the state today, quite the state indeed." The jowls of his face vibrate as he utters this. "I'm an old man!" 

There are two types of people in this world: Those who wake up and say "Good morning Lord" and those who wake up and say "Good lord, it's morning". Jim and Peggy were of different breeds.

Thursday, 28 July 2011

great earth

Faded jeans hug my supple hips, skin tight. My girlfriend's hand tucked snugly in my back pocket. Breath smells of windshield wiper fluid. Heaven in a handbasket.

I walk through the door with an exotic tan. My anus is full of fissures. Take my seat and release the softest of stools. Heaven in a handbasket. 

My blue eyes spy the man next door through the window. He is making love to a woman. Her body full of lumps and hidden creases. Heaven in a handbasket.  

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

waste of the flesh

He laid there like a sack of leather, sprawled out on a large towel in the middle of the park outside of a large government office building in the downtown core. This was where the majority of the office's business people spent their lunches. It was quite the sight, this tanned skin 40 something lying out in a tight red speedo admidst a sea of suits. It didn't irk him in the slightest. Now and then he would hear a well dressed woman blab "his skin looks like leather", but he took it as a compliment. People paid a lot of money for a good leather jacket and the tan ones were his absolute favourite. On the inside she wondered what he'd done so right in his life that he was lying there and she was standing here.



She loved her varicose veined legs. She thought it was visible evidence of the lifeblood pumping within her. Unbeknownst to her, they were full of blood clots from years of birth control pills and being on her feet. Oddly enough, she had never actually engaged in intercourse with a man. Although she dreamt of it often, she had never found a suited partner. Twelve years ago her doctor retired and she was taken on as a patient by a young, handsome, medical student. During their first appointment he had asked her if she was sexually active. In an effort to sound like a woman of many colours she had answered "yes". He prescribed a birth control pill which she took religiously. In all of twelve years she had never missed a day.

Sunday, 5 June 2011

good grievance

"Hey!" Mickey belted, "you ever get REALLY mad?"
"YES!" Joey gored back, "what do you think I am?"
"I don't know, I ain't never seen you do nothing"
"Shut it! I do all sorts of stuff!"
"Do you know what a Kindle is?"
"Do I know what?"
"Do you know what a Kindle is?! GOD!"
"NO! I don't know what anything is!"

The boys started whipping the ball back and forth, intensity rising with each heave.

"You're gonna hit me right in the PUSS!"
"No   I'm    NOTTT!!" Mickey launched a particulary good one.

Just then, Joey's dad stuck his head out the window.

"Hey! Don't hit my boy in the puss!"
"I'll hit you in the puss" Mickey retorted.
"What was that?!"
"I'll hit you in the puss" he grumbled back.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" 
"GOD!! How am I supposed to do ANYTHING around here?!" 

Sunday, 29 May 2011

utility

His fat little boy hand clutched the stick of gum. It had grown soft and malleable from the combination of sweat and heat radiating forth from his plumpness. He shoved it into his fat little boy mouth as saliva permeated this sweet morsel. Later that day he choked to death. Gum was his demise.

The young gentleman with side swept hair was a layered individual. He wore an unpresuming dress shirt done up to the highest botton. On top of that was a demure sweater. They all hated his many layers and I called him up to tell him so. Maybe if he wasn't so robotic.

Habits formed in him habitually. And he couldn't break them as easily as one would hope. They called him Habit Harry, and rightly so. He was always bogging the rest of us down. He cleared his nose nine times daily. It was a habit of his. I found it got in the way of my quiet time.

Someone once told me to always be prepared in life. How could I? I carried a pink casket of mace everyday and never used it. One night at dinner I realised my meal was lacking a kick. My cupboards were bare. I thought of the spicy liquid that had been sloshing around in its coffin for years, underutilized. I thought maybe the worst thing one could ever be in life was underutilized, and so I donned a mask. I lightly misted the dish and then sprayed a little more. Perhaps it had lost its gusto with time. And with one bite it felt as if I had been punched in the back of the throat by the robust leg of a kangaroo. How should one prepare for that? 

Saturday, 21 May 2011

misgivings

"Oh, these summer nights" Jeremy sighed like steam pouring forth a pot full of steam. He was one cool cat and wasn't the only one who noticed. Real relaxed, Jeremy was a surfer who had never been surfing. Maybe, if he lived anywhere near a body of water, he would have tried it...or maybe not. That's how he was. Besides, he was much too busy with his somehow both extraordinary and common, spectacular yet insignificant, phenomenal but unremarkable hobby of collecting and inspecting cow dung. What was it that drew Jeremy to cow dung like a moth to a big pile of cow dung? Plenty.


Sandy would watch him through a crack in the barn wall. The way he touched each trace with his tender fingers...she would give anything to be that dung, so soft in his hands.


Sometimes, on days when she was feeling especially brazen, Sandy would dab a bit of dung on her shirt and casually walk by, hoping to grasp Jeremy's attention. But it was the dung he loved, and a dunged up shirt could never shake his focus. Everyone knew it except Sandy. That was why, over the past three years, she had been developing a specimen that was sure to rattle Jeremy to his very core. It was the biggest, varnished with shellac, pile of cow dung you had ever seen.


What about this pile of pooh would jolt Jeremy into noticing Sandy? Maybe the fact that the precious droppings were trapped inside a thick, impenetrable wall of varnish, would break his heart. He would never be able to trust a load of dung again. Maybe the pure magnitude of it would change the way he thought about the world, leading him to believe that there's something bigger out there. Either way, Sandy was prepared to catch his fall. And so the day finally came.


Sandy placed her creation by the North facing fence (the first place Jeremy would look when he woke up in the morning) and hid behind the big oak tree. Sweat was pouring down her face as her heart rate climbed. How would Jeremy react? Would he burst into tears? Would she have to hold him close as she assured him that she would always be there?


And then it happened. A creak as the barn door swung upon. Jeremy stretched his arms up to the morning sun and began to walk his usual path. He saw something by the fence that sent a wave of satisfaction through his slight body. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a fresh specimen baggy and kneeled down to examine his find. Sandy felt lightheaded and could faint at any moment. It felt like everything she had ever dreamt and hoped for was wrapped up in this one moment. And with one quick stab to her heart, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.


"Whooaaa" he cooly chuckled, "cowadunga". And he switfly walked back inside.

Sunday, 17 April 2011

the hunt

Jimmy walked down the narrowed street with buds in his ears feeling like the newest kid on the block. A wave of flatulence came over him. Those around Jimmy noticed that he had no regard for public decency when he was listening to his hip hop raps. He must have been of the mindset that if he can't hear it, noone can. The other mindset he could have been of was the kind of mindset that risky people take. It was the mindset that maybe, just maybe, the gust of gas would come out silently and they'd all be none the wiser. That was a risk Jimmy was willing to take.

And so he continued down the street, boppin' to the beat, leaving a scented trail. Risky Business 101: Never leave a trail. Unfortunately, Jimmy was tardy that day. A pretty risky move if you ask me.

Just then a hooded hooligan stumbled upon Jimmy's scent. Priding himself upon being a man of adventure, he followed it obviously. And obviously he did.

Jimmy walked into Superfresh grocery store, picked up a lime, squeezed out a gust (silent or audible? Jimmy will never know), and walked right out. But something was wrong and Jimmy knew it. He did a summersault to be sure. Yep

"I'm being followed".

And that, Jimmy knew for certain. He refused to let it waver his stride...even though the thought of being tracked by his flatulence sent a shiver down his naturally crooked spine that almost made it straight again.

So the hooded hooligan followed the trail right into Superfresh. Jimmy had most definitely been here. How did he know? Things didn't smell so fresh these days. He circled the store. It appeared the rest of it's patrons had caught the same drift; they were nowhere to be seen. He stepped out of the market. It was now apparent that the trail had stopped. You see, what the hooligan didn't realise was that Jimmy could control his vapors with the best of them. All that was left was a note:

"Flatu-later"

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

politics

I asked the cat to lick my aching dogs. I found the rough tongue soothing to my weathered calluses. It brought them back to life again.

My uncle once told me to never throw a leaf on a saw. It's the one piece of advice I have always heeded. I remind myself of that everyday.

I always thought Jefferson was the first black President.

They say lightning never strikes the same place twice. I wish the same was true of my girlfriend. I find domestic abuse emasculating. Two other things that emascualte me are when my cat disobeys orders to lick my feet and the fact that I deliberately tried to spell "emasculate" as "demasculate". I thought it made more sense. I dethroned your father, I deflowered your sister and even your mother's pleading sobs could not deter me.

I tell every political candidate that comes to the door that I will vote for him/her. If they don't keep promises then why should I? Today I looked through the window at one. Her sweet, hopeful face stirred something deep inside of me. I ducked down quickly so she couldn't see me. Then I ran out onto the balcony and torpedoed a water balloon straight to the top of her head. I guess that thing she stirred inside me was mischievousness.

Thursday, 31 March 2011

no and then

forgetful patients are the hardest to treat

and then a mild girl comes with a child who has been scratching his face so he has to have his nails filed. The dust piles. Not a real emergency, hopefully next time she'll think before she dials.

and then the window opens up for the first time and it's like I have a renewed thirst as a burst of sunlight shines through and then a man reaches in and slaps me in the face and I realise once again that I am forever cursed.

and then I head to the gym because in my head I need it. I run 10 minutes on the treadmill, my legs feel like lead, I am defeated.

Monday, 14 March 2011

them

The sweat pouring forth your pores stinks of puberty. You sit and devour a peanutty chocolate bar. You walk the rest of the way.

His hamstring is stretched to the point of no return. It snaps in two. He regrets signing up for hot yoga.

Her life partner cuts her hair short as a sign of love and pride. She is no longer attracted to this short-do'd lady. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Their bottoms graze as they bend to sit on the toilet. He wishes she didn't drink those three cups of coffee today. She realizes this toilet was made for one.

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

blogenstein

Can a very big head fit through this doorway? I hate it when people ignore May. Meaning the month of May because it only has three letters. That doesn't make it any less of a month. It has a full 31 days unlike some other months that I won't mention. And not because I don't know which ones they are.


What if I widened the frame? Well then, we would have only the head to blame. You can't really blame a head though. It's not its fault it's so big.


Have you ever used the word "its" three times in one sentence and felt proud? If you did you'd tell everyone in a blog...if you were allowed. Not everyone's allowed to write a blog. Like people with famous last names. It's not so much that they're not allowed, it's more like no one wants to hear what they have to say.


If a humongous head fell in the woods would it make a sound? I like using homophones together in sentences I've recently found. If you don't know what a homophone is at this point in your life then you never will. You can't teach a big head new tricks.

Monday, 21 February 2011

To win back Jared

My roommate Jared hates me
He renders me invalid,
He negates me.

I made a ceasar salad,
Crushed up anchovies,
All while singing his favourite ballad. 

Fried up some perogies,
The food of Polish people,
Invited him to my orgies.

And yet he still hates, thinks I'm feeble.
Kicks me in the face,
Punctures my pride on a steeple.

Thursday, 17 February 2011

fluids

I squeezed a lemon today, just to test for firmness. My alabaster skin glistened as the juice poured down my face. It stung as it flowed through my eyeballs and down my cheeks like sour tears of ... lemon. I asked Steve if he's ever made love to a woman. He described the most unusual sexual experience I could imagine.
 
Have you ever performed a spin so spectacularly that you thought you could join the ballet?
 
I dropped two coffee beans in my mug of Proof Scotch. I thought the beans would counteract the effect alcohol would have on my ability to keep thoughts to myself. Instead it did quite the opposite. I told a wide-hipped woman that she ought to turn sideways when coming down the escalator. The result was less eventful than I would have you assume.
 
Shakespeare? More like Shagspeare.
 
My father was a glover, my mother was a glover, my brother was a glover. Me, I suture wounds for a living.
 
Sometimes I cover my entire body with temporary tattoos to remind myself that my life is almost over. Sometimes my girlfriend covers my shoulders with hickies to remind me that love is a heavy burden to carry.
 
I built a time machine today to travel back to yesterday. I needed to tell my past self to brush my teeth before I went to bed. Cavities can creep up on you if you're not careful.