Have you ever had such great sex that you want to
scream, "That's what I'm talkin' about!" while it's happening? Ahhh.....sweet, sweet Sunday mornin' sex.
I'm rather disappointed in MSN's travel article on Las Vegas today. I thought surely under "attractions" I'd see the words,
"HOTT COPS," but nay. Nary a mention of the men in blue or tan or bright yellow or whatever color it is they wear.
I'm posting this from a small Bohemian type coffee shop in State College.
I'm only about two or three hours from home and I can't wait to get back.
The mutt isn't helping things either. But Alex was right, this seeing eye dog schtick is great.
Bought myself a pair of sunglasses on the way home and I take her everywhere. I did hit a small snag
when one of the McDonald's people saw me behind the wheel, but I quickly explained that while I was driving,
the dog was navigating.
Eric writes: "So, did you visit Club CAKE while you were in
NYC? Or weren't they doing anything that day?"
Alas, we did not get to Club CAKE. Hell, we didn't even get to hear the band Cake. We did, however, scope out
some touristy places, like the Statue of Liberty and several donut shops. (I told Alex I had a carb craving but sssssssssssshhhh! I was really looking for cops.)I came home with an "I'm not wild about New York" bumper sticker and ten dozen Krispy Kremes. Oy if I never see another donut in my life, I'll die happy. People were not as friendly in NYC as I had hoped. There was a lot of pushing and
shoving and I'm just grateful I was able to run over a few toes with my Hoveround to even the score.
Don't forget to spring forward today, kids!
I'm not home yet. Just enjoying my time in Elizabethtown visiting with friends from high school.
My trip to New York was totally enjoyable, if not a tad SHORT. But well worth it since I got to
meet Alexander the Poet. I went to listen to him read some of his poetry.
Don't tell him this, but a very large part of my decision to go to New York was influenced by the fact
that the place was called "The Cake Shop." You KNOW how much I heart my cake!!
Yeah, well, wasn't exactly what I pictured in my head....a building made of luscious chocolate cake,
a white frosting roof and red licorice window frames. Sigh. Not even close.
It DID have bright orange faux panelling on the walls--something that made this trailer trash chickie feel right at home.
I was late getting to the cake shop when I stopped to stare at a bunch of New York's finest. New Yorkers are a tad uptight, though.
For instance, I didn't realize it wasn't cool to yell out, "NYPD Oooooooooooooooooooooooo!!"
There was a bit of a problem when I drove through the door on my Hoveround and
realized the poetry reading was being held DOWNSTAIRS. That pissed me off.
I **might have** caused a bit of a scene until Alex came to my rescue by telling them that I was his "sick aunt"--and I'm
fairly certain he emphasized the word "sick" much more than was necessary--and I needed to have my Hoveround
and seeing eye dog with me at all times. Seeing eye dog, hell. She'd run me into a ditch first chance she got.
Two guys carried the chair down the steps for me and I won't tell ya how many carried me down.
BTW, who the fuck paints their stairs a mint color?! This place must have been designed by a bunch of gay guys.
(Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, but there's definitely something wrong with mint colored steps.)
The poetry reading got underway and Alex did three poems: Shit, My Balls (a particular favorite of mine) and Deforestation of the Vagina. Holly was a tad upset with all the whale noises and kinda howled through much of it. Hey, at least she was a
captive audience. I thought Alex did a great job, but then some dipshit threw a wad of paper at him.
I had no choice but to "accidentally" let go of Holly's leash, while whispereing "sic 'em" at the same time.
There was an idiot drunk chick seated right next to me. She was a blast. I didn't realize she was
screaming something about rock and roll until Alex told me. I think she thought Alex was one of the guys from The Who.
After it was all over ATP and I hung out a bit, and I gotta say I saw him casting several envious
glances at my Hoveround as he showed me a few places in New York City. Hey not my fault
he's poor and he has to walk like other poor people. And it's certainly not my fault that he doesn't
have the savvy to bilk Medicare out of the cost of a Hoveround.
Alas, all too soon it was over and Holly and I had to hit the road.
But I had a very enjoyable time, even if I didn't get pics of any NYPD Ooooooooooo's. And it wasn't until
I was fifteen minutes outside of NYC that I realized I didn't get a pic of Alex either!
Sigh. Oh, well, never fear, kids. He looks exactly like he does on his site.
I was telling Mr. G about the two girls in a nearby neighborhood who used to come
to the trailer park to turn tricks. Damn. You know you're a cheap whore when you
bypass the street corner and pimp yourself out in a trailer park.
I took a break from my driving and sat at a nice roadside rest stop in Luzerne County. The sun is shining, birds are singing and I believe there are two guys going at it in the woods behind me. Ahhh the sounds of spring. And joint masturbation. I never get tired of hearing, "Stop hogging the damn lube!" Anywho, I cracked open my Writer's Digest and started reading an article about writing your autobiography. I decided to give it a try and I began jotting down notes for mine. They are as follows: I was born in a small town in PA, the daughter of a poor dirt farmer and his stay at home wife. The first several years are a blur cuz my brain wasn't fully developed--thick cortex and all that. The teen years are a bit of a blur, too, because I MAY HAVE taken some drugs during those years. The twenties and thirties are a kinda blurry, too, because I KNOW I was doing drugs and well, having 16 offspring kinda dulls the senses a bit. Which brings me to my forties. Unfortunately, at this point in time, I can't even remember what I ate for lunch yesterday. Sigh.