Saturday, January 03, 2004

where'd you get your orange hair from, carla? Now here is an indication of just how long I've been in this town.  I went out thirty minutes ago to pick up some take out food at a shopping center up the street.  While I was in line I saw this lady who was a teacher of mine, once upon a time. She wasn't a highschool teacher or a middle school teacher.  No, no.  And she wasn't a 3rd grade teacher or a first grade teacher.  She wasn't even a kindergarten teacher. The lady in front of me in line at the restaurant was none other than my pre-school teacher from 1973.  Her name is Carla. Carla must be about fifty years old by now.  I don't know what career path she went on after being a pre-school teacher, but her lifestyle choice is pretty obvious.  Carla is now a butch lesbian.  Imagine Janet Reno in a plain white t-shirt and jean shorts with very short orange hair. I only have one specific memory of Carla from pre-school.  It was kind of like a little inside joke between me and Carla. "Where'd you get your orange* hair from, Carla?" I would always ask her. "From Mr. Hooper's orange hair store," Carla would always reply. (Mr. Hooper was a character on seasame street who ran some sort of general store.  It was one of the few pop culture allusions I was capable of at that time.) So, anyway, thirty years later I made eye contact with this not too bad looking brunette who was sitting and waiting in the restaurant with us.  She looked a little younger than me.  Then the not too bad looking brunette got up and left with Carla.  They both went over to blockbuster video. (Actually, I always said, "where did you get your red hair from, Carla?"  But I didn't think it was worth interrupting the flow of the story to be perfectly, historically accurate).   9:34:45 PM    comment []

some other things about gail schiller When I first met Gail Schiller in highschool, her dream was to be a gallery owner and fine art dealer.  In hindsight, she doesn't fit the profile of an art girl as I've come to know them.  But back then I had no experience or understanding of art girls. One day, during our highschool romance Gail showed me the first work of fine art she had invested in.  It was about the ugliest, stupidest thing I'd ever seen.  It was some sort of abstract composition splattered with pink and teal and gold paint.  There were even a couple of pieces of yarn glued to it.  It was all framed under glass. "How much did this cost you?" I asked her. "Five-hundred dollars," she said in all seriousness.  I couldn't believe it.  To think that the poor girl worked at an ice cream shop earning four dollars and hour, and had gone and spent a couple months worth of savings on a terrible mess of teal and pink and gold yarn. (Ironically, I would go on later in life to eagerly spend much greater sums of income on even stupider art endeavors.  These days I have come to view having a passion for contemporary art as a kind of mental illness for many people, including myself.) Well, anyway, I never did have sex with Gail Schiller, although she did give me a blow job in my bedroom while my parents were downstairs). Then for some insane reason, I decided to join the army reserves the summer after highschool.  While everyone else was smoking pot and going to cool concerts and getting ready for college, I was waking up at four o'clock in the morning with a shaved head and having drill sergeants scream at me and telling me to do sit-ups in sandspurs and wet grass).  But I held my little picture of Gail Schiller in my hand at night, sitting on my hard bunk and dreaming of the day we would get back together and finally have sex. But there was no time to get back together when I got out of boot camp.  I had to go straight to FSU and start college with a shaved head and a confused look on my face.  When I came home to visit her, Gail had befriended these two stoner dudes named Tony and George.  They might as well have been Bill and Ted from Bill and Ted's you know what. Well, to make a long story short.  Gail broke up with me while I was off failing at FSU.  She ended up hooking up with George who was the wierder and more spaced out of the duo.  The last I'd heard from her, I think she had married George and become a nurse.     8:38:22 PM    comment []

6:35:49 PM    comment []

the bay breeze inn My senior year of highschool I managed to get a girlfriend by the name of Gail Schiller.  Gail was a little husky, but she was very pretty.  She was a bit of a natural bimbo, but she liked esoteric things like art and jazz as well. I spent a good bit of my senior year trying to have sex with Gail Schiller.  Gail would let me do a lot of things with her, but she wouldn't let me have sex with her. Anyway, as my senior year was coming to a close, the prom drew upon us, and I figured it was one last chance to lose my viriginity in highschool.  I had heard that kids rented hotel rooms for prom night and got to stay out till morning drinking and having sex and stuff.  In hindsight, I realize that all the cool kids rented nice hotel rooms on the beach and had lots of friends over to party.  But back then, I didn't know a good hotel from a bad motel.  So, as prom was getting closer I figured I better get a room of some sort if I was going to lose my virginity.  The first place I stopped at was the Bay Breeze Inn on 34th street south.  Despite its name, the Bay Breeze Inn was nowhere near the bay or the beach for that matter.  What the Bay Breeze Inn was close to was: gas stations, Pop-Eye's Chicken, low income housing, pawn shops, interstate over passes etc.  But that didn't really bother me back then. I was pretty surprised when the lady in the dingy office rented me the room right away and gave me a key. "Cool, I've got my very own hotel room," I thought.  "Now maybe Gail will have sex with me." But I had to try to score some alcohol too.  I had discovered that you could get alcohol in the black part of town from the few friends that I had. (But then, I lost almost all of my friends from this one particular incident which I won't get into know, but at least I knew where to get beer). I had never bought alcohol all by myself.  Usually I was in the back seat of someone else's car, and when we got to the store on the black side of town, a black man would come up and ask us what we wanted.  All I had to do was chip in a couple dollars. So, I was a little nervous about buying the alcohol all by myself for the first time.  What's more, I couldn't wait until night time because the prom would have already started by then.  So, I tried to dress in an outfit that made me look older somehow.  I put on some of my dad's sunglasses and then practiced sounding gruff and older, and not like a nervous teenager.   4:16:15 PM    comment []

the bay breeze inn (cont'd) I made a very odd alchohol choice when I got to the store.  I picked up two six packs of something called Florida Citrus Coolers.  I had never heard of them before and I have no idea why I got them.  Probably they were really cheap.  I do remember that the Florida Citrus Coolers had bits of orange peels floating in the bottle. Somehow, through my dad's sunglasses and my rehearsed gruff voice I was able to buy the coolers.  Maybe the clerk was just shocked that someone was buying the Florida Citrus Coolers, who knows. When I got back to my side of town, the first thing I did was tell my friend Tom Foster about how I was able to get a motel room at the Bay Breeze Inn.  I guess Tom must have been pretty impressed because the next thing he did was go out and get his own room at the Bay Breeze in. A few hours later the sun was starting to go down and it was time to get dressed in my Tux and pick up my girlfriend, Gail Schiller. To be honsest with you, I don't really remember much of anything about the prom itself.  All I remember is that we sat in front of a photgrapher at one point and had our picture taken.  I was already pretty trashed from the Florida Citrus Coolers.  Before you know it I was driving Gail to the Bay Breeze in in my parents 79 Caprice Classic.  I opened up our room with my key and we drank some more.  I remember the room was kind of musty, but at least the bed was made, and it was tidier than my room at home. When it seemed like we were both drunk enough I got Gail down on the bed.  We kissed and took our clothes off.  At last Gail seemed willing to let me go all the way with her, and I was more than willing myself. But there was one last obstacle that I hadn't counted on.  I couldn't get my dick inside of Gail Schiller. "It just won't go in, it hurts," Gail said. "Oh come on, it'll go in," I said and I kept trying and trying. "No, it won't.  Just stop," Gail said. "Oh for God's sake," I said. Then I saw a pair of headlights swing by outside  our window.  It was my friend Tom Foster with his girlfriend.  They were checking in at a room across the parking lot. "Hey!  Hey Tom!  What's up!" I said drunkenly.  Tom didn't stop or respond though.  He just opened his own door at the Bay Breeze, took his girlfriend inside and disappeared. After a couple of more Florida Citrus Coolers, I passed out on the musty bed of the Bay Breeze in, still a virgin. 4:08:55 PM    comment []

I met this girl at starbucks It's kind of strange to me still that I can just copy anything I see on the internet and put in on my blog.  I mean, why did I bother to get a digital camera?  I'm not going to find anything that looks this good walking around my neigborhood. Then I can just make up whatever I want to about the picture.  Why bother writing what's real. I met this girl at Starbucks last night.  I walked up to her and said, "will you go to bed with me?" She said, "sure."  Then we went back to my place and had sex.  Then I won a billion dollars.  Then I was elected Grand Overlord Emperor of the entire universe. 10:00:06 AM    comment []

© Copyright 2004 Mark Michaels. Last update: 2/1/2004; 6:28:24 PM.