Friday, May 2, 2008
I Want My Face Back
I am in love.
First I say I won't talk about politics and then I let loose with an I hate George Bush tirade. (Did I mention he is an evil sonofabitch?) And now I am going to talk about my personal life. My intimate life. I swore I would never do this either because I think it is tacky, but I must.
I am seeing two guys at the same time. (Oh, c'mon, like you haven't!) I am rocked by them both. So much so that I just can't chose. It is greedy, but when you have been in cold storage for as long as I have, well...
The taller of the two is named Ben and other one is named Jerry. I am so blinded by lust for these fellas that I so often find myself in a daze, a Haagen Daze. These paunchy, middle-aged guys are like balding sirens drawing me into the rocks.
It may sound creepy, but they like to lure me into the freezer section of the grocery and like someone in a blackout who comes to holding a knife dripping in blood, I find myself walking out of Fairway with a pint of Cinnamon Buns and some Cherry Garcia. All the time telling my lovers I have to end it with them. But they whisper such frothy, endearing things to me like "Imagine Whirled Peace." or "It's only Turtle Soup." Jerry's mustache actually tickles my ear. One time Ben called me his "Chubby Hubby" and I didn't know whether to fling my half eaten Chunky Monkey across the room or ask him to take me to Massachusetts and make an honest man out of me. It's trifling.
When they sense I am vulnerable Ben will tickle my cheek and Jerry will say in that baby-talk voice he knows drives me wild, "You don't look fat in that housedress." I buy it every time.
But enough is enough. My figure is gone, I have the sugar shakes and I am thinking about New York Super Fudge Chunk for my match.com name. I have to end it and that is why I write this all here, humiliating myself. It is a cry for help. Why buy the Vermont Dairy cow when you can get it free. Well no more. I am going to just tell them I wrote this TO THE WORLD and it O-V-E-R. I don't care if they die in a Double Mudslide and become Fossil Fuel. They can turn into Phish Food for all I care. I am not coming back, no more Karamel Sutra. I'm done.