Tag Archives: Love

I’m Gonna Read Your Diary

2 Jun

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Cecil’s new theatre company is having a fundraising event with an open mic for the entertainment. Cuz Cecil is smart and knows, “why spend money on that shit when – if given the option – artists will whore themselves out for free.”

… She isn’t being greedy in this…the fundraiser will pay tech, talent and designers on their premiere gig…but this being a fundraiser means if you ain’t got the change, you can donate your art-things.

… All my change being deposited into the London fund, I only have the latter to give. And even that I was gonna decline participation in, only cuz open mics make me artistically hive. I need more distance and like a damn character between me and an audience…this gig is far too much like public speaking, of which I am awkward at, in the supreme.

…But that was before Cecil asked me to do a dramatic read from her 13-year-old-self’s diary.

I have done so before. In fact, thrice to several small gatherings I have shared it’s contents.

Because frankly, it is magnificent.

The first time was on one of our “Drunk Tuesdays,” so named from its original conception, on a Tuesday where we decided to drink too much, read some plays, wander to the corner gas station for Scratch Lotto tickets and candy, and spend the walk back dreaming of the flat we’d buy in London with the winnings.

…We had so much fun doing this on a stupid day of the week where one generally does nothing, and not winning all the things we scratched, that “Drunk Tuesdays” became a thing…generally whenever we needed one, no matter the day of week.

… So it was on one of such nights, that Cecil began to talk about this boy she’d obsessed over at age 13, and this diary she’d kept over a short few month span. Would I like to read it?, she’d asked.

…And so, on what would turn out to be the next “Drunk Tuesday,” Cecil jumped off the couch, squealed that she’d just remembered something, and ran out to her car. There she had been toting what she called, “The Donovan Diaries,” which she’d gotten her mother to dig out of her childhood bedroom and send her.

… Already, it was amazeballs. Built by hand, with outer covers of black sparkle construction paper, hole-punched and loop-tied with ribbons, filled with about a half centimeter of ruled paper, partially filled in with multiple – colored writing, each color claiming it’s own diary entry, complete with a Prologue of who this was for, when they could read it, what they were to do with it after, and hints at occasional super secret codes and their super secret keys to them, somehow within a reason unknown, to be kept within these same sheets.

… And so: we read. In tag-team style. With a dead seriousness, and solemnity of truth that we all wished, at that age, to be taken with.

… And we did this, in between ugly-faced crying laughter from the audience’s side. Because there just was no other way to receive it.

…Because goddamn it, the strategy to getting and holding a “man’s” attention, knowing what to do with it when you have it, trying to deal with not wanting it when it is there, but do when it isn’t, and all the complications which come with this, are even funnier when you haven’t learned enough to laugh at yourself about it yet.

… And so, for reasons of sheer embarrassment, and truthfulness, Cecil has charged me with the task to stand at an open mic, not on a “Drunk Tuesday,” and share her humiliations with earnest solemnity.

… And I will.

… And the people will cry with joy.

… Because 13 or 23, you couldn’t buy a Cecil, and the brain it comes with, for a million dollars.

… But you can try your best, at the tip jar.

~D

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On The Piss…Then Off

1 May

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I shall survive! This MONSTER bout of general grossness from seemingly all walks of my life, up to (and including) my Birthday, is almost over.

…And now that I am finally coming out of this two week cycle of woe…like passing a really shitty kidney stone from hell…I can report that the world is not ending after all…while showered and shaved, dyed painted and plucked…sitting in some sunshine. 

…Sure, I’ve gained weight back…which is to be expected when you spend three days and nights on-end eating everything you can get your hands on, and getting pissed on every kind of fermented substance known to man.  But it’s over and done…I survived the bitch, and it’s time to collect myself, and hit the waves of “better things” now.

It all began on Saturday night.  This was when I closed the latest show with a particularly terrible performance, possibly due to the collective 4 hours of sleep I’d had in the past 24 hours leading up to it.  Or possibly not.  Maybe I just blew it full-turkey-out-the-ass all on my own.  I dunno.  But I’m never one to just roll over and let those kind of things just run off my back, whether it’s my actual fault or not.  This only put more fuel behind the next 12 or so hours of supreme hormonal meltdown, leading into my 34th birthday on Monday.

…It basically ended in a Nora Ephron comedic sketch of me blubbering to myself in between hot flashes, whilst refusing anything to do with celebrations by anyone with good intentions, and instead closeting myself away in pajamas, to watch nonstop film alone, on loop, and consider the travesties of my youth, with a bottle (or several) of booze…and how I’ve accomplished nothing I set out to, or will, and I might as well eat this pizza and get even fatter, cuz who cares?

I like to call it “Bridget Jonesing.”

…Add to that the fact I’m pretty sure I was (and am) peri-menopausing on top of it.

…Like an idiot, I did research online. This is ruinous for people like me, with anxiety issues that won’t sleep for weeks at a time cuz a zit on my elbow might actually be a cancerous growth I don’t know about yet, but am too scared to really check out.

…So I fester.

…Only lately, it’s been: “fester and sweat.”

…Now, don’t get me wrong, I have always been a clammy sweater. Its in the Latino DNA. Only for the past…oh…year or so, I’ve had these random night-sweats-from-hell that I try to pretend aren’t really there. Except when they wake me at 3 am because I have to strip every fucking thing I’m wearing due to the fact they are doused and soaking wet with sweat. It’s been really special…lemme tell you…

…And as my BD got closer, and I brought it up to Ma, she was all, “Well, yeah…I mean, me and two generations back all had hysterectomies by your age…so who KNOWS when menopause hits this side of the family?”

…And I said, “ARE YOU TELLING ME ON THE EVE OF MY 34TH BIRTHDAY THAT I AM MENOPAUSAL?!?”

…And she said, “Well…maybe peri…”

…And I said, “I STILL GET ZITS ON A REGULAR BASIS! I’VE BEEN DYING THE WHITE FROM MY HAIR SINCE MY MID TWENTIES! I JUST FINISHED PLAYING MOTHER TO A MAN THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME!! ARE YOU BEING REAL RIGHT NOW?!? HOW IS THIS FAIR?!?!”

…And she said, “Reasons.”

…So, needless to say, after a really shitty performance, in my really not best show, with streaks of white waiting to be dyed out of my temples, a bitchingly horrid period, and (apparently) peri-menopausal sweats, I decided to be terribly terribly depressed on the day of my birth.

I’m usually anxiety bound…so this was a new thing. It sucks too. Especially the involuntary bursting into tears bit. You know…the, “I should take a shower, but what’s the point, I’m fat anyway…my back hurts like I’ve been punched in the kidneys…I think I’ve bled so much I may have turned anemic and SUNOFABITCH it’s HOT IN HERE!”

…That kind of thing.

…Wrapped up in: ” All my LIFE I wanted to be EQUITY and pro, doing only theatre by age 35, and now its only one year away and I’ll never make it…or if I do, I’d only work like once every five years…there aren’t enough houses here to support it anymore…and I’m a coward…totally unlike The BFF who just opened her first solo company in freakin’ New Orleans last week…you know…cuz she SAID so…and also, no matter WHAT I do, these last ten pounds just won’t go away. It’s like my body is STARVING for the fat…to keep it warm and sweaty (apparently)…also my mood swings could basically be categorized as step-one bipolar disorder…if that’s even a thing…and I’m in my mid-thirties…and STILL struggling to pay bills and live life and figure out my head…and sometimes am maybe a little lonely…but never enough to deal with the shit that people have to deal with when they come in twos…”

…And also: “CHOCOLATE!”

…And, “Maybe I need some sex IMMEDIATELY, or at least more often…or maybe not ever again. But definitely salt. Like NOW!”

…And, “How DARE my mother call me menopausal! Peri or otherwise!!!’

{gentle sob}

…It’s been an interesting few weeks, to say the least. And by “interesting” I mean: “viciously feminine and horrifying.” And though the actual REAL heat outside is not helping my body’s imaginary already over-indulgence, the sunlight does. So I’m trying my best to use it as a guide…to get out in it and sweat more (on purpose) and hydrate like a sonofabitch…and try, try, try to find the humor hiding in all my personal little woes. It’s there. They are the original basis of Rom-Coms (minus the love story bit)…which is totally fine with me…cuz I obviously have enough shit to deal with right now without adding secondary subplots into the mess.

…And whatever all THAT means/achieves in outting crap for some better self mental-help: so be it. Consider it writ. You can now commence to make fun of me. Meanwhile…I’m packing up and going for a walk. Like a person.

Hurrah for me.

~D

The Biggest Guy

25 Jan

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There’s a story from when I was just a little thing of a human…

…In the small town Gram, Gramps and my Aunts and Uncles lived in, was this old grocery store…always smelled of freshly butchered meat from the back stalls where the bright red beef layered in lines just off from the pork and chicken, amongst the garnish greenery…where every conceivable household tool, lightbulb, baking good, camping supply and candy type was somehow crammed into this tiny space on the main street, serving as that old timey type of country general store.

…Precious little has changed in it even now, decades upon decades after…probly even still owned by the same people, where Gram could somehow cash a check, get stamps, buy the brisket and catch up in all the town news, while they opened the brown paper bag for filling.

…And it was there that, as on many occasions, mom stopped one day on the way to visit Gram and Gramps, to pick up something-or-other needed for dinner. Walking through the backdoor access by all the meat, with the smell I knew so well, wafting after me, I pealed through the aisle almost instantly…(a thing Mom never let me do, but apparently I had far beat her into the store,) yelling out as I went, “Uuuuuncle Biiiig Guuuuy!!!” For my uncle at that time worked there, and I’d just seen him from the back of the store.

…And I’d ran to him and he’d pick me up, tall as a giant Swede (the only one of the six brothers and sisters who’d inherited the gene, left mostly served with the small Irish stock), and red-faced or not, he made a big to-do over me, cuz I was the first niece, and totally spoiled, and knew it.

“Hi Boo!” He’d said…his nickname for me hailing from Boobear…

…Little did he know at the time of course, but he took one for the team that day…as all his buddies forever and ever afterward…all through high school and the years and decades to follow after, would call him “Big Guy,” with not hidden smirks on their faces. A family nickname, but not generally known to the outside world. And I had outted it.

…It fit, cuz it was true.

The Biggest Guy, in all the good ways. Everybody always agrees. Sure brawn, and sturdy…but big in laughter with the biggest sense of humor and the biggest giving heart…biggest creative juices, and always always always the biggest champion and protector of the little guy…whoever he may be.

…Age doesn’t change things like that. And it’s nice to know that sometimes…sometimes it happens in this life that a hero never slips from his place of height in your heart. Sometimes they manage through all the hell and high water that life throws at them, to still retain that bigness of character and humor and well- earned devotion, which first gained them their hero title to you…all those years ago.

…And you know what…he’s never once lost it. Not for any of us. Even last time we visited, crowing the end with the giant bear hugs he gives the best. At 33, I still squeezed him with all my guts and said, “Love you, Uncle Big Guy!”

…”Love you, Boo, ” he squeezed back.

…And that, today, is my last memory of him. Because I chose it to be, instead of in a hospital bed in an ICU ward, somewhere in Portland…where family has been sitting vigil and praying…and he has been fighting and winning small battles for his life, and his son, for nearly two weeks.

The Biggest Man I ever met…in morals, and life value, and being a good human…and father…and brother and uncle…the Biggest Man I will ever know, decided it was enough today, and passed away.

The sink in my gut and tear at my heart is completely irreparable. And because of how he lived his life, I am certainly not the only griever at a total loss of capacity to understand the how and why of it.

Uncle Big Guy, in the sky:

Thank you for your youness, the ten hundred thousand laughs, the nips of Jack Daniels, the peace of the farm life, and every twisted, hilarious way of looking at the ordinary and finding the extraordinary. You’ve taught me endless everythings in how to be a good human and appreciate every ounce of life we are given…to the fullest. I’ll try to do better. And laugh more. Always.

Love so full, it hurts,

~Boo

I Don’t Have To, Cuz It’s M’Birthday

28 Apr

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I’m terribly busy with this glass of wine, reading my new books.

…Portland OR, and Powell’s are to blame, but I think it was in the end inevitable that I would want to blow off any real blogging for the day.

It’s my Birthday.  I don’t have to.

…So there.

More will be revealed later, when I feel ready to peel my eyeballs from my new toys.

Right now, I want to be selfish and just go back to playing.

…So I’m gonna.

…And it will be good, and informative, and funny, and dramatical, by turn…depending on whatever it is I am consumed in at the time.

…But right now, I’m consumed in washing my face, and brushing my teeth…so I can snuggle up in bed with glossy pages, and funny Brit accents, and Joss Whedon anecdotes, and Hedda Hopper bitchings, Nazi flounderings, Midwifery, and period English Drama in real, live, paper book form.

Birthdays are awesome.

…Even 33rd ones.

~D

Dear SWAL (A Special Edition)

8 Mar

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An unheard of sneak peek into the Marty realm of workness.  Today we are listening LIVE to her and her Boss’s webinar meeting with 12 subscriber women (of their product.)

…As a ghost, I have full access to her written responses as “Support Diva” (fielding comments and calls) as well as hear both of their responses as the questions come in. This is open playing field, everything on the table, no topic forbidden, no comments filtered.

…Her Boss just signed on, eager to “get ‘er done,” as he has a hot date with the gym directly after.  Marty is currently tempering him for the remaining minute before broadcast.

The ticker is counting down the seconds…

…He is reading Star Trek “didja knows” to pass the time.  Apparently some Vulcan dude couldn’t do the finger “v” thing and had to have his fingers glued to get it done.  Useless information for the day #78.

…And…we…are…live!

***

“Lets do this!  Lets rock and roll!,” says Marty Boss.

…He explains the low-down, point of call, rules and regulations and so it goes.

“I’m 24 and never had a relationship last longer than one date…there’s this guy…there’s a 13-year age difference…I’m really interested…am I too young for him?  I’ve asked him out, he is always busy, or whatever, but brings up another time to get together that might work…”

Answer: I’m gonna say if you’ve never had a relationship longer than one date, that a 13-year age difference isn’t going to help you. There is a lot more of experience on his end, obviously. My question is WHY haven’t you had one last longer than one date?

…He asks her to define her stance, she provides that her lifestyle is super busy and work-heavy.  He suggests not going at it like a long-term deal, think of it in terms of just one date.  Then the next date.  Less worried about long-term.

***

…Later…

“If you’re dating a couple of guys, how do you let one down the kindest way, to pick the other one?”

Answer: Don’t lie. Just tell him the truth. It hurts, but trying to be nice can often be the meanest thing you can do. False hopes, not knowing where you stand. Don’t say too much, he might look for an angle to get back in…don’t be super specific, just truthful and straightforward and end it.

***

…Later…

“I just got out of a bad 4 year relationship, my first big one, and don’t know if I’m miserable because I was used to it, or if I really hurt and miss him. Then I kissed this guy at work and…”

Answer: I’m gonna say you’re not ready yet, you probably shouldn’t quite be out looking for a boyfriend at the moment. First of all, dating someone at work is almost always a bad idea, I’d take 6 months and give yourself a “no dating” policy…not that you can’t date or sleep with someone, but don’t FOCUS on it. 4 years is a long time…spend some time with yourself, do what you need to for you, recognize what you really want, give yourself time to heal from the last relationship…yes, it feels like death right now…but it isn’t…it will get better…you will be fine. Let yourself go through the pain…the pain is okay…I’m against “depression”…but pain is going to happen…just give it time. You don’t have to jump at the first “next” thing. You will find someone else…it WILL happen…you don’t need to rush it…it will happen when you are ready.

***

…Later…

“Do you have any suggestions for female police officers? It’s sometimes hard to get a date, it’s a turn off for a lot of guys when you tell them what you do, but seems withholding if you DON’T tell them.”

Answer: I don’t know that I’d put that just up front…maybe keep it to something like, “I’m in law enforcement” but not get big into the details. This is a tough one. I can see how it might spook them if you make that your dating profile and whole personal identity about being a cop…focus more on what you are passionate about…other activities, things you are into…so they get to know other sides of you as well. I’d save the whole “cop” thing for maybe the third date…far enough down the road to where they know other sides of you as well and therefore have a better balanced view of who you really are.

***

…Later…

“What does it mean when the sex is really good and lasts long…like over an hour…but he doesn’t come?”

Answer: It could mean any number of things. Could be drugs, could be masterbating too much. I doubt highly it has anything to do with you. If the sex is good and passionate and personal…then there’s nothing wrong. He’s lasting an hour…he OBVIOUSLY is attractive to you, if he is attentive and you feel good…then I wouldn’t worry about it. Some guys just take longer. You hear a lot about “premature” ejaculation…but almost no one talks about long-term as a “problem.” Which it isn’t. Sometimes you may just need to finish in “other ways.”

***

…Later…

“Is it okay to give kinky sex on the first date?”

Answer: Yeah, you can. Just know that in doing that, you are setting the precedence for the relationship to be a sexual one, not necessarily personal. It’s fine, just know that. There is nothing wrong with just looking for sex…I’ve had that before, lots of people have…”this is just this thing…just a play thing…it is what it is, and that’s all.” But just know what that means. I don’t suggest people looking for a “relationship” to have sex on the first date, at all. But if you realize what you are getting into, and are okay with it: go for it. Have fun.

***

…Later…

“Where do mature over 40 ladies go to find arty guys who are straight?”

Answer: (Marty here)….As a performer myself, I gotta tell yuh, there are a LOT more straight guys in the theatre than you think. (Marty Boss)…I agree…I used to do theatre, and I gotta tell you, as a straight guy in theatre, I dated A-LOT. You should just embrace the lifestyle. DO theatre, get INTO the arts…if you are there and in it, meeting people, you’ll find the men with that common interest.

***

…Later…

“If a guy says he’s straight, but has experimented with another guy, is he gay?”

Answer: No. I think you’d be hard to find almost anyone who HASN’T experimented with the same sex at some level at some time. That doesn’t mean that is necessarily how they identify themselves. These are also only labels. Some people are gay, straight, bi…what does that mean? Sometimes that is a personal identifyer, sometimes it isn’t. That’s like when women ask me if a guy wanting to do anal makes him “gay.” Of course not. It’s just something he enjoys…for whatever reason…it doesn’t mean an entire lifestyle change, it’s just a sensation/motion, or whatever that he enjoys or wants to try.

***

…After one hour, they begin to wrap-up with the final low down. But not before a highly interesting and intriguing experiance on my part. Actually learned lots, and nodded much from my little “amen corner.”

…Meanwhile, a last little insider for the lady-curious. (Adults ONLY.) Try www.danejones.com. Just won the “Feminist Award,” for best porn…highly suggested by Marty’s Boss, as, “a realistic porn site, where ladies actually look like they are having a good time for a change.”

…We apparently can thank the UK.

…And that’s this month’s Dear SWAL.

Learn and enjoy.

😉

~D

F%@$ You, Downton Abbey!: A Love Letter

19 Feb

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**Spoiler Alert**

If you haven’t yet watched the finale of Downton’s Season 3, then stop reading now…or I will ruin your life. 

…If you have already seen it: Julian Fellows ruined our lives, and this is the part where we grieve together.

First of all, Marty kept it secret for a whole week. 

…I’d gotten her the season for her Birthday, which she dutifully ate up, then drew blood on a continual basis by biting her tongue about what happens.  She was supposed to have brought the discs to our Friday Girl’s Night, but had forgotten them at home, so we both stewed, then got over it, then went to see a film which made us forget everything but awesome stuff.

…Regardless of how amazing Maggie Smith is, this still meant that I was gonna have to wait until at least Monday to see what the rest of the world was already going to know, by late Sunday. No cable, means streaming ability only, (thank you Masterpiece), and work, plus rehearsal meant it was gonna have to wait until late.

…And it did.

…And then I got really pissed.

…And used some choice words that apparently Dame Smith finds particularly appealing in her own personal lexicon.

…But before all that, I needed to follow through on a promise. A blood oath with Marty that I would hook in, as soon as the episode began, and IM her my immediate responses she would have been able to SEE, had she remembered to bring the damn discs last Friday. Which (because of the interactive way I tend to watch television anyway), became a mass flood in stream-of-consciousness updates yelled at both her, and the TV screen.

I include it here as follows:

**

Me Text: And Downton begins…

Marty: Ooooohhhh my Jesus!! Do you know what happens already?

Me Text: Nope. Surprised it’s a year later, automatically.

Me to TV: Ooo. Alternate intro. Mixin’ it up, kids…!

Marty: She’s pregnant!!!!

Me Text: Yup. 🙂 The end spoiler last week showed it though.

Me to TV: Well, they can’t kill off Mary, so it won’t be that. But something not right is gonna happen with the baby. Obviously. To freak everyone out about it. Bet it comes way early or something…

Me Text: It’s gonna be a Preemie…just know it.

Me to TV: Wait. Maid-chick-what? Nope. Bitch, step down!

Me Text: Crap. Branson and a maid. Crap.

Marty: I know. You see her and you are like, LAY OFF BITCH.

Me to TV: Dude, don’t be an idiot stereotype. Stay AWAY from the Help! Know your place!!

Me to TV: Meanwhile…A castle. With actual turrets…!

Me Text: Hello Scotland. Yes, please.

Me to TV: Party times! Boss is out!! Lets bust out of here everyone, and add some color into our wardrobes!!!

Me to TV: Shit. Everyone is gonna be gone from the house. Something’s gonna happen to the house…!

Me Text: If the house burns to the ground or something while at the fair, I’m gonna lose it.

Me to TV: Oh. Wait. Wait. Mrs. Crawley’s gettin’ all hit ooooon….

Me Text: Ahhh…Matthew’s Mama and the Doc. Bomb-chicka-bow-wow.

Marty: I know. Right?!?!

Me to TV: Oh dear lord in heaven. TWO Mrs. O’Briens. Save us all…

Me to TV: God. Mary, whhhhy must you allllways be suuuuuch a biiiiiitch.

Me Text: Mary is suuuuuuch a bitch.

(My stream freezes as Downstairs are collected looking out the window at a twitterpated Mrs. Patmore. I cuss. I doodle with the computer. I reboot and reset.)


Me Text: My stream just died. Trying to start over and skip to the same part. Fuck.

Marty: Nnnnnnooooooooo that’s not cool!!!! What part are you at?

Me to TV: Fucking computer and it’s fucking…oh…there. Ok. That works-ish I guess.

Me Text: Got it goin’ but had to go back a bit. Bates and Anna and the smoking peppermint.

Me to TV: I love you Bates’ so much…why haven’t you made babies yet?

Me to TV: …And back to the “borrowed” Jane Eyre plot point of the dude with the crazy wife no one knows about…

Me Text: Poor Edith and her shitty men. YOU’RE ALREADY MARRIED, JAGHOLE!

Marty: I know, but not really. I mean he shouldn’t have to suffer with an insane wife for forever. I mean, she doesn’t even know who he is.

Me Text: He shouldn’t. But she deserves better. Wow. This is like the “everyone hooking up with everyone else” episode…

Me to TV: (Totally cracking up and repeating:) Daisy: Mrs. Patmore? Why not? She’s a woman, ain’t she? Thomas: Only “technically”…

Me to TV: Establishing shot to die by. Lookit that! Lookit it!!

Me Text: Scotland is ridiculous. I want to go to there.


Marty: Yes it is!!!! And we will go there!!

Me to TV: Ohhhh! Shut up, shut up…romancing by a hot Doc…and she has like no idea what is ahead…but I do!

Me Text: A date! With the Doc!!

Marty: Holler!!!

Me to TV: OMG. Anna. Why are you so freakin’ adorable? Lookit her. Learning to reel. How fucking cute is she??

Me Text: I love Anna 🙂

(Computer stream freezes and jerks. And starts. And freezes again. And then goes. Kinda.)


Me Text: Dammit. Keeps freezing the stream…

Me to TV: Oh shit! Thomas is getting the living crap beat out of him!! Dude, Mason MOVE YOUR ASS!! Go get someone you freakin’ idiot!

(Stream freezes again.)

Me to TV: STOP IT!!! YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING!! WORK, GODDAMN YOU…!!!

(The stream freezes one last time, jiggles, pops and goes on seamlessly once more.)

Me to TV: And about fucking time! Now. Where were we. Oh. Yeah. Mason just standing there like an asshat while Thomas bleeds all over the place for him.

Me to TV: Oh…Carson and baby Sybil…how gross-cute is thaaaaaat?

Marty: Ahhhh you’re killing me. What part are you at?

Me to TV: Damn. Forgot Marty…

Me Text: Butler and the baby. Thomas just beat up. Anna about to show her stuff, I bet.

Marty: Carson and the baby is the fucking cutest thing ever.

Me Text: OMG. So cute 🙂

Me to TV: And Mrs. Hughes. I love them. They need to follow THAT love story line. It was TOTALLY there during the cancer scare and then just dropped off to nothing immediately.(Laughing and repeating) Mrs. Hughes: Lovely to see you cherish the wee bairn. Carson: No need to get all sentimental about it…

Me to TV: Men. In. Kilts. Thank you God. And Julian Fellows…

Me to TV: Who’d have thunk there could be someone to try and out-O’Brien, O’Brien?! It’s like evil, squared!

Me Text: Shit. That’s a good slug of whiskey.

Me to TV: Shit. I want a good slug of whiskey…

Me to TV: Oh, here it comes!

Me Text: Anna 🙂

Me to TV: Lookit him look at her…lookit that faaaace. Ohhh…and how he says that thing about…Go! Go and make babies you two!! I demand it!!

Me to TV: …And the part where Mrs. Patmore doesn’t get, at all, that she is being “used.” Stupid women…

Me Text: Alfred’s gonna be the new cook I bet. Geeze they are packing this episode FULL.

Marty: They have so much to cover. But I love that Mrs. Patmore is like, “Of course a man can cook!!”

Me to TV: What are you doing? Who do you think you are you little…Back it uuuup! Back! It! Up!

Me Text: GET AWAY FROM BRANSON U SLUT!

Marty: I KNOW!!!! HE’S SYBIL’S AND ALWAYS WILL BE.

Me Text: I know!!! Oh. Contractions!

Me to TV: … And so it begins. What new hell have you in store for us now, Downton Abbey…?

Me to TV: Meanwhile, of course. Have to “replace” the spirited dead daughter with another person who wants to be just like her, only is annoying, cuz she ISN’T her.

Me Text: I don’t want Rose at Downton. Dammit.

Me to TV: Oh. Mrs. Hughes. Can I keep you? I love that woman. So much. She’s just the best of everything that is good. Listen to her Branson, she knows what’s what.

Me Text: Mrs. Hughes…such a good woman.

Marty: I love her so much. She’s so smart and observant.

Me to TV: Shut up! I’m not crying just cuz he is…and she’s all there and comforting him and…shut up!

Me Text: I know. Baby Born!

Me to TV: Well. That was anti-climatic. Which just means some NEW kind of awful will be taking place. It won’t be Branson now…so is it the house? Is it one of the 11 romances flying through the air? Is it something at the Scottish castle? If something happens to Anna or Bates, I’m gonna kill myself… DAMMIT, Downton, you EXHAUST ME!

Me to TV: Dear Matthew, WHY do you INSIST on seeing “good” in that bitch wife of yours? She’s awful.

Me to TV: (Repeating with a scoff) Mary: I wish everyone else could see me the way you do, and not the way Edith and other people do… THEN STOP BEING A BITCH, MARY. IT’S KINDA REALLY EASY!

Me to TV: Driving. Driving fast. Oh shit…

Me Text:–Driving fast. Shit. No. Shit.

(Aaaaaan the whole Downton world implodes. With it’s eyes wide open, lying in a ditch. I actually, physically, stand up.)

Me to TV: FUCK! YOU! JULIAN! FELLOWS!!!!

Me Text: FUCK YOU, JULIAN FELLOWS!!!!

Marty: Bad. Bad. Bad.

Me to TV: Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??!?!?!

Marty: (Like she could hear me.) RIGHT?!??! IT’S NOT OKAY!

Me Text: FUCK. YOU.

Me to TV: …I can’t even…SERIOUSLY??!?!

Me Text: Fuck! Yoooooooou!!!

(Inward sob.)

Marty: Apparently we have to say that to Matthew. He didn’t renew his contract cause he wanted to move on so they had to kill him. BUT IT’S STILL NOT OKAY.

Me Text: Fuck them all!!!

Marty: Fuuuuuuuucccckk it. How could he do that to us?!?!?

Me to TV: Stupid Actors, and their stupid careers!!!

Me Text: I am a Hulk of anger!!!! SMASH!!!!

Marty: Rrrrraaaahhhh!!!

(I sulk on the couch and yell at the credits rolling on the TV.)

Marty: You got so happy didn’t you. So fucking happy and then they took your heart and ripped it out.

Me Text: Those bastards.

Marty: And we have 10 fucking months until the next one.

Me Text: Fuck. Fuck. Just. Fuck.

***

…Which soon after ended our correspondence because I felt I needed to go to bed…being almost midnight-thirty.

…But then, I was too wound up to sleep (of course.) So instead, stayed up til 2 a.m. watching every. freakin. piece. of. supplemental. Downton. materials. I. could. find.

…Until I finally, finally fell asleep.

…And that’s the way it went down. In real-time.

The end.

~D

Dear SWAL 1.0

19 Nov

image

It’s time for another installment of Marty’s Job Goes Viral. 

…For those of you just joining: read last month’s edition here.  For our frequent patrons: enjoy another select group of sexually frustrated and emo-fucked relationship questions, answered by yours truly.  These actual texts, IM’s and emails sent to Marty’s day-job inbox, are the top ten reasons we’ve found this month (in no particular order), of why working in the sex industry isn’t as glam as it seems.  (With all their original spelling and sentence structure.)

…These people exist, friends. 

And they are breeding. 

(Or at least are trying to.)

…God help us all.

***

Question: “From which planet u come from dear u re amazing u know how and when to say it. I like this topic u sent me, It’s a bomb ,sent more And it help my friend who was in need of it I just read to her before I forward it. Thanks and keep well.”

Answer: “We are happy here, on planet Earth, that you find our product of explosive goodness.”

~

Question:  “Hi its [Name] I have a question this girl he’s bin friends with my boyfriend for 6 years well he’s wasent seen her for a while And she finally shows up And they would hang together every day when I’m at School one day I vited her to Draink with us And a couple of my friends one of my friends caught Her kissing him now now a couple days later she texe him saying everything that happend was it all a lie I’m wondering what is everything And my boyfriend says its Nothein a day later he tells he’s come over when I wasent thar And I caught her my boyfriend told me becuse he wanted her to say sarry to me now what do you thank about this.”

Answer: “Dear [Name], (huge intake of breath) I-have-an-answer-for-you-but-you-might-not-like-what-you-hear-dude’s-been-cheating-on-you-with-this-“friend”-who-is-a-girl-and-there-are-just-no-two-ways-about-it-though-I’m-sure-if-you-asked-he’d-be-open-to-a-three-way-and-that’s-the-truth-so-how-I-look-at-it-is-either-sit-down-and-have-an-honest-talk-with-him-about-it-sharing-that-you-feel-he-has-an-inappropriately-close-relationship-with-this-chick-and-you-are-not-okay-with-it-then-see-how-he-reacts-and-go-from-there-or-you-can-just-go-all-loranna-bobbitt-cut-his-junk-off-and-hand-deliver-it-in-a-box-to-her-saying-‘found-this-in-my-bed-sorry-was-it-yours?-I-feel-really-bad-about-that.’ (huge intake of breath) Signed, SWAL.”

~

 Question: “my ex dumped me…saein v fought alot she cant handle d pressure…n it wasnt working well i met hr n decided v will b frnds bt since she dumped me i cudnt coop up vd it n fought again she tld she needs brk bt 4 me it wasnt possible i cnt stay away 4rm hr i dont knw wat happnd 2 hr she blockd me on watsaap n fb n she saes she cnt take me as frnd wat shud i do 2 gt hr back as my gf i still alot 4 hr”

Answer: “I’m sorry, we have no one at SWAL who speaks your native tongue. Please bare with us as we attempt to Google Translate your text, and transcribe our answers.”

Translation: Sory wat 4 no spake you-talk. giv min.

(Question Translation Of Question To English: I’ve been dumped, cuz I’m too much work for her right now, but she wants to be friends. I can’t be her friend so decided fighting with her about it would make her take me back, because I just have this stalker-like obsession with her and can’t let her go. Now she’s blocked me from every social network and form of contact in the free world, and says we can’t even be friends anymore. What should I do to get her back, I’m still obsessed.”)

(Answer In English: Look, I feel really badly for your loss, but you are swiftly approaching a point here where calls for restraining orders start getting distributed. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, but you can’t force people to love you. It’s probably the most difficult lesson our program teaches: there is not always a “happy ending” to our love affairs. We must just accept that sometimes, we just need to let go, and move on with our lives. I firmly suggest, that you consider that, at this time.)

Answer Translation: “Dawg, m’gutz b twist wiv sory. But cheeze it, d fuzz b all in dat grilz shud u nt stp ghostin’ yo’ bitch. Naw ri’t. Naw sqr. She nt tap yr ass no mo’. No mak wiv d bee-bop, no bling-bling, no, “bitch, cal me?” Chill. No mo’ wiv it. She dun. Lots mo’ ass 2 b gt. Kick wiv othr n’ gt dwn wiv some “wat uuuup?!” axun in hr who-haw.”

~

Question: ” how..? as u wish bt i want she…. i love her”

Answer: “Straight up, we don’t know how the ‘Princess Bride’ is so brilliant with subtext either. ‘As you wish’ = ‘I love you?’ That shit is GOLD…and if WE had thought of copyrighting and marketing it as part of our product-base 20 years ago, I would be retired on a private island by now. However, what valuable lesson we CAN take from that quote, perhaps, is well-placed persistence and dedication to your courtship. Fear not, stable-boy Wesley…we have several ideal products to help you win your Buttercup, at last. (with a money-back, guarantee.)

~

Question: ” I THINK YOU SMOKE TOO MUCH CRACK OR METH!!! YOUR WHOLE FANTASY OF BEING MY MAN OR DATE IS WARPED, WE NEVER MET AND WE WERE NOT DAJUST BECAUSE WE SHARED SOME LOVE SONGS OVER THE INTERNET DOES NOT MAKE US A COUPLE. I WA JUST TRYING TO CHEER YOU UP BECAUSE YOU WERE DEPRESSED ABOUT GETTING DUMPED, SO DONT MAKE ACCUSATIONS AND WE NEVER HAD MUTUAL SEX, RAPE DOES NOT MEAN WE WERE LOVERS. SORRY YOU ARE NOT MY TYPE LET GO MOVE ON, AND STOP STALKING ME…”

Answer: “WELL, I THINK YOUR FAVORITE PORN IS SHIT! I TOLD YOU TO STOP FUCKING BOTHERING ME AT WORK! AND WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SHOOT DOWN ALL MY ROLE PLAYING IDEAS BEFORE WE EVEN START. ANYWAY, WHO SAID YOU ALWAYS GET TO BE THE “GUY”?!!?

~

Question: ” hi | can you plz help me ? by answering my question how can i make my bf love me more and more and never plane to leave me thanxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx”

Answer: “Get a credit card that doesn’t accrue airline miles, and let him play video games whenever he wants.”

~

Question: ” It was he contacted me…I haven’t even started text him. He came to me told me how much he missed me and wanted me back, i told him i will go out the next day with another guy. Then at midnight he messaged me said he think he is not good enough for me, he doesn’t know what he can give me. I replied to ask him get lost, and called him loser. Then he disappeared. What’s going on with him??”

Answer: “One hopes: a good woman who appreciates humility, affection and effort. Way to fuck it up, babe.”

~

Question: ” hello …i broked up with my ex 2years ago.. he left me for someone else n they are still together.. we seldom talked to each other but not publically .. actually her g.f even dnt knw dat he talked to me.. but i find one thing very unusual is dat.. he talked to me nicely for 3-4 days n after dat again he quit talking to me.. plz help me .. thanks!”

Answer: “Sorry, am a little confused on the number of people we are talking about here and their gender specificity. What I can say is that s/he sounds like s/he wanted a little side action, (despite being in another long-term relationship), but got caught by sh/iz significant other. Let it lay, is what I advise. There’s already a Queen bee in his life, no good comes from poking the hive.”

~

Question: ” Please refund me for the [product name.] I downloaded up to day 4 and haven’t returned. I’m sorry the vibrational energy is not compatible with me.”

Answer: “We will certainly refund your money, should you wish…however, before we do so, are you aware of our large product line available, outside of our fine vibrator collection? We would be more than happy to send you more info.”

~

Question: ” I would like you to email me….so that will can now talk better and will can now each other better and i wil like you to drop me your email so that will can now talk better and will can now know each other better……….i will be waiting for your reply asap..”

Answer: “You’re getting better…but we still need to work on our pronouns. Much better than the 59other passes, though. And you thought learning English just to woo a Mail Order Bride would be hard! Pfft! One more time, now…I feel 60 is your lucky number!”

***

…That’s all for THIS month, kids. See you with our next installment in December!

Best of Sweaty, Sexy Wishes To You All,

SWAL

~D

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