nevers backwards

playing in puddles

while walking to the L today, an SUV drove through a huge puddle on the side of the road, causing it to spray on/over me like a goddamn tidal wave.  my left side was completely soaking wet.  it was dripping from my face and everything!  and now i know what puddle tastes like… mmmm!  it reminded me of one of those movies about someone’s shitty day.  but then everything goes well in the end.  so who knows, maybe i’ll fall in love at the end of the night or something.  or end up with the bubonic plague from the mouth full of puddle water i drank.  but if i currently had to choose between the two, i actually can’t decide which one i would prefer.

at school, the kids and i did mad libs.  it was fun, except i kept having to remind them that there are other nouns besides “poop” and “butt”. but in the end, we came up with the most beautiful mad lib love letter you’ll ever read.

my friend gabe from work brought in his cousin to help out today.  his cousin is in from mexico and doesn’t speak english,  so some my kids decided they would teach him how to speak english while the rest of us worked on art projects.  they were so excited when he would repeat a word that they taught him back to them.

i didn’t hear all the words they were teaching him, but i bet he now knows how to say ‘poop’ in english.

closeout sale…

on this leatherface costume for children…

adorable!!!!!?

il tandre neu’s last show was a fun time.

i didn’t get a good view of the music video though.  i thought i had front row, but it turns out that they showed the video on the left side of the stage.  plus, i had the wheel chair seat, and i wasn’t about to give that up just to move to the other side of the room.  i tried wheeling my way there, but i guess people aren’t as sympathetic to pretend cripples as they are to the real ones.

i am starting to worry about myself.  i think a 15 year old could handle more booze than i could.  i had probably 5 beers, maybe 6, and by the end of the night i was in pain from trying to hold a conversation.  i was trying my hardest to make sense, but it just wouldn’t work!  it’s a bit embarrassing.  i’m going to have to start remembering to take on the listener role when i decide to drink more than 3 beers or 1 mix drink.

kolleen offered to let me stay over at their place, but i’ve never been a big fan of sleepovers.  i was in a good mood, so i decided to skip the bus and walk all the way to the blue line.  i realize that wandering alone through pilsen at 3 am isn’t the best idea,  and maybe it was the alcohol courage, but i just didn’t feel afraid.  besides, who is going to fuck with an iron deficient, 127 lb, semi-drunk girl?

today i played dodge ball and ate girl scout cookies.   oh yeah, and i argued with a girl about her cat.  she said that her cat can do the moon walk.  i think that’s bullshit.  i tried to explain to her that there is a big difference between the moon walk and just walking backwards, but she still insisted that she knew the difference, and that it is in fact the moon walk that her cat can do.  i still don’t believe her, but i like to picture it anyhow.

exit wound

go to this tonight! it’s il tandre neu’s last show. they are showing their new music video that their roommate lucy made for/with them. all i’ve heard so far is that the video is about love and magically changing clothes.

apparently it’s at empathy lodge, which is just a fancy name for kolleen, j, lucy, jill, and their other roommate whose name i can’t remember’s house.

kolleen thinks it’s her fault that the band is breaking up, so at least come to make her feel bad about it!

http://www.myspace.com/iltandreneu

p.s. if you come tonight, you might be able to receive a free sample of shania twain’s new fragrance, starlight. celebrate your inner star. here is the description- “inspired by a shimmering western sky. infused with the glamour that takes you from day to night…” kolleen got me a bunch from her work, and i don’t need them all.

black eyes and fancy dresses

from today:

from a long time ago:

this photo is not of a ghost of a battered child, nor is it of the ghost of a racist. it is of me and my aunt. my aunt is not a ghost, but i think she might really be a racist. anyhow, i actually had a real black eye that year, so my mom thought it would be really cute to incorporate it into my halloween costume. and she was right! i suspect it was also a clever way to evade DCFS.

here is a photo from a time when i actually seemed to enjoy wearing dresses, and a time when i desperately needed the size of my body to catch up to the size of my head. i wish i had a black eye for this picture as well.

**edited to say that my parents did not beat me when i was a child. my sister holly did, but it still isn’t clear how i got that specific black eye. i must have walked into a wall. and then fallen down the stairs.

when was the last time you cried?

true story from bridget’s survey-

9. When was the last time you cried?
When the cops harassed me about Dusty’s bullshit. The best was when one yelled in my face and asked me if i knew what a fugitive was and i said harrison ford.

this is why bridget is the best. she says things like that. all the time.

day off.

i recently bonded with two of the 2nd grade girls over the fact that we all watched american gladiators. i told them that my sister holly sometimes has american gladiator parties. they thought that was a great idea, and so they started planning for me to babysit the two of them in order to have one of our own. i didn’t really plan on it happening, but last week the mother’s of the two girls planned for me to babysit in order for it to happen. so when they asked me, i couldn’t say no.

so that’s what i did today, watched american gladiators on tivo with two 7 or 8 year olds. we ate food and discussed what our gladiators names would be if we were on the show. thinking of a good gladiator name is actually harder than it seems. i asked erica too, and she said her name would be “fly swatter”, and her catch phrase would be “you’re the fly and i’m the swatter.” i couldn’t even think of anything better. once we were playing a game where we had to pick our superhero names, and stacy said her’s would be “the defecater”. so i suppose i’ll just steal that name for now.

anyhow, after we watched american gladitors, another girl who lives next door came over. they decided they wanted to play barbies. they gave me last pick of the barbies, so i ended up with a ken doll with a missing arm, a bratz doll with no feet, and a naked ariel barbie with a round hair brush stuck in her rat’s nest hair.

i was given the mother role to act out with my barbies, and their barbie’s roles were to be my daughters. they were really disappointed and frustrated by how terrible of a mother barbie i was. one of the girl’s barbies was wearing bratz doll clothes, so as mother barbie i said, “daughter, you need to wear more age appropriate clothes”, so the girl who lived next door made her barbie respond, “i’m 26 years old”, to which i had my barbie respond, “well then it’s about time you moved out of my dream house.” this made the girl throw down her barbie and threaten not to play anymore. i actually was trying to play correctly, but they just have too high of standards.

we stopped playing barbies about 10-15 minutes later because one of the girls gouged my face with one of the tiny plastic barbie hands.

now i’m at home eating canned fruit for some reason. it’s actually not that bad. except for the grapes.

paperboy

open letters

AN OPEN LETTER TO
THE OCCUPANTS OF A HOUSE
ON THE NINTENDO GAME
“PAPERBOY.”

December 15, 2005

Dear Sir/Madam:

I am writing to apologize for causing damage to your property on “Tuesday,” when the newspapers I was attempting to deliver accidentally broke two of your windows, overturned your garbage cans, and, most despicably, unearthed a gravestone in your front lawn. The extremely hazardous and fast-paced sidewalk of the street you live on made my adrenaline jolt, and I had no choice but to pedal away, narrowly avoiding a tornado, the Grim Reaper, and that break dancer who hangs around your house. I’m not sure if he’s identified himself as a witness to the vandalism yet, but regardless, I am sorry. I suppose I simply do not know the strength of my forearm. Please feel free to write back if you require monetary reimbursement or any other assistance of mine. Also, if you see me pedal by during my route tomorrow morning, resist the urge to run out of your front door brandishing a butcher knife. It would really help out my stress level. Perhaps sometime in the future I will manage to deliver the paper to every subscriber on the block, and you might consider resubscribing to our outstanding newspaper. Once again, I deeply apologize.

Sincerely,
Leon Ferri

P.S. Please chain up your dog.