drunk driving

I went to a catholic high school. When I got there at 8am on a Wednesday, the front desk secretary said “Are you the woman giving a presentation on drunk driving?” I was bored and didn’t know how I got there. I said yes.

They brought me in and gave me a muffin and coffee, which I appreciated because the only thing I had for breakfast that morning was the grand slam from iHop. Did you know Steve Jobs invented the iHop? I should visit Steve Job’s grave, it’s good to honor those who have helped you. My blue iPod touch was instrumental in my ability to listen to music privately which I believe is a right to every (U.S.) citizen.

I went to the front of the auditorium and students filtered in. Many students came late which I did not appreciate. You need to respect your elder drunk driver presentation givers.

My presentation began like this, 

“Hello students, my name is El Salvador.”

I didn’t want to give them my real name in case they looked me up and saw I was a professional Model and not a professional drunk driving presenter. So instead I gave them a name that would show a lovely country when they googled it. It’s called Search Engine Optimization. 

I continued,

“I am here to talk about drunk driving. First you must get a license, which is harder than you think! So focus on that first, and then focus on drinking later because that is the easy part. When you get your license, make sure they give you a real ID because you can’t go to Aruba without it nowadays.”

I have not been to Aruba. I do not have a real ID. 

“Once you’re all set with the license, I recommend two to three drinks MAX for everyone before they drive. If you aren’t driving, you can basically have as many drinks as you want, just stop drinking when your friends start ignoring you and whispering, ‘I’m not sure what to do, should we call an uber?’

My parents took me to Aruba when I was six. My sincerest Apologies.

“‘I’m not sure you’re legally allowed to put someone in an uber if they don't consent. Also I’m so low on money, Jessica can you do it since your uber is linked to your parent’s account?’” 

At this point, the administration started to realize I wasn’t the real drunk driving presenter, not because of my demeanor but because the actual presenter had arrived and she brought a massive machine that frightened me at first glance. It was a jail broken racing game from an arcade. She removed the Monaco race track and filled it with a quiet suburban street. 

Where is this street? I’ll live there. 

It was a drunk driving simulator where students get in and try to race down the road while drunk, and you have to avoid fun obstacles like sweet old women and young hot moms walking their dogs. Oh and trees, those are actually the bad ones. Because the other obstacles you can kill, and you go to jail, or you can let the tree kill you. And the tree doesn’t go to jail.

I was mad because if I had only remembered my massive jail broken racing arcade machine, I probably could have kept going with my presentation. 

A nun came up on stage, thanked me for my time, and escorted me off the stage. The students had no idea I was a fraud, they assumed I was simply a partner of the other women. Awesome, maybe I actually did a great job and I could ask that woman for a job as her assistant drunk driving presenter, but I was so dumb and forgot my resume. And I realized I had bitten my index finger's nail bed so much it was bleeding. Drunk driving presenters are really into reducing bleeding. 

The nun held me backstage. It looked familiar but then again I always felt very comfortable backstage. I was an ex theater kid, but not one of the weird ones. I was normal, meaning I wasn’t that good. But I was okay enough for the drama teacher at my school to tell me he considered me for the role of Maria Von Trapp. Not everyone is considered. 

The nun said many things at me but I struggled to pay attention because she had a white skin patch under her right eye. I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong there. Had she rubbed her under eye so much the skin burned off and had to regrow? Was it a fungus? Some fungi is edible. Was this makeup to cover up an even more grotesque thing? I started to envision it as a little bit of mozzarella she sewed on and I wanted to barf. 

“How have you been, do you still live with your mom?” 

Sister Rebecca. Maria Von Traap. I was considered for Maria Von Traap, a sister. Sister Rebecca.

How does she know I have a mom? Sister Rebecca taught me math.

I’m not sure if Maria Von Traap is qualified to be teaching equations. 

In thirty seconds, five hours, I was with three other Sister Rebeccas. They gave me my favorite drink, water in a glass cup that smells like wet dog. I prayed for the first time in twelve years. 

Sister Rebecca remembered me, me.

so small

 so small you could pick me up, honey

i shrunk the kids

my dad did it to me last week when he was trying to catch the bad guy in our backyard

but it hit me

its hard

ants are my friends, there's one bitchy ant that sucks

my cat licked me and scalped my head

i almost drowned when my dad cried

worst part is i don't think i can go to homecoming

not because i'm ugly or anything but because the decibels of the music will rip me apart the second i step foot in the gymnasium. 

the crumbs on the floor from tuesday night's dinner do not taste good

laughter

at some point, i realized i laughed with the snow and not with the moon. the moon held me captive in solitude, shining a light i could not avoid. memories never fade, in fact they can hide away like a scared church mouse, then run across your foot while you stand in the kitchen in the middle of the night. what were you reaching for in your fridge? is the church mouse still there? i could take it and move it two miles away, they say that's enough so it won't come back. but i think that church mouse is smart. it has spent years memorizing every inch of my walls. i bet it has sat in my rocking chair more times than i.

i will eat the bell peppers that have been in my fridge for months. they are soft now, but their red color has outlasted the nasty faded carrots and i'd like to reward them. i'm a people pleaser who can't please people. what does it take to be the person who laughs at it all? 

i'm hoping for a snowstorm this winter so i have an excuse to be cold and light a fire without a fireplace. i will gather wood just in case. if i must, i will burn my chess board. i never did win against him anyway.

he loved the sweet sap of summer. the stickiness of us could not keep us apart. 

a clown will come to my house and do his best. 

first date at the fair

 my mom dropped me off in our red car that i never knew the make and model of when i was a kid, but i now know it was a toyota 4runner. i was immediately hit with the lights of the ferris wheel, shining bright than the stars, the chatter of kids i didn't know but could probably get along well with if someone introduced us, and the smell of kettle corn that teased me as i missed my family's dinner to go on my first date ever. 

my mother waited for me as i walked away from the car. i pretended i was not with her and i went up to the ticket booth. i slid open my flip phone and texted jacob: "here, by the ticket booth." "you coming in or what?" said the lady from inside the booth. "just a moment," i said. i wanted to give jacob the opportunity to pay for me, only if he wanted to of course. i would be fine either way. my parents equipped me with a 20 dollar bill, which i didn't realize as a kid was way more than they could afford to give me. i just didn't want to start my date off on the wrong foot. i wanted the proper chance to have the perfect first date, with maybe a romantic kiss under the stars. then, i saw jacob leave his black car and give his mother a kiss on the cheek, and i regretted not doing that to mine. we had been dating for two weeks already, and i realized i didn't even know his mother's name. i would ask him when there was a lull in the conversation. i waved to jacob, he walked over. we hugged for .06 seconds. i gave my mother eyes and she drove away in her 2009 red toyota 4runner. the mothers were both now gone. which meant we were alone at the big fair. we knew no one else here. 

he paid for our tickets and we went in. i was starving, but i couldn't say that yet. our bodies auto-piloted to the first ride we saw: teacups. we hadn't said anything yet besides hello. "this is my boyfriend," i thought to myself as we waited in line. "compliment him." i mustered up the courage and said, "i like your shirt," and then actually looked at the shirt that i had the honor of giving such a high compliment to. it was a relay for life t-shirt from last year. "thanks," jacob said. i looked around awkwardly. "i've never been to this fair, i always go to the one in collinsville," i said. "i haven't been either," jacob said. we moved up two places in line. "what's your mom's name?" "susan" "cool." we then waited in silence until we got into the teacups. 

we were paired with an older couple that looked to be in their 30s. we all crammed into the cup and the ride began. i turned the cup slowly, along with jacob and the man. "babe, please, just turn the cup," the man said. "no, this is so stupid. oh my god," she said. "babe do not make a scene, please," he said. "oh so you can just make fun of me to the kettle corn lady and i'm not gonna be upset? and for what - just so you can be this awesome hilarious funny guy and i'm just some bimbo?" "you're not a bimbo." at that point, jacob let out the smallest laugh. i looked up straight at him with big eyes. "you think that's funny, kid?" the man said. "stay out of it." she said. "i am sorry," jacob said. when the ride finished, jacob and i walked out of the teacup silently, and then burst out laughing. "BIMBO, BIMBO!" jacob yelled. "JIMBO, BIMBO, LIMBOOO." i mimed limboing. jacob laughed. "god they were CRAZY! they totally freaked out at you," i said. "if we see them again, let's yell BIMBO at them," jacob said. 

we ate kettle corn, fried dough, and cotton candy while the fireworks popped in the sky. "i wonder if i'll be anything like her when i'm 30," i said. "no friggin' way. you are going to be amazing, nice to everyone, and normal. even if a middle schooler laughs in your face," jacob said. "what if i'm a bimbo?" i said. jacob cracked up. i laughed. i thought to myself, "this would be a nice time to kiss, but how do you even kiss? i don't care enough to figure it out. i don't want to ruin the night. we are having so much fun. i am fine with waiting until high school to kiss, yeah, that makes more sense." suddenly i heard, "MARIE!" i turned and looked. it was cassie, she was in my home room class. she ran up to me and hugged me, which we'd never done before. "have you seen brett?" cassie said. "brett h?" "yes." "no, i didn't know he was here." "ugh, he's pissed at me for making out with brian behind the dunk tank." "im sorry, uh, jacob got harassed by an old man." "oh, i'm sorry. i gotta go find brett." 

jacob and i climbed to the top of the big slide. i looked out over the fair, trying to find the couple. i took a step to my right, and as i put my foot down, i heard the sound of a potato chip crunching. i gripped my knee and picked up my leg so i could see the bottom of my shoe, and saw a squashed cockroach. "you two love birds are up!" said the attendant. i had no time. i stuck my two feet into the potato sack with jacob. and we flew down the slide. we went a little too fast. i wasn't prepared. and all i could think about was the cockroach riding the slide with us. was it still alive, having a little fun? 

i rode home silently with my mother. i wondered if i'd ever step on a cockroach again. i wondered if i'd ever want to kiss someone. i wondered if the fighting couple is in love. i wondered if it's ok to not have a lot to talk about with someone.

sweet disposition music video

 

tinned fish

tinned fish in the evening, tinned fish in the morning. no brushing my teeth in between. starving all day, dreaming about my nightly smoked trout. i'll put it on two crackers, make a little sandwich. make my whole house smell of fish. there's nothing else for me but my tinned fish. people run, people drive, people cry all night but i smile, knowing i got my tins.

morning comes, but i see no sun. time to wake up and have my salmon on ritz.

i sit on my basement floor, downing my concoction, looking at the 4,374 tins i have left. will it last me?

i haven't seen a soul since the final trip to the grocery store back in '81. i wonder if sheila's still there bagging groceries. she was 77 in '81. what's the year now? she may be gone.

starving all day, dreaming about my nightly smoked trout. wondering if the world's okay, i know i am.

the day i died

i was waiting in line for ice cream. it was quite a long line, maybe the longest i'd ever seen it. it was one of the muggiest days of summer, so we all wanted to reward our tongues for making it through.

i had probably waited for a good fifty minutes, and i was just about to be at the front of the line, but then i died.

i died about to retrieve my maple walnut ice cream cone.

the people in line screamed and huddled around my body. they yelled, "but she was so close to the front!" and "maybe it's just low blood sugar!" and tried to force feed me their gross cotton candy flavored ice cream, but i was already dead. it was no use.

it was a big shock to me when i died right there. that night, when i got dressed in my favorite summer outfit, my floral dress with tevas, and put on a light dusting of makeup, i did not think i'd die. i was about to cap off another beautiful night with a huge cone. i was promoted to a new position at work that morning, so why would i die?

did i go to the ice cream store too much and eat too many maple walnut ice cream cones? nobody told me i shouldn't, not even the ice cream man.

i wish i had at least gotten to eat my ice cream before i died. 

i died not knowing or believing in an after life. i died not believing i'd die. dying happens to people, not me, not us.

i died on cold hard ground with traces of sprinkles, dog hair, melted ice cream, and dirt around my body.

i died with strangers around me trying to help me up.

i refused their help and allowed myself to sink more into the tiled floor. i did not want to be lifted up. i wanted to shout, "this is it. it's really happening. i'm dying. look at me and prepare." but i had only one ounce of energy left. i licked my finger, dabbed it onto a sprinkle on the ground, and put it right onto my tongue. the tiny sweet purple sugar coated my teeth. 

this made my dying a little easier.