Your Friendly Neighbor, Joanne. The Chicken Cutlet Influence

It is no secret that no matter where I end up or land...I find myself in the company of the best of
the crazies. For the first few months living at my new place in Portland. I kept the door locked when I was home. I pulled the blinds though I always stood peering through them. I kept to myself and just worked on writing when I was home. From what I observed there were only men living in my building. Men who always came home with a six pack of beer and a take away meal. I later found out it was a fact. All 10 units in my building are occupied by men. There was how ever... a seemingly drunk middle aged woman who periodically showed up and made rounds to a few of the units. Even spending the night here and there and sometimes even a whole weekend. I was to learn her name was Joanne.

A few weeks ago I was moaning on my Facebook status about making chicken cutlet's. Only to get a knock on the door from 4 of my fellow neighbors + Joanne. And they ended up eating all of my chicken cutlets. They did offer me a beer but, I was still very upset that I only got one chicken cutlets. And it was after the food was all gone that Joanne pulled me aside to discuss the reason for the unannounced visit. "You see Jowal. There is a picnic table leaning on the garage at the house next door." She tells me this with a faint but assertive voice. I notice that although she has almost perfect speech. Her voice is trembling and in need of some sort of addiction. "OK" I say. "What about it?" She walks rather feeble to the window and points it out to me. "Well, with spring just about here, I thought it would make a lovely addition to our little complex here" She smiles and waits for my reaction. But, I didn't give her one. I just took a swig of what I imagine piss to have similar taste test qualities.

Suddenly Joanne becomes very upbeat. The leader of the pack. She started cheering the guys on to go get the picnic table and then tries to encourage me as well. The guys all get very excited and start carry on as if they were about to engage in a bloody warfare mission. "I will have nothing to do with this" I blurt. "Sorry but I am not stealing anything." I take another swig of piss. "Oh we are not going to steal it." says Joanne "I will leave them a note letting them know that we borrowed it and will return it when ever they need it!!" she says. "Get the fuck out of here." I beckon. "That does not make it right or even OK" I say. Then one of the drunk guys proceeds to tell me how the place has been empty since the fall. To this I reply. "Well it is probably a summer home then. And, it is only a matter of weeks before they start spending the weekends here." I could not believe I was even listening to this. Let alone trying to negotiate it. Then I look at my can of piss and see it is called 'Steel Reserve' with an 8.1% alcohol content. How Ironic I thought. Steel Reserve. So after we get the picnic table situated in the perfect place in OUR yard. Down sits Joanne to write the note on a paper plate. 'Dear Neighbors. Hi this is Joanne next door. We have borrowed your picnic table. If you need it back at any time just let us know and we will return it at once. Thanks, your neighbor, Joanne.' She then proceeds over the fence and thumb tacks the paper plate to the wall where the table once was leaning.

Fast forward a few weeks later. A few of us (just me and the guys) are hanging out cooking steaks and...sitting at the picnic table. When a complete stranger walks into the yard and sits himself down at the table. I look over at the empty house and in the driveway is a Volvo and a truck. Fuck I thought. But I was sure the guys would stick to the story that we had no idea how the table got there. "Is Joanne here?" The stranger asks "It does not look like there is a Joanne here." he says with a twinkle. Once again. Oh Fuck I think. "I had been looking through the kitchen window over there thinking how familiar this picnic table looked" he says with a smile. "Then I found Joanne's note!" Just then Ronnie, the resident 24 hour drunk blurts. "Yeah yeah we took the table. We just wanted to borrow it we can but it back." Standing behind him I thought how I wanted slap his bare back with the stainless STEEL spatula. You fucking moron, I thought.

The stranger introduces himself as Jimmy here from Florida and tells us how his mother who lived there passed back in the fall. He then tells us we are welcome to the picnic table and if there is anything else we need out of the house to go have a look as him and his brother plan to put the place up for sale. All the guys run over but I stay minding the steaks. The guys come back with all sorts of things...Tv's, Tv stands, etc. A few hours later the house is empty again. And I feel better that we can now actually not be thieves.

The next day Joanne comes around. I am the first to tell her of the great news. "We can relax now." I say" The table is ours to enjoy!" I smile to her. "Well, I see no one got me any of the curtains." she says "How could anyone leave with out the curtains? Everyone could use free curtains they are to expensive." she babbles. Then to my surprise she sits down at the table and retrieves a pen from her purse. "Can I have a paper plate? she asks. Not really thinking. I go and get her one. She begins writing. 'Dear neighbor, Hi, It's Joanne again...' I rip the plate and the pen from her hands. "No fucking way" I say with authority. "You are not going inside that house and taking the fucking curtains I don't care what kind of note you plan on leaving!" I tear the plate up. "But, I am sure..." "BU BU BU BUT" I cut her off. Go to Walmart buy some cheap sheets I will sew you fucking curtains" I said......the end

Up next...I have attempted to quit smoking with the aid of a drug called Chantix. Of course this has delivered some much needed Drama in my life. :)

Missed the boat....

My mind is like a soundtrack. I listen to music ALL the time. And I have even figured out how to make it work to my advantage. I listen to a certain song and my life just folds into the trench. When you have a guest or two you can actually direct the motions with the right soundtrack. 'Missed the Boat' is the song by Modest mouse I have been jamming to. Ipod is on 'repeat'. I 'Missed the Boat' today. I drove Stray Jay home. I did so with a good feeling. I thought about how the bitch took 3 days to get up enough time to let him see his kids. He a day planned today from early morning with the kids. Breakfast. A Parade. Even a boat ride that I arranged in the harbor. He never got to do any of it. As I made the walk up to his wife and kids I remembered another old friend. Paul. I remebered the same walk so many years ago. Nothing aggrivates more then a man who can't look after his own.

So I met the wife. I knew right away she was not happy that Jay bought me into her home. The first thing she metioned is that she had 'gained 50 pounds'. I told her I can make a lemonade that will suck it right off. She had no idea of my humor. She offered me a cigarette. I declined. I told her how I like to manufacture my own. Jay knew I was bitter. He used the kids as a distraction. And as much I don't care for the 'kidz' I managed to teach them to shake hands with about as much as ease as slicing carrot's. Then I sat down on the couch next to the wife. She offered me a beer. And I declined again because I had to drive. Jay was laying on the floor being consumed by his kids. They were so happy to see him. I turn to the wife. "I don't know what is going on with you guys. But, I hope you can find the chance to enjoy the rest of the day. And make it memorable." I say. And I glared into her eyes. She looked to the floor. She was obviously ashamed. I over stepped my boundary. As I always do. "Let this man be with his kids." I said. "I can come over tomorrow after work and cook some lobsters up. But, all this fucking vendictiveness has to be left back in high school." she looked back to the floor. "How old are you?" she asked me. I gave her my 'what the fuck' look. I stroked my beard. "I'm gonna get going." I say. "Can you give us a ride?" she asked. I look at her with another 'what the fuck look'.
I look at Jay. He has a fear in his eyes. I smile around the room. Shake my ass. "I don't feel much like dancing" I sing.

I high five Jay and get going. I re-insert my ear buds. I drive away. I stop over at the harbor. Grab some lobsters. Drive home. Boil some sea water. And withdraw my knife.

And then I finally figured out that I have finally 'missed the boat'

Again.

I call Steve down in New Bedford. "Can you
come to Portland?" I ask him. "I have to work in the morning" he replies. "I want to show you the boat. Is there any way you can get to Portland?" I beg. "I am on my way." He hangs up.




I am not going to 'Miss the Boat' again.

Laugh all the way to Hell...

Last night I did something new. Well not new! I used to travel the bar scene back in my day. I wrote 10,ooo words yesterday towards the book. That was after a morning of work and a trip to the hospital.

After the firework display last night from the ball field. 'Stray Jay' convinced me we should go into Old' Port section of Portland. I was reluctant. He being the straight guy. Me wishing he was my 'new husband'. Well I should have never seen it coming. And I didn't. ( I learned to bounce around the subject in my writing class...it is supposed to hold your attention )

So Jay talked me into an excursion to the Old' Port. I thought...OK. I loaded my Ipod with some Modest Mouse and the new U2. We loaded up my nap sack with some 'Natural Ice' and headed out. It was about a 4 mile walk based on the pain in my legs. But, it felt real. I felt like a kid again.

So Jay is about 6'2" if not an inch or so taller. He carries him self well. He is thin. But carries a punch. On the walk he knew of all these places for us to stop and have a beer. This made me feel younger. As I guzzled the brew I thought of old friends. I thought about Shawn. I was sad he is dead now. Then I remembered that I was crazy. I knew I was not going to carry my self well. And when we made it to an alley in Old' Port it was filled with the best class of people. I looked at Jay and he was cold. He was almost a snapshot.

"Jay what's up you seem distant." I asked him. He looked to the ground. "I shouldn't be here." he replied. "My kids need me...my wife is going to let her family dictate our life together." I thought about my reply before I spoke. I thought about my personal life. I wondered if my father ever had such a guilty reaction. I knew my DAD was a better man. And I knew that I really did not want to listen to Jay moan about this subject. It was to personal for me. And after 38 years on earth I now just look the other way. Even as hard as it is to look away. It goes against everything my mother taught me. Even as a grown adult I always hear my mother. "Joel, don't you ever judge anyone. Take even the worse situation and find something good about it." Ugg it's like an echo in my head. So. I take out my ear buds. "Jay, either do it or don't. You have 2 kids. You should never let them forget who you are." I say in a deep breath. I was angry now. One minute I was feeling young and robust. Now I am feeling my mothers vibes. "Jay, make a fucking decision. Don't fuck around with your kids emotions. I can do one of two things here...I can take you to Philly and meet my Dad. OR you can choose the girl you want to fuck here in this sexy alley." Jay sat down on a bench. "There are some 'SMOKING' women here." He blurts. "Go and get em' " I say. I too take to the bench. I look at my Ipod and it is midnight. "I can't." he says. "I am to dorky and ugly." To this I put my ear buds back in and listen to 15 over 7 time signature and endorse my crazy. I wonder what it must be like to feel dorky and ugly when it isn't the truth. I try hard to comprehend. I think about my hearing. And I wonder if Jay can hear things I can not. I stand. Flip my fingers through my curly 'ness'. I adjust my flip flops. I walk up to the first beautiful girl I see. "How's it going HUNNY" I drunk out. She put her arm around me and planted her lips on my neck. "What's on your IPOD?" she says. She takes an ear bud and listens in. "Oh MODEST MOUSE!" She screams. Now she is dancing close to my hips. And then she tells me she loves my haircut.

WHAT????? the record scratches. I have not had a haircut in months. Instant turn off! I remember how easy it is. I think about my book. I wish I had my laptop with me. Why didn't I bring it?

I look at Jay. He is still staring at the ground. And I remember how I originally befriended him. I put my arm around him and pull him to his feet. "Let's go get a lobster." I say. "Sounds like a deal" he says back. We sniff out a lobster at an Irish pub up the street. The lobster came with pinch crackers. I request a chef's knife. When it is delivered I crack open the claws with a twist.
And throw the meat out on to the plate. I take a long swig of Jameson's. Then I am tapped on the shoulder. It was a guy that I had fished lobster with last winter. "Is this your boyfriend?" the guy asks. "No." I say "I thought he would be my new husband but he has kids." The laughs erupt from the bar. Jay slumps on my shoulder. "Thanks man"

Kids are like the Krazy Glue of my ass!

I know. Your thinking what the hell is he thinking now. I did not know if I should write this before or after my session with Lucy this afternoon. I decided to at least start it. If Lucy makes it more interesting then I will add a part 2 or something. I just want to let you know that this is going to be a fairly graphic post. Not as graphic as the stuff I save for the book. But, it will rank up there. I usually hold back a lot of the details here on the blog. Especially since my mother has gained access to this. But today. I just can't censor myself. Not this time. And, as always I expect the secret 'hate mail' from people I do not even know telling me how horrible I am for getting so aggravated with people that go to Food Addicts meetings. Bring it on Bitches! I am going to wipe your ass with this one!

And so. Those of you who know me in the least know that I have a very small tolerance for small children. And it is NOTHING personal against them. I know. They are innocent little bastards...I know. It has been mostly the parents that I blame for my level of dislike. I wont tell the stories again of how I have left restaurants, stores, and even the movie theater because of unruly little tyrants. Instead I will attempt to describe to you what happens to me when a small child shrieks. The feeling to me is worse then when metal scrapes on metal. Even more chilling then the finger nails down the blackboard. When a child screeches out of control it makes my head feel as if I have just been electrocuted. It stops me in my tracks. It makes me tremble. But it isn't until I observe the reaction of the parent that I find with in myself an uncontrollable rage. When the parent at Walmart simply ignores the belligerent screaming child and takes no action for the child's behavior. This is when I feel murderous. This is when I have to restrain my self from taking my Walmart cart and bashing into the parent over and over again while I scream obscenities to them even louder then the little bastard who started it. You get the picture?

I am aware that this is trivial and terrible. The level of fear that I now have of small children is intense. Even though there are some that I get along with just fine and love very dearly. I find my self avoiding small children at ALL cost. Well. Guess what? A block and a half behind my current residence in Portland is of all things. An Elementary School. Yes that's right! And! For the most part it is unavoidable. To avoid it can carry me blocks out of my way. But, when I here recces in session. I do just that. Lucky for me. I have a hearing problem. A bad one. This allows me to sit in comfort with the windows open and not hear the daunting screeches that come from the play ground. Today however, the play ground came to me!

After work this morning I went downtown to poke around. It was not long before I desired food. So, knowing there would be no food just lemonade and salt water... I hoped on a bus headed towards home to whip up a lemonade with maple syrup and Cayenne pepper. I get off the bus on Falmouth st. I listen hard down the road to make sure recces is not in session. It seems the coast is clear. So. I begin my rock star trek on down the red carpet. Just as I am approaching the school I notice many people with Bright green safety vests on placing equally bright green cones around the school and in the road. Next the police are either end of the street blocking off the road. And by the time I get to my place they are standing guard at the road blocks. What are they going to let these little fucking zoo animals do? I thought to myself. then my stomach started growling reminding me of my mission for a lemonade.

Once inside I am quickly distracted from my hunger as I open the windows and draw the shades. Instead of manufacturing a lemonade drink. I choose to roll a smoke instead. I stand just past the window with enough curtain protection and smoke my cigarette with a suspicious feeling of terror. With each drag I stare at the police man and lock my self into a Bettie Davis like stance. Drag after drag after drag. I should shut the windows and the blinds. I think. I know they are going to let these little rats from hell take to the streets. After plotting several different types of traps that I could set outside. I realize my ill fantasy only to blame the fact that the real reason I cant set traps is because of the police presence. So, I turn my attention back to my drinks.

After the lemonade I prepare the quart of salt water. I take my time drinking it because, as you can imagine, it's kind of hard to swallow. The purpose of the salt water in this time of fasting is to 'make you go'. And that is just what it does. And. I plan on describing it. So. This is your final chance to bail from reading this any further. IF you think you can 'stick it out' then I would further urge you not to take a drink or attempt to sallow anything until you have reached the end from here on out!! With that said.

Ten minutes after the salt water flush I was sitting checking my email. Though, I was still suspicious of the green cones all around outside...I had moved on. It was time to visit the toilet. Timing is everything. A few minutes later it was time now to wipe my ass. So as I went thought the motions I was suddenly stopped dead in my tracks. It was like an avalanche of screaming kids. Hundreds of screaming kids running all around out side. I felt the zap in my brain and the chill in my bones. I knew I had to wipe my ass as quickly as possible and get up to shut windows after all. Now I was in a frenzy to wipe ass. BUT. There was a new problem. I could not withdraw the paper from my ass. It was stuck. It was like I had dipped it in rubber cement. The more I tried to wipe the more it got stuck. I was now in a full blown state of panic because I really needed to get the windows shut but my finger was stuck in my ass hole. When I finally freed my finger from my ass it was covered in shit. I couldn't reach the sink. So, with all the commotion going on outside. I reach with my clean hand and grab more paper. Only to get THEM stuck in my ass as well. So now I am stuck on the fucking toilet with both hands covered in shit and two wads of paper stuck in the crack of my ass. This on top of hundreds of screaming children running a fucking marathon out side my windows makes me want to cry. And I did just that as I crawled to the shower with the drama of Joan Crawford. I get in the shower and reach towards the knob trying to decide witch shitty hand I should use to turn it on. The sound of the gushing water did not put a dent into the volume of the screaming kids. So I just laid on the shower floor and covered my ears. With my shitty hands.

Time to go see Lucy!

Dont want to make it rain.

This is an archived one from about 3 or 4 years ago. I read it and thought I would share it too...An oldie but goodie.

Steve and I moved into our new house 3 months ago. Since then it has been project after project. And some of it proved to be very challenging. Ripping down walls, installing new wood floors...even building a new stair case. Fun stuff! Our latest project has been in our bedroom. We have discovered that we could gain at least 6 feet of ceiling by removing the current one and building directly on the rafters. This will also allow us to put in some sky light windows, and even a little storage loft. All genuine enhancements to our long awaited ocean view bedroom.

Tho original plan was to do one half of the room at a time. That was we could just move the bed and everything else to one side of the room while we worked on the other. But it did not take but one night to come to the understanding that this was not going to work. So Steve insisted that we move into our spare bedroom until we finish the work. So I walk across the hall scratching my head. "I really don't think the bed will fit in here" I say. But Steve was already measuring. And decided we could after all fit the king size bed in there with about a foot and a half of extra space. "It's OK we can live with it for a few days" Steve said. "OK" I said "Just make sure there is a place to put the humidifier. This room is really small and the forced hot air heat will probably suffocate us with no moisture." "OK no problem" Steve says. We spent the rest of the day ripping out the ceiling, followed by a nice relaxing dinner and some TV time.

Steve had gone to bed a little early that night. Wadsworth and I stayed behind watching the rest of a Match Game Marathon. Eventually we made our way up stairs. As I opened the door the bed was Right There! I was surprised the door opened all the way. Wadsworth jumped up into bed and I followed. I guess I had been asleep for about 3 hours when I felt a drip on my head. I opened my eyes and pondered what it could have possibly been. I decided it was nothing and closed my eyes again. About 30 seconds later I felt another one on my face. But I just rolled over and to my delight Wadsworth was laying there with his paws out but his head was up. He was awake. A few seconds later another drop. And now Wadsworth was biting the air. He does this when he sees bugs or snow flakes. I poke Steve. "There is something fucking leaking in here"
I whisper. "There can't be anything leaking in here there are no pipes around this room." Steve replies in a most annoyed state. "I'm fucking telling you something is leaking in here." I say. "The drops woke me up and Wadsworth is snapping at them." Steve reaches over and pets Wadsworth's head and kisses his ears. "Joel just go back to sleep. It is not raining outside, there are no pipes in these walls it is impossible for there to be anything leaking in here." Steve said as he then rolled back over. "Fine!" I said as I rolled over. "But I am fucking telling you I know I felt drips of something!" "Have another drink." Steve says. "Fuck you." I reply. "Good night Snookawookim I love you" Steve says in a most sincere way. "Fuck you. There is something fucking dripping here!" I respond.

About 5 minutes later Wadsworth is now snapping his teeth over and over again. He let out one of his little moans before he nudged me on my neck. He only does this when he needs something. When I open my eyes and pet him I realize he is soaked. I knew he couldn't be sweating. And I also knew he did not piss the bed. Then I felt the drips again. feeling my hair I noticed it was rather wet too. "Stephen Get the fuck up!! There is something very wrong in here, and I want to know what the fuck it is." I said with a raised voice. "Yeah I just felt a couple drips too." he says in a voice that finally shows some interest in my concern. "I couldn't fit the tables and lamps in here." he says. "Reach over and flip the light switch." he said.

When the light came on. We were in awe instantly. The room had turned into a weather system. The ceiling was now sea of dark clouds. And they were indeed dripping moisture. Everything in the room was soaked. But the fact that there were clouds in the room really fascinated me. I sat up and stared. I giggled with excitement. I looked over into the corner and the steam was bellowing from the top of the digitally programmed $80 hot air humidifier that I insisted we get 2 of when the forced hot air heat came on the first few times in our new house.

"Oh Fuck!" Steve says. "I forgot to chance the square foot setting on that thing when I bought it in here." he moans. I cant take my eyes off the clouds. "Wow" I say out loud. "I can't fucking believe my eyes." Steve storms out of the room. Wadsworth follows him to escape the moisture. Steve comes back with loads of towels and throws them at me. "Start wiping down the walls." he says with panic in his voice. "We need to dry everything as quickly as possible before it gets ruined." he says as he now is opening the window's. "Wait Wait" I cry..."Maybe we should get the camera first. No one is going to believe this. Plus. What if we have to file an insurance claim?" I plead. Steve grabs the towels and starts to dry the walls. Then he starts flipping out that all the sheet rock is going to be ruined. Steve becomes more and more frantic. And is now yelling at me. "Joel don't just fucking sit there. We need to move quickly." he cries. I grab him by the arm and pull him towards me. "Hey bud, Sweetie snookawookum." I say with love. "We have created a rain storm in our guest room. Doesn't that account for something?"

:)

My Mug...

So I was having a glorious day today here in Portland...Sucking on Lemon's chasing them with the 'lemonade" brew I have been drinking...Thinking how my colon is the cleanest in Portland. When I finished work I decided I would like to 'cheat' on my lemonade binge...and replace a bit of my colon cleansing cocktail with a bit of pickle juice. That's right. I have been known to have several jars of dried out pickles in my fridge. Usually after a night of drinking whiskey. There is nothing more refreshing then the juice of pickles. And I never hesitate to guzzle it. It feels good. It is far better then V8. So. I stopped by my place. And decided to grab my shopping bag(s) and walk along to the local Whole Foods. The sun was shining. It was still early (11am). I was feeling great. I knew in the back of my mind that I had a gift coming from a good girl in Philly. I knew that it was either scrapple or tastykake's. And I decided how luscious a bit of steak and cheese would be (Fine Kimberly I was already cheating)...

So I go to the store...do my thing...fill up my bAG FULL OF SHAVED STEAK AND STUFF!!
I then start waltzing back towards home. I am approached by a little man. At least 5 inches shorter then my 5'9". "give me your wallet" he proclaims! I just brush on by him. And I think..
how this would make my day. Then he pokes me on the back. With some sort of object. "Give me your wallet" he says again. So. I size him up. "Your kidding me with this right?" I ask. "Give me your gad damn wallet right now!" he replied. I then took a deep drag of my fag... "Your just a poor man robbing the poor man" I said. "AND unless you have ever been bludgened by a jar of pickled cucumbers...you might want to step out of my fucking way". I said. I was a bit intimidated. But then I thought how powerfull a jar pickles could be. If I was to gain a good lead I could easily break open his skull with them. I knew I may have a few bit's of blood on the bag...but hell, nothing Dawn dish soap wont eliminate. But it was then I felt a power. I knew I could maintain things with out a jar of pickles. So. I then flicked my cigarette at him. Looked him in the eye. "Listen to me you little twirp...I will back your ankles around your fucking ears if you don't get out of my face at this moment in time!" saying it but never really meaning it...

"Moment in time?" he says. "Oh You must be a gay!" he yells as he runs off.

Swine I am

This week, though not really dramatic, has been a very busy crazy kind of week so far. I have 4 appointment's to see health care professionals. Two of those (as of Wed) I have already had. The new weekly glbt meeting for homeless youths is underway...Monday's @ 1. And the beginning of a writing course. That on top of the work, writing, and trying to find time to eat. And now it's going to rain the rest of the week. Lovely.

So Monday, I wake up with a really really bad sore throat. A throbbing tooth ache, the shits, and a headache that I assumed was a result of the tooth. Now, I know I am crazy. I know. I know I also have some health issues as well. But, I am dealing with them. And for the most part feel okay. I have close friends that are dealing with some hard battle's this week and I think of them ALWAYS...even in my own cause for alarm. But, even in the thick of it all. I must find some humor some where. So I will share with you my meeting with Ellen (my PCP/nurse practitioner). Lucy, (the shrink) is 2pm today. So maybe something exciting will happen then.

Ellen, (Yes I do call all these people by their first name. When they start calling me Mr. Schermerhorn I will learn their last names!) is a tall broad woman. She is rather elegant but with the typical 'MainE ac' flair. Unlike the little green fairy hornet from a previous blog...I like how Ellen always coordinates the color of her sock's and top's. She is probably in her early 60's. And appears to be developing a bit of a hunch in her upper back. She is always pleasant and appears happy to see me. (key word appears) This particular visit was a routine follow up visit. I generally meet with her once every two weeks. When I saw her. I remembered the reason I was there on a Monday vs. a Friday this time. Ellen was a fabulous dark gold tan. She had been on vacation for two weeks. "Oh you look great!" I said when I met her at the door. "Thanks, I feel even better!" She went on to tell me how she was rock climbing somewhere in Arizona. To this I rolled  my eyes. And remembered I might have the swine flu. I did not want to hear another word about senior citizen's dangling off of a sun drenched cliff. "That's really close to Mexico." I prepare her for the worse. To this, she rolls her eyes. 

I decided early on that morning that I would not reveal that my throat was swollen and soar. For I feared that I may be quarantined. And I do not know much about the process of being quarantined but, in my mind, it was very similar to being sentenced to prison before you have the chance to prove your innocence. 

"So how are we doing? How has Jowal been feeling?" She asked. "Please don't quarantine me." I begged. "I have a pounding headache, full blown hershy squirts, and my throat is EXTREMELY soar!" I blurt...already with my tongue hanging out saying "AHHHHH". She chuckles lightly withdrawing her blackberry from her pocket. "What are you doing?" I tremble. "Your calling EMAILING THE CDC AREN'T YOU? Your going to have me quarantined?" I said, already putting my jacket back on ready to bolt out the door before the men in white coats get there and strap me down. I knew I could take her down with out a problem if she tried to restrain me. I don't care how many fucking rocks she has been climbing. One swift side way kick in the gut and this momma is going DOWN!!!! "Oh Jowal...you know I keep all my notes on here...here look." she offered me a view of the screen. I decline. And take my seat back on the table. 

After a full exam. We discuss how good my blood pressure is doing with the new meds. Blah Blah Blah. Just when I think we are wrapping up. She says she will send Kelly in just to get a culture done on my throat while she goes and gets me some antibiotic's to take. "Okay, thanks." I said. About 5 minutes later. A nice Irish looking lass called Kelly comes in. "Hi Jole, I am Kelly" she smiles. "This is just going to be a little uncomfortable but I will be as swift as I can okay?" she looks at me for conformation. "Sure, no problem" I say this thinking she has nothing on me. I mean  it's been a long time since I have had a throat culture but, come on who are we kidding here? I am no stranger to getting the occasional tonsil's tickled ey? "I just need you to lay back and put your shoulders down and relax" she says with another Irish smile. "Huh?" I quiz. "Why do I need to lay back?' I ask. "I just need need to get a clear view up your nostril's" She smiles and tilts her head. Then I notice she is not holding an extended wood Q-tip. But, A wire with a small ball on the end of it. I don't even know if it was cotton. "Well why do you have to look up my nostrils to get a culture from my throat? I don't understand." I ask puzzled. "Oh this is just a more effective procedure for the test." she said. And after about 2 or 3 minutes of my badgering questions I say. "Well...I don't think I should like the new more effective procedure. I don't see why you can't just swab the back of my throat and call it a day." She looks at me with a long blank stare as I smile back. "Okay" she says. Just then Ellen comes in the door with the bottle of pills. Kelly and I both stare at her like we are little children waiting for someone to decide. "I should like to have an old fashioned throat swab Ellen. I do not particularly fancy this new up the nose method." I break the silence while standing my ground. "Oh come on." She says. "I will only take 10 seconds. All you will feel is like you may sneeze." After I ponder this for about 20 seconds I agree and lie back. Ellen then grabs the coil of wire and approaches  my nose. "Just relax" she says. "Close your eyes" I obey. She makes it about half way up my right nostril and I decide to change my mind. I immediately reach to her arm and using only a bit of force begin the withdraw. Ellen challenges my physical request uses her other arm around the top of my head down to my shoulder on the left restraining my neck from movement. And still managing to block my hand from grabbing the object sill half way up my nose. "Kelly hold down his other hand" she says. Kelly grabs my other hand but not with a lot of force. And before I had a chance to plan my strategy. The wire was up my nose and in my throat, withdrawn and in the next nostril for a repeat performance. "Good Job Jowal" Ellen says with the utmost sarcasm. As I waited for the sneeze that never came I glared at her. I wanted to execute the side way kick after all. But, I knew. If she wanted to quarantine me...she would...I had no recourse!

Thank you for sayin PLEASE

Most of my life is boring..
I get around..no denying it. Today, I walked the back cove section of Portland.
Some times I see sign's..for instance...today I saw a bag hanging on the post. It bore a flag..one that you carry across the street. And you return it on the other side. I looked back. And sure enough there was another flag. I was baffled. SOOOO I took one of the flags and walked across the street. It felt nice. I then placed it in the basket for other street crosser's
. S O of course I got thinking!
I really don't care what people think of me. I walk with stride. I do not let the general public choose my path. So when it becomes dangerous to cross the road...so much that you need to wave a flag...Of course I need to do it again and again. So, I found my self crossing the street over and over again with a flag I have to carry. The purpose of this 'flag' is to make sure you are seenby 50 mile an hour driverz . So. Again and again. I thought about my desire to wave a flag.
I remembered a certain email I had gotten. It was when my father finally realized just what phillyout.com was. He sent an email to all my loved ones. He could not wait to bare his skirt and 'pumps'. "News Flash from London" that was the title of the Email. " good friend of mine woke me up that morning. "Jole, have you seen your EMAIL?' He outed me. Pulled me from the closet I was so determined to live in. (yeah right) He later sent me a check. A substantial check. And upon cashing it. I was not to have any contact with him or his family. Including my grandparentz.
OR any of my long lost half sisterz. All of with whom have different motherz.

When I think about the notion. The very ability to walk on this earth. I wish.

I think that most people are kind. I do not really see the reason to wave a flag as I cross the street. The brake on a 50k car works. It does not stop for just anyone.

After I got over my street crossing desirez. I walked up on a street. I then saw a sign...it said "PLEASE DO NOT THROW TRASH ON MY YARD" It was a hand written sign. PFFT I thought
It is only because you beg 'PLEASE' that I will not throw my trash about your lawn!!