7.06.2009

A play in one act: A Question of Licking.

Scene: two children, an eight year old boy and his five year old sister, over dinner.

Curtain warn...curtain rise.

Sassy: B, if you were something, would you lick yourself?

B: Heh?

Sassy (speaking as if to a toddler instead of her older brother, who is nearly as tall as his mother): If you were something, like a dog or a monkey, would you lick yourself?

B: I don't think so. I mean, that's gross, for one, and for another, why would I? I mean, except to clean myself. But not, you know, for fun.

[Sound of muffled laughter as mother tries to busy herself inside the refrigerator, stage left.]

Sassy: Well, why not? I think you'd probably like to, you know, if you were something, instead of a boy. Because boys definitely do not like to lick themselves. I mean, obviously.

[More muffled laughter, bordering on hysteria, from direction of refrigerator. Mother mutters joke punchline to herself, 'because they can,' and laughter becomes of face-cramping, tear-rolling variety.]

B: And anyway, I don't think I'd think about it so much, if I were an animal. If I needed to lick myself, I would just do it, and not discuss it all night.

moments later...

B: Eeeeuuuuuwwwwww...Mom! She just licked her hand and touched me! Gross!

Aaaaaaand....scene.

6.23.2009

Do you have a flag?


Though I frequently dream about being in Catholic churches, Eddie Izzard administering communion while dressed in a drag cassock was a first. It was purple, I believe, with a hot pink roman collar and silver accessories. As he offered the wafer, he seemed amused that one of his oft-quoted catch phrases also fit the occasion; I'm not sure whether it was "Cake or death?" or "Hoocha hoocha hoocha...lobster!" but either way, I'm quite sure it's sacriligious. But what are you gonna do? It's my dream, dammit.

I'm not sure why I dream about being in Catholic churches--I've officially been an ex-Catholic for close to five years, so the guilt would seem to have subsided by now. (HA! say all of you current or former Catholics. The guilt NEVER SUBSIDES. Welcome to the rest of your GUILT-RIDDEN LIFE.) The funny thing is, I still enjoy being within the physical confines of a Catholic church. My church is simple and lovely, and distraction-free which helps me in particular, because...ooo, look! Shiny cross!

But I do love a really old church--all intricate carvings, centuries-old stonework, tattered flags hanging, flying buttresses. I never think it's a distraction, more of an enhancement. I've been to Ireland several times and am pleased to report there are almost as many churches as pubs. Proximity is convenient should you have something pub-related to confess.

Eddie as a Eucharistic Minister though? While I'd love to see that, something tells me his application would be denied (or, you know, not submitted in the first place). Which is a shame. The purple/pink/silver combo was really striking.

6.17.2009

And, why, exactly, did this need to be put into words?

Random snippets of songs inexplicably whirling through my head today, and my educated guesses as to why:

Burn baby, burn...disco inferno! Burn baby burn...
(we have a family wedding friday night, and I think I'm subconsciously planning out my moves. Yeeeeahhhh, boyeeee....how YOU doin'?)

HU--UHEGHEEEEY! I feel good (da na na na na na na) I knew that I would now (da na na na na na na)
(I have clearly had enough fiber for the day. Diverticulitis: 0, Me: 1. HOO-AH.)

Didn't we almost have it all....A NIGHT to end...without...um...the morning....or something...
(Whitney Houston, get the HELL out of my head. The reason I don't know all the words is because you SUCK. Even though you're stuck in my head.)

You've got to get yourself together you got stuck in a moment, and you can't get out of it...
(Bono, you're my guy, but please stop. This is clearly about all the laundry I have to do today, and you're just stressing me out, rendering me even less productive.)

I never think about the future I just live for today (yesterday, girl...yesterday, girl...)
(Please see above, re: planning my moves, not doing laundry etc. But still! The Smithereens rock!)

Get up off your rumpah and do the damn laundry...HOLLA
(I just wrote it...what do you think? I'm sooo a hip-hop girl at heart.)

peace out, East Coast representin'