“I really fucked up, Jay! I don’t know what the fuck to do. Shit, what do I do, man?” Patrick raked a hand roughly through his thick curly hair and took in a deep, shaky breathe, the hand holding his cell phone to his ear trembling. He rested his head against the steering wheel, as he clutched a handful of his thick locks, his knuckles turning an ashy white.
“Damn, Patrick. Okay, wait. Let’s just think about this. Look I need you to calm down and tell me exactly where you are. Now where are you, Pat?” The voice was commanding and in control, everything that Patrick didn’t feel like at that moment.
“Fuck, there’s a bunch a trees and green shit everywhere. Uh...I was um...on I think Jefferson road.”
“Okay, where on Jefferson road? Trees and greenery aren’t gonna cut it. Are there any signs or landmarks?”
Patrick pulled his head up slightly, just enough for him to peer over the wheel. His eyes roamed around the landscape, avoiding the dark and wet road infront of him. He might not be able to stomach it, if he saw it again at this moment.
Trees, trees, bushes, trees, dirt, and more fucking trees. “Shit, man I don’t know,” exclaimed Pat, his voice growing more frantic.
“Look, Pat, you got to calm down man. How long where you on Jefferson? Did you get on Jefferson from Main St. or Uphine Rd.?” asked Jay.
“Uphine Rd. Uh, shit. I dunno. Thirty, forty minutes.”
“Okay good.” The sound of a car starting and the radio blaring screamed through the phone, breaking the harsh silence for a brief moment, before the rap music was gone and the sound of the car running was only a gentle hum in the background. “Okay, now Pat, I need you to tell me what exactly happened. Don’t leave anything out. Everything is going to be fine.”
And for that brief moment, Pat was sure Jay was right. He sounded so sure.
Patrick dragged a hand down his face. His eyes darted to the ceiling of his car, to the woods, to the digital clock, and almost to dark road infront of him, but they never made it. Closing his eyes, Pat tried to calm down, but couldn’t.
“Fuck, I don’t know. I was just blasting the music and I just looked away for a second to switch the CD, and this fucking kid comes out of no where on a bike. I swear it was just a minute! Shit! What am I gonna do?!
He thought he might retch right there. If it had been anyone else, he would have called them a pansy, but it wasn’t. It happened to him. Right after getting a full-ride scholarship to Duke, to play football. Fuck. This was not how his life was suppose to turn out.
Chrissy Faye
Thursday, February 21, 2008
February 21, 2008
It’s a well known fact that dentist’s have high suicide rates. Which means that I will not be going out in a cool, flashy style like I planned (heroically saving a poor, idiotic kid from some drunken driver about to hit him that just stands there staring at the oncoming train, car, or whatever, while the mom stands on the sideline, screaming and crying for him to move, while she herself is just standing there...like a dumbass, so its up to me to save the kid from the oncoming whatever, hell it could an airplane for all I care, and I die in a blinding flash of heroic...somthing). Yea, that’s going out in style. Maybe I’ll just slit my wrist and just stick my head in the oven. That ought to work. But this whole dentist thing, I just don’t get it. What the fuck makes a person think, “Hey, I want to dig around in a person’s mouth all day, scraping away at all the left over food that’s been sitting and rotting away there for weeks”. Yea, that sounds so appealing. Fuck. And of course, I got stuck with a family full of freaks, who get excited just at the word teeth. Hell, don’t even mention cavities. My old man bursts blood vessels and spits all over the place tryin to talk bout that shit. So, I wasn’t too surprised when my old man told me I’d be taking over the family business and of course I can’t turn him down. He’ll probably increase the ranks in the suicide log pretty soon, now that he’s got me to take the weight off his shoulders. Good ol’ Liam. Yea, that’s me: the soon to be dentist and future suicidal maniac. Sounds like my life is complete. Hell, maybe before I go, I’ll make my exit at least a little exciting. Maybe plant a bomb in a some random kids cavity (note: I didn’t not say adult). Little bastards. Can’t even floss there own g.d. teeth. Pisses me off. And people wonder why so many dentists blow their brains out after work. Who wouldn’t when all your life boils down to is, looking at gross mouths all day. Fuck, I might as well end it right here, before I become even more depressed. Screw teeth. Screw dentistry. I might just become a fucking male stripper or something.
Chrissy Faye
Chrissy Faye
February 15, 2008
It was dark. Dark and warm, not your normal creepy “it was dark and cold” and yadda yadda. I’m glad to. I fucking hate the cold. Ugh. It’s just so uncomfortable, but that’s beside the point. I tend to get off track a lot so just stop me when I start on and on, okay?”
“Okay, sure,” murmured Dr. Lin, as she gently wiped away at the dried blood crusted around my hands.
“Well, as I was sayin, it was dark and warm when I finally got into the house and let me tell ya, these people don’t even have that great of a security alarm, so it was pretty easy for me to disarm it. It’s pretty sad actually if ya think about it. They get this false sense of security just by the tiny fucking idea that since they’ve got a security alarm, even if its worth shit, that they ain’t gonna get robbed. Ha That bull right there. Wish I could see their faces when they wake up and-“
“Jill, your getting off track.” Having cleared most of the dark red blood from her hand, Dr. Lin dabbed her cotton ball with alcohol, before gently wiping at the wound. Jill grimaced, her arm muscles tensing for a brief second at the sudden stinging, but relaxed gradually.
“Yea, sorry bout that. Well, like I said, I get in their house and their totally oblivious, sleepin like logs or whatever up in their king size beds. Well, I’m creepin around real quiet and shit, and out of the blue, a dim light just turns on in this room infront of me. I mean I freeze up and just stare, waitin for some idiot to come out with a shotgun at me or somethin. So im runnin through all these crazy ass ideas or how to disarm him and do that palm thrust thingy where you can shove their nose bone or whatever up into their brain. Yea yea, gross and crazy but look at who your talkin to, Doc,” snorted Jill.
“I know. Sometimes I just wonder about that brain of yours. Now stop fidgeting and hold your hand still. Good, now what happened after you see that light? Who was it?”
“Ha, well you know me, quick as a gazelle, I hop over the couch and behind it waitin for someone to come out. Nothin. I peek around and crawl closer to the door and see that it’s the kitchen. It was just some fat guy, probably the pops or something, stealing some cake. Chocolate I might add.”
Chrissy Faye
“Okay, sure,” murmured Dr. Lin, as she gently wiped away at the dried blood crusted around my hands.
“Well, as I was sayin, it was dark and warm when I finally got into the house and let me tell ya, these people don’t even have that great of a security alarm, so it was pretty easy for me to disarm it. It’s pretty sad actually if ya think about it. They get this false sense of security just by the tiny fucking idea that since they’ve got a security alarm, even if its worth shit, that they ain’t gonna get robbed. Ha That bull right there. Wish I could see their faces when they wake up and-“
“Jill, your getting off track.” Having cleared most of the dark red blood from her hand, Dr. Lin dabbed her cotton ball with alcohol, before gently wiping at the wound. Jill grimaced, her arm muscles tensing for a brief second at the sudden stinging, but relaxed gradually.
“Yea, sorry bout that. Well, like I said, I get in their house and their totally oblivious, sleepin like logs or whatever up in their king size beds. Well, I’m creepin around real quiet and shit, and out of the blue, a dim light just turns on in this room infront of me. I mean I freeze up and just stare, waitin for some idiot to come out with a shotgun at me or somethin. So im runnin through all these crazy ass ideas or how to disarm him and do that palm thrust thingy where you can shove their nose bone or whatever up into their brain. Yea yea, gross and crazy but look at who your talkin to, Doc,” snorted Jill.
“I know. Sometimes I just wonder about that brain of yours. Now stop fidgeting and hold your hand still. Good, now what happened after you see that light? Who was it?”
“Ha, well you know me, quick as a gazelle, I hop over the couch and behind it waitin for someone to come out. Nothin. I peek around and crawl closer to the door and see that it’s the kitchen. It was just some fat guy, probably the pops or something, stealing some cake. Chocolate I might add.”
Chrissy Faye
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Feb. 12, 2008
Many people get such a head-over heels definition of love when they're kids.
The white knight, ball gown, witch in disguise shabang; but I was beginning to feel like love was just an imaginary feeling.
Like that saying, "that'll shut her up."
Love was just a word that people used to explain their weird mixture of feelings for a person--that in turn keeping the other person happy.
For example, my first boyfriend Tyler had this way of making himself a bit "overly" excited when we were making out and would...you know...in his pants. Then he'd go into overload asking me, "Oh my God, do you think you're pregnant?"
"Do I think I'm pregnant?"
Well yeah dipshit, I'm pregnant right now. I feel a big belly coming on.
But no...take the good with the bad...that's love baby.
He broke up with me.
Then my next boyfriend, for another example, had this great accent, was nice, cute...blah and blah...but just had this issue with me talking to people my own age.
Jealousy isn't the best policy, but I convinced myself that love must be behind the behavior.
Lucky me.
I broke up with him after two weeks.
Then Adam came around. My grade, my type, long crush--beautiful relationship. Until 1. Got caught having "semi-sex" by my parents; 2. Found him never able to satisfy me, but always in need of a bj. And 3. Realized a year and a half in, that he would only ever love the Greenbay Packers.
He dumped me ofcourse.
Then the last boyfriend, the one I deny ever having because I can't stand the thought of him, was Jeremy. He was older, bigger, and much more in to me than I was him. I tried to convince myself the whole time that we "saw" each other that I liked him, but found that his physical nature did nothing for me. The guy had three nipples for God's sakes! What was I suppose to do, be like, "Nice nipple. This must be love?"
No.
Just didn't work out; moral issues, you know.
And don't think that the love cherade escapes other categories.
Take babies for example. I don't know what people get high off of when they see a baby, but bring one in a room and everyone goes nuts.
Apparently the FDA is going to be starting some sort of research on the benefits of having children as an esteem booster; wrap that euphoria in a gel-capsule; and sell it under the name Prosac2.
Sign me up.
Babies, men, puppies in red bows...they're all the same. Give them what they want, and they'll shut up. Tell them that you love them, and they'll stare back at you and drool. Tell them that its over, and you feel bad the next day.
Never see them again, and you wonder...what ever happened to _____.
Love; sign me up for a jello-shot instead any day.
The white knight, ball gown, witch in disguise shabang; but I was beginning to feel like love was just an imaginary feeling.
Like that saying, "that'll shut her up."
Love was just a word that people used to explain their weird mixture of feelings for a person--that in turn keeping the other person happy.
For example, my first boyfriend Tyler had this way of making himself a bit "overly" excited when we were making out and would...you know...in his pants. Then he'd go into overload asking me, "Oh my God, do you think you're pregnant?"
"Do I think I'm pregnant?"
Well yeah dipshit, I'm pregnant right now. I feel a big belly coming on.
But no...take the good with the bad...that's love baby.
He broke up with me.
Then my next boyfriend, for another example, had this great accent, was nice, cute...blah and blah...but just had this issue with me talking to people my own age.
Jealousy isn't the best policy, but I convinced myself that love must be behind the behavior.
Lucky me.
I broke up with him after two weeks.
Then Adam came around. My grade, my type, long crush--beautiful relationship. Until 1. Got caught having "semi-sex" by my parents; 2. Found him never able to satisfy me, but always in need of a bj. And 3. Realized a year and a half in, that he would only ever love the Greenbay Packers.
He dumped me ofcourse.
Then the last boyfriend, the one I deny ever having because I can't stand the thought of him, was Jeremy. He was older, bigger, and much more in to me than I was him. I tried to convince myself the whole time that we "saw" each other that I liked him, but found that his physical nature did nothing for me. The guy had three nipples for God's sakes! What was I suppose to do, be like, "Nice nipple. This must be love?"
No.
Just didn't work out; moral issues, you know.
And don't think that the love cherade escapes other categories.
Take babies for example. I don't know what people get high off of when they see a baby, but bring one in a room and everyone goes nuts.
Apparently the FDA is going to be starting some sort of research on the benefits of having children as an esteem booster; wrap that euphoria in a gel-capsule; and sell it under the name Prosac2.
Sign me up.
Babies, men, puppies in red bows...they're all the same. Give them what they want, and they'll shut up. Tell them that you love them, and they'll stare back at you and drool. Tell them that its over, and you feel bad the next day.
Never see them again, and you wonder...what ever happened to _____.
Love; sign me up for a jello-shot instead any day.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Feb. 10, 2008
It was music, slow and sultry.
The beats touched her hips and the violin soared through her hair.
It was beautiful, mysterious, and just for him.
She had never heard the song before, but she felt it; he felt it from across the room.
She swayed with the drums and lifted her hands with the guitar solo. He couldn't resist her small waist, her tight skirt, the low cut shirt.
It was...it just was. No words came to him though naked did stike a chord.
A-flat, like the trumpet, to be precise.
She opened her eyes to see whether she had caught his attention.
"Mondo Bongo," sang the vocalist.
Oh definitely.
He stood up from his chair in the corner.
The room was dark, he was dark.
She was dark.
Tonight she was his, and he--
Oh, he was going to be hers.
He reached her and she faced him.
The music faded as her hands dropped to her side.
They looked at one another.
God she was beautiful.
No reason to be vacant.
She grabbed his belt loops and pulled him toward her.
He grabbed her soft waist as she lifted a leg to his thigh.
"Dance with me," she whispered in his ear.
Slow. Hot. Tight.
It was all he could do to remember that they were in a bar.
One dance and then they'd have to go.
But for now, he spun her to the new song.
She dipped to the smooth trumpet, and pressed into him with the bass.
His hands felt heavy on her.
She wanted him crushed on top of her.
The spanish band would not keep her satisfied for long.
This was the last dance.
This is the last dance.
Latino Carino to be precise.
The beats touched her hips and the violin soared through her hair.
It was beautiful, mysterious, and just for him.
She had never heard the song before, but she felt it; he felt it from across the room.
She swayed with the drums and lifted her hands with the guitar solo. He couldn't resist her small waist, her tight skirt, the low cut shirt.
It was...it just was. No words came to him though naked did stike a chord.
A-flat, like the trumpet, to be precise.
She opened her eyes to see whether she had caught his attention.
"Mondo Bongo," sang the vocalist.
Oh definitely.
He stood up from his chair in the corner.
The room was dark, he was dark.
She was dark.
Tonight she was his, and he--
Oh, he was going to be hers.
He reached her and she faced him.
The music faded as her hands dropped to her side.
They looked at one another.
God she was beautiful.
No reason to be vacant.
She grabbed his belt loops and pulled him toward her.
He grabbed her soft waist as she lifted a leg to his thigh.
"Dance with me," she whispered in his ear.
Slow. Hot. Tight.
It was all he could do to remember that they were in a bar.
One dance and then they'd have to go.
But for now, he spun her to the new song.
She dipped to the smooth trumpet, and pressed into him with the bass.
His hands felt heavy on her.
She wanted him crushed on top of her.
The spanish band would not keep her satisfied for long.
This was the last dance.
This is the last dance.
Latino Carino to be precise.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Jan. 20, 2008
Where did you go?
"The bathroom."
"Can you tell me why?"
"I don't know...." I thought about it for a moment.
" I just didn't want him to see me I guess."
"Jane, you know that you can't walk into the bathroom forever. One day the bathroom won't be there and then what are you going to do?"
Jane went to speak, but was stopped by Dr. Elliott's next words.
"You have been seperated from Mitch for almost 11 months now! He should be the last thing that you let your mind dwell on. Jane, you have so many things to be proud of; things that you should hold your head high over. Just think how Mitch would regret his choice if he saw how much better off you are!"
She was right. Dr. Elliott was always right.
"It just is hard to look at him. What if---he is happier now? I can't bear to think that he was right. You know what he told me when we broke up? That I made him feel like he was 45, married, and an old man! Dr. Elliott I am---or atleast," her voice faultering,"was the most out-going person EVER! All my friends tell me how much of an idiot he was, but I just don't see it, I actually get how awful I must have been to be around."
"Jane stop now."
Dr. Elliott was no longer being subtle.
"You are an impressive young woman. I see so many women ALL THE TIME who end up in the same situation you are in, and let me tell you, you have to realize that all things are just part of a bigger picture! You have a wonderful future ahead and who gives a damn whether or not he wants to be around. Like you said, the only thing that he will ever love truely is made out of dirt."
"But Dr. Elliott, what if he just didn't love me. What if I had been someone else and he would have loved me instead of everything else? It...just...seems like the only thing he couldn't love was me. There wasn't anything else to it."
"Jane, you have to understand that sometimes love just isn't this grand picture you have in your head. There aren't balls that you lose your slipper at, and there is definitely not the perfect black dress for a date!"
Jane smiled.
"You just have to trust me, there is more to you than Mitch. You have nothing to worry about, there will be other people, and whether or not you want them---you get to decide this time."
"Yeah."
Jane looked down at the tissue in her hand and noticed Dr. Elliott's new book on the coffee table.
"You finished your book?"
"What?!" Dr. Elliott blushed.
"Oh, well yes. Hey, how about you take this one. I have about 30 at home, I really could use a couple more patients that way I can get rid of them all!"
"Now Dr. Elliott that wouldn't be anxiety in your voice?!"
Jane took her glasses off and placed one arm to her lips--a position that Dr. Elliott was accustomed to assuming when therapy got underway.
"Well dear girl, when can I sign up for your sessions?"
Both laughed.
"I think that our time is up. On that nice note."
Dr. Elliott smiled, took her glasses, which had been meangering near her mouth the past hour, placed them on, and got from her leather LazyBoy.
"See you next Saturday?"
"Thanks Dr. Elliott."
"No worries Jane."
"The bathroom."
"Can you tell me why?"
"I don't know...." I thought about it for a moment.
" I just didn't want him to see me I guess."
"Jane, you know that you can't walk into the bathroom forever. One day the bathroom won't be there and then what are you going to do?"
Jane went to speak, but was stopped by Dr. Elliott's next words.
"You have been seperated from Mitch for almost 11 months now! He should be the last thing that you let your mind dwell on. Jane, you have so many things to be proud of; things that you should hold your head high over. Just think how Mitch would regret his choice if he saw how much better off you are!"
She was right. Dr. Elliott was always right.
"It just is hard to look at him. What if---he is happier now? I can't bear to think that he was right. You know what he told me when we broke up? That I made him feel like he was 45, married, and an old man! Dr. Elliott I am---or atleast," her voice faultering,"was the most out-going person EVER! All my friends tell me how much of an idiot he was, but I just don't see it, I actually get how awful I must have been to be around."
"Jane stop now."
Dr. Elliott was no longer being subtle.
"You are an impressive young woman. I see so many women ALL THE TIME who end up in the same situation you are in, and let me tell you, you have to realize that all things are just part of a bigger picture! You have a wonderful future ahead and who gives a damn whether or not he wants to be around. Like you said, the only thing that he will ever love truely is made out of dirt."
"But Dr. Elliott, what if he just didn't love me. What if I had been someone else and he would have loved me instead of everything else? It...just...seems like the only thing he couldn't love was me. There wasn't anything else to it."
"Jane, you have to understand that sometimes love just isn't this grand picture you have in your head. There aren't balls that you lose your slipper at, and there is definitely not the perfect black dress for a date!"
Jane smiled.
"You just have to trust me, there is more to you than Mitch. You have nothing to worry about, there will be other people, and whether or not you want them---you get to decide this time."
"Yeah."
Jane looked down at the tissue in her hand and noticed Dr. Elliott's new book on the coffee table.
"You finished your book?"
"What?!" Dr. Elliott blushed.
"Oh, well yes. Hey, how about you take this one. I have about 30 at home, I really could use a couple more patients that way I can get rid of them all!"
"Now Dr. Elliott that wouldn't be anxiety in your voice?!"
Jane took her glasses off and placed one arm to her lips--a position that Dr. Elliott was accustomed to assuming when therapy got underway.
"Well dear girl, when can I sign up for your sessions?"
Both laughed.
"I think that our time is up. On that nice note."
Dr. Elliott smiled, took her glasses, which had been meangering near her mouth the past hour, placed them on, and got from her leather LazyBoy.
"See you next Saturday?"
"Thanks Dr. Elliott."
"No worries Jane."
Thursday, January 17, 2008
January 16,2008
That was definitely going to be a problem.
Apparently the only one who recognized it was me though, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Oh! It's gorgeous Shelby, you look exactly like mom."
"Really? Thanks dad. It is a little tight though."
Good--she realized.
"Yeah, I agree," I piped up.
"Well, I mean, they could always let it out a little. Its really just the arms."
I didn't want to say anything; it was hard to not upset Shelby who had always been
a bit bigger than me. Just keep your mouth shut, Luce.
"Honey, whatever you think is alright with me. I think though that this one should go on the hold pile." Dad winked at Shelby, and she smiled.
Shelby was looking in the mirror nervously, turning this way and that to get a good look.
"Luce. What do you think?"
Ugh, why does she do this?
"I think that the material is...nice. I'm not a big fan of the waist line, but it is pretty."
She didn't like the dress, she just wanted me to say it so she could blame me for making her put it back on the rack. Ugh, here it comes.
"What do you mean the waist line? All my shirts are this cut."
Well buy it then.
"I mean its very pretty, but you haven't even tried on five dresses."
"Luce, sometimes you don't have to be so picky."
She turned and glanced at the mirror again.
"I'm fat. I'm trying on a different one."
Shelby picked up the sides of the dress; tulle in hand, she stepped off the platform and went back to the dressing rooms. Once out of view, I knew dad would be on my case.
"Lucy, why do you have to always go and say something mean?!"
"Dad, I didn't say anything, I wasn't going to tell her that I liked the dress if it didn't fit."
"Lucy you didn't have to say it the way you did. You know she's sensitive and gets her feelings hurt easily."
Dad was whispering now. We had had this conversation many times; usually I would leave the room irritated, but I knew I couldn't walk out on this talk--it was, after all, Shelby's wedding dress day.
"Just act a little more interested."
"Fine." I got up and walked as far away as the tiny shop allowed.
I craned my neck up at the rows of fake flower arrangements lining the wall, and rummaged through the racks of dresses underneath.
A particular dress caught my attention, it had to have been old, judging by the yellowing fabric and general style. I pushed it aside. What good was an old dress to me. What good was a wedding to me?
Dad gave a little gasp and "that's you!" from across the room. I tried not to pay attention.
Kay Greenfield
Apparently the only one who recognized it was me though, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Oh! It's gorgeous Shelby, you look exactly like mom."
"Really? Thanks dad. It is a little tight though."
Good--she realized.
"Yeah, I agree," I piped up.
"Well, I mean, they could always let it out a little. Its really just the arms."
I didn't want to say anything; it was hard to not upset Shelby who had always been
a bit bigger than me. Just keep your mouth shut, Luce.
"Honey, whatever you think is alright with me. I think though that this one should go on the hold pile." Dad winked at Shelby, and she smiled.
Shelby was looking in the mirror nervously, turning this way and that to get a good look.
"Luce. What do you think?"
Ugh, why does she do this?
"I think that the material is...nice. I'm not a big fan of the waist line, but it is pretty."
She didn't like the dress, she just wanted me to say it so she could blame me for making her put it back on the rack. Ugh, here it comes.
"What do you mean the waist line? All my shirts are this cut."
Well buy it then.
"I mean its very pretty, but you haven't even tried on five dresses."
"Luce, sometimes you don't have to be so picky."
She turned and glanced at the mirror again.
"I'm fat. I'm trying on a different one."
Shelby picked up the sides of the dress; tulle in hand, she stepped off the platform and went back to the dressing rooms. Once out of view, I knew dad would be on my case.
"Lucy, why do you have to always go and say something mean?!"
"Dad, I didn't say anything, I wasn't going to tell her that I liked the dress if it didn't fit."
"Lucy you didn't have to say it the way you did. You know she's sensitive and gets her feelings hurt easily."
Dad was whispering now. We had had this conversation many times; usually I would leave the room irritated, but I knew I couldn't walk out on this talk--it was, after all, Shelby's wedding dress day.
"Just act a little more interested."
"Fine." I got up and walked as far away as the tiny shop allowed.
I craned my neck up at the rows of fake flower arrangements lining the wall, and rummaged through the racks of dresses underneath.
A particular dress caught my attention, it had to have been old, judging by the yellowing fabric and general style. I pushed it aside. What good was an old dress to me. What good was a wedding to me?
Dad gave a little gasp and "that's you!" from across the room. I tried not to pay attention.
Kay Greenfield
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
January 7, 2008
I danced around to the music, my arms flailing and my hair flying in every direction. Today was a great day. Oh yea! I launched myself onto my bed, and quickly rolled onto my back, strumming my fingers against the invisible guitar laying across my stomach. I slid slowly down the bed, my knees hitting the ground, before throwing my head in ever direction, my fingers strumming faster.
"Susan! I can hardly hear the TV! Turn it down!"
I ignored my sister, and kept playing my song. I was gonna be a famous singer and musician one day and have Connor Speal as my perfect boyfriend! Ah, he is the most perfect boy in the whole, wide world. And today is the day that he will notice me and fall in love with me. I can see it now.
"Susan! Turn it off or I’m gonna tell mom!"
Me, arriving at his birthday party tonight fashionably late in my cutest outfit...oh no...
I stopped strumming the guitar and sat up straight. Jumping to my feet, I raced to my closet.
"What is my perfect outfit?" I wailed out loud. What was I going to do? My life was over! Without this outfit, my dream can never be realized! Oh, my tight pink shirt with the cute panda on it. It was perfect! It would show off all of my perfect curves and Connor would realize that I was the prettiest girl in the world!
Pulling the tight shirt over my head, I possed in front of my mirror.
Hm...My womanly curves had not magically blossomed yet, even in my most timely need! Improvise! Ha! I used Mrs. Saun’s vocabulary word! I am officially the smartest and prettiest girl in the world now! Improvise! Improvise! No can resist me now! Grabbing a hand full of tissues, I shoved them into my shirt.
If only I had a bra...ugh...if only mother could understand the need a growing woman...well...needs!
I chewed at my lip. My chest looked lopsided. Hm...maybe if I ass some more to the left side. There!
I stuck a sexy pose and pushed my lips out. That’s what sexy people do. I fluttered my eyelashes and looked down at my beautiful and perfect body. My chest looked a little lumpy, but oh well. Connor would look past that and just see the perfectness of me. I pouted again.
Lippygloss! That’s what I needed! The perfect kiss can not be completed without lippy gloss! The only thing now was should I use grape or cherry flavored. Hmmm.....
Chrissy Faye
I danced around to the music.
It was hard to tell when to take your shirt off; not as hard though to figure out when you needed to dip down,
lick your lips, or even do a split. That was all music.
But taking your shirt off was like the best part of the show. You didn't do it too early or you'd be too easy; take it off too late
and your were a prude. You had to get it right at the spot when all the people thought you were theirs. You had to do it when
everyone thought you were dancing for them.
People think its an easy thing to be a stripper but it is one of the hardest of all things.
You gotta make the room fall in love with you, and you gotta take the heat when all that love goes away outside.
"Grandma, enough. You were never a stripper in Chicago, and you just don't tell people that! Get in your chair, I'm taking you to your
room."
"Eh, be quiet cheek. You got tramp blood in your veins I don't care what schmoe knows it."
Betty turned to a rickety old man.
"And that includes you hot stuff."
"Grandma! Good God, what is your problem. Get in this chair now before I call your nurse."
"I'm going warden. Get off my arm."
Betty got up from the couch and shuffled to the wheel chair.
"There happy cheek?"
"No grandma I'm not. Why would you ever tell those kind of stories to men at this place?"
"Well I wasn't going to tell them to your brother now was I?"
"Grandma, your stories are about strippers! I would hope you'd keep them in your own perverted mind."
"I have you know that Jerry Thompson loves my stories and asks me to repeat them frequently."
"Well thats just gross."
Kay Greenfield
"Susan! I can hardly hear the TV! Turn it down!"
I ignored my sister, and kept playing my song. I was gonna be a famous singer and musician one day and have Connor Speal as my perfect boyfriend! Ah, he is the most perfect boy in the whole, wide world. And today is the day that he will notice me and fall in love with me. I can see it now.
"Susan! Turn it off or I’m gonna tell mom!"
Me, arriving at his birthday party tonight fashionably late in my cutest outfit...oh no...
I stopped strumming the guitar and sat up straight. Jumping to my feet, I raced to my closet.
"What is my perfect outfit?" I wailed out loud. What was I going to do? My life was over! Without this outfit, my dream can never be realized! Oh, my tight pink shirt with the cute panda on it. It was perfect! It would show off all of my perfect curves and Connor would realize that I was the prettiest girl in the world!
Pulling the tight shirt over my head, I possed in front of my mirror.
Hm...My womanly curves had not magically blossomed yet, even in my most timely need! Improvise! Ha! I used Mrs. Saun’s vocabulary word! I am officially the smartest and prettiest girl in the world now! Improvise! Improvise! No can resist me now! Grabbing a hand full of tissues, I shoved them into my shirt.
If only I had a bra...ugh...if only mother could understand the need a growing woman...well...needs!
I chewed at my lip. My chest looked lopsided. Hm...maybe if I ass some more to the left side. There!
I stuck a sexy pose and pushed my lips out. That’s what sexy people do. I fluttered my eyelashes and looked down at my beautiful and perfect body. My chest looked a little lumpy, but oh well. Connor would look past that and just see the perfectness of me. I pouted again.
Lippygloss! That’s what I needed! The perfect kiss can not be completed without lippy gloss! The only thing now was should I use grape or cherry flavored. Hmmm.....
Chrissy Faye
I danced around to the music.
It was hard to tell when to take your shirt off; not as hard though to figure out when you needed to dip down,
lick your lips, or even do a split. That was all music.
But taking your shirt off was like the best part of the show. You didn't do it too early or you'd be too easy; take it off too late
and your were a prude. You had to get it right at the spot when all the people thought you were theirs. You had to do it when
everyone thought you were dancing for them.
People think its an easy thing to be a stripper but it is one of the hardest of all things.
You gotta make the room fall in love with you, and you gotta take the heat when all that love goes away outside.
"Grandma, enough. You were never a stripper in Chicago, and you just don't tell people that! Get in your chair, I'm taking you to your
room."
"Eh, be quiet cheek. You got tramp blood in your veins I don't care what schmoe knows it."
Betty turned to a rickety old man.
"And that includes you hot stuff."
"Grandma! Good God, what is your problem. Get in this chair now before I call your nurse."
"I'm going warden. Get off my arm."
Betty got up from the couch and shuffled to the wheel chair.
"There happy cheek?"
"No grandma I'm not. Why would you ever tell those kind of stories to men at this place?"
"Well I wasn't going to tell them to your brother now was I?"
"Grandma, your stories are about strippers! I would hope you'd keep them in your own perverted mind."
"I have you know that Jerry Thompson loves my stories and asks me to repeat them frequently."
"Well thats just gross."
Kay Greenfield
January 1, 2008 (2)
Christmas is finally over, officially in 5,4, 3,2,...1! God, finally! Those little bratty nephews will be leaving later this morning and good ridden too. Spoiled little brats. You where a red robe and gain 20 pounds from my damn mothers cookies, and everybody thinks you look like Mrs. Santa Claus, or worse.
God, I hate my ass. *snorts*, or asses. Jesus you could stop a train with this thing.
I glanced in the wide mirror before me and let out an angry groan.
I’ve got so much cellulite it looks like someone built a damn road way on my legs. Start at fat, wrinkly knees and drive 20 miles up to get the wrinkled, round bum of a fat lady.
Shit, is that another roll on my hips? Oh god!
I hate sugar cookies, and everything else full of stupid sugar!
I glance at the clock. 12:16.
I’ve been staring at my wrinkly and rolly ass for 16 freakin minutes. God, I wonder if I can even fit into that skirt Aunt Lily got me?
Man, I want another cookie! I think mom left the cookie containers out on the table.
Glancing back at the excess 20 pounds hanging from my body, I sighed, tried to convince myself not to make it any worse and leave the poor cookies be, and then gave up, slipping out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen.
Cookies! Yes there they are! The sweet, sugary goodness.
Taking a bite, I paused. I want chocolate too.
But where oh where is the chocolate? Oh, yea. I make chocolate chip cookies 2 days ago for everybody. They didn’t last a full day. Chocolate. Where can I...oh....well, they were little brats this week and they did keep calling me Santa Claus. Too bad for them.
Tiptoeing into the living room, I saw my nephews stockings still hanging by the fireplace.
Chrissy Faye
Christmas is finally over.
New years--left in the dust.
The egg nog is finally spoiled (which is interesting because I didn't know it went bad) but in any case I suppose it
is time for the sour spot of the season.
My resolution.
Sure I could resolve to make myself atleast twenty thousand Fritos thinner. Maybe cut out the entire semi-truck fleet
of Coke and Diet Sprite.
But what exactly will that prove? That I will infact cheat my death by atleast 3 months? What good are three months?
Three months means atleast a dozen stop at the gas station, another 3 house payments, and atleast another
family birthday (God kill me please).
I actually must say that dying now would be the best thing for me. Go ahead, throw the thunderbolts; get the deed done & over.
But seriously, why resolve to stay fit when no matter what we will just be getting in better shape for the Grim & Mr. Reaper.
So anyway, note to self.
Resolution to be resolved: look up funeral charges. Cheaper to die or live?
--- End note----
Kay Greenfield
God, I hate my ass. *snorts*, or asses. Jesus you could stop a train with this thing.
I glanced in the wide mirror before me and let out an angry groan.
I’ve got so much cellulite it looks like someone built a damn road way on my legs. Start at fat, wrinkly knees and drive 20 miles up to get the wrinkled, round bum of a fat lady.
Shit, is that another roll on my hips? Oh god!
I hate sugar cookies, and everything else full of stupid sugar!
I glance at the clock. 12:16.
I’ve been staring at my wrinkly and rolly ass for 16 freakin minutes. God, I wonder if I can even fit into that skirt Aunt Lily got me?
Man, I want another cookie! I think mom left the cookie containers out on the table.
Glancing back at the excess 20 pounds hanging from my body, I sighed, tried to convince myself not to make it any worse and leave the poor cookies be, and then gave up, slipping out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen.
Cookies! Yes there they are! The sweet, sugary goodness.
Taking a bite, I paused. I want chocolate too.
But where oh where is the chocolate? Oh, yea. I make chocolate chip cookies 2 days ago for everybody. They didn’t last a full day. Chocolate. Where can I...oh....well, they were little brats this week and they did keep calling me Santa Claus. Too bad for them.
Tiptoeing into the living room, I saw my nephews stockings still hanging by the fireplace.
Chrissy Faye
Christmas is finally over.
New years--left in the dust.
The egg nog is finally spoiled (which is interesting because I didn't know it went bad) but in any case I suppose it
is time for the sour spot of the season.
My resolution.
Sure I could resolve to make myself atleast twenty thousand Fritos thinner. Maybe cut out the entire semi-truck fleet
of Coke and Diet Sprite.
But what exactly will that prove? That I will infact cheat my death by atleast 3 months? What good are three months?
Three months means atleast a dozen stop at the gas station, another 3 house payments, and atleast another
family birthday (God kill me please).
I actually must say that dying now would be the best thing for me. Go ahead, throw the thunderbolts; get the deed done & over.
But seriously, why resolve to stay fit when no matter what we will just be getting in better shape for the Grim & Mr. Reaper.
So anyway, note to self.
Resolution to be resolved: look up funeral charges. Cheaper to die or live?
--- End note----
Kay Greenfield
Nov. 11, 2007 (2)
"Your life depends on it, Marlene. Please, you have to leave now. I don’ t know what I would do if anything happened to you." Staring into her eyes lovingly, John pulled away from the embrace.
"But John!" exclaimed Marlene, grabbing his arm before he could get away.
"No Marlene. You must leave now. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. I will die to protect to you. You’re the only thing that matters to me now. You’re my sun and without you, there can be now light in this world for me," replied John huskily, pulling Marlene into another tight embrace.
"Oh, John. I don’t know if I could live without you," murmured Marlene, silent tears sliding down her face.
"You must. If I know that you’re alive and waiting for me, I’ll overcome every obstacle in my way until I have you in my arms again. You are all I want and need in my life, Marlene. I’ve thrown away my past and duties to be with you." John ran his hands through his lover’s hair tenderly, before pulling away. Cupping her face in his hands, John looked down at the woman he loved before turning away.
"I’ll always be waiting for you, John. I...I...I love you," stuttered Marlene, her porcelain face flushed and her eyes shining.
John stopped. He turned to look at beautiful woman in front of him, her golden hair shinning like the sun. "Marlene."
It was all he said, before he was suddenly in front of her, pulling her glistening face towards his, before they were both lost in a passionate kiss.
-"Oh my god! Joan what the hell are you...is this that stupid soap show again? Oh my god, it’s so stupid! And your crying. Jesus, your such a loser!"
Looking away from the TV for a second with blood shot eyes, Joan looked over at her older brother, Micheal. She couldn’t even glare at him. Letting out some animalistic cry-slash-sob
Chrissy Faye
"But John!" exclaimed Marlene, grabbing his arm before he could get away.
"No Marlene. You must leave now. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. I will die to protect to you. You’re the only thing that matters to me now. You’re my sun and without you, there can be now light in this world for me," replied John huskily, pulling Marlene into another tight embrace.
"Oh, John. I don’t know if I could live without you," murmured Marlene, silent tears sliding down her face.
"You must. If I know that you’re alive and waiting for me, I’ll overcome every obstacle in my way until I have you in my arms again. You are all I want and need in my life, Marlene. I’ve thrown away my past and duties to be with you." John ran his hands through his lover’s hair tenderly, before pulling away. Cupping her face in his hands, John looked down at the woman he loved before turning away.
"I’ll always be waiting for you, John. I...I...I love you," stuttered Marlene, her porcelain face flushed and her eyes shining.
John stopped. He turned to look at beautiful woman in front of him, her golden hair shinning like the sun. "Marlene."
It was all he said, before he was suddenly in front of her, pulling her glistening face towards his, before they were both lost in a passionate kiss.
-"Oh my god! Joan what the hell are you...is this that stupid soap show again? Oh my god, it’s so stupid! And your crying. Jesus, your such a loser!"
Looking away from the TV for a second with blood shot eyes, Joan looked over at her older brother, Micheal. She couldn’t even glare at him. Letting out some animalistic cry-slash-sob
Chrissy Faye
Nov. 11, 2007
"Love is blind. It’s not your fault. It’s one of those, oh I don’t know, uh...inescapable things, or occurances, that happens to every person in the world that’s in love. You just have to realize that your not the only person out there that was blinded to their boyfriends faults, I mean think about it. At least you weren’t married to the guy yet. And people really do have it a lot worse than you. There are a lot of women blinded by this love thing, which by the way, it really is just a nasty disease that causes way too many troubles and something you really don’t need, especially from the opposite sex, but back to my point. Some women are blinded to the fact when men are cheating on them, I mean come on, when-oof"
Startled by the pink fuzzy bunny that just attacked her face, Summer Johnson blinked, looked down at the bunny now laying lifeless on the floor, and then over at her sister, Misha.
"What was that for?"
Pushing herself up off her stomach, Misha leaned back against the wall, crossed her legs, and pulled the large pillow beside her onto her lap. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Misha laid her head down on the pillow, her voice muffled from the fabric, "You’re doing it again," she groaned.
Opening her mouth to retort to that comment, Summer snapped it shut as her sister suddenly glanced up with a pointed stare. "Fine, fine...I’m sorry. I’m just trying to say that just because he has three nipples, it doesn’t mean he’s an alien or freak or something, but at least you found out now," stated Summer, sitting down on the bed beside her sister.
"Ugh! Don’t say that word! God, it’s so weird! It’s like, I don’t know! Just gross to see that little pink thing..." Misha screeched, shuddering dramatically.
"Sorry sorry, I know. It is a little weird I guess."
"Weird? Weird? He has a freakin nipple, ugh! I hate that word now. Why couldn’t he have some other freakish attribute, like...I don’t know...like, like an extra tooth, or-"
"How about an extra penis?" Summer interrupted.
"Summer!"
Laughing, Summer snorted
Chrissy Faye
Startled by the pink fuzzy bunny that just attacked her face, Summer Johnson blinked, looked down at the bunny now laying lifeless on the floor, and then over at her sister, Misha.
"What was that for?"
Pushing herself up off her stomach, Misha leaned back against the wall, crossed her legs, and pulled the large pillow beside her onto her lap. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Misha laid her head down on the pillow, her voice muffled from the fabric, "You’re doing it again," she groaned.
Opening her mouth to retort to that comment, Summer snapped it shut as her sister suddenly glanced up with a pointed stare. "Fine, fine...I’m sorry. I’m just trying to say that just because he has three nipples, it doesn’t mean he’s an alien or freak or something, but at least you found out now," stated Summer, sitting down on the bed beside her sister.
"Ugh! Don’t say that word! God, it’s so weird! It’s like, I don’t know! Just gross to see that little pink thing..." Misha screeched, shuddering dramatically.
"Sorry sorry, I know. It is a little weird I guess."
"Weird? Weird? He has a freakin nipple, ugh! I hate that word now. Why couldn’t he have some other freakish attribute, like...I don’t know...like, like an extra tooth, or-"
"How about an extra penis?" Summer interrupted.
"Summer!"
Laughing, Summer snorted
Chrissy Faye
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Dec. 28, 2007
"There is only one explanation for his behavior and I believe narcotics would do the trick."
"But. Doctor Shelby I think I just heard you wrong. Ha---I can't imagine that your assuming my child has some sort of----mental problem."
Mrs. Gilbert chuckled questioningly again.
"I mean..."
And again in a whisper.
"I mean...he's been to the finest institutions in the state. You know his father paid over ten thousand dollars just for his tutor in pre-school! No girlfriends, no parties, family trips to Cancun every spring. He's never even been to a McDonalds, oh and oh, you know very well that all that...transfat causes most of the problems we have in this country!
By now, I imagine you've guessed, Mrs. Gilbert was no longer whispering.
"Beaman has had the finest care that all of San Diego can offer and you mean to tell me that he's...he's...some sort of lunatic!"
Mrs. Gilbert sat back in her seat, from which she had been scaling once her episode began.
"Mrs. Gilbert, dear, please try to understand that Beaman has probably nothing wrong with him other than what normally adverses young men. Pills I simply think would be an inhibitor for his exceedingly rash behavior. Now I have your prescription filled out, and am giving you the name of a family psychiatrist.."
"But!"
"Its just incase you or Beaman needs someone to speak with. Raising children is not easy, and at this age in his life Beaman, and yourself, and probably Mr. Gilbert too, could probably all use a nice thirty minutes of down time."
"Well that, Dr. Shelby is what sleeping pills and Berry Mantilow is for. Thank you for seeing Beaman and we'll let you know how he's feeling."
Mrs. Gilbert got up from her chair and left the doctor's office before any more could be said. Walking down the hall, she passed the front desk and cave a curt tip-of-the-head to the receptionists and went back to her concentrated strut; right infront of the left and the sort. It made her legs look nice. Anyway, she came to the waiting room and caught sight of her son immediately.
"We're leaving Beaman."
"Hey mom what did the doctor say?"
She kept walking to the automated doors and looked out at the rows or Suburbans and Escalades.
"Mom."
"Not now Beaman, the doctor was very precise at finding out what was wrong with you, and you know, it probably has all to do with your television---so, I think that will be the thing to fix your problem."
"Mom! Nothing is wrong with..."
"Beaman, quiet. We are putting in your perscription and then we are going home. Please just be quiet."
"But. Doctor Shelby I think I just heard you wrong. Ha---I can't imagine that your assuming my child has some sort of----mental problem."
Mrs. Gilbert chuckled questioningly again.
"I mean..."
And again in a whisper.
"I mean...he's been to the finest institutions in the state. You know his father paid over ten thousand dollars just for his tutor in pre-school! No girlfriends, no parties, family trips to Cancun every spring. He's never even been to a McDonalds, oh and oh, you know very well that all that...transfat causes most of the problems we have in this country!
By now, I imagine you've guessed, Mrs. Gilbert was no longer whispering.
"Beaman has had the finest care that all of San Diego can offer and you mean to tell me that he's...he's...some sort of lunatic!"
Mrs. Gilbert sat back in her seat, from which she had been scaling once her episode began.
"Mrs. Gilbert, dear, please try to understand that Beaman has probably nothing wrong with him other than what normally adverses young men. Pills I simply think would be an inhibitor for his exceedingly rash behavior. Now I have your prescription filled out, and am giving you the name of a family psychiatrist.."
"But!"
"Its just incase you or Beaman needs someone to speak with. Raising children is not easy, and at this age in his life Beaman, and yourself, and probably Mr. Gilbert too, could probably all use a nice thirty minutes of down time."
"Well that, Dr. Shelby is what sleeping pills and Berry Mantilow is for. Thank you for seeing Beaman and we'll let you know how he's feeling."
Mrs. Gilbert got up from her chair and left the doctor's office before any more could be said. Walking down the hall, she passed the front desk and cave a curt tip-of-the-head to the receptionists and went back to her concentrated strut; right infront of the left and the sort. It made her legs look nice. Anyway, she came to the waiting room and caught sight of her son immediately.
"We're leaving Beaman."
"Hey mom what did the doctor say?"
She kept walking to the automated doors and looked out at the rows or Suburbans and Escalades.
"Mom."
"Not now Beaman, the doctor was very precise at finding out what was wrong with you, and you know, it probably has all to do with your television---so, I think that will be the thing to fix your problem."
"Mom! Nothing is wrong with..."
"Beaman, quiet. We are putting in your perscription and then we are going home. Please just be quiet."
Nov. 28, 2007 (2)
In a minute! I just said I'm almost done!
"Sabrina, Grace has to go to the bathroom."
"Well dad, Grace is two years old and still wears diapers."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"She can go in her pants, and I still wouldn't care!"
"Damnit, Sabrina, out of the bathroom now!"
"Fine...Satisfied?"
"What in god's name have you done to your hair? Didn't I tell you not to touch my scissors?"
"Whatever dad."
"Look you better not be going with Paige like that. You want people to think you're a slut?"
"If the shoe fits."
"What is that suppose to mean."
"It means I can do whatever I want and you can't stop me."
"Like hell you can young lady; Grace baby go tee-tee. Good girl. Now look Sab...Sabrina!
You come back here right now. You aren't going to the movies. Come back here now!"
-shut up you dumb idiot. I can do whatever I want, it's not like he's the boss of me.
I hate him. And I hate Grace. If they weren't here I could go live with Paige and
have a pool.
Kay Greenfield
"In a minute, Jasmine."
"Mom, I told you to call me Jas."
"Yes yes, I’m sorry Jasmine. Just give me a minute, okay?"
"Jas, Mom. Jas. It’s not that hard to remember and it’s even easier to say compared to Jasmine."
"Uh huh. Sweetheart, can you pass me my coffee? It’s over on the dining room counter."
Jas growled angrily as she stalked over towards the kitchen. Glancing around briefly, Jas spotted the polka-dotted coffee mug sitting by the burnt apple pie they had just made. Her mother had gotten preoccupied again.
Snatching the coffee cup off the table, some of the hot liquid splashed to the floor. "Fuck," muttered Jas, throwing her free hand up in annoyance. Ignoring the mess, Jas walked back into the sitting room, to see her mother, still sitting at the computer, chatting up some "bloke" in England on the Internet. Please, like anything would happen with that much distance between them.
Putting the cup on the desk none too gently, Jas rolled her eyes as her mother let out a giggle, her cheeks definetely turning red. Gross. Adults are so disgusting.
"Jasmine, honey-"
"Jas, Mom!"
"Yes yes I know. That’s what I said. What is it that you children say now? Riding the horse? Getting some ass, is it? Now Love making...I know that has gone out of style though."
"Oh my god. Mom, what the fuck are you two talking about?!" screeched Jas.
"Jasmine Rose! Watch that language! And it is absolutely none of your business what Henry and I discuss."
"Uh, yes it is when my mother, who is 46 years old and NOT 29, is acting like a damn sex driven teenage.""
"Jasmine Rose don’t make me repeat-"
"For heaven’s sake, Mom! My name is Jas! It’s not that hard to remember."
Chrissy Faye
"Sabrina, Grace has to go to the bathroom."
"Well dad, Grace is two years old and still wears diapers."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"She can go in her pants, and I still wouldn't care!"
"Damnit, Sabrina, out of the bathroom now!"
"Fine...Satisfied?"
"What in god's name have you done to your hair? Didn't I tell you not to touch my scissors?"
"Whatever dad."
"Look you better not be going with Paige like that. You want people to think you're a slut?"
"If the shoe fits."
"What is that suppose to mean."
"It means I can do whatever I want and you can't stop me."
"Like hell you can young lady; Grace baby go tee-tee. Good girl. Now look Sab...Sabrina!
You come back here right now. You aren't going to the movies. Come back here now!"
-shut up you dumb idiot. I can do whatever I want, it's not like he's the boss of me.
I hate him. And I hate Grace. If they weren't here I could go live with Paige and
have a pool.
Kay Greenfield
"In a minute, Jasmine."
"Mom, I told you to call me Jas."
"Yes yes, I’m sorry Jasmine. Just give me a minute, okay?"
"Jas, Mom. Jas. It’s not that hard to remember and it’s even easier to say compared to Jasmine."
"Uh huh. Sweetheart, can you pass me my coffee? It’s over on the dining room counter."
Jas growled angrily as she stalked over towards the kitchen. Glancing around briefly, Jas spotted the polka-dotted coffee mug sitting by the burnt apple pie they had just made. Her mother had gotten preoccupied again.
Snatching the coffee cup off the table, some of the hot liquid splashed to the floor. "Fuck," muttered Jas, throwing her free hand up in annoyance. Ignoring the mess, Jas walked back into the sitting room, to see her mother, still sitting at the computer, chatting up some "bloke" in England on the Internet. Please, like anything would happen with that much distance between them.
Putting the cup on the desk none too gently, Jas rolled her eyes as her mother let out a giggle, her cheeks definetely turning red. Gross. Adults are so disgusting.
"Jasmine, honey-"
"Jas, Mom!"
"Yes yes I know. That’s what I said. What is it that you children say now? Riding the horse? Getting some ass, is it? Now Love making...I know that has gone out of style though."
"Oh my god. Mom, what the fuck are you two talking about?!" screeched Jas.
"Jasmine Rose! Watch that language! And it is absolutely none of your business what Henry and I discuss."
"Uh, yes it is when my mother, who is 46 years old and NOT 29, is acting like a damn sex driven teenage.""
"Jasmine Rose don’t make me repeat-"
"For heaven’s sake, Mom! My name is Jas! It’s not that hard to remember."
Chrissy Faye
Nov. 28, 2007
What's that doing on the floor. I don't remember taking my bra off in the living room. Maybe
Tom started the laundry. No; no clothes in the wash.
Well that's weird.
Where is Tom? Oh my god, what if he is having an affair? Only she's wearing my bra.
Maybe its not my bra, it's a look alike. Where is that sound coming from. My Tom is feeling some
bitch up in my bed to...."Spice Girls?" Oh my god, oh my god.
Should I go and like, catch them? What if they're doing it doing it?
Maybe I could just crack the do..door...a little bit.
"Tom oh my god, what the fuck are you doing in my thong?"
"Stacey."
"Why is there pink scarves on the lights?"
Oh my god. Do you have eyeliner on?
"Stacey."
"Did you do the laundry?"
"What, no Stacey hold..."
"My bra, it was in the living room. Is the slut in the bathroom?"
"Huh; no, what slut?"
"The slut your having sex with."
"Stacey, no it's....there's no one there, you can open all the doors."
"Well then what the hell are you...Oh my god."
"Stace."
"Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god. Are you gay?"
Kay Greenfield
"What’s that doing on the floor?"
Against the dark blue carpet, it stood out like beacon. Helen Parr wasn’t particularly angry about the bright green condom on her floor. Sure, that was gross and it did piss her off, but that wasn’t the main reason she felt like ripping her roommates head off.
"What’s what?" asked Leslie, not taking her eyes away from painting her toenails a bright red.
"Uh, the neon green condom laying on my side of the room covered in god knows what! Leslie, shit! It’s already hardening into the carpet!"
Chrissy Faye
Tom started the laundry. No; no clothes in the wash.
Well that's weird.
Where is Tom? Oh my god, what if he is having an affair? Only she's wearing my bra.
Maybe its not my bra, it's a look alike. Where is that sound coming from. My Tom is feeling some
bitch up in my bed to...."Spice Girls?" Oh my god, oh my god.
Should I go and like, catch them? What if they're doing it doing it?
Maybe I could just crack the do..door...a little bit.
"Tom oh my god, what the fuck are you doing in my thong?"
"Stacey."
"Why is there pink scarves on the lights?"
Oh my god. Do you have eyeliner on?
"Stacey."
"Did you do the laundry?"
"What, no Stacey hold..."
"My bra, it was in the living room. Is the slut in the bathroom?"
"Huh; no, what slut?"
"The slut your having sex with."
"Stacey, no it's....there's no one there, you can open all the doors."
"Well then what the hell are you...Oh my god."
"Stace."
"Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god. Are you gay?"
Kay Greenfield
"What’s that doing on the floor?"
Against the dark blue carpet, it stood out like beacon. Helen Parr wasn’t particularly angry about the bright green condom on her floor. Sure, that was gross and it did piss her off, but that wasn’t the main reason she felt like ripping her roommates head off.
"What’s what?" asked Leslie, not taking her eyes away from painting her toenails a bright red.
"Uh, the neon green condom laying on my side of the room covered in god knows what! Leslie, shit! It’s already hardening into the carpet!"
Chrissy Faye
Nov. 2, 2007
The water trickled slowly down the pipe.
Mr. Potts' fat ass was hanging out the back of his pants.
"So gross," I thought.
Finally, the water was rushing.
"That'll do it I think, Mrs. Rance. Seems you had a bone stuck in the disposal."
"Oh my, how'd that get in there? All that trouble over a little bone."
Mr. Potts' got up onto his feet from under the sink, and tugged on the loops of his jeans.
"The guy needs maternity pants. Hmm..That wasn't nice." I chuckled.
"Woops--what did he just say?"
..."so Saturday?"
"Eew, is this guy really asking me out. He has, like, a donkey plus an ass. Gross, he's my dad's age."
"No, um...I have plans on Saturday. Sorry." It was the first thing I could think of.
"Well Sunday we're open from 1pm till 5."
"Oh, wait, what is he talking about?"
"Mrs. Rance. Is Sunday okay?"
"He sounds so ticked. What a jerk. He should be happy that he got to come over to my house; he'd never get this close to a good looking girl, even if he lost the donkey."
"Look, if you thought that I'd come over here and do your sink without getting paid then you..."
"Oh, the bill...yeah. Sorry Mr. Potts, Sunday sounds great," I blurted.
Kay Greenfield
"The water trickled slowly down the pipe. It wasn’t too slippery yet, but little Betty spider’s legs wouldn’t be able to climb up the pipe again if any more water came down. Slowly moving up the-"
"Ellie, I don’t want to hear about a stupid spider. I wanna hear Humpty Dumpty again," whined Benny.
Sitting on the edge of the twin sized bed covered in Superman sheets, Ellie sighed. Looking at her little brother, his face flushed from the fever, Ellie gave in as much as it pissed her off. She had just rewritten a new version to The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and of course she thought it was fabulous. Her brother would have loved it, but it seemed he was still pining after her revised Humpty Dumpy story. Oh well.
"Do you really want to hear Humpty Dumpty again? This one’s new and much better!"
Jutting lower lip out, Benny looked at his sister
Chrissy Faye
Mr. Potts' fat ass was hanging out the back of his pants.
"So gross," I thought.
Finally, the water was rushing.
"That'll do it I think, Mrs. Rance. Seems you had a bone stuck in the disposal."
"Oh my, how'd that get in there? All that trouble over a little bone."
Mr. Potts' got up onto his feet from under the sink, and tugged on the loops of his jeans.
"The guy needs maternity pants. Hmm..That wasn't nice." I chuckled.
"Woops--what did he just say?"
..."so Saturday?"
"Eew, is this guy really asking me out. He has, like, a donkey plus an ass. Gross, he's my dad's age."
"No, um...I have plans on Saturday. Sorry." It was the first thing I could think of.
"Well Sunday we're open from 1pm till 5."
"Oh, wait, what is he talking about?"
"Mrs. Rance. Is Sunday okay?"
"He sounds so ticked. What a jerk. He should be happy that he got to come over to my house; he'd never get this close to a good looking girl, even if he lost the donkey."
"Look, if you thought that I'd come over here and do your sink without getting paid then you..."
"Oh, the bill...yeah. Sorry Mr. Potts, Sunday sounds great," I blurted.
Kay Greenfield
"The water trickled slowly down the pipe. It wasn’t too slippery yet, but little Betty spider’s legs wouldn’t be able to climb up the pipe again if any more water came down. Slowly moving up the-"
"Ellie, I don’t want to hear about a stupid spider. I wanna hear Humpty Dumpty again," whined Benny.
Sitting on the edge of the twin sized bed covered in Superman sheets, Ellie sighed. Looking at her little brother, his face flushed from the fever, Ellie gave in as much as it pissed her off. She had just rewritten a new version to The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and of course she thought it was fabulous. Her brother would have loved it, but it seemed he was still pining after her revised Humpty Dumpy story. Oh well.
"Do you really want to hear Humpty Dumpty again? This one’s new and much better!"
Jutting lower lip out, Benny looked at his sister
Chrissy Faye
Oct. 31, 2007 (3)
"It was so addictive.
The way he added a little hint here, and a little "uh" there.
It was beautiful, and at the same time just so amazing.
I mean, I think I'm going to cry."
"Thank you Mrs. Fonda,You may return to your seat. Well folks that was definitely an inspiring story of desserts.
Well moving on, um-- we will now have Ms. Marxen with
her testimony to Category 5: Dairy."
"I hate my life, Craig. How many times do I have to tell the FDA that I do not want to
be the spokesman for the "Eating is my life" group? No, no, not really."
Chuckle.
"It's called the Freedom of Food society. Yeah, it's a bunch of, um---what's the word---you know, what you'd call
menopausal women who love to eat and love to tell the world about it. Tragic! Yeah that works. There was one lady who--
you're gonna laugh--almost came in her Depends when she was talking about and Emerill Live episode.
Oh, oh yeah sure. I'll talk to you later.
Kay Greenfield
The way he added a little hint here, and a little "uh" there.
It was beautiful, and at the same time just so amazing.
I mean, I think I'm going to cry."
"Thank you Mrs. Fonda,You may return to your seat. Well folks that was definitely an inspiring story of desserts.
Well moving on, um-- we will now have Ms. Marxen with
her testimony to Category 5: Dairy."
"I hate my life, Craig. How many times do I have to tell the FDA that I do not want to
be the spokesman for the "Eating is my life" group? No, no, not really."
Chuckle.
"It's called the Freedom of Food society. Yeah, it's a bunch of, um---what's the word---you know, what you'd call
menopausal women who love to eat and love to tell the world about it. Tragic! Yeah that works. There was one lady who--
you're gonna laugh--almost came in her Depends when she was talking about and Emerill Live episode.
Oh, oh yeah sure. I'll talk to you later.
Kay Greenfield
Oct. 31, 2007 (2)
"I was completely bamboozeled.
If I would of moved the bishop to the left I would have been trapped, and I only had a rook to guard my king.
So there I was about to lose the chess match of the century when Willie Mack falls over dead.
Best damn day of my life."
-gasp-
"I mean worst damn day of his life."
"Grandpa did you really beat the world chess king?"
"Course I did, drip, and you'll be happy to know that this was the only instance where I cheated and used my mind powers."
"Wow."
"Reminds me of the day when I climbed the silver door & the mayor was so proud that he renamed it the Golden Gate after me. That's Golden Gate with a G.G, mind you."
"Grandpa G.G!!"
"You got it, Spike, and don't you ever forget it."
"And mom, did you know that grandpa ate carrots three times a day and could lift up a whole house?!"
"Mommy, Grandpa called told me that he married the first Barbie & he even called me Spike like his old dog."
"Yeah, but grandpa calls me drip, and that's better."
"He only does that because he can't remember your name."
"Well atleast it's a boy's name, Spike."
Kay Greenfield
I was completely bamboozelled! I couldn’t even think properly back then, so what did they expect me to do? Give them hugs and kisses, and sit and talk over cookies and milk? I don’t think so! I don’t have anytime to sit and pine and cry and scream about what an asshole Gary is. I have three papers due tomorrow and my spanish exit exam is in two days. I swear I’m going to have a nervous breakdown any second now.
No...calm down....
I need to keep a level head...
A few deep breathes...what the fuck was it that my therapist told me to say again when I get stressed?
I swear I’m going to rip my all my hair out in a second if my damn cell rings again.
Gary was kissing another girl that wasn’t me...who cares? Why is everyone freaking out about this? It wasn’t like they were the ones dating that backstabbing bastard. But no...I don’t care. He is no longer in my life. Gary who? Yea, that’s what I’ll say to the next person who asks about that stupid person.
Whoosah!! That was it!
Pinching both my ears and pulling them down a little, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
"Whooosahhhh..."
"What the fuck are you doing Sarah?"
Chrissy Faye
If I would of moved the bishop to the left I would have been trapped, and I only had a rook to guard my king.
So there I was about to lose the chess match of the century when Willie Mack falls over dead.
Best damn day of my life."
-gasp-
"I mean worst damn day of his life."
"Grandpa did you really beat the world chess king?"
"Course I did, drip, and you'll be happy to know that this was the only instance where I cheated and used my mind powers."
"Wow."
"Reminds me of the day when I climbed the silver door & the mayor was so proud that he renamed it the Golden Gate after me. That's Golden Gate with a G.G, mind you."
"Grandpa G.G!!"
"You got it, Spike, and don't you ever forget it."
"And mom, did you know that grandpa ate carrots three times a day and could lift up a whole house?!"
"Mommy, Grandpa called told me that he married the first Barbie & he even called me Spike like his old dog."
"Yeah, but grandpa calls me drip, and that's better."
"He only does that because he can't remember your name."
"Well atleast it's a boy's name, Spike."
Kay Greenfield
I was completely bamboozelled! I couldn’t even think properly back then, so what did they expect me to do? Give them hugs and kisses, and sit and talk over cookies and milk? I don’t think so! I don’t have anytime to sit and pine and cry and scream about what an asshole Gary is. I have three papers due tomorrow and my spanish exit exam is in two days. I swear I’m going to have a nervous breakdown any second now.
No...calm down....
I need to keep a level head...
A few deep breathes...what the fuck was it that my therapist told me to say again when I get stressed?
I swear I’m going to rip my all my hair out in a second if my damn cell rings again.
Gary was kissing another girl that wasn’t me...who cares? Why is everyone freaking out about this? It wasn’t like they were the ones dating that backstabbing bastard. But no...I don’t care. He is no longer in my life. Gary who? Yea, that’s what I’ll say to the next person who asks about that stupid person.
Whoosah!! That was it!
Pinching both my ears and pulling them down a little, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
"Whooosahhhh..."
"What the fuck are you doing Sarah?"
Chrissy Faye
Oct. 31, 2007
Boo.
"Sweetie stop."
BOO.
"Baby."
"BOO BOO BOO"
I told him to shut the hell up.
And then he goes,
"But hun, Vince is breaking up with Jen. I mean what kind of gay movie is this?"
If anyone's gay, Rew, it's him.
"Woah. She's naked! Ha. What a shmuck."
"Shmuck. Shmuck, shmuck, shmuck. It's all I ever hear.
Did I tell you that I've been faking orgasms for like 5 months now.
And the only thing that he ever says when we're having sex is, "oh yeah, oh yeah."
I mean really, can you not come up with anything else?
It's like I married a complete stranger. This guy sitting beside me in his Steelers football jersey, with a beer belly, and
nacho breathe, is DEFINITELY not the guy I was meant to end up with....right?
"Oh my god, look at those tits."
All the time.
"Tits, shmuck, tits, schmuck, oh yeah baby, oh the fuck yeah."
It's like he has the creativity of a horny 12 year old. Just please tell me that it's normal to feel this way.
Kay Greenfield
"Boo!"
Glancing over the frames of her glasses, Gabby Smith snorted before turning her attention back towards the large novel in her hands. It was only a second later that her precious book was yanked from her hands. With an annoyed sigh, Gabby turned to glare at her roommate, her lips set in a frown.
"Helen, I don’t have time to talk right now. I have to read this book by tonight,okay?"
Holding her hand out expectantly towards
Chrissy Faye
"Sweetie stop."
BOO.
"Baby."
"BOO BOO BOO"
I told him to shut the hell up.
And then he goes,
"But hun, Vince is breaking up with Jen. I mean what kind of gay movie is this?"
If anyone's gay, Rew, it's him.
"Woah. She's naked! Ha. What a shmuck."
"Shmuck. Shmuck, shmuck, shmuck. It's all I ever hear.
Did I tell you that I've been faking orgasms for like 5 months now.
And the only thing that he ever says when we're having sex is, "oh yeah, oh yeah."
I mean really, can you not come up with anything else?
It's like I married a complete stranger. This guy sitting beside me in his Steelers football jersey, with a beer belly, and
nacho breathe, is DEFINITELY not the guy I was meant to end up with....right?
"Oh my god, look at those tits."
All the time.
"Tits, shmuck, tits, schmuck, oh yeah baby, oh the fuck yeah."
It's like he has the creativity of a horny 12 year old. Just please tell me that it's normal to feel this way.
Kay Greenfield
"Boo!"
Glancing over the frames of her glasses, Gabby Smith snorted before turning her attention back towards the large novel in her hands. It was only a second later that her precious book was yanked from her hands. With an annoyed sigh, Gabby turned to glare at her roommate, her lips set in a frown.
"Helen, I don’t have time to talk right now. I have to read this book by tonight,okay?"
Holding her hand out expectantly towards
Chrissy Faye
Oct. 22, 2007
(Genoveve laying on bed writing in journal: School clothes with slippers on.)
Jenny: Writing and talking forcefully out loud:
Its like living in a story book. A bad story book where the princess has to live in a tower, surrounded by water, and guarded by two evil trolls with big ugly noses and crooked hairy teeth.
I hate my life.
Parents can be so tragic.
Who cares about a stupid math test?
I don't care about it.
Mrs. Boney-Butt didn't care or she would teach it better.
Oh, and obviously Amanda Bynes doesn't care or she'd be in math class & not on t.v.
Why am I not on t.v?
(flips over onto back with *sigh*)
Jeremy Trew, why won't you just come rescue me?
Mom: Calling from offstage:
Genoveve, come take this trash out!
Jenny: Still staring at ceiling. Pause....Begins twirling blind opener on window-shades.
You want to marry me. And write me a love song under a...
Mom:
TRASH. Jen. NOW!!
Jenny: Sitting up abruptly yells:
I'm COMING!!
Good Lord. Does she think I'm deaf?
All I want is a (yelling) LITTLE QUIET.
Where's my lip-gloss?
(moving stuff around dresser)
Ugh...she's gonna have to wait till I find it.
Musical Number 1:
Goodness Gracious. Get me Flirtacious. The trash is full again.
Where's my Liner? No time for Primer. Mom'll yell again.
If I'm gonna have to play janitor, then I'm going to do it with some style
Cuz Jeremy Trew is next door & a few
And boy to see him smile...
Eat a couple boxes of frozen peas
Find me my heels and skirt
Tie up the moldy mac-and cheese
Where's my low cut shirt?
The blue one with the lace. Where is it?
Mom: Yelling off-stage
JEN NOW!!
Jen:
Yeah Yeah.
Me oh My. Zip up that fly girl. The trash is full again.
I'll go 2 blocks out the way, you'd say crazy
but hey--the trash was full again.
I wonder whether my hair should be up or down?
I hope that chicken juice doesn't start dripping out....
Of the bag that is, not my hair.
The GLOSS, the gloss..I cannot find the gloss!!
The trash TOSS TOSS, but not without the GLOSS!!
GLOSS ME BABY, YEAH YEAH
JERERMY TREW? DO THAT TO YOU?
Mom:
JEN!!
Jen:
YEAH YEAH!!!!
Maybe this will be the day of my dreams
Grounded or not it won't matter to me...
Cuz Jeremy Trew is next door & a few
And I'm gonna make him smile...
Jenny: Writing and talking forcefully out loud:
Its like living in a story book. A bad story book where the princess has to live in a tower, surrounded by water, and guarded by two evil trolls with big ugly noses and crooked hairy teeth.
I hate my life.
Parents can be so tragic.
Who cares about a stupid math test?
I don't care about it.
Mrs. Boney-Butt didn't care or she would teach it better.
Oh, and obviously Amanda Bynes doesn't care or she'd be in math class & not on t.v.
Why am I not on t.v?
(flips over onto back with *sigh*)
Jeremy Trew, why won't you just come rescue me?
Mom: Calling from offstage:
Genoveve, come take this trash out!
Jenny: Still staring at ceiling. Pause....Begins twirling blind opener on window-shades.
You want to marry me. And write me a love song under a...
Mom:
TRASH. Jen. NOW!!
Jenny: Sitting up abruptly yells:
I'm COMING!!
Good Lord. Does she think I'm deaf?
All I want is a (yelling) LITTLE QUIET.
Where's my lip-gloss?
(moving stuff around dresser)
Ugh...she's gonna have to wait till I find it.
Musical Number 1:
Goodness Gracious. Get me Flirtacious. The trash is full again.
Where's my Liner? No time for Primer. Mom'll yell again.
If I'm gonna have to play janitor, then I'm going to do it with some style
Cuz Jeremy Trew is next door & a few
And boy to see him smile...
Eat a couple boxes of frozen peas
Find me my heels and skirt
Tie up the moldy mac-and cheese
Where's my low cut shirt?
The blue one with the lace. Where is it?
Mom: Yelling off-stage
JEN NOW!!
Jen:
Yeah Yeah.
Me oh My. Zip up that fly girl. The trash is full again.
I'll go 2 blocks out the way, you'd say crazy
but hey--the trash was full again.
I wonder whether my hair should be up or down?
I hope that chicken juice doesn't start dripping out....
Of the bag that is, not my hair.
The GLOSS, the gloss..I cannot find the gloss!!
The trash TOSS TOSS, but not without the GLOSS!!
GLOSS ME BABY, YEAH YEAH
JERERMY TREW? DO THAT TO YOU?
Mom:
JEN!!
Jen:
YEAH YEAH!!!!
Maybe this will be the day of my dreams
Grounded or not it won't matter to me...
Cuz Jeremy Trew is next door & a few
And I'm gonna make him smile...
June ? 2007
The fly orbited Jupiter, buzzed around Mars, and landed on top of Ms. Cramer's hair.
She didn't noticed; she was still saying something about Uranus.
Ha..."your-anus."
I wonder when she's going to notice the fly.
Ouch.
I turned around and glared at Cindy behind me.
"What was that for?" I whispered.
"It wasn't me."
"Liar, do it again and I'll knock you a new one."
"Ms. Cramer! Tyler said he was going to knock me a new one."
Everyone faced me and laughed; Lee whispered "good one".
"Cindy sit down; Tyler no one is going to knock anyone a new one except me. Do you want to go to the principal's
instead of outside today?"
"But Ms. Cramer she flicked my ear and wouldn't stop. She's always doing it!"
"I did not. Ms. Cramer he's obviously on something."
"Haha, Tyler has a girlfriend!" saide Lee.
Everyone laughed.
"Lee, Cindy, Tyler, that is enough. Your parents pay money for you to listen to me, not hit each other and crack jokes, now seperate. Tyler up here by me."
"Uh."
"No sir, I don't want to hear one more thing."
Everyone laughed again.
"You all be quiet or there won't be any recess today. Got it?"
Everyone grumbled a yes.
"Tyler switch it now."
I picked up my science book and notebook and moved to the desk right infront of Ms. Cramer.
"Faster."
I sat down, and looked at my desk.
"Alright, now everyone settle back down and find our spot. Page 143 Tyler."
I flipped through my book making a little more noise than necessary.
"Now Uranus is the seventh planet from the sun."
Blah blah blah, she's such a witch.
I hope her hairy nose falls off.
She didn't noticed; she was still saying something about Uranus.
Ha..."your-anus."
I wonder when she's going to notice the fly.
Ouch.
I turned around and glared at Cindy behind me.
"What was that for?" I whispered.
"It wasn't me."
"Liar, do it again and I'll knock you a new one."
"Ms. Cramer! Tyler said he was going to knock me a new one."
Everyone faced me and laughed; Lee whispered "good one".
"Cindy sit down; Tyler no one is going to knock anyone a new one except me. Do you want to go to the principal's
instead of outside today?"
"But Ms. Cramer she flicked my ear and wouldn't stop. She's always doing it!"
"I did not. Ms. Cramer he's obviously on something."
"Haha, Tyler has a girlfriend!" saide Lee.
Everyone laughed.
"Lee, Cindy, Tyler, that is enough. Your parents pay money for you to listen to me, not hit each other and crack jokes, now seperate. Tyler up here by me."
"Uh."
"No sir, I don't want to hear one more thing."
Everyone laughed again.
"You all be quiet or there won't be any recess today. Got it?"
Everyone grumbled a yes.
"Tyler switch it now."
I picked up my science book and notebook and moved to the desk right infront of Ms. Cramer.
"Faster."
I sat down, and looked at my desk.
"Alright, now everyone settle back down and find our spot. Page 143 Tyler."
I flipped through my book making a little more noise than necessary.
"Now Uranus is the seventh planet from the sun."
Blah blah blah, she's such a witch.
I hope her hairy nose falls off.
Feb. 19, 2007 (2)
It was too tight. Not comfortable. Oh God, get off.
I squirmed.
"What's wrong Jen?"
Oh shit, what do I say? Sorry but you're rippin' me a new one?
"Jen are you okay?"
Um...
"Do you think we can maybe switch places."
"Yeah. Sure baby. Whatever you like better."
Hmm...what I'd like better. Is thinner penis an option?
Issac moved from between my legs and settled down beside me.
I hurt like a shovel had been plowed into my vagina.
What the hell was sitting on top suppose to do?
I straddled Issac.
Shit. I only had two options now. Nestle down, or pretend to throw up.
Why didn't I eat more at dinner?
"Jen, what's wrong?"
Um...again.
"Nothing sweetheart, I was just thinking."
About vomiting.
I bent over and kissed Issac's chest, making my way up to his mouth.
Just keep your ass in the air, and there won't be any more problems.
I got to his lips. A little tongue; that'll do the trick. Where are my boobs?
Foreplay's always a good decoy.
Issacs arms folded around my back. His kiss got a little deeper.
Shit shit shit. He's trying to push me down. Grab the boobs man, just grab the g.d boobs!
"I have to pee."
It was the first sane thing that came to mind.
Issac let go of my waist as I pulled off of him.
"Oh. Okay."
I was already off the side of the bed though, grabbing my lacy pink panties off the ground.
Leg one, leg two, pull up, grab the robe, and run.
"Be right back."
"Sure."
Two seconds later I was in my bathroom, staring at the mirror.
My hair's a mess.
I sat down on the toilet seat and doubled over to see the damage.
Bleeding. I am actually bleeding the jackass.
I sat back up, got some tissue, and put it in my underwear.
I squirmed.
"What's wrong Jen?"
Oh shit, what do I say? Sorry but you're rippin' me a new one?
"Jen are you okay?"
Um...
"Do you think we can maybe switch places."
"Yeah. Sure baby. Whatever you like better."
Hmm...what I'd like better. Is thinner penis an option?
Issac moved from between my legs and settled down beside me.
I hurt like a shovel had been plowed into my vagina.
What the hell was sitting on top suppose to do?
I straddled Issac.
Shit. I only had two options now. Nestle down, or pretend to throw up.
Why didn't I eat more at dinner?
"Jen, what's wrong?"
Um...again.
"Nothing sweetheart, I was just thinking."
About vomiting.
I bent over and kissed Issac's chest, making my way up to his mouth.
Just keep your ass in the air, and there won't be any more problems.
I got to his lips. A little tongue; that'll do the trick. Where are my boobs?
Foreplay's always a good decoy.
Issacs arms folded around my back. His kiss got a little deeper.
Shit shit shit. He's trying to push me down. Grab the boobs man, just grab the g.d boobs!
"I have to pee."
It was the first sane thing that came to mind.
Issac let go of my waist as I pulled off of him.
"Oh. Okay."
I was already off the side of the bed though, grabbing my lacy pink panties off the ground.
Leg one, leg two, pull up, grab the robe, and run.
"Be right back."
"Sure."
Two seconds later I was in my bathroom, staring at the mirror.
My hair's a mess.
I sat down on the toilet seat and doubled over to see the damage.
Bleeding. I am actually bleeding the jackass.
I sat back up, got some tissue, and put it in my underwear.
Feb. 19, 2007
I heard the death a'comin. It was the sound of a thousand leather soles, clankin' guns, and tappin' drums. Over on the far off ridge you could see them like an army of ants, marching closer and closer. Cannons and guns exploded in the grey fog; even though it was nearly noon, the air full of dust, powder, and smoke hung over our heads like the fullest rain clouds. It was cold for August, as I recall. All the dyin' and killin' had run Summer on out the country. Even so, there wasn't any quittin' now. Ole' Lee wasn't about to let us boys surrender to them damnable Yankees. I stood by the boys in my regiment. There faces were young and old, sort of a run upon the two.
Feb. 15, 2007 (3)
"You're such an idiot. Shit a brick Laun, I don't know what to do with you."
"Well you're not such a good mother either Patrick."
"Hello we're Pat and Laun, and welcome to the 'Pat en Laun Show'. Today we'll be covering the basics of 'kiss and tells'; we have Janet on the phone.
What's your story sweetheart?"
"Well my husband, Al, and I have been married for two months."
"Newly weds, sweet."
"We had our first experience about six years ago though at a Hotel 6 in Baton Rouge."
"Now when hasn't someone been in that situation?"
"Hey Janet, don't you think Hotel 69 rolls off the tongue a little sweeter?"
Both men lauughed, "Now what exactly does your husband do m'am?"
"He's a bagger at the Piggly Wiggly."
Laun grabbed the mike, "And do you use paper or plastic?"
"Paper at work, plastic in the bedroom Laun!"
"Whoa! Damn girl too much information!"
"Janet you sound naughty, does Al need to get out that spanker?"
"Pat, you can whip me into cream anytime you want."
"HaHa, girl how old is this kiss and tell?"
"14."
Click. The call was dropped.
"Shit, please lets stick with adult callers from now on."
Kay Greenfield
You’re such an idiot.
I could feel my whole face burning red from embarrassment as I chastised myself for not paying attention. I ducked my head, my hair falling in my face, as I darted down the hall clutching my purse to my chest. I darted around the corner and glanced up. I let out a sigh of relief. Sanctuary.
I practically threw myself into the girl’s bathroom, not even bothering to apologize as I roughly bumped into someone. Throwing a stall open, I tossed my purse on the ground, locked the door, and breathed. Running my hands over my face, I tried to calm my hot face and racing heart. I leaned against the wall and stared at the pale green wall across from me.
I had just walked into the fucking men’s locker room.
I could feel my face heating up again as I thought of everything I had just seen. So much more than my virgin eyes were accustomed to.
I whipped my sweaty palms on my jeans, as I tried to collect myself.
What the hell was I suppose to do?
I hadn’t just seen one man, I had seen dozen of changing men. I had seen male flesh. Too much male flesh.
Chrissy Faye
"Well you're not such a good mother either Patrick."
"Hello we're Pat and Laun, and welcome to the 'Pat en Laun Show'. Today we'll be covering the basics of 'kiss and tells'; we have Janet on the phone.
What's your story sweetheart?"
"Well my husband, Al, and I have been married for two months."
"Newly weds, sweet."
"We had our first experience about six years ago though at a Hotel 6 in Baton Rouge."
"Now when hasn't someone been in that situation?"
"Hey Janet, don't you think Hotel 69 rolls off the tongue a little sweeter?"
Both men lauughed, "Now what exactly does your husband do m'am?"
"He's a bagger at the Piggly Wiggly."
Laun grabbed the mike, "And do you use paper or plastic?"
"Paper at work, plastic in the bedroom Laun!"
"Whoa! Damn girl too much information!"
"Janet you sound naughty, does Al need to get out that spanker?"
"Pat, you can whip me into cream anytime you want."
"HaHa, girl how old is this kiss and tell?"
"14."
Click. The call was dropped.
"Shit, please lets stick with adult callers from now on."
Kay Greenfield
You’re such an idiot.
I could feel my whole face burning red from embarrassment as I chastised myself for not paying attention. I ducked my head, my hair falling in my face, as I darted down the hall clutching my purse to my chest. I darted around the corner and glanced up. I let out a sigh of relief. Sanctuary.
I practically threw myself into the girl’s bathroom, not even bothering to apologize as I roughly bumped into someone. Throwing a stall open, I tossed my purse on the ground, locked the door, and breathed. Running my hands over my face, I tried to calm my hot face and racing heart. I leaned against the wall and stared at the pale green wall across from me.
I had just walked into the fucking men’s locker room.
I could feel my face heating up again as I thought of everything I had just seen. So much more than my virgin eyes were accustomed to.
I whipped my sweaty palms on my jeans, as I tried to collect myself.
What the hell was I suppose to do?
I hadn’t just seen one man, I had seen dozen of changing men. I had seen male flesh. Too much male flesh.
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 15, 2007 (2)
Cheers. There wasn't any other noise in the entire room but clapping and shouts of "hoorah".
It was too much. I couldn't see through my tears and my breath caught.
Floor. Screams. Running. Faces.
I hadn't been out for long, or atleast it hadn't felt like it. I sat upright.
I was in a white room with two doors. One white, the other black.
"Hello?"
I turned around looking for the audience, my mom, anybody.
There was just the two doors.
I panicked.
"Where am I? Is anyone here?"
I was getting hot, I knew something was wrong; I knew I had to get away.
I jumped up off of the floor, and ran to a door. Both were locked.
I banged on each, hoping someone would hear me.
"Help me! Help me!" I yelled.
I banged harder on the white door. My arms began to ache, and my hands became numb from the pain.
Suddenly the black door opened up.
Slowly a man in suit and tie entered.
The shock of actually seeing another person, was strange.
It was as if I hadn't been near another person in ages.
"Stephanie Lambert?"
I looked at the man not knowing what to do.
"Are you Stephanie Lambert? Cherokee Creek, Alabama. St. Mark's Hospital. Room 316?"
Still confused, I nodded my head.
"Come with me," he said plainly.
He went back through the black door, and I was left alone again in the white room.
I didn't know what to think, but my only option seemed to follow this person.
I dried my eyes with my shirt sleeve, and walked over to the opposite door.
The place must have been a hospital, or atleast that's what it seemed to me.
Hospitals had been my home since the age of six so compared to some, I was an expert at them.
This one seemed nice, people were all around. Mostly kids. The suited man was by the desk talking to a red-haired woman. She had thick glasses, and looked up at him with a rather stern look.
I reached the man's side and tried to sneak a few glances of his face. He looked young; black hair, black eyebrows, tan skin. He kept talking to the desk attendant, either ignoring me or not noticing me at all.
Kay Greenfield
Cheers. Allison Mauley let out a loud whoop before tossing her head back and carelessly throwing her hands in the air. Beer flew from the bottle she held in her right hand and onto the drunken couple making out a few feet away. They didn’t notice.
Letting out another scream, Allison downed the rest of her drink, the beer spilling down her chin and onto her shirt. She reeked of alcohol and smoke, but at this point of the party everybody did.
Tossing her bottle recklessly to the side, Allison didn’t bother to see where it landed as she stumbled to the cooler near the door. Groan
Tucking her brown hair behind her ear, Allison bent over and dug through the bottles and cans of alcohol. She finally settled on another beer.
Popping the top off, she leaned against the counter and took a swing of her drink.
High school was over with finally. She was free. Now it was only college and more responsibility, but until then she was going to enjoy her graduation.
Her eyes roamed across the room, the music blaring and the room smoky and musty. Her gaze paused on a couple dirty dancing in the corner, a smirk stretching across her face as she rested her elbows on the counter behind her. Her hand slowly swung her drink back and forth as she continued to stare at the couple. She raised an eyebrow as the man suddenly looked up at her, his face flushed. She held his gaze and was immensely satisfied to see that his attention was completely directed to her, the slut grinding against him forgotten.
She took another sip of her beer, glanced away for a few seconds, and then back towards him.
He was still looking at her.
Trevor Fields. Ex-boyfriend and complete jackass.
Pay back was a bitch and she was going to make she was the one toying with the feelings this time. If he thought she was just going to sit and pine after him, he had another thing coming.
She watched with amusement as the girl he was dancing with finally began to realize that she wasn’t holding Trevor’s attention anymore. The tramp glanced over
Chrissy Faye
It was too much. I couldn't see through my tears and my breath caught.
Floor. Screams. Running. Faces.
I hadn't been out for long, or atleast it hadn't felt like it. I sat upright.
I was in a white room with two doors. One white, the other black.
"Hello?"
I turned around looking for the audience, my mom, anybody.
There was just the two doors.
I panicked.
"Where am I? Is anyone here?"
I was getting hot, I knew something was wrong; I knew I had to get away.
I jumped up off of the floor, and ran to a door. Both were locked.
I banged on each, hoping someone would hear me.
"Help me! Help me!" I yelled.
I banged harder on the white door. My arms began to ache, and my hands became numb from the pain.
Suddenly the black door opened up.
Slowly a man in suit and tie entered.
The shock of actually seeing another person, was strange.
It was as if I hadn't been near another person in ages.
"Stephanie Lambert?"
I looked at the man not knowing what to do.
"Are you Stephanie Lambert? Cherokee Creek, Alabama. St. Mark's Hospital. Room 316?"
Still confused, I nodded my head.
"Come with me," he said plainly.
He went back through the black door, and I was left alone again in the white room.
I didn't know what to think, but my only option seemed to follow this person.
I dried my eyes with my shirt sleeve, and walked over to the opposite door.
The place must have been a hospital, or atleast that's what it seemed to me.
Hospitals had been my home since the age of six so compared to some, I was an expert at them.
This one seemed nice, people were all around. Mostly kids. The suited man was by the desk talking to a red-haired woman. She had thick glasses, and looked up at him with a rather stern look.
I reached the man's side and tried to sneak a few glances of his face. He looked young; black hair, black eyebrows, tan skin. He kept talking to the desk attendant, either ignoring me or not noticing me at all.
Kay Greenfield
Cheers. Allison Mauley let out a loud whoop before tossing her head back and carelessly throwing her hands in the air. Beer flew from the bottle she held in her right hand and onto the drunken couple making out a few feet away. They didn’t notice.
Letting out another scream, Allison downed the rest of her drink, the beer spilling down her chin and onto her shirt. She reeked of alcohol and smoke, but at this point of the party everybody did.
Tossing her bottle recklessly to the side, Allison didn’t bother to see where it landed as she stumbled to the cooler near the door. Groan
Tucking her brown hair behind her ear, Allison bent over and dug through the bottles and cans of alcohol. She finally settled on another beer.
Popping the top off, she leaned against the counter and took a swing of her drink.
High school was over with finally. She was free. Now it was only college and more responsibility, but until then she was going to enjoy her graduation.
Her eyes roamed across the room, the music blaring and the room smoky and musty. Her gaze paused on a couple dirty dancing in the corner, a smirk stretching across her face as she rested her elbows on the counter behind her. Her hand slowly swung her drink back and forth as she continued to stare at the couple. She raised an eyebrow as the man suddenly looked up at her, his face flushed. She held his gaze and was immensely satisfied to see that his attention was completely directed to her, the slut grinding against him forgotten.
She took another sip of her beer, glanced away for a few seconds, and then back towards him.
He was still looking at her.
Trevor Fields. Ex-boyfriend and complete jackass.
Pay back was a bitch and she was going to make she was the one toying with the feelings this time. If he thought she was just going to sit and pine after him, he had another thing coming.
She watched with amusement as the girl he was dancing with finally began to realize that she wasn’t holding Trevor’s attention anymore. The tramp glanced over
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 15, 2007
I could smell it from here. An older woman, Ms. Jamers, had made the call, saying the smell was coming from a vent in her building. Deputy Morrisson and I had been the nearest to the scene, so we were sent to the old appartment.
"I woke up this morning and there was that god-awful smell in the whole building. I wasn't sure if it was the sewer backing up again, but I figured the bugs in my vent probably meant something."
Ms. James continued her testimony to Morrisson while I scanned the room.
Ms. James' appartment was small and crowded with plants and cats. Any other smell in the building would have been masked by the smell of cat litter, but there was no wonder that the woman believed something to be wrong.
"Roberts, look at the ceiling," said my partner.
I glanced up and noticed what looked like a water mark on the ceiling. It could have been anything, old stain, rain damage, but for some reason it seemed that this was the source of the problem.
"Morrison, are you finished with Ms. James?"
"Yeah."
"Come look at this vent, there's probably about fifty maggots falling from it."
We both edged near the vent, and had to hold the vomit down harder each inch we made.
Kay Greenfield
I could smell it from here. It was disgusting and cheap. I glanced over at my friend Bryan, and snorted as I tried not to laugh out loud as he pretended to gag and make faces. I mouthed ‘Idiot’ at him before turning to look back at the source of our jokes.
Misty Lane. Renowned slut and spoiled brat. I rolled my eyes in distaste as she sauntered into the room, the click of her heels making her presence known if the smell hadn’t already.
She was like the Anna Nicole of our school, her bust practically spilling out of her tank top and her skirt riding a little too high up on her thighs.
Misty flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, sending coy smiles at the hormone infested boys.
Honestly, I found her appalling to look at. She wore way to much makeup and she always smelled like something died and was rotting away in that plastic body of hers. Yea, it was a well known fact that she’d had plenty of surgery to get that big chest of hers. I watched her slide into her seat, her skirt hiding nothing
Chrissy Faye
"I woke up this morning and there was that god-awful smell in the whole building. I wasn't sure if it was the sewer backing up again, but I figured the bugs in my vent probably meant something."
Ms. James continued her testimony to Morrisson while I scanned the room.
Ms. James' appartment was small and crowded with plants and cats. Any other smell in the building would have been masked by the smell of cat litter, but there was no wonder that the woman believed something to be wrong.
"Roberts, look at the ceiling," said my partner.
I glanced up and noticed what looked like a water mark on the ceiling. It could have been anything, old stain, rain damage, but for some reason it seemed that this was the source of the problem.
"Morrison, are you finished with Ms. James?"
"Yeah."
"Come look at this vent, there's probably about fifty maggots falling from it."
We both edged near the vent, and had to hold the vomit down harder each inch we made.
Kay Greenfield
I could smell it from here. It was disgusting and cheap. I glanced over at my friend Bryan, and snorted as I tried not to laugh out loud as he pretended to gag and make faces. I mouthed ‘Idiot’ at him before turning to look back at the source of our jokes.
Misty Lane. Renowned slut and spoiled brat. I rolled my eyes in distaste as she sauntered into the room, the click of her heels making her presence known if the smell hadn’t already.
She was like the Anna Nicole of our school, her bust practically spilling out of her tank top and her skirt riding a little too high up on her thighs.
Misty flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, sending coy smiles at the hormone infested boys.
Honestly, I found her appalling to look at. She wore way to much makeup and she always smelled like something died and was rotting away in that plastic body of hers. Yea, it was a well known fact that she’d had plenty of surgery to get that big chest of hers. I watched her slide into her seat, her skirt hiding nothing
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 14, 2007
I tossed the coin into the well. White folks' magic seemed strange enough, but I said my wish in any case.
"Back in line you cud!"
The guard pulled out his whip and lashed it hard.
The pain was awful, but I'd had worse.
The leather slit my raw back easily and opened it fresh for the flies.
At night I would pray for scars; if time enough went by for scarring, it meant not as many whips.
Kay Greenfield
I tossed the coin into the well, and watched as it disappeared from my view and into the murky depths. Using my elbows as support, I leaned forward and stared at down into the water. I chewed at my bottom lip thoughtfully as I stared unblinkingly at the ripples in the water. Normally I would have found this a waste of time and rather boring, but today just wasn’t a normal day. I leaned farther over the edge, my elbows scrapping against the concrete bricks and sending small grains of pebbles and rubble into the water.
I continued to stare at the new ripples in the water, my image becoming more distorted than it had previously been.
It would be so easy to just fall forward and let everything go.
I gazed at my reflection. My image was not as
Chrissy Faye
"Back in line you cud!"
The guard pulled out his whip and lashed it hard.
The pain was awful, but I'd had worse.
The leather slit my raw back easily and opened it fresh for the flies.
At night I would pray for scars; if time enough went by for scarring, it meant not as many whips.
Kay Greenfield
I tossed the coin into the well, and watched as it disappeared from my view and into the murky depths. Using my elbows as support, I leaned forward and stared at down into the water. I chewed at my bottom lip thoughtfully as I stared unblinkingly at the ripples in the water. Normally I would have found this a waste of time and rather boring, but today just wasn’t a normal day. I leaned farther over the edge, my elbows scrapping against the concrete bricks and sending small grains of pebbles and rubble into the water.
I continued to stare at the new ripples in the water, my image becoming more distorted than it had previously been.
It would be so easy to just fall forward and let everything go.
I gazed at my reflection. My image was not as
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 13, 2007
"The color was a dark, rusty red. Mama said it looked like the color of that-time-of-the-month blood, but you know what ladies? I loved it! I'll tell you what, there ain't a person on this earth who's going to have a dress like my girls, and I'll make sure of it."
Jean jabbered on about the wedding plans, her dress, her man's penis. All the stuff a less-than virgin bride would talk about.
Me, I just sat on the floor leaning on the couch, wishing this party would just get over with.
"And then Mama says, 'Girl everybody's going to laugh when they see those table-sheets you picked out'. So you know ofcourse I bought em'. I'll tell you what, if my dang ole' mother don't stop interfering with my stuff, I'll just forget to send the witch an invitation."
Everyone else laughed, but I wasn't sure if it was polite of me to be laughing at my Aunt Peg. She'd never done nothin to me, and I supposed it would be rude to act on about it.
"Shoog, what you moaning about over there? You know girl there's a wedding to get on, ain't you even excited about it?"
I looked at Jean and her red hair all covered in present bows. What was I gonna say? That I'd rather be outside nailing my finger to the barn?
"Sure I am Jean, I'm just watchin everyone."
"Well hunny don't go getting bored on me; you know I need you to be my maid of honor."
Do I gotta wear a blood-red dress, I thought.
"Anyway girls..."
Jean turned back toward her couple of friends there for the wedding shower, and started laughing bout something I didn't hear.
It was about three, and I got a quick idea in my head.
"I'm gonna go catch the mail man."
No one heard me though.
Jean was going on now about some type of garden belt or something, so I just walked on out the door.
Kay Greenfield
The color was a dark, rusty red. I let out a low sigh as I drew my eyes away from the dried blood surrounding the scratch and up into the teary eyes of my little brother. He sniffled slightly, his nose raw and red as he rubbed at it, and his lower lips trembling and set in a pout. It would have been extremely adorable had it not been my little brother and the fact that he was actually hurt.
I pushed him gently back against the couch and told him that everything was going to be fine.
I gently rubbed at the dried blood surrounding his knee. He was already tearing up and letting out small whimpers of pain before I had even gotten to the scraps.
Why were you skating in the house again, Kyle, and what exactly happened? I made my voice soft and sisterly, afraid that he would begin crying again if I appeared angry and threatening.
It didn’t
Chrissy Faye
Jean jabbered on about the wedding plans, her dress, her man's penis. All the stuff a less-than virgin bride would talk about.
Me, I just sat on the floor leaning on the couch, wishing this party would just get over with.
"And then Mama says, 'Girl everybody's going to laugh when they see those table-sheets you picked out'. So you know ofcourse I bought em'. I'll tell you what, if my dang ole' mother don't stop interfering with my stuff, I'll just forget to send the witch an invitation."
Everyone else laughed, but I wasn't sure if it was polite of me to be laughing at my Aunt Peg. She'd never done nothin to me, and I supposed it would be rude to act on about it.
"Shoog, what you moaning about over there? You know girl there's a wedding to get on, ain't you even excited about it?"
I looked at Jean and her red hair all covered in present bows. What was I gonna say? That I'd rather be outside nailing my finger to the barn?
"Sure I am Jean, I'm just watchin everyone."
"Well hunny don't go getting bored on me; you know I need you to be my maid of honor."
Do I gotta wear a blood-red dress, I thought.
"Anyway girls..."
Jean turned back toward her couple of friends there for the wedding shower, and started laughing bout something I didn't hear.
It was about three, and I got a quick idea in my head.
"I'm gonna go catch the mail man."
No one heard me though.
Jean was going on now about some type of garden belt or something, so I just walked on out the door.
Kay Greenfield
The color was a dark, rusty red. I let out a low sigh as I drew my eyes away from the dried blood surrounding the scratch and up into the teary eyes of my little brother. He sniffled slightly, his nose raw and red as he rubbed at it, and his lower lips trembling and set in a pout. It would have been extremely adorable had it not been my little brother and the fact that he was actually hurt.
I pushed him gently back against the couch and told him that everything was going to be fine.
I gently rubbed at the dried blood surrounding his knee. He was already tearing up and letting out small whimpers of pain before I had even gotten to the scraps.
Why were you skating in the house again, Kyle, and what exactly happened? I made my voice soft and sisterly, afraid that he would begin crying again if I appeared angry and threatening.
It didn’t
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 12, 2007 (3)
I heard an old story. One that my grandma had told me long ago bout' the years before time, and the way the world was born. Miss Jenkins was tellin' that same story to her clas this mornin', and I felt myself goin' back in time. I remember being little and seein things I ain't ever seen before. Learnin new colors and readin' and writin. Every day that story seemed to get a little more clear. Like the stars would finally show me their shapes. But I don't see how that might be. I wonder back though, and thinks if them stories was true? Did Moses really part the sea, and is there a God that'll come and save this world? It just seems like there ain't nothing good to recall anymore, and there ain't nothing good worth rememberin except them stories. Maybe I'll asks Miss Jenkins what she done learned bout' God and Jesus. Till then I guess there's not much else to do but go on livin' and supposing the worst is on it's way.
I put my journal down, and tucked it under my pillow. It was too hot a night for my blanket, so I didn't use it. Sweat was pooling under my back and legs, but there wasn't anything to do about that. Mama would be home soon, and she'd tan my hide if she'd known I was up so late. Mama didn't like it that I could read and write. She said it was useless for me to know such things, cause the only place it lead me was to a dead end. I had tried the sewin' bit, but it just made my fingers sore. Washin' made my eyes dry on account of the lye, and I'd skin myself if chores was all I'd ever be able to do.
Someday though, I was gonna be a writer up in the city. I been had my eyes on Boston since I seen it on a magazine at
Kay Greenfield
I heard an old story. No, it wasn’t one of those grandparent ones where they hiked ten miles through a blizzard to get to school. I had heard a lifetime of stories from my Grandpappy years ago. This one was different. It was about my Great Grandmother and the love that caused her untimely death.
I was about fourteen when my Grandpappy told me this story. I remember because my boyfriend Kipper had just broken up with me so that he could go out with the new girl, Sarah. Teenage romance always seemed to be filled with drama and the fantasy of what love really was, so I was heartbroken, thinking that this was the end of the world.
My Grandpappy always did say that teenage angst was nothing but a child needing more discipline. We were too spoiled, taking everything for granted and trying to grow up too fast. Then he would normally go one of those lectures about the old days, but enough about that.
After sitting me down on his lap in the living, he proceeded to tell me about what true love really was and how my Great Grandmother was one of the few women to actually experience it.
Back then I didn’t really pay him any mind though. He was old and this was a different time. He didn’t know what it was like to be me. I was convinced that Kipper was the only one for me. It wasn’t until later that I finally understood what he was talking about.
After telling me that Kipper was such a stupid name for a boy, he told me this tale.
Chrissy Faye
I put my journal down, and tucked it under my pillow. It was too hot a night for my blanket, so I didn't use it. Sweat was pooling under my back and legs, but there wasn't anything to do about that. Mama would be home soon, and she'd tan my hide if she'd known I was up so late. Mama didn't like it that I could read and write. She said it was useless for me to know such things, cause the only place it lead me was to a dead end. I had tried the sewin' bit, but it just made my fingers sore. Washin' made my eyes dry on account of the lye, and I'd skin myself if chores was all I'd ever be able to do.
Someday though, I was gonna be a writer up in the city. I been had my eyes on Boston since I seen it on a magazine at
Kay Greenfield
I heard an old story. No, it wasn’t one of those grandparent ones where they hiked ten miles through a blizzard to get to school. I had heard a lifetime of stories from my Grandpappy years ago. This one was different. It was about my Great Grandmother and the love that caused her untimely death.
I was about fourteen when my Grandpappy told me this story. I remember because my boyfriend Kipper had just broken up with me so that he could go out with the new girl, Sarah. Teenage romance always seemed to be filled with drama and the fantasy of what love really was, so I was heartbroken, thinking that this was the end of the world.
My Grandpappy always did say that teenage angst was nothing but a child needing more discipline. We were too spoiled, taking everything for granted and trying to grow up too fast. Then he would normally go one of those lectures about the old days, but enough about that.
After sitting me down on his lap in the living, he proceeded to tell me about what true love really was and how my Great Grandmother was one of the few women to actually experience it.
Back then I didn’t really pay him any mind though. He was old and this was a different time. He didn’t know what it was like to be me. I was convinced that Kipper was the only one for me. It wasn’t until later that I finally understood what he was talking about.
After telling me that Kipper was such a stupid name for a boy, he told me this tale.
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 12, 2007 (2)
There was a pile of clothes on the floor. They smelled, but hey...that's college. Over in the corner there were atleast ten beer cans piled by the bed, and there I was Beau Miles, sleeping away the last semester of college. The door opens and my roomie Carson burps loudly.
"Beau-u-tiful, that's your wake up call."
I can picture him now jumping on my head, giving me a nugie, pulling my hair, and hitting me atleast twice in the balls.
"Fuck off Car..." I would say.
We were both seniors and had been friends for years, but I never could get used to those damn morning wake-up calls. What a bitch.
"Classes started five hours ago man. You missed the stats quiz."
Kay Greenfield
There was a pile of clothes on the floor. I pursed my lips in annoyance as I let my eyes trail over the mass of clothes. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I crouched down slowly as if the very action itself took all my energy. I furrowed my eyebrows in disgust, my forehead creasing, as I wearily nudged a pair of briefs over to the side and away from me.
Philip’s. It had to be his. Well that answered the life alternating question. Boxers of briefs?
I snorted slightly at my weird attempt at humor as I rolled my eyes.
With my index finger and my thumb, I pinched at the bright orange shirt and pulled it gently from the pile. My frown deepened as I tossed it to the side.
I groaned and scratched my head in frustration at my childish behavior. They were just clothes. Grimy, filthy clothes that had been collecting on this floor for God knows how long. I rocked back and forth on the heels of my feet as I debated on whether to
Chrissy Faye
"Beau-u-tiful, that's your wake up call."
I can picture him now jumping on my head, giving me a nugie, pulling my hair, and hitting me atleast twice in the balls.
"Fuck off Car..." I would say.
We were both seniors and had been friends for years, but I never could get used to those damn morning wake-up calls. What a bitch.
"Classes started five hours ago man. You missed the stats quiz."
Kay Greenfield
There was a pile of clothes on the floor. I pursed my lips in annoyance as I let my eyes trail over the mass of clothes. Letting out an annoyed sigh, I crouched down slowly as if the very action itself took all my energy. I furrowed my eyebrows in disgust, my forehead creasing, as I wearily nudged a pair of briefs over to the side and away from me.
Philip’s. It had to be his. Well that answered the life alternating question. Boxers of briefs?
I snorted slightly at my weird attempt at humor as I rolled my eyes.
With my index finger and my thumb, I pinched at the bright orange shirt and pulled it gently from the pile. My frown deepened as I tossed it to the side.
I groaned and scratched my head in frustration at my childish behavior. They were just clothes. Grimy, filthy clothes that had been collecting on this floor for God knows how long. I rocked back and forth on the heels of my feet as I debated on whether to
Chrissy Faye
Feb. 12, 2007
The dog barked loudly. She turned, shocked.
Pit bulls were common on this side of town, but it still didn't make the experience of one, any less startling. The dog snarelled, and tried with all it's might to tear down the fence it was locked behind. Meat. I'm sure it would say if it had it's chance. Jules passed the dog cautiously. The fence didn't look as sturdy as one might hope for, but she was determined to find the right house. Coming to a street corner she stopped and stared up and down, decided on a right, and made her way. Three black men in old denim overalls made their way toward her. She edged to the side of the sidewalk and hurried pace. Though it was almost noon, Jules wasn't so sure that muggers only came out at night, and according to Cindy Larksen, two doors down, a black man'd do anything once.
She came closer and directed her attention straight ahead. Don't make eye contact, she thought, don't breath too loudly, and definitely do not stop walking.
The men passed by.
"Ma'am," said one tipping his hat.
Jules eyes followed the sound to a young man wearing a tan hat, then turned back to her feet.
She hurried pace, and did not reply.
Oh my gosh, oh no, they're going to kill me.
Kay Greenfield
2/12
The dog barked loudly. The sound echoed throughout the still night. A slight breeze whispered through the night as the lamp lights danced across the deserted street, an eerie glow illuminating the small town. I stuck close to the shadows, my breathing heavy and ragged. My heart was pounding mercilessly against my chest, the sound deafening in the night. Through the dead night, I was sure they could hear it pounding against my chest. I huddled closer to the wooden wall, my bare arms scrapping across the rough surface. My eyes swept over the area restlessly as I listened for even the slightest sound. I chewed at my bottom lip nervously, pulling at the chapped skin. Crouching lower to the ground, I winced as my shoes
Chrissy Faye
Pit bulls were common on this side of town, but it still didn't make the experience of one, any less startling. The dog snarelled, and tried with all it's might to tear down the fence it was locked behind. Meat. I'm sure it would say if it had it's chance. Jules passed the dog cautiously. The fence didn't look as sturdy as one might hope for, but she was determined to find the right house. Coming to a street corner she stopped and stared up and down, decided on a right, and made her way. Three black men in old denim overalls made their way toward her. She edged to the side of the sidewalk and hurried pace. Though it was almost noon, Jules wasn't so sure that muggers only came out at night, and according to Cindy Larksen, two doors down, a black man'd do anything once.
She came closer and directed her attention straight ahead. Don't make eye contact, she thought, don't breath too loudly, and definitely do not stop walking.
The men passed by.
"Ma'am," said one tipping his hat.
Jules eyes followed the sound to a young man wearing a tan hat, then turned back to her feet.
She hurried pace, and did not reply.
Oh my gosh, oh no, they're going to kill me.
Kay Greenfield
2/12
The dog barked loudly. The sound echoed throughout the still night. A slight breeze whispered through the night as the lamp lights danced across the deserted street, an eerie glow illuminating the small town. I stuck close to the shadows, my breathing heavy and ragged. My heart was pounding mercilessly against my chest, the sound deafening in the night. Through the dead night, I was sure they could hear it pounding against my chest. I huddled closer to the wooden wall, my bare arms scrapping across the rough surface. My eyes swept over the area restlessly as I listened for even the slightest sound. I chewed at my bottom lip nervously, pulling at the chapped skin. Crouching lower to the ground, I winced as my shoes
Chrissy Faye
Not so difficult to write a blog, though it seems a difficult thing to find just what to put in the beginning. I found this site from the AIM profile of a friend-of-a-friend and thought it might be an interesting way to record some my personal literary works. Everyday (or atleast as close to it as I can manage) I will be adding a ten minute story which begins with a sentence provided for me. The story's are 100% original material, and will not be altered in any way once my initial ten minutes are up. The first several blogs will be older material with there dates given. I have found this exercise to be quite helpful with the whole "writing schpeal" and would encourage others to try the same themselves. Thanks for reading and off to the fun stuff!!
Kay Greenfield.
Kay Greenfield.
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