Last Flight of the Dragonfly

September 26, 2010 at 12:35 pm (Clairissa)

Even though I’ve been growing my hair out, it still needs attention once in a while. Lately I’ve been describing my hair as looking “like a flaming raccoon is having sex with the back of my head.” When that happens, who do I call?

“Oh, Clairissa…”

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Upping My Hipster Quotient

September 17, 2010 at 4:40 pm (Clairissa, On the road again...)

3:30 PM I’m now one of “those” people.

I’m sitting at my favorite coffee place, the kiosk at the Upscale Mall. Got the netbook out, typing this. I had grander ambitions, but there’s no wireless to piggyback. I need to download a few things, and am trying not to piss off my neighbors by using theirs.

Coming in from the rain, I crossed paths with Sharon, one of my favorite panhandlers. She’s a tiny thing, a cane-wielding bundle of energy. She always greets me from a block away, “Hi! Hi!…” As I get closer, she approaches. “Can I have a sip of your drink, hon. I’m so thirsty…”

I hand her the fountain drink. “It’s Cherry Coke. Nothing too fun.” I know her preferences lean to the strong stuff.

“Oh, that’s so good. Thank you, honey.” She sneaks a hand under my jacket and around my waist. “Ooh, you’re warm.” And getting warmer. Her snuggling feels good.

I pull back, telling her to keep the drink. Then asked for one more hit. She’d almost killed it.

“I’m just out here trying to panhandle up some groceries. What you doing?”

I figured telling her I was killing time until the paycheck dropped would earn me too much friendship. “Oh, I’m off today. Just bumming around. Looking for fun…”

“Well, good luck, honey.” Her eyes started searching for kind-hearted well-meaning suck- er, souls…

I switched from Cherry Coke to a four-shot mocha cappuccino. Time to find another hot spot. I have a photo program I want to download…

* * *

4:30 PM Almost time for paychecks. Snuck into Whitney’s office at Sweet Potato Mountain to pirate wi-fi and change my desktop. ( I found an old favorite; a bunch of planets photo-shopped in front of the edge of the moon.) I also downloaded Paint.Net, so now I can manipulate images on the fly.

I’ve been trying to connect with Clairissa for weeks now, and just got texted. She’s back in town! I may have something juicy to write about tomorrow after all…

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Hate in a Can…

April 18, 2010 at 12:15 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things, That's not funny...)

…sent with love.

It’s been a tough week for the family and I. Last weekend was a blast. Saturday was Freewheelin’s fiftieth (that’s 50) birthday. He rode by on the hawg, introduced me to his new girlfriend and pet pitbull puppy. (They were gone before I could get a picture of the three of them on the bike.) We hung out for an hour or so, then as they left another friendly face appeared at my door.

Clairissa!

She was making the rounds doing haircut-delivery and was nearby, so she popped in to say hello. After shaving my neck, taming my Yoda-ears, and reducing my eyebrows from caterpillar status to inchworm levels, she took a straight razor to my monobrow. (It dawned on me that I should probably shut up while she was waving sharp objects so close to vital organs. No trust issues here!) She scooped me on the latest dirt in her life, we shared a hug and a cuddle before she headed on to the next stop.

In all, it made for a spectacular Saturday. I had big plans to write it all up. All the laughs, as much gossip as I can get away with, etc… I crawled out of bed at 6:30 AM, grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer to soften while I checked e-mail/formed my thoughts.

Hmm. A 6 AM e-mail from my niece in California, titled Sad News. It has become my experience that when an e-mail is entitled Sad News, it usually is.

“My dad died this morning. He was hiking in Australia, got tired, sat down on a rock, and keeled over dead. Don’t know more than that, will let you know when I do.”

Her Dad = My Older Brother.

Damn. Hell. Phooey!

I returned the ice cream to the freezer. Joe would have wanted it that way.

The health nut, the man with the Mormon lifestyle, the big brother old enough to be my dad, has moved on to the great gig in the sky.

I’m still processing it all, which is why I’ve been quiet. I have a lot of things to say, but not sure I’m ready to say them yet. I wanted to get the white elephant out of the room; the venting will follow.

My co-workers have been great. After hearing the news, Dr T made another can of yams appear at my work station. “In case you need an impromptu gavel, or want to drop someone with a tight spiral.” I love it when he quotes my blog.

My buddy Alx, no stranger to my hate of raisins, brought me a Voodoo Doughnut and posed the rhetorical question: “Are raisins supposed to have wings?”

My response? “Maybe that’s why raisins taste like dogshit.”

Not to be outdone, Art East went a step further, doing a spectacular job of creating everything I hate in a can. Condensed Cream of Irritation and Nausea anyone?

Thanks to everyone who has been so thoughtful and supportive. I’d especially like to thank Clairissa, who has been checking up on me and keeping my nipples perky with text-messages of support. Set your phone to vibrate, put it in your front pants pocket and I’ll return the favor, hon. 😉

Before heading back to bed, I fetched the ice cream. It’s not the type of pint I usually hoist in honor of a loved one, but I’m sure he’d rather have me hoisting Haagen-Daaz than Heineken.

Good night big brother, wherever you are…

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A Mild Case of VD

February 14, 2010 at 1:23 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things)

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovers!

I’ve had good ones, and I’ve had bad ones. Upon reflection, the worst one was also the best one. I went to a barber to get all gussied up to impress a girl, and while that experiment failed miserably, I had a great time getting made over. That barber was Clairissa, and I think of her every year when Valentine’s Day comes around.

Since she’s of the lesbian persuasion, and usually involved with a girl, I don’t lay it on too heavy, but I always send her a little something in the form of a Mercury Valentine. The first 1,500 are printed in the paper, and I haven’t missed yet. But since there are 1,500 of them, and I tend to be cryptic, I’d better give her some hints.

The first hint came via text message: “Page 15. 😉 ”

I waited a day, to make sure the paper had hit her side of town. I’m among the first to get a hard copy of the Mercury, on Wednesday afternoon! Another reason to love downtown.

Then it was time for the second hint: “What’s that planet by Venus? No, not Uranus… 😛 You have six days to solve this mystery.”

A few minutes later I got a text message back: “I’m looking online. So many! Need more hints…”

As I pondered the next witticism, my phone buzzed again. “I found it. You rock! Happy VD, Mister Firecrotch!”

In a different context, getting that text message from a girl would be frightening.

And so it goes. Between Xmas and VD? I’m saving a fortune by being single this year. I miss having a girlfriend to share all the happy-happy-joy-joys with, but one can’t manufacture that kind of happiness, so here I sit. At least I have a buddy across town who commiserates and helps every way she can. Mostly she just lets me love her, and that’s what I need right now.

Happy VD to you and your heart-shaped box, my dear…

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The Isle of Lesbos

January 30, 2010 at 2:14 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things)

Before leaving for Clairissa’s, I had some prep to do. She’s been cutting hair on the fly for the last year or so, and now has a spot where she can set up her equipment, sort of a bootleg salon. After Hot Box closed down, I held onto a few mementos. It was time for some of those mementos to come home.

I loaded up a porno bag with all the old issues of Rolling Stone I’d been saving. I slipped in several copies of blogposts featuring Clairissa. (She collects hard-copies of our adventures, which she totes around in a waterproof storage tub. Dr T has been assisting me in keeping her up to date.) I had one more special surprise, which I slipped inside my Navy watchman’s cap to keep it from getting broken. I dug out a bottle of vodka hidden under my desk. It was half-full. Yup, that oughta kill some brain cells. I had to remove books and magazines to fit everything in.

And now that her wackness was ready to roll? My turn for a little fun. I dug out the tiny baggie Dr T gifted me a week or so ago. It was a rare moment when there were no kids or adults home. I had the freaking house to myself! I pulled out my brass pipe, turned up my “It’s 4:20 Somewhere” CD mix and jammed to Parliament/Funkadelic, Radiohead and Sublime while watching myself smoke in the mirror. I finished off the bowl and the music listening to Herman Brood and His Wild Romance sing about Saturday Night. I stuffed the baggie into a film canister and hid it in a zippered pocket.

Let’s blow this joint… Read the rest of this entry »

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Another Box of Chocolates

January 29, 2010 at 1:07 pm (Clairissa, Waxing Nostalgic)

Yesterday was haircut day. Clairissa has a new space, and it is ready enough for me to visit. She booked out a couple of hours, I loaded my backpack, and when I arrived she met me at the door. “I have an emergency client. Can I get him out of the way and then we’ll have until six or seven?”

“Sure. I may just take a little walk around the neighborhood. Text me when you’re done?”

And with that, I was off in search of my Forrest Gump moment… Read the rest of this entry »

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A Green Friendly Day

January 20, 2010 at 1:50 pm (Clairissa, Cussed Dumbers)

For a week or so it seeming like the world was piling on. Yesterday was a good day. No one mentioned my encephaletic head, I had a fun morning flirting with teh ladies on the internet, no telemarketers waking me.

And then I went to work. Would my luck hold? Read the rest of this entry »

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Drive-By Lovin’

January 15, 2010 at 1:37 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things)

I sit here listening to the rain fall, wondering if my procrastination will pay off the way it did last week at this time.

I’d put feelers out to a girl, hoping for a hot date. Not having a lot on the agenda, I took my time getting up. At 3 PM I was sitting around in an oversized tee-shirt and gym shorts, cruising the internet and sipping extra-strength homemade coffee. I put in a concert DVD and turned it up as loud as I could justify without shaking my brother-in-law out of bed two rooms away.

I glanced over and saw my cell phone light up and vibrate. Incoming text message: Woohoo! Wish me luck! Read the rest of this entry »

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Los Tangel@@s

January 6, 2010 at 1:07 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things)

Guess who’s coming to dinner?

After several low-key weekends, I am excited to hear my buddy Clairissa is back in town for a week or so. She’s been living in Ashland the last few months, wandering back to PDX on occasion to do haircuts on demand. While the growing out of my hair continues, that doesn’t mean I won’t book a slot anyway. After the first few, seeing her was always more than just a haircut. It’s like therapy with a hearty dose of loving friendship for good measure. We always part feeling warm and fuzzy, something my life has been missing lately. I plan on taking advantage of every available minute.

Will we end up out in public somewhere? Maybe. We haven’t been out to steak dinner in a while. It’s been a year and a half since she’s defended my honor from college-jock ruffians; maybe we should see a show. (Although it will be hard to top the excellence of our last outing, the Butthole Surfers show.) My choice? A nice quiet visit in my room, just her and I. With no one to interrupt the conversation, just her and I. No jealousies, no drama, just her and I. We take turns being each others bitching post, and share all the naughty details of our recent, um, exploits. Sadly, she’s going to have to carry the conversation this time. My naughtiness cred is sorely lacking lately.

Now, as to the haircut. I probably should do something with this mop. I know! I will get a hair cut. I will let her choose one hair, any hair, anywhere on my body and let her cut it. I wonder which one she’ll choose? It will be in my best interest to prepare for anything.

In the meantime, I still have to get through a day of work. I will be thinking of her all day. Even when I have lunch I can’t stop thinking of her. It’s like the tangelos are taunting me!

Z’allright. Clairissa is more of a cantaloupe girl anyway…

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I’m Back In The Saddle Again

December 23, 2009 at 1:10 pm (Clairissa, Cussed Dumbers, Sweet sticky things, The Easy Chair)

Hey, what’s this old thing? Picture me blowing dust off old, leathery volume. (Metaphorically speaking of course.) Well hello, my old blog-buddy!

I haven’t been spending much time here lately. Except for funny haircuts and friendly fingerings I haven’t been inspired. Life has been going on, things are okay, I just felt the need to regroup a bit.

My subjects of choice aren’t as easily accessible these days. Mizelle, Lily and the Frenchman (the wee one and the oui one) are living the high life on a vineyard outside of Paris. (France, not Texas.) While she’s written to me more times in the last six months than in the last ten years, we can’t just meet up spontaneously for a MAX trip to Abhiruchi. The next time I see her, Lily will be grade-school age.I get separation anxiety sometimes, but the fact that she’s living in France in a happy situation is worth the sacrifice. She’s not dropping off the radar like the last time she got married. Last time, after a five year separation, we were caught up within an hour. Let’s not do that again. That’s what e-mail is for.

Clairissa? Yes, the TMI tales of haircuts and debauchery will continue, even though I’m a state away from her and growing my hair long. (She gets paid well to shave my jugular…) She’s moved to Ashland for the winter, building a hair salon somewhere down there. Things have been rocky for her, but we are in constant communication via text messaging and her spirits are high. I’ll be posting info about her shop when it becomes available, but the topless haircut conversation will have to be kept on the down-low. Apparently it’s illegal to be naked in Ashland. That’ll just make it extra naughty…

I still have work-related stuff to write about. Boy, do I have work stuff to write about. Slappy-fights with Grinder, chronic masturbators hogging the bathroom, chasing way-out-of-my-league girls from the neighborhood, oh the work-related fun I’ve been having! I’ve been stockpiling the adventures, and am feeling that it’s time to unleash the beastard one more time.

The one big hurdle is Twitter. I’ve become addicted in that crack-like way. I don’t want to look, but I have to. (And then an hour has gone by, and it’s time for work.) 140-character writing has reduced the number of run-on sentences I have to watch, so that’s good, right? Twitter, you are a blessing and a curse, and I love you like a mistress.

Now it’s time to check Twitter and then head off to work. I wonder what kind of misdeed Grinder will be dressing me down for today…

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