This morning I was having coffee and a muffin before the bus to campus and I overheard a woman say the following sentence. "Tomorrow I'm going to Croatia. Have you ever been there?" Who answers yes to that question? Who bothers to ask that question? "Tomorrow I'm going to Krgyyyggkkkstynn. Ever been?" I suppose that the man she was asking could have said, "Why the only little bit of Croatia that I saw was through the crosshairs of my air to surface missile targeting system back in the nineties. Beautiful country." Instead the man said, predictably, "No".
Last night's dream. (sorry). I'm in a large car, maybe a limousine of some kind, with my family-both current and deceased. We are drinking heavily. Someone, and I really feel like it was my grandma, packed a bowl, and some of us got very high. The car parks, we exit, and head inside to a party. I remember little of this, it is a nicely decorated, stylish home. More drinking. What I do remember is my grandma (now deceased) giving me her cell phone and saying "...it's my boss. Talk to him." I of course eagerly grab the phone and blabber a Medina-esque melange of, "hey buddy. We are so high! What's going on?" I give the phone back. Morning comes (in the dream) and my family is eating breakfast. My grandpa is there and we have a few laughs. Later though, he becomes increasingly stern and says to me, "everything was fine until you told your grandma's boss that you guys had been smoking weed. Why in the hell would you do that?" Guilt immediately set in. I lamely offer some kind of excuse and then wake up.
I, for one, despise jalapenos. Especially in cornbread. Anything that takes awy from the sweet sweet buttery wonderfulness of corn starch and.....whatever else is in cornbread, has no business being in there.
9 comments:
Another cornbread purist, I see I'm not alone in this world!
How short are we talking, by the way? Like, short for a man, or short for a child? Because I was watching the Nuggets vs Spurs game a couple of nights ago, and that Earl Boykins looks like a child out there, but in reality he's 5'6", which is still a little small for a man.
I just learned where Croatia is located in relation to all those other little European countries, so its exciting for me when someone makes referance to it.
I just talked to my best friend Robin Ventura and I mentioned that I was "really into" "Little Cesar" Izturis.
He said, "I thought he went back to pronouncing it 'ce-'ZAR'?"
I said, "I don't know man, I just go by what Vin Scully says..."
p.s.
Jalapeños AND cheese
"Once upon a time there was a pragmatic and practical stump of a girl named Chloe Dove. Chloe, for what it’s worth, was tragically named Megan from the birth canal, but after years of remorse and internal time travel looking into her own future sadness, this Megan realized her own voice and love, and knew she was, instead, Chloe Dove. This Chloe grew up in the plain and semitropical citrus metropolis known as the Orange County. She had her ups and downs, her ins and outs, before discovering her love of the written word, and all the glory literature and poetry could give and receive. Subsequentially, she began to steer her metaphorical ship in the direction of a blog-filled lifestyle, the captain of her own dock and seaboard. Tragically, the girl as the captain hit a storm and there was no lifeguard on duty. There wasn’t even a lifeboat to get her back to shore. Until now. Chloe has found the way to swim to the past, and here she finds herself, older, wiser, and a little bit used up."
Yes, it’s me. I really really really know that everything I’ve done in the past month or whatever has been selfish and uninvolving of your emotions and needs. And for that, I’m really, really, more than sorry. You have to understand who and what I am, and I hope my small story above allows you to feel something other than anger towards me and my life. What I’m about to tell (type) you may hurt you, and make you sad, confused, or even throw up. I know. I want you to also know that you’re never alone literally or emotionally, even though I might have given you reason to feel that I had left, taken off, splitsville or moved on. Well, in a way, I did. Here’s my side:
Last month, (March), I turned 20 and celebrated my birthday at El Torito. Here’s where things get complicated. I had wanted to invite you to my party so we could meet each other. I had every intention of doing so, and making US real. But, then, I saw something on your blog about someone being rude about me writing too much on your blog, and they attempted to accuse me of taking over your blog. And, I’m not going to lie to you: that hurt. I thought maybe this person was right, or that you told them to say that because you are too sensitive and smart and stylish to say it yourself. So, I decided to take a break in my workday of learning about you and teaching you about me. I thought I’d come back later and write less and be better. Then, my party happened. At my party, I ate a lot of Enchiladas Rancheras and had one margarita, which my friend Stephanie got for me since she’s 22 since she flunked seventh grade twice. I was stressed about being caught, but once the alcohol kicked in, I was too drunk to care about my rebellion and table dancing. In the meantime, my party rocked the world. It was soooooooooooooooooooo awesome and everyone had a good time, especially the boys. The thing that happened, though, was that there was this awesome (I thought at the time) busboy working there, named Gerald. In my drunken stuper, I got to know this boy. He wiped the table when I knocked over Caitlin’s Sierra Mist, and brought me more napkins when I told him I threw up a little bit on the booth next to me, which I didn’t, but I told him that on a dare from the party people because they thought Gerald and I had a thing for each other. Turns out they were right. Gerald seemed to take care of me, care for me, treat me like a lady. He told me that he disapproved of my behavior, but that he had trust and confidence in Jesus Christ, and that he had been led to obedience to Him. He asked me if I was part of the brotherhood that desires unity with all who acknowledge Christ as Lord. I said I did not know what he was talking about. He sat down with us during his ten minute break, and talked to me about the Jesus I had an on-again, off-again relationship with. I told him about writing and Ronnie and my life at home, and school and my dreams of writing and fame, and about blogging and you and how I thought we were over, on account of the accusatory post saying I wrote too much on the blogs. Gerald invited me to come and share with him as he grew with Christian faith and love. Whatever or however he said it, it hit home. But not till the next day, for there was nothing Christ-like about the rest of my birthday night, except for the faith I have that I now have a minor case of Herpes Simplex 1, which someone I didn’t know, was rudely offering to me as a birthday present.
To make a long story short, Gerald took me under his wing as a believer. He was a leader, and I was his follower. I prayed from that day on, letting God know I knew I was a sinner, and that I was truly sorry for my sins. I asked him to take me from my sins and to purify my life. I joined Gerald’s youth group, Devo’s Not Devils, full-time, and became DNDs Sunday night meeting secretary, though I had to give up my Sunday shift at work. For the past month or whatever, I’ve been faithful to God and Jesus. Both of them. I found a Christ-centered, Bible-oriented, love-motivated, prayer-activated spiritual family and throve on it. Finally, I found a group who knew me and cared about me and my dreams. I finally had a home and life, and a real nitch. It was a wonderful month. Gerald and I became boyfriend-girlfriend, and were a notorious couple at DNDs and at his family’s church. We held hands, and the frusteration on both our parts from not being able to touch below the neck was diminished by our attraction to God. It was glorious.
And then, something happened. I found out that Gerald is an asshole. In the meantime of my Jesus/Gerald love and wonderment, Ronnie had met his own spiritual guider and leader: a girl named Shawna who he met at the Shadowboxer bar in Tustin. She’s about 33 and only weights about 87 pounds, but I don’t like to judge people on the outside. Anyway, even though she smokes a lot of cigarettes, she seemed real nice and really devoted to Ronnie. She picked him up and took him places and stuff, and he even quit his job so he could “spend more time with that hot bitch and her fat ass husky dog that looks like her.” He visited her every night at Shadowboxer and sometimes didn’t come home at night, because he told mom and dad she had a lot of problems with her plumbing, and he was needed to help unclog her pipes. I felt bad for her and her plumbing / sewage system, but was proud of Ronnie’s eagerness to help her. Anyway, this one time, I was talking to my friend Naomi on my cell phone about Shawna, and a long story short, I found out that Shawna is Naomi’s older sister Krissy’s best friend. Small world, huh? So, it came to my attention that this place, the Shadowboxer, where Shawna works, sort of, does business with ladies. Like, guys can go there and girls can do things to them for money. Like, from what I understand, I swear, I don’t know, because I would never go there, there’s a girl named Trish who has webbed hands and she does this thing with her hands called ‘The Sure Thing.’ I asked Ronnie what that meant, and he told me to take my preschool ass back to daycare, and I tried to explain to him that once one is in preschool, they no longer need daycare, but by then, he was already out the door to see Shawna, who was honking her horn on her Corolla GT-5 so they could go on their date to In And Out Burgers. Anyway, at Shadowboxer, there is also this girl named Danielle who has fake teeth and she does something called Fix-A-Dent or OralGel or something, I don’t remember. I guess if you like that sort of thing, you can use your imagination. Anyway, I confronted Ronnie later about where Shawna works and if she does that same stuff that Trish and Danielle do, and if she did any of it to him when they first met and that’s why they’re together. And, I expected Ronnie to punch the wall or knock over the TV set or something, but something really weird happened: he got all quiet and sad and told me, “Shawna’s the hottest bitch I’ve ever been with, but it’s too fucking hard to see her giving guys the fucking Guillotine (apparently, Shawna taught herself how to hold her breath for, like, 5 minutes so she won't pass out if, for example, a guy was squeezing his upper thighs against her neck, or something like that, really, I don't get it), and then taking money, even though the bitch gives me some of it to buy beer and shit.” Anyway, right then, I just felt real bad for Ronnie. I invited him to talk to God about it, and even asked why he, a child of Jesus, believes he deserves the sorrow the relationship was bringing. I told him about the wonderful girls at DNDs who could show him that not all girls have to suck cock upside down, even for $100 a pop. I even offered to try to get Naomi to go out with him, since he always talked about her ass. But, he just stayed real quiet and told me something that he’ll kill you about if you tell him you know: Ronnie got Shawna pregnant. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that since it’s a two way street. But, yes she is pregnant and might have a baby that’s Ronnie’s. I asked him then if it is for sure his, and that’s when he punched a hole in the closet door and called her a loyal slut, which I found ironic and hypocritical, but he seems pretty sure it’s his. Which means, I’m going to be an aunt!!! Oh, so mom and dad were better about the news than I thought. Mom cried tons and dad shook Ronnie’s hand and they both asked if it was a crack baby or what. I asked my family to pray with me for the baby to be a girl with blond hair and they wouldn’t, so I prayed alone. I also asked Ronnie if I could name the baby, because I have some great name ideas, and he said he’s not interested in a baby named Kotex or Communist, as if Chloe sounds anything like those names. Duh. Anyway, Gerald came by after that to pick me up to go to the Devo’s meeting, and I told him the good news. He didn’t say much for a while, including not even hugging Ronnie, though I don’t blame him, since from the beginning, Ronnie’s called Gerald a fruitcake queer bible thumping fag. But, finally, after a solemn and weird drive to the church, Gerald finally told me what was on his mind: he was ashamed to be with me, since my brother was having a whore’s baby out of wedlock. I couldn’t disagree with him about the circumstances of the baby, but I didn’t understand about how he, a child of God, a believer, one who serves Jesus every day, who takes the bible to the toilet when he shits, could not forgive the small mistake Ronnie made of not wearing a condom. I thought Gerald could or would at least pray for the baby, but no, he said I was a the sister-in-law (um, hello, Gerald, they’re not married, remember, it’s out of wedlock!) of a slut, and that the baby will bring disgrace and the breakdown of the household of faith he sought to build while pursuing Christ’s love. I was stunned, and sad. How could I go into Devo’s with him about to tell everyone of my family? How could I face them, knowing these people, who claimed to love unconditionally, would disown me for my brother’s actions? Gerald said he wanted nothing to do with me, and he did not say a word to me during the entire meeting. After, he left Devo’s and didn’t give me a ride home, and I had to ride with Annabel, this Latina worshipper who keeps telling me how much she “fucking loves that vato God.”
So, needless to say, I’ve been up and down and in and out of love and life lately. I’ve lost love, but gained a perspective on the church. And the best news is that I’m back. Gerald didn’t want me blogging and I spent so much time with him and God that I believed him when he said Blogging was a sinner’s craft. With Gerald gone, I found again who I am, instead of the other way around. It does suck, though, that I can’t go back to El Torito for a while, cause I do NOT want to see his fag ass ever again. Anyway, that’s where I’ve been, and I really really really hope you’re not mad and that you understand, and do you have any ideas for names for Ronnie Junior? Oh, and did you see ‘House of Wax’ yet? I can go to those movies now that Gerald isn’t monitoring my hobbies and diet and clothes. It’s so liberating! Well, let me know if you’re mad, and how you are and what time you’ve been waking up in the morning lately.
Your understandably unfaithful, but undeniably un-ugly underdog, Chloe Dove.
Dude my friend Danielle just told me shes going to Croatia, and that I should meet her there. She seemed totally incredulous about me going to Ibiza instead.
Am I the only one curious about the deleted post?
Cornbread, aint nothin wrong with that. I must say though, cornbread turkey is stupid. Unless youre Mexican. And I dont mean kind of Mexican, like you wore a Mexico hat in high school - I mean Mexican like they would deport you if they found you. And even then, Jalapeno turkey is treading pretty thin ice.
Dude that Chloe Dove says some funny shit every forty or fifty lines.
Dude I keep having this dream that its my birthday, and everything is set up great but it goes totally shitty. Ive had it at three different ages, now age, when Im little, and high school age. So I go around with this shitty birthday right up to the end.
Then it always ends the same, Lucy Lui comes in and wants to toss my salad. Im not into having my salad tossed, but when she says it, it sounds cool. Then I wake up. Any thoughts? Actually I think Ill repost this at Johnny Starlings for full psychoanalysis. Can anyone tell me if I spelled scykoanallisys right?
Dude I cant remember my blogger password this sucks. How can I impress all these people who dont really know me, if for all they know I could be Chloe Dove. Well for the Hza, this is from the guy who picked a fight with Justin Reiger when he had a broken leg.
Housman, maybe going steady isn't a good idea, dispite my cornbread baking prowess. I'll still come over and climb your tree, and toss baseballs into your tire swing someday though. No hard feelings?
yeah, why did you delete that post? tell jody, i mean chloe, that she'd have more time to record her songs if only she'd quit usurping your blog. funny shit, though (especially "i fucking love that vatos god").
by the way, jamaican me crazy, HZA didn't call you a sexy bitch. it was i, BEN HULL, a guy you don't even know. i don't know what came over me. you see, i never really learned how to talk to a purdy girl, consequently i just open my mouth and stupid shit comes out. high school was a very rough time for me, the scars of which i still carry, if not externally then in my mind. i would like to be your steady (i can do 75 crunches an hour and bench a clean 112) but unfortunately i live across the country from you. also i live with another woman. and i have bad teeth and a bad back. and i've never met you and thus have no way of determining if we would be at all compatible. and i think i might be going bald. still, a fellow can dream, can't he?
Please note:
"This post has been removed by the AUTHOR." Meaning the author of the comment, not me. Also this particular comment was by Justin Cooley, I read it before he deleted it, and it was not very important.
Yeah, "whatever" man. It's worse than 1984 up in here.
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