These are a few of my favorite things
When I was a young girl I spent a lot of time hanging out in my mothers library. Mostly I just played with the stamp pads, WITHDRAW was always my favorite, or I'd try to find someone to race the book trucks with me. Good times. Well, eventually I started reading some of the shit that this high school library had and did I hit the jackpot.
Hidden in the back room was a series ala Time LIfe, but not Time Life, called Crimes and Punishments. Like other reference series of this type, each volume was divided up by types of crime and then there were short 5 or 6 page peices on a certain crime or punishment, but I rarely read those. Plus there were articles about forgery and stuff. Whatev. The text was clumsy but the pictures kicked ass. Those English guys that put this together pulled no punches. You want pictures of the decomposed Lindbergh baby? Here you go. Black Dahlia crime scene? Here's a couple different ones. Woman laying on her bed with her head all bludgeoned? Of course you do. Lizzie Borden's parents? Hell, we'll not only give you the gristly crime scene photos, but we'll give you some shots of their skulls as well. My favorites were Brady and Hindley, the Moors Murderers. They were so cockney and mod. And stupid. Hindley's brother-in-law turned them in whe they killed a man in front of him. There was a shot of the snitch and his girl sitting in the backseat of a car. They were so kick ass. Wraparound sunglasses and tuff, tuff cigs. I wanted to be a mod murderer. Or at least a mod snitch.
My sister and I sat for hours looking at these things. We had our favorites, old fiends we'd visit again and agan. The Acid Bath Blood Killer, the Zodiac Killer, Albert Fish who ate a little girl, but really wanted her mom to know that he didn't rape her first. He was probably lying.
When my mom left that school, my sis and I stole those books. Then we lost them again in a nasty break-up. Eventually we stole another set from a bookstore where my sis worked. Those bad boys are never getting away from us again.

p.s. Have I ever mentioned that the movie Candyman scared me so bad I had to sleep at the foot of my parents bed for a week. Before I went away to college.


It's time for your astrological forecast
Aries: Why so glum, chum? Don't drown in the summer doldrums. Soon it'll be fall and the air will smell like burning leaves.
Taurus: Sometimes your bull headedness makes you not fun to be around. You know how you are when you drink? Be like that more often.
Gemini: Sometimes you baffle those around you. Don't worry, that's why they keep coming back.
Cancer: You should send more checks. It makes up for your frequent run-ins with asshole-ism.
Leo: For crying out loud, if a person slides their eyes at you, it's not necessarily that they want to fuck you or buy you gifts. I mean, I look at people all day and rarely is that the case. Sometimes though, yeah, I see people and want to buy them jewelery.
Virgo: Most improved! Ding!
Libra: If you keep sobbing and jerking off, you're going to have a stroke.
Scorpio: Sometimes you're irrationally mean. You shouldn't have to look here to find that out. I have a sneaking suspicion that you already knew and didn't care. That's something else you should work on.
Sagittarius: Wow. You're super cute, but you're bugging the hell out of me. Remember when they used the chain people like you to the floor? Did I just dream that?
Capricorn: You're totally crushing. Spend some time helping others. Chill with your buds. Wear a memorable beach hat. Don't call him until you have time to suss out the sitch.
Aquarius: Remember when I said that all Aquarians were psycho liars? Well I recently revisited a local Aquarian and apparently when they get over the psycho liar phase, they're SO boring. I mean a dog from the animal shelter and a new purse from the mall? That's your big news this week? Thanks for making the rest of us feel like Hef, Howard Hughes, and a crazed Rhesus monkey all rolled into one.
Pisces: There's only so long you can gripe about wasting your life until people start scowling.
Ain't that right, Lamar?
I stepped into the neighborhood Quick Trip this morning to grab some supplies and I noticed that QT carries douche. More than one brand. The nature of the QT is one of impulse purchases. Does anyone impulsively purchase douche? One can imagine the wide cross section of the population that frequents QT, do that many of them need impulse douching? It's odd and slightly baffling.

Though I am stoked that they're selling taquitos now.


Seventeenth summer
I think I've pinpointed my sexual awakening.
I was dating this guy, and how many stories begin that way? Anyway, he was considerably older than I, at least I thought so at the time. 22 to my 17, that's forever. In my eyes he was ancient and he couldn't get enough of me. I didn't know why, but I quickly learned how to exploit it. I though he was a sucker for going out with me. Or maybe I just thought he was a sucker. When he looked at me his eyes would glaze over and I knew then that I could get him to buy me pot. Whenever I slept with him he always seemed so greatful. I thought it was a game; to see if I could get his hands to shake. We didn't go out for very long. I ended up dumping him in a particularly callous fashion, even after he came to visit me in the hospital and brought me his stuffed doggie from when he was little, you know, so I'd feel better. I didn't even give his doggie back. I threw it away and went out with a boy my own age who treated me like crap off and on for the next four years.
However, one night before the dumping he took me to meet a friend of his. The only thing I can tell you about this friend is that he talked like a surfer, despite the fact that he'd never left OKC. He kept rolling joints and calling me Molly Butterpocket. My boyfriend didn't say anything.
Later in the evening, but no too late 'cause I had to be in by 12, the surfer guy pulled out this record player and a whole mess of 45's. He started digging through the records and talking about how he couldn't get enough of this one song and how we just had to hear it right away. Remember, this guy talked like Jeff Spicoli. Finally he finds the record and it's 96 Tears.
In my memory the next few minutes have become a series of jump cuts. He drops the needle onto the record and that crazy synth starts. Dootdootdootdootdootdoot. He flips on a strobe light and looks at me. "You need to dance Molly."
So I danced. I stood on this guys bed and danced by the light of the strobe, fully clothed, to 96 Tears, for four hours. The surfer guy and my boyfriend sat at the foot of the bed and watched me. At times they would get up and dance with me. Mostly I danced alone.
Looking back on this it's safe to say that the strangest part of the whole evening was not the fact that I danced to 96 Tears for most of the night. It's that I was a seventeen-year-old girl alone in the house with two guys who were way older than me and who could've tied me to the bed and done all manner of horrible things to me, but they didn't. All they wanted to do was watch me dance. And I'd never felt so beautiful.


Snacktime is all right for fighting
My dude is sick. I think I might be kinda sick as well. I went to the store to buy sickbed provisions: crackers, popsicles, US magazine. You know. Well, I found my way to the Gatorade aisle and was shocked by how many flavors of Red Gatorade were available and how many of them involved the word fierce. Maybe it's the naggy headache I have, but it really pissed me off. I don't like my food to be antagonistic or to think it could kick my ass should I step outta line. So I walked aroung some more and, as it turns out, the cool thing is snacking today is a shitty attitude. There were Goldfish cracker smirking at me from behind their tiny Raybans. The horror that is Gogurt. Is there anything more disgusting than the idea of yogurt clenched in a sweatly palm? Guhhh. I half expected to see the Quaker Oat man wearing a Lakers jersey and a pre-distressed visor. It makes me miss the sweet simplicity of a Star Crunch.


On a Wednesday night?
Last night Sarah and I managed to freak ourselves out. For some reason we got to talking about creepy local ghost stories. Being from OKC, Mat and I had to tell all the horror stories of the Belle Isle Power Plant and Sarah threw out something about a place called Cry Baby Bridge, which is creepy enough. But then I guess I felt the need to sweeten the deal, so I brought up the fucking Donkey Lady Christ, remind me never to do that again. I got really spooked and so did Sarah, and truthfully, I'm still spooked. Honestly.


Good-bye cruel world
Ok, so working at the library is fun and all, but I can't help but constantly think of what I should be doing next. Or what I should be doing period. You see, I went to library school because I had earned a history degree and, other than going to hair school, I was really out of choices. Ergo, library school. Truth of it is, I never really wanted to be a librarian. It's fortunate that I don't hate it and it hasn't wrecked my health like that time I was a coal miner.
However, I have finally discovered what I want to do with my life. This. I want to be one of these girls so bad I can taste it. I love to skate. I love to kick ass. I love to wear skimpy clothes and rub on people. I was born to be a roller girl. Brian told me he'd come and be my bad ass manager. Ive already decided that I need to be on the plaid skirt team and my name would be Traci Lourdes.
I'll have to do a little checking and see if they have a farm team of something. Look for me at the fairgrounds.


We'll always be as one. Wah-oo, YEAH!

I'm in a funk. A deep blue one. Today as I sat in my bathrobe and nursed my jibblie tummy I realized that this summer can't last forever. It will end soon and I'm positively basemented by that prospect.
Sarah will move away. While I don't want her to go, I also don't want her to rot away in the castle tower that is Tulsa. She'll go and establish our East coast offices, so that we can better serve our population. At the same time, I'm gonna miss her like crazy. Honestly, all the crap I've written here about Sarah barely begins to skim the surface.
Mat's getting married in December and we all know that stuff changes after that. I seriously doubt that Julie will want to come and watch t.v. at our house three to four nights a week, not counting weekends. He'll be lost to us as well. I know, everyone says that we'll always be pals and all that stuff, but I want to hold this summer on the tip of my tounge forever. And that doesn't involve moving or marriage.
Plus, Jon's totally in love. He'll try to play it down, but he is. He's talking about laying with his girl on sheets of Egyptian cotton and listening to the summer storm roll in. That's the most poetic shit any of us has come up with in a long time and the fact that it's coming from Jon means that something wicked this way comes.
It's selfish of me to want to hold everyone so close, but there are times that I want to cry for being so happy. Ok, this is one of those times, but honestly, when was the last time you cried because you were so happy? I did at my wedding, but it wasn't tears like this. I knew I'd be happy then, but this summer has totally cold cocked me.
Just like anyone who's ever had their heart broken, I feel like I'll never have this feeling again. The gaiety and the recklessness. I hold all of these people so dear and I'm afraid of losing them.


28 Days Later vs. Pirates of the Carribean: A critical comparison of zombies in cinema today.
Truly speaking, the zombie pirates were much closer to the traditional definition of zombie, which the Oxford American Dictionary defines as "Someone who's been brought back from the dead via witchcraft". The other zombies weren't actually undead, they were just infected with blood vomiting syndrome. Actually that definition doesn't fit either movie. Scratch that theory.
Ok, the real story for this weekend was my first attempt at making "special" brownies. It's safe to say that the experiment was a crashing success. Never in my life have I been so unaware of what was happening in the world around me, and for such a sustained amount of time. I'd like to apologize to all my homies that came over on Saturday night. We were borderline catatonic and if you all hadn't've showed up, the evening would've degenerated into staring at one another while listening to Tommy James and the Shondells. Good times.


Consider yourself called to the carpet
First of all I'd like to say to all those boys at the Tulsa World; I know you're reading every day so's you need to jump on the comments box. Honestly, that goes for all you repeat offenders. I installed that shit for a reason and when I go back and read them all I see is stuff I've written. This is your place to shine.

Ok, enough. I helped a little old man today. I feel very guilty becuase as soon as he came up to the desk I knew that he needed to use the computer and he hadn't the foggiest idea of where to begin. I told him to have a seat and I'd be over there in two shakes. I was able to get to him just in time to see him push his library card into the disk drive. Instead of crying I took a deep breath and got my tools that I use for such occasions. These consist of a pair of needle nose pliers and a dental pick. I fished out his card and we got to work.
He had to order airline tickets online, but it was an odd situation that I'm not going to get into. Let's just say it was far more difficult then a trip to Priceline. I had no clue what I was doing, but I did it to the hilt. I hope his grandbabies get home to Houston and aren't routed to the Army proving ground outside Wake Forest or something.
I know I still like my job because sometimes when I'm helping someone and they're nice and appreciative, I get a little chokey and teary and I want to hug them. Well, I got that feeling today. Then the old man slipped me 20 bucks.

I'm not even kidding.


I thought I was immune to such charms
So, earlier I told you about my run-in with Franca the Trannie. First of all I must apologize for getting all gushy about her. I think I might have accidentally doubled my nerve medication that day, which might explain why I acted like an ass. Or at least posted like one. Anyhow, today we get a telephone call from Rhonda in circulation. Rhonda is not one to be trifled with. She told us that Franca was...well, wanted by the feds and we really shouldn't check any books out to her if we ever wanted to see them again. Seeing as how Franca could potentially wipe out our entire female-to-male transexual collection, we blocked her card and pulled her books. Then we got down to some hot researching action.
The best part of being a librarian is that you can always find out the shit. I've got access to all kinds of crazy databases and phone directories. If I were more driven I might come close to fucking someone up. As it is I clear my friends fines. Enough! Back to Franca.
Well we hadn't been wearing our research caps for too long before we found this. It is safe to say that I am gobsmacked. The mere notion of a trannie coming into my tiny, whitebread library is fascinating enough, but to learn that she's a con-artist as well. What the fuck? Maybe I'll have to come and give a sworn statement or something. That would kick ass. I can only hope she comes in again. Not that I would say anything to her. Anything like "So, you're an Italian trannie/con-artist? What brings you to Owasso?"


Hey pearly, white girl
You just really haven't lived until swamp folk call to you from their canoe. Perhaps it was the copious amounts Natty Light, but I was damn near ready to run into the Talequah hills with my hound dogs Dan and Ann, and live off the fat of the land. This weekend combined so many of my favorite things: my bosom chums, beer, water, swamp folk, convertibles. The list goes on and on. I saw many terrifying people and was suprised by how nice many of them were. I was amazed as to the number of Asians on the river, but I chalk that up to...well I don't know.

Trips down the river make a person drunk, thus giving them time to ruminate on their surroundings. I found myself documenting all the blurry prison tattoos I saw. There is a lot of rangy, mountain-man rib meat out there and those ribs are well branded. I think it's just assumed, in the tattoo community, that it you're wearing a stars and bars bandana, you'll be wanting eagle on your chest. Just the same as if a woman has an Aerosmith album cover tattooed across her back, she'll probably let you fuck her daughter. I also wonder how many of those guys were really in the Marines.

All in all I was gobsmacked by the whole weekend. Mat and Julie were paragons of hostmanship and I can only dream of returning the favor. I got just the tiniest bit of sun burn, and I really think it makes me cuter. Cheers to hoping this golden bubble never pops.


Keep smilin', keep shinin' knowing you can always count on me. For sure
Lately I've been caught up in the white light of this radiant summer. It's been such a joyous blur that I haven't really paused to wonder what's making this summer such a blast. The first assumption would be the booze and well, that has a lot to do with it. However, as we all know, regardless as to how drunk you are, if you're drinking with an idiot, that person continues to be an idiot. If you're drinking with crazy/brilliant people, not Kirsten Dunst, it's quite possible you will take over the world.
I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to all those non-idiots that are making my summer so radiant. Let's get to it.

Brian: The best husband and friend a girl could ever have. You make me swell with pride when you play Robbie Fulks songs and I'm never happier than when I'm with you. You have given me a everything a simple girl from Oklahoma City could ever want.

Sarah B.: My dog. My ace in the hole. My partner in kicking ass. Sarah, honestly, how did I deal with shit before you? You are able to be so much fun it's dangerous and runs a real risk of injury, but at the same time, you're the most caring, supportive girl in the pack. You made me trust girls again rather than just try to steal their boyfriends or feel their tits.

Kelly: Kelly, you are so precious I wish you could live in my pocket. And you can rock out with your cock out. You understand the simple joys of decoupage and sitting on the couch. If there's a deformed baby show on TLC, I know where your dial is set. I'm in awe of your talent and your sock monky collection. It was fun. Well, even though it was embarassing.

Jon: I love you Jon. You are such a gentleman. Not to mention brilliant. Our relationship can be summed up in the email you sent me:
I'll poke your eyes out. You break my spine.
We'll be rich and drunk forever.

Mat: You are my cosmic opposite. We balance one another perfectly and that is what makes us an unstoppable killing machine. I can only hope to hang on the boys couch as well as you hang on the girls couch. And you're welcome to hang on our couch any time. We'll always have Bangkok.

Shine on you crazy clowns. Shine on.


She walks like a woman but talks like a man, oh my Franca
So, it's not every day that you find yourself strangely attracted to someone. Or attracted to someone strange. Today while quietly practicing librarianship a patron approached my desk. This tiny latino/a person needed a library card. Simple enough. I noticed this person had very delicate hands and fine features, but they were undeniably butch and she did have leg hair of DeKinderian proportions. I was confused. The accent didn't help. So I made Franca a library card and left it at that.
A bit later Franca came to my desk and needed a little help with some research. As I excell at that, I was more than happy to oblige. And who knew that the Tulsa City-County Library had so much information on female to male sex change operations? I sure didn't. And who knew that Owasso had a tiny, yet significant, female to male transexual population? I sure didn't.
Franca was totally nonchalant about the whole exchange and I think she might have busted a little latin love my way, with the finger touching library card exchange. It was there.
Truly, she was kinda hot. In a parallell universe I might let her strap me on. I can't wait to see how she'll turn out.


My wish list
For the kids to stop screaming.
For the books to stop coming
Did I mention the screaming, 'cause it's about to kill me.
A week long float trip
My own private Jupiter Jump
Hair that never needs to be cut
Sarah B. to come home
This summer to last forever


I just found a ring that says Playa. Who was sportin' this gem at storytime?


Bill Keane brings bad mojo.
My checkbook and I have not been getting along lately. It all started when I got those Family Circus checks with the buffalo imprint. Those round headed kids ride around in my purse acting like little shits. Because of them I've been getting these nasty letters from the bank. Quickly I discovered that the best way to deal with these letters is not to open them. Let me tell you, that has been working great for the past couple of weeks.

Well, today was the day that me and the checkbook met on the field of honor at dawn and it was not an heroic battle. I was far out manned and out classed. Honestly, if Billy had come to the field instead of his dad there would have been a dotted line showing you the exact route he took to kick my ass. As it was, me and the Family Circus sat down and did a little good, old-fashioned negotiation and I conceided. Ours was not an evil love, but evil was born because of it.

I need to get back to my roots and order the plain blue checks from the bank. Every time I get designer fashion checks, the Shit kinda Jumps Off and I get beat down. I don't think the ironic addition of the buffalo helped the situation any. That little fucker is the baddest apple in the bunch.


Ooh baby I love your way
My crushing hangover has made me sentimental. Fourth of July makes me misty as well. Since I was born in the Bicentennial, on the Fourth I feel like it's my birthday too. But birthdays aren't the point here. I want to say thank you to my wonderful husband Brian for giving me a life I never imagined. When we found each other I was three steps towards the door and he pulled me into him. I, and my mother, hold him solely responsible for my graduating college. Which then begat library school and the really pretty kick-ass job I have today.
Without Brian I wouldn't know any of the fun, beautiful friends I have today. Spending time with this amazing group of people is a singular joy that should be a Constitutional right. I am so fucking lucky to know these people and I'm sure that eventually one of us is gonna make it big, then we're all set. Sarah, all eyes point to you.
Brian brings so much to my life that sometimes I think I'm going to piss myself from loving him. While I'm fond of making lists, a list entitled "Shit I that makes me piss myself from loving Brian" would go on for days. I know what's on this list and I think he has a pretty good idea as well.
So, on this America's Birthday I want to tell Brian B. that he is really and truly the fricken' ticket. I love you tons, baby.
Hulk love Bonnie Tyler!
As soon as I'm able to scrape myself off the couch I'll get into America's birthday celebration. As it is right now I feel like I've spent the last night curled in the Devil's nutsack. Here's a quick slide show:
$ There was much singing of mellow A.M. favorites, including, but not limited to, hits by such artisits as Carly Simon, Elton John, Rod Stewart, and The Lords of Acid.
$ There was Hulk Fight Club, which was going pretty well until I sucker punched Kelly in the throat.
$ Dek showed me how to play Arms Through the Floor, but it didn't really work because I couldn't close my eyes.
$ There was lots of rum and the possible escape of The Heart of Dixie.
$ I think I agreed to name my first born Chester A. Motherfucking Arthur Byrne. We're calling him Trey.
$ My Dude was voted MVP, but I might have to spend a little time on the bench.


Hello, my name is Erin...
So, I was paying my celly bill this month-actually, My Dude was paying the celly bill-and he pointed out that I had sent seven dollars worth of text messages. I was flabberghasetd because I really thought that it was more than that, so, you know, I thought I was doin' pretty good. He suggested looking into Text-Anon Talequah or something like that. I think I'm gonna keep my texting thumb limber.
Good morning Daddy
What kind of reputation is my storytime gonna get when little girls show up with their daddies who are sporting shirts that say "Help! I've fallen and I can't reach my beer!"?


It is time for your astrological forecast
AriesDamn girl, where did you get all those pills?
TaurusAlways a pallbearer, never a corpse.
GeminiSometimes quitting your job makes you the wind beneath my wings.
CancerWhat charm you have is totally negated by your asshole-ism.
LeoDid you use a whole roll of film on yourself? Oh, I see and you had them framed too. Cheers.
VirgoSo is the fact that you haven't called me, like, some sort of signal that I should call you and because I haven't yet I'm in trouble? Fuck that.
LibraSo, like, are you gonna bring more beer?
ScorpioWhat the fuck have you done???
SagittariusChrist, you are pretty good lookin'.
CapricornOthers come toward you. You know much more of what you want than you realize. Start talking. A partner of associate does an excellent job of echoing what you say. Together you make quite a team. Tonight: Show your appreciation.
AquariusGod, you really bug the crap out of me. Please stop making me presents.
PiscesI hate you.

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