Dear Katy,
Pardon the sloppiness of this letter but I am in a tizzy. I’m having a
real snit. No, it’s worse than that. I am having a petulant frenzy. I
think that you’ll understand after I tell you what happened. No, more than
that. You’ll be in an empathetic dither.
My very-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend gave me the most horrid gift. A total
stinker. No, that’s not strong enough. It’s a fucking abomination. Guess
what he gave me. Can you guess? Is that too difficult?
Well then. Prepare yourself. The Lady Groom Mate Ear and Nose Hair
Trimmer. It just came in the mail today. I could scream. I did scream. I’m
screaming as I write this, because, as I mentioned previously, I am in
full turmoil mode.
Look – the coward didn’t even sign his name, but I know it’s you Allen.
You’re always looking at my nose like there’s something hanging out of it.
Admit it. There is nothing wrong with my grooming.
Now Katy, what I want from you, what I need from you, is a good
suggestion of how to dump this jerk with maximum effect. I would like
total devastation if at all possible. I would like to wipe Allen off the
face of the earth. Is that strong enough for you? No? Let me clarify,
then. I would like to turn his ego into an filthy oil stain.
Here’s the scenario, girlfriend. We are going out for dinner and dancing
Friday at the fabulous Blue Cockatoo. Naturally I will order the very most
expensive items on the menu – I’m having the 20 ounce filet and the
lobster basket. Don’t worry – I’m bringing my own doggie bag, since the
Blue Cockatoo frowns on the practice, as I’m sure you know. You have been,
haven’t you? Or do you not live near Brisbane?
At any rate, after I’m served (and after a few of the world famous blue
martinis), I intend to create a real scene. A full blown ruckus. No,
wilder than that. A riotous rumpus. Suggestions? Of course I’ll throw a
blue martini in his ugly face. That goes without saying. What else?
Screaming, sure, but no crying – it isn’t dignified. And I can’t overturn
the table because they’re bolted to the floor, and besides, I’m sure I’ll
be going back there. So? Any other suggestions?
Boiling Over in Brisbane
Dear BOB
The tables are bolted to the floor? Really? Do they only give you spoons
to eat with? Plastic spoons, with really short rounded handles? It sounds
a little like a place I …uh, visited for a month or so while
undergoing treatment for paint thinner addiction. And an “unhealthy”
enthusiasm for cleaning solvents, which…I still say is very subjective.
One woman’s day spent passed out on filthy linoleum snuffing Mr. Clean
till it’s coming out her ass, then blinding scooting across the floor in a
semi-conscious stupor, lemony freshness oozing from every pore, crawling
into the cupboard with the Windex, spilling it, and some other jar of very
heady clear stuff, the fumes cause vomiting…hair falling out in handfuls,
scooting across the floor again for the empty jug of MC…a shiny trail in
her wake, a fairly pleasant smell overpowering the shit and vomit, is
another woman’s Clean Kitchen Success story, isn’t it, more or less? Tell
that to the doctors. I do have fond memories of the rubber sheets…
Are you sure the place is called the BLUE COCKATOO? That might have
been the ward. I was assigned to ‘THE YELLOW RACCOON’ because I
tend to be nocturnal, trailing the janitors at night, often very violent
when cornered. I wash my food and enjoy corn. Animal names are so much
more coaxing and homey than ‘PADDED CELL AND RUBBER HOSES WARD’ and
‘DELERIUM TREMENS' WING’
A few tips: The dancing you mention…don’t stare. And the most expensive
thing on the menu is the Phenobarbital high colonic. But it’s worth it.
Katy
