Oracle of Pendergrass - A Memorial Day Salute to the Officer and the Gentleman

I knew those huge Chiclet white teeth (Mr. T from the Letter People anyone?), winning shit-eater grin, and dorky over-thought pre-rose ceremony monologues reminded me of someone. Nothing like seeing the blond twin of a former flame (flame sans big muscles) on national t.v. to make you realize the truth - he totally cramped your style. No more guys with pleated khaki short-shorts or tapered jeans for this girl.

Thank You Lieutenant Andy! I freakin' love you.

You Never Even Call Me By My Name

You don't have to call me Darlin'. Don't worry, I won't.

Whenever I find myself reminiscing on past loves (an extremely loose term for 98% listed), I realize that I sometimes cannot remember their real names, but only by the nicknames they were so lovingly, and most of them unknowingly, given. Just to name a few:

Weiner (a.k.a Wingnut, a.k.a Dzor)
Fishbreath (a.k.a Aztec, a.k.a Dustruffle)
Old Balls
The P.M.S
Salmonella
Star Wars Trilogy
Newman
Arrrrrrryoukiddingme
TomP - as if there were so many Tom's (a.k.a Mot, a.k.a Dorito Digits)
Sniffs (a.k.a Panty Sniffer Paul, a.k.a PSP)
Public Defender (a.k.a The PD)
Clementine
Tee-yum
Peter (only his name was Grant, true story)

What's Your Damage?

Well, this month, my damage consists of a 4'x2' hole in my bedroom, and a 5'x3' hole in my den/living room (both roughly 7-8' deep). The cause? Disintegrated floor boards, and rotten load-bearing joists. Translation = expensive, inconvenient, bad. Basically my buddies over at Acme flooring told me that if I had waited another month, my entire apartment may have caved in on me...comforting. More comforting than near death, exposed earth in your living quarters, AND getting a running start to leap over large gaps to get from on side of the room to the next, are the young men who have been at my condo for the past five days fixing my floors.

I'm pretty sure one of them is tarnished from too much huffage on the varnish. He's kind of a cross between Forrest Gump and Slingblade, 25 years old at best, Napoleon Dynamite glasses, and the kind of spotty facial hair that a 13-year old tries to pull-off because "he can." Today I went to go retrieve, at my anxious mother's request, my "jewelry", and on my way out the door SlinGump says: "I would be very, very careful if I was you." Whaaaaaaaaa? Are my brakes going to mysteriously give out on my way back to work? Will I "accidentally" trip over a 2x4 on my way down the stairs? OR, maybe he was referring to the other floor guy. That's right, the one with peroxide blond hair, pale-skin, but really red from a good sunburn, goatee and mustache. The one in the white undershirt, just pudgy enough, and some slick white Nike tennis shoes with a metallic silver swoosh. The same one, who on Monday says to me (with a really coy/creepy smile): "You were that girl at Club Elevation the other night." First of all, not really sure the last time I went to a club where the word "club" was actually in the title. Second of all - "that girl?" Like, "that girl that pulled off the really tricky maneuver on the pole", or "that girl that took one too many shots and threw up in her purse", or "that girl that everyone noticed because her pants were too low and her thong was t-boning in the back" - which girl was I? Not having ever heard of Club Elevation before I explained that he must have me confused with someone else. He shook his head in a way that was saying "don't deny it, you were there too, feeling exactly the same way I felt. I'll tell you where I'd like to lay this wood..." Creeped out by the pretend conversation I had concocted, I suddenly had to get back to work. My mom was taking the afternoon shift to oversee the work, and wouldn't you know Blondie thought maybe he could work the mother angle and says: "I know I saw your daughter at Club Elevation the other night. I bought her a drink and she talked to me and my buddy the whole time. And now she's denying it." Uhhhhhhh, mom, don't get mad, it was just one drink. What the hell? You're ratting me out to my mom for something that I didn't do in some place that I've never been? You're thinking she'll feel sorry for you because I shunned you and try to set us up so you can buy me another drink? (and we know for "another" to happen that there technically has to be a first!) What's your damage, dude?

So aside from the other discomforts mentioned previously, I now have to worry about the fact that this guy is going to be a permanent fixture in my condo (at least for the next week), he knows where I hide my key, AND did I mention the really large holes in my bedroom and living room - large enough that if someone wanted to enter through the basement, find their way with a flashlight to my unit, that they could crawl up through my floors (think in the same vein as Gale and Evelle Snoats in Raising Arizona). Hey mom, if I go missing - it's probably safe to bet that you can try me at Club Elevation.