Oh Possum Vagina!

Every time Hellbilly and I are in the car and I’m driving (which is 99% of the time because Hellbilly is constantly on the phone or worried about driving at night or in the rain because he has the eyesight of an opossom…

…oh noooooooo…

now I’m going to get on an ADD trip or ADHD trip or OCD trip or some such thing with which I probably would have been diagnosed if I would have been born about two decades later about whether or not I should be spelling the thing about Hellbilly being so damn blind that he can’t drive at night or in the rain or because it’s Tuesday as possum or opossum.

Shit.

I think I should, at this point,  admit that I named this post ‘Oh Possum Vagina!’ because I’m confused about the possum or opossum thing, and because I talked to Lola on the phone for the first time earlier today and she hates the word vagina.

Vagina.

Vagina.

Vagina.

Oh Lola,  I didn’t buy the little throw blanket I told you about when we were talking on the phone.  You know, the one I saw at Wal-Mart while we were talking that had a noxious lime green background with the word ‘HO’ in red all over it?  That one.  I probably would have, but it was in the 5 dollar bin and made of that cheap-ass pretend fleece crap that always ends up shedding all over the place, and our Chihuahua adores new blankets and would have ended up looking like the Christmas Grinch puked lime green fuzz all over her every time she snuggled on it.

Even I’m unwilling to go through all of that just for the sake of having a blanket with the word ‘HO’ all over it.

So, one thing I admitted to Lola while we were on the phone is that I’m not very funny lately.  That is, of course, a massive load of crap.  I am straight up fucking hilarious.

Like last night when I snuck out of a party that was so crowded that I truly did have the desire to begin introducing myself as ‘Sardine’ and stab a few people directly in the face.  I walked/ran all the way home.  Don’t worry, the party was being held just up the road and I didn’t have far to go.  But I did get all excited about having snuck out of the party and decided to run part of the way while my purse over my head as if I was being filmed for the movie ‘The Birds’.  It didn’t begin like that.  Honest.  It started as a strange celebration of being out of the sardine party that included me running while holding my purse over my head.  Only after the fact did I realize it was film-worthy.

Boy was I glad I was running when I got to our house!  Mostly because I wanted to go into the back door and there is a little hill to get there that was slick from the rain.  I had the momentum to avoid being half way up the hill, loosing steam, and having to pretend I was in a movie about some poor soul that is stuck in a mud slide or earthquake or the end of the world as we know it or something.  Or some kind of ultra creative porn star whose doing an all natural scene by getting onto her hands and knees in the mud.

Back to that thing about me driving 99% of the time.

To say Hellbilly is a backseat driver is like saying Divine only occasionally dressed up in his mama’s panties.  Shit, it’s like having your mom, grandma, kooky Aunt Beulah, and a slightly neurotic Sheriff’s deputy right there in the car with me.

Early in our relationship I was, of course, going to ruin his life because of this.  Now I just say thanks and drive pretty much however the hell I want.

It’s kind of like everything else in life, isn’t it Lola?  Once you’ve figured out how to make the rules of the road work for you, you just have to keep driving your own way.

Even if there’s a screaming, half-blind maniac in the car with you part of the way.

Library page updated

That’s all.

I think I should just leave those people alone

Sometimes when I don’t yet know how to become properly involved with someone or am not yet able to simply let go, I move toward conversations in my head that I hope will never happen.

• Those I wish I had a deep and meaning familial relationship with, but don’t because of their never ending harm

When he wants to fuck one of her friends he walks into the house after work, brow furrowed, and makes her hover for hours before he ‘regretfully’ tells a sad story of how that particular friend is stabbing her in the back. 

She trusts him and dumps the friend.

Without having to worry about the two being in touch, he moves in on the friend.

I once asked him,

Is it too much to ask that you just hire a hooker instead?

• Those I meet in a formal corporate setting, but who seem as if they would come alive in a more rural setting

Some day in the past she judged her grandmother or grandfather for having never completed high school.  And yet, she never wanted to leave her grandfather’s side after having spent a weekend with him in his garden.

She makes decisions every day that cause people just like her grandparents to lose a little more, and can never put her finger on why it is she feels she’s dying on the inside.

I’ve always wanted to ask,

Why don’t you stop acting like you have no choice over how you die and go find a lifestyle you’d be willing to die for?

• Those I see harming the weak, vulnerable and confused

She could never over the fact that her husband ‘dared die on her’ due to his alcoholism.  She went back to school, got a degree in counseling and ended up with a job as the director of a small treatment center.  Piece by piece, she dismantled the already demoralized spirits of the clients until she managed to shut the whole place down.

I’ve always wanted to ask her,

Why didn’t you just take a gallon of gasoline and a match to that place and just watch it burn?

Until I’m healthier, I think I should just leave these people alone.