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Showing posts from July, 2016

La Dee Da!

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“Do you really wake up every morning thinking what bad thing is gonna happen today?”
Sanctimonious Admonishment Woman gazed at me across the bubbles of the hot tub, serene in her superiority. What the hell?

Sure, I’d just been whining to DL about how some teenage girls had stolen my fins off the deck while I was swimming, claiming that they didn’t know they were mine when the lifeguard who’d so gallantly helped me locate them, asked them. I’d referred to this night of swimming as mayhem, but more on that later. I guess I’d also made some comment about waking up thinking what bad thing was gonna happen to me today, which SAW picked right up on. How do I respond?

I laughed. “Well, I’ve had a run of bad things lately, so it seems appropriate.”
SAW nodded, sagely, “Well, don’t you think that if you woke up every morning thinking ‘What good thing is gonna happen to me?’, that maybe good things might happen?”
Shit. No. I don’t believe this. But I go along with her, cuz what am I gonna …

Demon Shower Boy Child

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“Don’t stare at me!” I stand shaking, wrapped in my towel, in the center of the women’s shower at the Hilltop YMCA. The Devil Boy Child makes a scrunchy face at me, his demon eyes glittering at me in gleeful maliciousness.

Goddamnit! Is it asking so much to be able to take a shower in the women’s locker room without a goddamn boy child staring at me?
Evidently.

He starts a spastic dance at me in the middle of the shower, his arms flapping akimbo, his devil face ablaze with evil intent. He knows he has the power over me. I can’t take a shower with him dancing there in the center of the showers. Where the hell is his mother?

“Stop staring at me!” I holler again.
He stops his dance, but continues his stare as only boy children can do when confronted with naked women.
Why oh why can’t the YMCA keep the kids in their own locker rooms at the Hilltop Y? There are no kids allowed in Oakland. There’re no kids allowed in Berkeley. Why does Hilltop allow it? Families! Remember, it’s called t…