Received today:
“Dammit, am I bitter! Unless & until I can receive daily writings from Vonnegut, Robbins, & HST, you (and Pussy Ranch) are my fix.
I’m not asking you to pen a new “Gravity’s Rainbow.” Just write. Every day. It’s what you do, or have you forgotten?
Please don’t disappoint me…you wouldn’t like me when I’m disappointed….
So overlook the enormous crush I have on you & simply focus on being obscenely prolific so’s I kin git mah yaya on!!!
RedBeans&Ricely,
John W. Reader
(The “W” stands for “Bitchin'”)”
Goodgod. I�m competing with Pussy Ranch? COOL. Yessir.
No Fun Poopoo Time
Frannie and I are housesitting for my friend Supa this weekend, who has carried on my legacy and has four lovely chooks of her own that need to be locked up and let out at sundown and sunrise, respectively. Frannie and I took the bus over from the U after school on Thursday night, which requires us to walk about eight blocks from the stop.
We were about halfway there, when….
“I gotta poop, Mom.”
“Really?” I said, lightly, still holding onto hope that she could hold it. We were about three blocks away at this point. “Look,” I said, distractingly, “a flower!”
“UNNGGGH!” Frannie said.
“Can you hold it a little longer?” I said, weakly, hopelessly. Three more blocks which tormented me like the road to Hell. The neighborhood we were in was unrepentantly residential, and it was too light out to take her behind someone’s rhodies or onto their porch.
“I gotta…Mom!” Frannie crapped herself and then burst into tears. There was really nothing that could have been done about it. It was totally unexpected. I couldn’t, you know, catch the shit in my hands like I used to when I couldn’t get the droopy on fast enough.
Poor little thing was ashamed and began to do the same shuffle we all do when we try on shoes that are chained together, like in a shoe store.
“Can you make it home?” I said, convinced for realla that there is no god.
“No,” she said, and snuffled. I reassured her that she didn’t do anything wrong, and that hey, anyone would have crapped their pants in her position. I thought about picking her up, but, ick, poopie baby.
I settled for pulling her unda-wears off and carrying them in my hand like the handbag of the damned. Shit was smeared up my arm and joggers and dogwalkers were gazing at me and my weepy caboose sympathetically. I dropped the soiled drawers in the trashcan at the park between Supa’s house and the bus stop.
“Mom!” Frannie said. “Did you just throw away my panties?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?”
“I am not cleaning those mofos, dude.”
She started laughing then. I gave her a bath and I’ll bet she’s forgotten it already. Poor Miss Frannie. It’s hard to be three.
Spoken Like a True Oregonian (Which sounds dirty, but isn’t, somehow.)
My companion was off traveling today to an interview he has tomorrow, and I offered to take him to the Greyhound station. He is graduating in two weeks and I hate him for it, like a big nougat-filled chocolate-coated dolphin of Hate.
“I need some money for my ticket,” he said.
“Can’t you just use El Debit Cardo?” I am trying to integrate more Spanish into my everyday life; I suspect this will come in handy when I am librarianating up in the public librarie.
“I don’t want the government to know where I’m going,” he snapped. Hmm. Suddenly we were in the Bourne Identity or something.
“Ooo-kay,” I said.
“Well, I guess they’ll be checking my ID anyway…but I still want to pay with cash.”
Just make a tinfoil hat, baby.
Man, you are such a cool mom. My mom woulda growled at me and…i dunno. i was scared to death of crapping myself by an early age. So…will you adopt me? I’ve been a good kid, I deserve a good mom. 27 isn’t too old, is it? You’ll get all those compliments like “No way! You’re far too young to be her mom. You two are sisters. I know it” and you’ll feel all cool and stuff. And I hardly ever crap myself anymore.
Fearbiter: Okay! Tax exemptions! Woo!
Sometimes I lose my temper and stick it to Frenchie, but I draw the line with haranguing her about bodily functions. Everyone poops! Sometimes in the street…sigh.
As a card carrying member of VRWC I’ll let you in on a secret you can share with the companion:
All greyhound buses are driven by special CIA trained informants. Card or no card: we know where you’re going.
Oh, and we developed tinfoil penetrating technology back in the 70’s.
i can’t wait for the day when frenchie first googles herself!
hello, btw, i know we are ships in teh virtual night but just wanted to say hey and i’m thinking of ya and glad you’re still part of the bitches!
Jesus, that kid is only 3? Well fuck me running. They grow ’em big in Asshole Land.
And I could tell you some poop stories, but The Girl would throw me out. She finds that shit totally unfunny. So to speak.
But I will tell you about this time about eight years ago when I was dating this crazy hippie bitch who had a 5 year old with weird body issues, who once ran from their downstairs bedroom, all the way up to the bathroom on the second floor– naked, legs apart, leaving a perfect trail of piss across the floor, up the stairs, and into the toilet. And the kid screamed the whole way.
And I remember thinking– “You know, that right there is why this whole reproducing thing isn’t for me. Not to say it’s bad. It’s just not my cuppa.”
He he he he! Poop is COOL!!!
Man. She deserves praise for telling you about it to begin with. My middle son used to just make little bricks in his undies and then deny it. I was so grateful when he grew out of that. Nothing worse than having to be the poop police.
Aaaww…shucks. I didn’t meanta attack ya. Anyway, it doesn’t look to have done much good, in view of your LESS THAN DAILY postings since my rant.
Don’t be misled, I still dig your work. I just find myself increasingly inclined toward infidelity.
I suppose I should be honored (or shamed?) to have been featured so prominently in a blog so fine as yours, right? Keep writin’…I’ll be readin’.
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot: you’re not competing with Pussy Ranch…I love you both exactly the same!
SJ: You still are the coolest chick out there, and you really are “out there” LOL I have found myself to be kinda addicted to your crazy antics and wild things you rant and rave about in your column. Its way funny!! Your life is really funny, I suppose everyones is in there own way, you just have the greatest and funniest way of expressing it. Your daughter is lucky to have such a cool mom, poor her on the grandparent issue huh? lol, I like you enjoy my inlaws from afar, not so much up close….ya know? But you keep on truckin girl, you’ll get somewhere, and if not, your entertaining the shit outta me…..
oh, I just about shit myself I was laughing so hard. My daughter got out of bed to see if I was ok or if she needed to call an ambulance.