sluts


jackwild2wb

I saw the movie “Oliver!” 16 times when I was in 6th grade. I was obsessed with Jack Wild, who played The Artful Dodger. I knew every song by heart. I still know most of them and can sing them in character. Nancy, singing “As Long as He Needs Me”, Oliver sweetly singing “Where is Love?” and the Dodger singing “Consider Yourself At Home”…..  Fagan “I’m Reviewing the Situation”…..  I was so obsessed with Jack Wild that my friend Mamie and I would call the studio in LA where he was taping H.R. Puffinstuff, every day , several times a day, asking to speak to him. Mamie had her own phone line so the cost of  long distance from South Carolina to LA was of no consequence in our adolescent Jack Wild addled minds.  Finally, one day, the operator was so sick of us calling, she actually put Jack on the phone to us….. my god… imagine the shrieking screamfest that ensued….   when we were finally able to speak I asked weakly, “is this REALLY Jack Wild?”. He replied in that perfect cockney accent “who would it be if it ‘aint?”… more screaming and shrieking and crying on our end of the line.

He was cordial if confused about who the hell we were. He asked how the weather was in Carolina. I asked if he would come and be in our local Christmas parade. That’s all I remember. But god, the sheer determination of two adolescent girls still amazes me. We did it. We set our minds on talking to him and we did it.

Where is that girl? The girl with such determination? Such resolve. I guess she’s still in here somewhere. Still having various forms of hero worship. Occasionally brushing elbows with someone of some notoriety. I met Sam Shepard in a bar in West Virginia and in trying to act  all nonchalant like I didn’t know who he was I asked him “don’t you work at Jiffy Lube?”.. he was confused, looking a little scared and amused and then was very polite when I told him I was kidding. But he left the bar pretty quickly after that. My attempt at seducing him away from Jessica Lange thwarted.  I wonder still if he remembers that interaction. I can be a real ass at times.  I once took a personality test with one of the many shrinks I’ve had in my lifetime and she told me I tested as the most introverted person she had ever tested in her entire career. Funny eh?

UPDATE: Thank god I’ve aged a little better than old Jack, looks like life wasn’t too good to the child star… rest his soul….

jack-wild

 

The topic of the day. Let’s all say a few Hail Marys and begin shall we? First off, I’m really sad. Really really sad. I thought I had a handle on the relationship with the boy. Sadly, I think I have just been fooling myself. And making a fool of myself at the same time. Sad is a word I might tend to overuse in this post. I’ll try to think of synonyms like morose, bereaved, bitter, blue, cheerless, dejected, depressed, despairing, despondent, dismal, doleful, forlorn, grieved, heartbroken, heartsick, languishing, lugubrious, morbid, weeping, woebegone. And stuck in the pathetic fallacy.. okay that doesn’t really fit but I do like the way it sounds. And the pathetic fallacy is something I am totally into. 

I went to a party last night. A friend’s 50th birthday. He had rented a performance hall and had all his musician friends there playing. The group was a distinct split between middle aged men and 20 something goth boys and girls (birthday boy’s kids and their friends). First I wowed the middle aged men with my hilarious verbocity, my performance of my famous hit tune “Daddy Fucks Dobermans” and my dazzling good looks.  But then I found myself drawn to the 20 somethings with their purple hair, multiple piercings and tattoos.  The truth is I made an ass out of myself. As is often the case, when faced with a somewhat uncomfortable social situation I really crank up the “oh I’m so special” routine and unleash the ego into overdrive.  I gave the host a hug and left.

When I got home I called the boy about 50 times, after having called him about 50 times from the party where I was unceremoniously making a total fucking ass out of myself.  The boy was in a bar in a seedy part of town and not too thrilled with my idea of humor in calling him an asshole and having my new buddy at the party call him one too. But we were kidding.  Sorta. Anyway, after the additional calls made upon my return home, the boy relented and came over.  We listened to some Steven Wright and laughed but then the conversation turned to who he was doing the night before.  I realized I am right back in the same boat I was in back in October and that boat is a stinky, leaky piece of crap.  It’s dark, there are no oars, the engine’s blown, there is nothing but bleak echoing emptiness in that boat.  And a howling sea tosses it mercilessly against the rocky shore.

This story goes downhill from here so I think I’ll just stop while I’m ahead and say today I am at work and have to excuse myself from dealing with the public because if anyone even looks at me funny I am going to cry and vomit and fall on the floor flailing my limbs or clawing at my eyes……  it is that bad.

 

Where DOES it all end? Obviously it ends after all is said and done. After the fat lady sings. When pigs fly, when hell freezes over, when you move into upper management, when you’re marinating in soil and worms, when you’ve moved into shart mode, the jig is up, the farm is bought, the hellish sensation that you’ve been there before sets in, tax season grasps you by the balls and nails you to the desktop, the seratonin uptake inhibitor is neither uptaking nor inhibiting, in fact you are exhibiting on the downbeat, and the symphony is playing on and on. You’re toast. You’re so yesterday. Your mold is showing, your eyes have seen the glory of the coming, you bet the farm and your dog died too. You’ve gone to the dirt archives. The cat is on the bed. You’ve put the smack down on it all, you eat the big one, you eat the little ones too, and then they eat you. Repeat.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

I like what the.effing.librarian is saying here.  Teens don’t think librarians are cool.  Maybe they like us to help them with their homework or with finding their favorite books, but they do not think we’re cool no matter what age we are. I think we need to give up that ghost. I know I’m over it.

You will get what is coming to you. And it will be all the nothing you deserve. All the nothing you have given.  Because it is true that what goes around comes around. And flaming dildos will rain down upon your house when you least expect it – fiery projectiles in the night. Consider yourself warned. Sometimes you just gotta open up a good can of female rage on posers like you. Of course, the saddest part of it all is that I used to love you . I can’t believe I let it get that far. Just further evidence of my own poor judgement. 

UPDATE: Okay, I’m coming to my senses.  Anger is one of the stages of grief, as we know. I’m not throwing any flaming dildos at anyone’s house and I’m not a raging lunatic at the moment. Life’s too short to waste on regret and ill feelings. Sometimes things just don’t work out.  My reaction was severe as this was the first relationship I’d had in many, many years having just come out of a dead 10+ year marriage.  Like finding water in the desert and then having it taken away.

condoleeza.jpg

Not only that this woman could get so close to Condosleeza but that she had the restraint not to strangle her… and just look at Condi, probably worried about her hair or expensive suit getting messed up……