Barbie Genius

I've have a serious fascination with Barbie. I hold no ill will towards her. I do not damn her for her wasp waist, eternally pointed toes, or hard plastic smile. Barbie enraptures and amuses me, which is one reason I love this.

I -heart- Craig's List

You knew I was a monkey, why are you asking me to be a cat? - w4m

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SCENE I.

ME: Come look at me in my sexy monkey costume! Isn’t it awesome?

YOU: Damn, girl, you’re a great monkey! I really like the tail!

ME: I know! Check out the ears, and the paws! I love my monkey suit!

YOU: Do you ever wear anything else?

ME (Shakes ass to better show off the tail): I’m a monkey, I’m a sexy monkey! EEEEEKKK!

YOU: How about this (pulls out a cat outfit)?

ME: Um. That’s nice.

YOU: Because I’m really into cats.

ME: Why don’t you go talk to one of those cats over there, by the scratching posts? They look friendly. You’re hanging out here, by the bananas, where we monkeys like to congregate. EEEEEKKK!

YOU: Because I think you’d look hot as a cat. And we seem to have so much in common: both are mammals. Here, let’s just switch these ears. MEE-OOW, that’s hot!

ME: I feel awkward.

YOU: You look great. Purr for me, baby.

ME: Purr.

YOU: Say, “Meow.”

ME: They don’t go with my paws.

YOU: Try these paws.

ME: I would--I would rather have my own paws. Can I have my ears back?

YOU: Why are you being so difficult? I feel like we aren’t connecting.

ME: Because you’ve just met me and you’re not into what I like about me.

YOU: I am, I just think you should be a little flexible.

ME: I didn’t realize I was wishy-washy. I should have stood my ground a little firmer. Lesson learned. Here are your ears back, sir.


SCENE II.

ME: Come look at me--I’m a mongoose! Chillin’ by this bowl of rubber snakes! Waiting for another mongoose. Or a ferret. Or a marmot. Or another weird carnivore. Not putting on a bunny suit. Or a squirrel outfit. Rather be alone than change for anyone else. I’ll change for me, but not for you.

Puppy vs. Robot!

Love this.

sick

I'm sick. My eyelids hurt, my throat is raw and sore, my head aches, and my nose runs. I hate, hate, hate being sick. I think it's because I suppress my want to be taken care of on a daily basis, but when I'm sick it starts to feel like a reasonable request. Boo.

tactical error

I don't know how I managed to be in charge of clean up but there I was. Stewing with resentment as I stared down at an untended spill. I wonder whether it would be rude to put up a sign "Your mom doesn't live here, clean up after yourself" when Frank came in to keep me company. He was looking good, having come over to the hipster side with a short haircut, jeans, black hoodie, and black and brown bowling style shoes.

I can't gush to him about how good he looks, about how much the short hair ups his cuteness. I don't want him to mistake my flattery for flirting, so I give nothing more than lukewarm praise over the makeover. Maybe it was dissapointment in my reaction that caused his vindictive teasing.

"I saw Sam here, oooh he's tall and sexy ooh" he mocks, dodging in and out of my personal space like a boxer, rolling on the balls of his feet as he busied his hands drying a dish.

Sam is tall, sexy, and all the things that Frank whines at me. I can't tell you why he wants to point these things out to me, why he is pulling my ponytail with his taunts. I've never dated Sam, or fucked him, or done anything more than flirt. I used to flirt with Frank, till he asked me on a date. Then asked again. After a few more tries he asked why. Foolishly I answered that he wasn't as tall as the men I found attractive. (Cue me shaking my head at dumb self.) Frank has never let go of the fact that I won't give him a chance romantically. His passive aggressive response to this makes a future friendship less and less likely.

His face warps from boyish to demonic as he continues to tease.

"You like him huh? I can tell. Yeah you do, yeah you do, don't deny it"

I don't respond, hoping he will run out of steam, knowing any protest will keep him going. I frown and furrow my brow at him, wishing he would just stop it. Only when I think Sam will hear him do I try and shut him up.

"You really want me to stop? Is it really bothering you?"
A glimmer of hope lights in me,
"Yes, please stop it"
his face splits into an ugly, gleeful grin
"No way, just kidding. You totally like him, you're like so into him"

I don't spare him a glance as I walk out the door. Later Sam gives me his number and a smile. I don't bother saying goodbye to Frank as I leave.

number 138

tears fall
like petals
off a dead flower

just one more mess
to clean
up