Boarder Patrol
I'm cleaning up the apartment because I've got a boarder. Actually, there are two people coming. I'm told the woman is a butch lesbian who used to be a corrections officer. She has Joan Jett's autograph tattooed on her arm. I don't know anything at all whatsoever about her colleague. I'll find out tomorrow night when they arrive.
She had arranged housing for the week while they are in town to work on a project for Comedy Central. Sadly, when they got to that apartment, she says it looked like a crime scene so she sent out an SOS to her friends. That SOS was received by a dear friend of mine who had a front row seat to the miniseries that took over my living room a couple of years ago involving Gayle The Hillbilly Hustler, aka Cousin Rhonda Gayle Texas Ranger (Stonerdate 02.16.08)
As it happens, that episode was instrumental in the evolution of my character. Cousin Rhonda Gayle awakened my inner Texan. I had always been recognized as a Shiksa from the South, but back home in Texas, folks made fun of my New York accent. It was a relief and a delight to converse with someone who talked like me and whose world view was informed and distorted by life along the Texas/Louisiana border. I'm pretty sure a vein of insanity runs pretty deep along that border just like the Sabine River.
Rhonda Gayle was from there too. We went to the same high school, but we only met after corresponding for a little while on Classmates.com. I don't know if Classmates is a hotbed of grifter activity or if I just got lucky. I'm glad the whole thing wound up with me requesting that she pick up her belongings from the doorman who had instructions not to let her pass the front desk. It was a bit extreme, for sure, and Velvet was understandably pissed off at me for months over the incident - but it's not often that you get to give the doorman a memo saying someone is not permitted to cross the threshold complete with a mug shot cropped from pictures taken on Christmas morning.
And as it happens, I am once again at a defining moment in self-actualization. Last year, I found grace (Stonerdate 01.01.09). This year, I'm coming into my self. It must officially be the start of the holiday season.
The evites are out for the Eighth annual Gemini party, and I'm very excited to be reading at KGB earlier that week, too. All that before Velvet gets home for Thanksgiving. It's already warming up to be a festive year.
She had arranged housing for the week while they are in town to work on a project for Comedy Central. Sadly, when they got to that apartment, she says it looked like a crime scene so she sent out an SOS to her friends. That SOS was received by a dear friend of mine who had a front row seat to the miniseries that took over my living room a couple of years ago involving Gayle The Hillbilly Hustler, aka Cousin Rhonda Gayle Texas Ranger (Stonerdate 02.16.08)
As it happens, that episode was instrumental in the evolution of my character. Cousin Rhonda Gayle awakened my inner Texan. I had always been recognized as a Shiksa from the South, but back home in Texas, folks made fun of my New York accent. It was a relief and a delight to converse with someone who talked like me and whose world view was informed and distorted by life along the Texas/Louisiana border. I'm pretty sure a vein of insanity runs pretty deep along that border just like the Sabine River.
Rhonda Gayle was from there too. We went to the same high school, but we only met after corresponding for a little while on Classmates.com. I don't know if Classmates is a hotbed of grifter activity or if I just got lucky. I'm glad the whole thing wound up with me requesting that she pick up her belongings from the doorman who had instructions not to let her pass the front desk. It was a bit extreme, for sure, and Velvet was understandably pissed off at me for months over the incident - but it's not often that you get to give the doorman a memo saying someone is not permitted to cross the threshold complete with a mug shot cropped from pictures taken on Christmas morning.
And as it happens, I am once again at a defining moment in self-actualization. Last year, I found grace (Stonerdate 01.01.09). This year, I'm coming into my self. It must officially be the start of the holiday season.
The evites are out for the Eighth annual Gemini party, and I'm very excited to be reading at KGB earlier that week, too. All that before Velvet gets home for Thanksgiving. It's already warming up to be a festive year.
posted by PENolan at
9:27 PM
4 Comments:
HI TRISH_
Your life continues to have more color and spice. You are on a roll girl, as they say! (Who are "they" anyways)???
I think the 'Joan Jett' thing is creepy! :-)
Love you
Gail
peace.....
It's filled with lots of delightful silence also. So quiet I can hear the birds in the morning.
Color and spice, indeed. Joan Jett's autograph tattooed on her arm? You can't make that stuff up. At least, I can't.
This is bound to be a good story. Can't wait.
Sounds like an adventure to me. And what is an adventure but material for the likes of us. So gird you loins and await the hilarity that's bound to ensue.
Sorry to have been missing in action. Twitter just up and swallowed me whole. My head is out for the moment but like all good addictions, I'm bound to take it up again at any moment. Still, I've missed you.
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