It Ain't Easy Being Indian: February 2015

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ricey wild.jpgAt age 19, I became absolutely

unhinged. I had recently left an abusive relationship with a man it

was taken for granted I would marry; I thank all the Gods living and

dead that did not happen. The moment of truth crashed upon me the

morning I looked at my big, swollen bloody lips after being punched

by a man who professed to love me. “No one,” I said to myself,

“No one who loves someone would do this to someone they say they

love.” In that astonishing moment I was freed from misery, knowing

especially that I deserve better and I would settle for nothing less.

In the meantime and in between time

after becoming legal age, I morphed into the Club Queen I felt I was

meant to be. I missed out on the sweaty, glittery Disco days but

Prince and other amazing artists like Teddy Pendergrass, Rick James

and Teena Marie were smooving and so I began my glory days partying

to their music. I’m happy I have that to share at whatever bridge I

end up under if republicans get their way.

So … this one night I was wearing a

really sexy backless jumpsuit and talking to fine, FINE suave men at

the Yellow Brick Road Knight Klub and for some reason I became really

twitchy and uncomfortable while gabbing what I thought were

witticisms. I looked down toward my feet and saw one foot of

pantyhose dangling under the bottom of my attire. (Younger readers:

ask your Mom or Gramma what ‘pantyhose’ were. Absurd garment if

you ask me). I gasped and ran for the ladies room where I grabbed the

foot and pulled and pulled and pulled at least forty yards until the

entire hose was out. I had not noticed while hastily getting dressed

that the previous hose were still in there!

Ahem!!! Excuse me while I collapse in

hilarity at a most fond memory of my wild, unapologetic youth. I’m

pretty sure no one else saw it but I will never forget it and have

never taken myself too seriously after that. Trickster is real and

will get you, just laugh at your silly self, stay aware and go with

it.

The reason I share this most profound

(Ay!!!) – now public – humiliation is that it sort of happened

again, sort of. I am 30-plus years on past the Pantyhosegate episode

and it goes like this: my coworker did a favor for me by driving me

to the bank instead of the Risky Raccoon Kasino & Hot Tub Klub.

My innards growled just as we were to leave so I paid a visit to the

Doe’s outhouse before we left because I didn’t wanna embarrass

myself with inappropriate and possibly messy emissions. Tom, you are

welcome.

Then I sort of galloped as best I

could given my advanced years toward the truck but stopped beside it

because I felt something touching my left leg above my knee. I tried

to shake it out, did some badass Elvis/Michael Jackson moves too,

hey! I finally got the object down near the top of my boot and …

pulled and pulled and pulled!

Well, I will you spare yooz the

graphic description but I will say the tissue rolled out unsullied

and that is what sparked the memory of my previous dilemma with stuff

forgotten in one’s pants. Why can’t I ever forget or find money

in my pants? Oh, that’s right, I don’t have any. And I work.

All of that brings me to this: I’m

on Facebook most everyday and I read and share what I feel is crucial

information for the people whom have awakened and are fighting for

our beautiful planet and all its innocent, glorious and necessary

sentient beings of which humans are not counted as, in my opinion.

Back to Facebook now. On the right

column I see ads that I was initially amused by and scoffed at

because of their content. “I can handle love handles” sez one.

Whaa-aat??? Others offers cures for frequent urination, wrinkle

creams, meeting other ‘seniors,’ AARP offers, then shoes and boots

and my favorite cats and kittens. Hah? Really???

I became a bit paranoid like how did

all those corporations seem to know me so well or at least assume

they do? The answer came crashing down on me and while I really want

to deny it I can’t. It’s ugly, so very disgusting. ‘Every

keystroke you make every Javascript you fake … I’ll be watching

you … ‘ The Police. For real.

It is important to understand we are

not free. However, WE can discuss, organize and beat the Evildoers

down. We, the people. I’m so in, it’s worth it to me.

As for the snagging sites? Nah! I have

five cats and a super-dog for company.