Specious Lesbo and the Seahorse She Rode In On...

I just sat down out on the front porch to enjoy my morning fruit shake (this is the ONLY healthy activity that I currently partake in...besides walking a lot, but that's because I don't have a car) and picked up the copy of TVTimes sitting on the table...

Why? I don't know...I don't really watch TV. I'm not a noticeably anti-TV person, but I'm just not that into it...never have been and, I'll assume, never will be...I guess I just get this nagging feeling that I should be doing something else when I'm watching TV...but, I can walk or drive around for hours just listening to music? Believe me, I don't even get myself most of the time...

ANYWAY.

I was mindlessly flipping through the pages and started reading the movie synopses...again, why? I have no plans to watch these movies, but I was eating breakfast and anything in front is game for being read...

So, I just have to share some of these:

Snakehead Terror (2004) - A small-town Maryland sheriff tries to kill mutated fish.

3 Ninjas (1992) - Children use their martial-arts training against the mob.

Starman (1984) - U.S. agents pursue a space alien and a widow cross-country.

Turner and Hooch (1989) - a fastidious policeman is teamed with a slobbering canine. *Um...pretty much..there really is no need to use any more words to describe this movie.

Cat Woman - A shy artist acquires feline strength and agility.
*Hey! When did they make a movie about my life?

Ok..ok. I have to stop here...and believe me, I COULD keep going...

From now on, I'm going to condense the plot to everything into one sentence containing only the pertinent words.

Let's practice.

1. Questioner: So, have you heard about World War II?

Me: Yes. World War II: German dictator brings wrath to 1940s Europe.

2. Questioner: Well, you must know about the Bible then...

Me: Of course. The Bible: Ancient book prompts political and moral action for rest of eternity.

3. Questioner: Obviously, you're brilliant. Tell me then...what's the gist of "life"?...

Me: Oh. That's an easy one. Life: Human beings awkwardly toil for an unspecific amount of time until one day it stops.

I think I've found a new career: Vast Generalizer...I'll start right away...

I've come to realize that I have an insatiable wanderlust running through my body these days....it's only been about three weeks since my last remarkable jaunt and I'm still feeling the need to keep moving...and exploring...and going...and although I am ready to get out of my relative's house, I don't particularly want to return to my home, Tejas.

The QP has gone back to work...with school and other obligations following closely behind...so, in a sense, I've lost a great travel partner. Although, not really...there's still time for us to have more adventures...we'll see where we're led....

Pontiffa's also given me more oppourtunities to explore Connecticut than I ever expected to have. I've never even really thought about Connecticut, outside of secretly desiring to find Martha Stewart's homestead...and yet, strangely, I've found myself there several times in the past couple of months...I can now add Storrs, Manchester and Mansfield, CT to my growing list of mental road maps.....and all the Wal-marts and Subways inbetween...not to mention, the drive-in. Last week, we saw 40-Year Old Virgin and Skeleton Key...it really doesn't get any better than that...seriously...no movie will ever compare.

But, here I am again...the end of my work week drawing near and I'm trying to figure out where I'm gonna go during my three days off this week. Unfortunatly, my bank statement's telling me that I'll be going nowhere...and I hate that. That means no cigarettes...no new sights...no conversing with someone...anyone...on the same level as me.

I've been telling my aunt about my semi-plans to get out to one of the islands before I leave this side of the country. It's been really frustrating trying to explain to her that it doesn't matter whether or not I have someone to go with...I still plan on going.

She's keeps saying that traveling alone would be too dangerous...too lonely...do nothing but add to my depression (which, I have to say, is QUITE opposite of what it'll actually do)...and she's gone so far as to say that the islands "really aren't that nice."

Christ. I know it really doesn't matter what she thinks and that she's nothing but concerned for me...but, I have to hear it anyway.

In fact, I have to hear it all the time...if it doesn't come from her, it comes from my father or somebody in my extended family. How does anybody ever expect me to to do ANYTHING if I'm living in fear of what's going to happen to me? I'm really trying my hardest to break that mentality in my head, damnit!

If there's ever been one thing that's bothered me about being female, it's this. When I was little, I always wanted to be a boy because i saw that they were able to do things on their own without really being questioned. Then I grew up...and I realized that I was actually more than happy to be female...because boys are dumb.

Now, I'm still a girl...and I'm still happy with this...and I'm STILL fighting with the "You really shouldn't do that because you're a fragile female."

I hate getting angry about this. I know that everyone is just concerned for my safety...Hell, I'm concerned for my safety. But, incredibly secure...eating at Bennigans...staying at the Holiday Inn...taking the guided tours with the rest of the group...activites just aren't fun (for me, anyway...but, if I'm with the right people, anything can be fun).

Sheeessshh...it's work time now.

Let the chastising begin...

Hi....I don't really know how to say this, but I haven't been doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

I know...I know....really, what's changed? Well, that's just it...THAT is what was supposed to change. I'm fully convinced that I, myself, can cure my short attention span and inability to accomplish anything. Damnit!

I had some small goals...and now my small goals have become small potatoes. This is nothing new. I have no one to blame...except for myself, of course...and I might be able to pass of some of it on Mavis the Cat...she doesn't seem to mind.

So, I've decided to start asking myself the life questions that really matter...the "Where are you going?"..."Why are you here?"..."If that girl wasn't wearing that shirt, would you still be looking at her?"...you know the like.

And, in order to answer these questions, I've decided to ask myself what every blue-blooded lesbian in my situation would ask herself:


Yes...Mr. Mellow Yellow himself has decided to reincarnate himself (although, I'm pretty sure he's not actually dead...) into my head so that I may make decisions as only a blissful, Scottish-hippie singer/songwriter could.

So, come on, Life..bring it on...

1. So, are you ever going to be honest with yourself and, um, maybe some of your friends about what you really think you're doing?

Well, since the yellow sunshine has entered my window
and the air has gone from still to nil,
the breeze is still smoky, but there is time to kill...

No.

2. Why do you keep saying you're going to do one thing and then you go off and do something else?

Because I absorb the sound of the the teak and gourd
when a sitar is born.
And if my baby's hand were a feather on a wing,
then my baby'd be-a-flying high with me.

and, partly, because the LSD flashbacks keep getting in the way.

3. If you had one stock to put all your money into...I mean all your money..the farm and all fourteen dollars..

I hear electrical bananas are a sudden craze.
Hmm. I wonder why?



Whoa. He was even deeper than I thought he would be...I need to summon Donovan for advice more often!

Drug offsets sleep deprivation effects, in monkeys

And to think, THIS shift-working monkey has been using crack cocaine the whole time!

Oh...and I'd like to thank all my friends that showed concern about my last blog entry...just to reiterate...I promise, I'm NOT suicidal or even nearly that disturbed...but, I love you guys for caring!

Ok. Here's part two of your free ride on my choo-choot-train of thought:

I want to be drunk all day tomorrow. And not your regular "happy hour" tipsy...but, swilling Mad Dog 20/20 out of a paper sack soused.

I want to wait by the door of the local package store and be ready, with cash in my hand, at 10 a.m. to purchase said liquor. I want the packi-store's owner to see the crazed look of determination in my eyes. I want the clerk to offer me a free sample of the salami-stuffed pepperochinis that flank the register in a dingy jar...just because he thinks this might distract any forthcoming rogue actions...

I want to make a mockery of myself and my family in this tiny-ass town.

I want to stumble my wasted-at-11 a.m.-on-a-Monday-morning-ass down to the town wharf...cigarette dangling out of my mouth...here, I'll chuck the first empty bottle of 20/20 at the iron whale that sits atop the gazebo. I want the Harbormaster and his cronies to think about saying something addressing my obvious intoxication and attempts to vandalize historical public property...but, become apprehensive when they see me lurch towards the ocean like one of those "28 Days Later" zombies...those guys were so quick!

I want to drop to my knees in water...take the second bottle of brown-sacked 20/20 from my back pocket and motion as if I were presenting the malt-liquor as a sacrificial offering to my Ocean God...who, curiously, lives in the sky. When it becomes apparent that Ocean God isn't interested in the gift...I want to open the bottle, violently, with my teeth, and down the beverage in one, or possibly two, swigs.

I want to get up...stagger two steps to the right...stand absolutely still for 43 seconds and then make a sharp, about-face...reach down to my left sock where I've stored two nips of vodka in the elastic (don't even ask what I'm carrying in my right sock)...and place one in a tiny, liquor-nip-sized paper sack. This will make it look soooo cute.

Ok.

Hmm...I don't think I'll do that tomorrow...It's more likely that I'll find myself on a bus to Connecticut.

So, the train of thought has de-railed and I need to sleep...we'll leave this as one of those obnoxious "to be continued..."

Hello.

Would you like to know what's going on in my head at 1:30 a.m. on a Friday night?

No?

Well...you're free to leave at any time...I'm not forcing you to read this...except for YOU...and you know who you are...

Hmmm...should this be bulletted or numbered? I'm sick of numbers...let's use bullets.

• Brian Eno. I can't get enough. I purchased "Here Come the Warm Jets" last month and I'm just floored by the awesomeness of this album. I've been listening to most of these songs for several years now, but I've never put the entire album together and listened to it as a whole. It's weird...and warming...and artsy...I guess...I don't know! I could never be a music reviewer...just get the damn album...it's good...you'd never even think this shit could go down in 1973...
  
• One of my cousins from Chicago called me tonight. Her life pretty much sucks right now. She just had her second child a few weeks ago and right about the same time her husband filed for divorce...lucky for him, he had a side girlfriend to move in with while letting this whole "birth of my second child" thing blow over...My plans may be changing...I might find myself in Chicago post-Massachusetts...
• I just found that there's a city bus line that runs close by my house! That's it...I'm outta here...I really really really can't stay in this house during my next three days off...and a city bus line means that I can easily get to the regional bus line on my own...and from the regional bus line, I can get to the ferry...and from the ferry, I can get to an island...maybe Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket?
• I want to have a running Honda Spree by the end of the year. This would make the...ummm...THIRD....time that I've said this.
• I'm pissed off that couple of my co-workers dislike me so much. And, no...this is not my neurotic sense of self getting the better of me. It's true and it's beginning to make being at work quite hellacious. There are several reasons that I've found that make me an easy target for ridicule...(watch out! Here come the sub-bullets...)
  
  • I'm female. Yes...it's true. It's something I can't change, nor do I have any desire to change it. I've totally infiltrated their "boy's club" and now I'm just...well, there.
  • I have very little experience working in a kitchen. So, basically, I'm in the way a lot. When I'm told to do something, I have to ask questions...and even if I think I know what I'm doing, I seem to bungle around a bit and attract attention with my blundering.
  • They're assholes. That pretty much sums it up
• ....my thoughts have fizziled....

Thank you for participating in reading my thoughts on a Friday night...

My father has recently gotten into chatting with me online via instant messenger...this is ok, I guess...seeing that I am 2000 miles away...and it's convenient and free...But, it's just kind of...awkward. Chatting online has been a way for me to avoid parental communication for years...and now, my dad's "hip to the jive"...

Next thing I know, he's going to start talking to me with stupid online chat acronyms...

Dad: "Did u work 2 night?"

Me: "Yes"

Dad: "Right on. Is the Chowda house the place 2 b? LOL."

Me: "Dad...that's not funny."

But, in reality, my dad didn't talk to me this way...thank God.

The conversation steered clear of anything too personal and it was nice to talk to him. It was your basic online chat...and then, my father decided it was time for him to sleep and signed off with the following:

"I better go to bed now. I have to assess a leak at the Delta 106 platform tomorrow morning at 8 a.m."

Ummm...yeah. Me too.

Am I supposed to know what that means? Who signs off with that...really. Sometimes I feel bad for my dad because I know he has no one he cares about to talk to about his work...and I have to give him credit...at least he's trying to talk to me...I think that we can both say that we're recovering nicely from my teen angst years...

And I think I can stop worrying about my dad embarking on a quest to become hip...

Ya know...I didn't really think that I missed home until I read this article:

Mom to Continue Protest Against War

Best line ever:

"I ain't threatening nobody, and I ain't pointing a gun at nobody," Mattlage said. "This is Texas."

Yeeeeeeeehaaaaawwww! (insert visions of cowboys with jugs of XX liquor in one hand and a shiny six-shooter in the other...

Doves? Has anyone seen any doves? I hear it's dove huntin' season 'round these parts...

I've tried to refrain from posting up here when I don't have anything productive to say...but, if I held myself to that principle, there would be no blog in existence..in fact, I believe that if the majority of bloggers held themselves to that ideology, there would be no blogs...and what were we doing with all of our time before blogs? Do we even remember? This being said...

Ok. So here's my first inane thought: I had no idea that the song "These Dreams" was a Heart song. This may be inviting ridicule amongst some of my friends...but honestly, I didn't know. I believe I thought it was Gloria Estefan...or maybe that chick that sang "Black Velvet"...shows how much I know about Heart.

What brought this epiphany, you ask? Well, a couple months ago a good friend of mine blessed me with many many selections of top quality pirated music...well, pirated for me anyway...he actually bought all these albums..and after weeding through lot's of (cough) chick music I have found plenty of music that I enjoy listening to. Full albums too! Neat, huh? Ok...I'm asking for even more ridicule...I like lots of chick music...but, I draw the line at Vanessa Williams. You're never going to get me to budge on that one. Hmmm...he might feel the same way about the selections of Skinny Puppy and various New Wave artists I provided him...

...I now patiently await...an agent of the Recording Industry Artist's Association should jump out of the hedges and slap me with a lawsuit...right...about...NOW!...

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, but all that crappy chick music and cock-rock you have on your computer is in violation of strict copyright laws. These laws are in place in order to protect the fine creative specimens that the artists of the recording industry have been nice enough to provide the unintelligent, drooly-mouthed masses. Now, please...if you could just come with me...Ms. Williams and Mr. Nugent are back at our office awaiting your arrival so they can rack your knuckles with diamond-encrusted rulers..."

Don't get me wrong...I don't completely disagree with copyright laws...musicians are hard workers too and possibly even original and talented.....right? What's considered work here...what's art? I have no idea...my opinion's as varied as the next persons...

But, I'll tell you one thing I do know...my culture-consuming days of being duped into giving money to the entertainment industry are over.

Although, I am still a culture consumer...I, now, have been provided the easily accessible power of product information. Thank you, interweb. I can't say I didn't try to find out information BEFORE the internet...it was just a lot harder...and usually, fruitless...and I'm lazy...I try things half-assed before I give up and just take what's coming to me.

It's the American way...we figure out ways to make things easy...we figure out ways to get high quality at a low, low prices...we consume and then want more...man, I want a cigarette.

And this is the real reason the music industry is pissed. They now have to actually work to get us to consume their products! Ten years ago, they could sell a packaged deal just on MTV and the radio...one song would get us to buy an album...one song would get us to throw down $50 on a concert ticket...and, in a sense, this is still true. But now they're forced to maintain websites...they have to have interactive CDs...they have to give us free downloads for our IPods...best create a culture that will at least whitewash the lack of substance or else, we ain't buyin', bitch! Or, hey...maybe you can just give us the substance? How about that?

You gotta give me something worth paying for...

I still buy lots of music. I still go to lots of concerts. Only now, I make sure I know what I'm getting for my money...

We know too much. Power to the people! Wooooo!

Jesus. How did I go from Heart to that? I really wanted to tell everyone about how I finally figured out how to open the littleneck clams last night...I've endured several cuts and an equal amount of co-worker raillery (again, with my lack of knowledge in the seafood industry...I think I'm a walking enigma to them) during my journey to success...but, it's paid off in the end. I was able to pry open ONE littleneck clam in the time that it took my coworker to open 10...I'm so useful! How is this restaurant going to function when I leave?








©2005 Specious Lesbo and the Seahorse She Rode in On...because I know you were thinking about stealing my art...unoriginal bastard.

Did I mention that I should've left town this week?

Within ten minutes of my aunt's return home from work, I was barraged with a series of slightly insulting life suggestions:

1. Para-aunt: "What did you do today? Did you leave the house?"

Me: "Uh...I did lots of reading...and some other stuff. No. I didn't...but, I'm pretty content...not at all bored."

Para-aunt: "Well, you know...exercise helps with depression."

Me: "Yeah. I've heard that."

Para-aunt: "So...do you get much exercise?"

Me: "Well....not particularly...but I've always had jobs that have kept me pretty active...and I've just been lucky, I guess."

Para-aunt: "You know...that's not going to last. Especially if you spend all summer on the couch eating cookie dough! And, as you get older, it'll get harder to lose that weight..."

Me: "I think I'm pretty in touch with my body...if I gain weight, I'm generally aware of it...and if I need to do something about it, I can...so, I'm not too worried about it."

What the fuck?!? I knew I never should've told her about my closet cookie dough consumption. This has shed light on eating disorders for me...so, thank God I'm not an insecure, appearance obsessed teenager! There'd be jars of puke in every closet in this house...

I think I handle the interrogations ok...I'm just worried about where it's going to lead. As of right now, my family believes that I'm a shy loner...prone to depression...not really interested in relationships or socializing in general. I like to be left alone...for days at a time...but, I keep myself alive...I go to work...sometimes, I express thoughts...

Only some of this is true...I've noticed the word "loner" has come up in several discussions...either with me or I overhear conversations that were casual and just mentioned my apparent tendencies...

I've never really considered myself a loner...is this how homosexuality is rationalized to those who don't want to look beyond the black and white? I mean, I think that I'm blessed with a number of close friends that have surrounded me for years now...the SAME people...YEARS....and it's not like I hide this. I'm always talking to someone...how does this make me a loner?

Oh...I get it. I don't talk about boyfriends....or any future interest in finding a boyfriend...or marriage...

To them, I guess that particularly makes me a weirdo at my age...I've graduated from college...I'm not on any type of career track...I have no progressing relationship with a significant other...hmmm...what else is there? I don't give off a major depressive vibe...maybe a slight vibe of melancholy, but nothing that keeps me from getting out of bed in the morning...is it just pure idleness?

Perhaps. Well...I guess there could be worse things than being labeled a loner. They could use the word "sociopath" instead...basically the same thing, just a bit heavier connotation...

But, despite my sociopath disposition, my aunt invited me out tonight to listen to her play the clarinet in the airy gentility of the Mattapoisett Town Band (I didn't read this article...it's seven years old...and I didn't want it to taint my thoughts...but, it adds some pictures to my story).

I asked the vital questions...can I bring beer? No? Am I going to hear a rendition of "Tiny Dancer"? No? Damn....Ok...well...can I get ice cream there or soon there after? Yes? Well then...I'm sold.

So, my aunt and I made our way down to the wharf where the rest of the band was grabbing their folding chairs from the harbormaster's quarters...setting them up semi-haphazzardly on the gazebo stage...ahhh...the gazebo...and what's a gazebo without a Baleen whale wind-dial atop? Nothing, I tell ya...

I found myself a nice patch of grass...stage left. I had a pretty comfortable folding chair and I settled in...awaiting the music...I brought some reading material with me...unsatiable (but, I'll have to say, I've never spelled better in my entire life...)...and I must perpetuate my "loner" image...

I tried...but there was just too much activity going on for me to ignore. Children everywhere...happy elderlies...unsullied WASPs...

The children were the most noticeable...on the right, I had several "Ring Around the Rosy"s...hmmm...children's songs about the plague....how nice...on the left, I had a small toddler adorned in a baby Polo shirt, Aberbabie Cargo Shorts and a Gap Kid puka shell necklace trying his best convince his mother to let him run circles around the gazebo with the rest of the proto-WASPs...

My cynical train of thought was broken by the band conductor's request for all to stand for the national anthem...this is where I get weird. I don't know if it's the Catholic upbringing or what, but I take the national anthem seriously...hey, it's hip to be patriotic...I like this country pretty good...despite all the issues I question, I'm a fundamental supporter...

But, that's pretty much as far as my jingoism goes...the rest of the evening included many-a-selection of Irving Berlin hits...and more engulfment of WASPisms...such as, "Well, I don't follow the pre-heating instructions...but, the crust always turns out crispy flakey!"...and, "Sweety...everyday is America day!" This was an answer to a matter-of-fact question presented by a five year old to his mother on why the houses still had flags up...I was actually wondering the same thing...

Cause I live and breath this Philadelphia freedom?

Because all we have to do, is take these lies and make them true?

Yikes.

If you came up to me and asked me whether I liked Americana...I'd probably instinctually smack you...but, I'm so familiar with denial that I could give you a detailed guided tour...so, truthfully, this is the America I love. Cedar shingles...concert band music...granted, I could do with out the WASP parents, but I even found myself wanting some of their Arryan children for myself...stuffed quahogs...

Thank god my family's crazy and I have no real job...or I might never return to Texas...

Really? Hmmm...I didn't see too many sequins, turquoise or Oscar Wilde festivals...but, ok.

I figured the best way to recap the highlights of this trip was through pictures...I only immortalize the BEST in my digital photography, so, on that note, let's explore...

I'm starting to think that my hanging around this week was probably a bad idea...

I decided to spend my three days off this week here in Dawson's Creek rather than searching out further adventures...mostly due to lack of funds and also realizing that I had lost all focus on my goals...which were what, again? Exactly.

I haven't done much in the past three days, besides warding off insanity (but, that's really a daily task)...on Monday, I biked myself over to the Salvation Army where, low and behold, I ran into my other aunt (as a note, I'm living with one aunt (Para-aunt...I don't know why she gets this name, she seems to be on the side-lines)), but there's another that lives in town...we'll call her Dyna-aunt...she seems to be the one in power around here) and spent a good 30 minutes talking to her in the the threshold of a thrift shop...

I am now squarely in the middle of an ongoing, bitter family argument concerning how my grandparent's estate is being handled...that's one more thing to check off on my list of "stuff I didn't know I should be appreciating before I came up here"...I have ONE sibling...and he's male...thank GOD I do not have four sisters...I am forever excused from these Divine Secrets of Ya-Ya BULLSHITHOOD.

So far, I've heard three sides of the story...one from Dyna-aunt...on from Para-aunt ...and one from my mother....I didn't admit this, but while Dyna-aunt was talking to me in the thrift store, the theme song for Dynasty was going through my head...or maybe that was the theme to The A-Team...or Good Times...I don't know...I was obviously paying attention...so ridiculously dramatic.

So, add this to the fact that my brand new computer has decided to start fucking up on me and that my attention span lasts about as long as a theme song for the average television show...and Para-aunt telling me stories about how my mother used to put on her headphones and stare at her record player in the basement for hours while the rest of the family wondered what exactly she was doing (I shudder when I think about the power of genes....)

...and I'm starting to really wish that QP would've agreed with my wishes to leave me at that campsite in New Hampshire last week....I wasn't kidding...I really wanted to be left there. Not that I think my life is particularly difficult these days, but I'm always on the lookout for a nice, natural place to curl up in a ball and be forgotten...no need to worry, I would be adopted by a mother bear and would suckle at her teat until I reached full maturity.

I guess this is a good transition point for me to talk about my camping trip to the White Mountains of New Hampshire last week...I don't know why it's taking me so long to absorb these trips, but it just seems like when I'm actually doing stuff, I don't want to talk about it...go figure...

It's been exactly one month since my arrival to the Northeast....one month of staying, as unobtrusively as possibly, with my aunt, uncle and cousin. I think I do a good job at pulling my weight around here...I don't eat too much, I clean the kitchen and bathroom without being asked, and I immediately do any task that I'm asked to do...no problem. I don't want to be any more of a freeloader than I already am by default, so I try to help out. Granted, I told my aunt I'd cook for her, but in the days I haven't been working, I've been adventuring, so that hasn't really played out...

Anyway, during this one months stay, I've discovered some details about my kinfolk. Such as, my uncle...he's a funny guy. He shares my enjoyment in making up words to fit a situation....like, "bozoian"...this is an adjective that can be used to describe anything clown or circus-like. Example: "Nice pants Betty! Although, coupled with that pin-stripped blouse, it makes you look sort of bozoian."

...then there's my aunt. I like my aunt. She's got a great sense of humor, she's nice...we get along great. BUT....yes, we could all see this coming, there's ONE thing. She has a tendency to put me through a labyrinth in order for me to discover something's she's trying to get me to do...or see...or feel...or say....or ask...I don't even know.

On the surface, this isn't too bad....I'm good at games! I'll work on a puzzle for days...I can't get enough of Jeopardy!....and one of my favorite parts of Grand Theft Auto was figuring out how to get the hooker to get in my car...so, it's not the challenge that stumps me....

But, when it comes down to human interaction, I'm not a huge fan of these kinds of games. So far, it's been nothing big...she's had a couple of circuitous conversations with me concerning the flowers....I totally play dumb. I have no brain. I only take things at face value. Sorry.

....so....I woke up this morning...made my way into the bathroom (where my aunt has decided to leave my daily chore notes) and discovered the no-longer-necessary "Mel...please water flowers. Thanks!" and another note, "Mel...I am missing a serrated Henkels Bread Knife black handle. Have you seen it?"

I thought that was kind of weird...why would she be asking me, in note form, where a bread knife was? The only thing I could come up with was that my uncle had asked me where the bottle opener was the other day. I confessed to keeping it in my room so I could open my beers late at night, therefore allowing myself to revel in my alcoholism quietly by myself in my room...I didn't want to keep going back and forth to the kitchen when my beers are kept in the basement. I thought it was good logic...

So, maybe my aunt's assuming that if I hoard bottle openers, that my neurosis spills over into the bread knife department....what she's imagining I'm doing with a personal collection of bread knives is beyond the scope of my creativity...

I took this note with a grain of salt...I guess she's just covering all her bases. I collected my IPod and proceeded out into the front yard to water the flowers and sing and dance along to all the music my heart could desire....

Somewhere...right as the IPod turned to some melancholy Wilco...I saw a glimmer in the grass...I proceeded with caution, because if I've learned one thing in life, it's to be cautious around things that shine...and, low and behold, I found myself a serrated bread knife! Well, I'll be....

At first, I was excited. I wanted to call my aunt right away to announce that, indeed, I did know where her precious Henkels Bread Knife black handle was...but then, I was like, "Hey....wait a minute...is this some sort of test?" And yes, I did say that out loud...I was looking in the direction of Clovis, the neighboring horse, so we can pretend like I was asking him...

Then I put the pieces together...did my aunt really place this bread knife near the garden in order to see if I'd find it...and therefore determining whether I'm watering the flowers or not? Maybe I'm the one reading into this too much...but, it just all falls together too nicely...

I'm tempted to put it back...to tell her that I have no idea where the fucking knife is....but, insist that I DID water the flowers....and see if I can get her to crack! But, that would be playing the game...and I refuse to do that with ANYONE...I've quit a job over shit like this before...

The way I see it is, you either talk to me or you bottle up your feelings and keep them to yourself until they come out in a massive emotional explosion...like the rest of the world.

So, I guess I have to be the one to do the talking, although I'm not the one with the problem, well, I guess now I am...I have a problem with her scavenger hunts...I'm waking up early tomorrow and we're going to have a discussion about what I am/am not doing with the flowers that doesn't meet up to her expectations. How can I improve? What kind of future do I see for myself as a member of this household? Can I expect a raise in the next six weeks? I'm getting to the bottom of this...