At 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.
