Chronic Ruination

A week in California, 2 weddings, whoring myself out for an  unpaid internship.  My summer has been crazy so far!

I’m supposed to be at an intern meeting/dinner/bullshit fest  right now but… I’m not. That would have meant a MINIMUM of a 45 min drive with the other intern I’ve been letting bum a ride with me.  Not happening! Not in the mood today!

I’m going to Bebe later to find something cute for this weekend and then hang out by the pool until later on. I hope she found another ride or knows the train schedule!   She’s 24 years old and STILL in undergrad! On our first day, I made the mistake of introducing myself and attempting to have a conversation  that included open-ended questions.  I must seriously hate myself.

She talks nonstop about her “pets”.  Interestingly enough, 95% of them could one day easily be found all dressed up in cling wrap, resting peacefully in a styrofoam tray at your local grocery store.  Yes, she’s a farm girl but not the type some of you pervs like.   I’m sure she loves her poultry, pork, beef, and lamb as if she whelped them herself.  I’m sure they fill some sort of void in her life.

I mean I’ve got pets too, but I don’t think she could handle hearing about “rosie”, my lobbyist turned lipstick slut. It’s really amazing what a grown “man” will do for permission to wear her lipstick. I’m thinking of letting my rosie go pick us out some things at the MAC store.  It’s my favorite little game.  I show up 5 minutes after she does, then text everything that I want while I’m browsing.  She pays for it all then I pick one thing out just for her and buy it.  Then we meet up somewhere fun for playtime and gift exchange.

Anyway, out of stream of conciousness blogging/dommespace and back to cowgirl

If I  talk about movies, she turns the conversation to her “pets”.

If I talk about whatever it is we’re working on, I get 1.50 minutes of relevant conversation, then back to the fucking underweight breeched calf, Gabriel, who defied the odds .

If I want to talk about guys, well that’s a bit different.  She’s a born again virgin and reminds everyone around her of that “fact” if anything even remotely close to a sexual topic comes up.  HAHAHHA!  Yeah, me too!!    I’ll be one until this weekend probably.  Then I can just wish/pray myself another spiritual hymen until, my flesh decides it wants to get weak again.

Ok, I need to stop!!  I’m trying to be more spiritual and stuff.  I’ve been reading the Tao and I’m trying to be a little more sensitive these days.  I even listened to her for the first few days….REALLY listened.   At first I thought maybe  she had a mild case of Asperger’s or something.  She’s kind of sweet, but in a really, really slow way.

I think she’s just “good country people”; kind of like in that short story.   Loves her God, loves her country, loves Bush/McCain/whoever wants to play toy soldiers with real people.  She’s charming. Who doesn’t love people swaddled in the security blanket of not having to look past Daddy’s working-class politics?

One day, at lunch, one of our supervisors was talking about how ignorant Michael Savage(Savage Nation) is.   Cow girl didn’t know who he was, so the supervisor starts filling her in.  One little jewel that the supervisor shared was about Savage’s belief that Mexican migrant workers doing #2 while  harvesting was the cause of the spinich/e.coli fiasco.   Cow girl starts staring at me midway through the story.  As soon as the supervisor pauses to thank the waitress for filling her glass, our cow girl blurts out:

“I think it’s so wrong that everybody does you guys so bad and says such messed up stuff about you guys, but that’s just so trashy and nasty. I know a lot of really nice Mexicans  that help my Dad and his friends but those people doing that stuff to the spinich is why they need to tighten the border.  Things like that make it unfair for the people that work hard and are decent”

Give or take a few helping verbs, that is pretty much exactly what she said.  Unbelievable!

I think I was transported instantly to the set of a film called: “Rudyard Kipling’s New Nightmare”.   Mel Gibson was directing and getting a sloppy blow job from cowgirl.  He was yelling at me to flash  some tit  as   some  relatively unknown white actor fucked my ass.  Nearby, a relatively unknown Native American/black actor Rudy Youngblood is forced to watch while bound, sweaty, gagged and baring his teeth in anger.

That prety much gives an adequate visual of the place that her words took me.

Mexican?   Haven’t heard that one since elementry/junior high days in Mississippi.

I took some time to explain to her that I was Choctaw, not Mexican.  Clearly, her public and/or home schooling  has failed her.   It really wasn’t the place for a huge history lesson, but I let her know that actually being born in Mexico makes a huge difference in whether or not a person is Mexican!!  The brown skin thing can go either way, people, FYI

I told her that simply identifying racially with someone who says something stupid does not mean you owe everyone who doesn’t identify an apology for any slights.  The black person who is making sure we get course credit, and her queer Jewish roommate were not about to call Al Sharpton or anything so I don’t know why she turned red and started crying right there at the table. Wait, yes, I do.

I understand the burden that some people feel when they’re around someone who is different from them in some way.   The pressure of knowing that you’re so right and not quite understanding when other people “just don’t get it”.  Mix all of that with  pressure to say the “right” things;  the politically-correct things.  All of this  pressure takes the possibility of discovering any real  truth and turns anything that’s left it into  what Gabriel will leave behind if he makes it past the veal years.  Call it the white man’s burden.

Im not white or a man, but  I feel it every day when I want to ask cowgirl what sort of perverted affirmitive action-style program allowed a Jerry’s kid all grown up to work alongside people with 4.0’s and SAT scores over 2000.  (Note to Michael Savage:please cover this strange new trend.  It has to be some strange new adult version of No Child Left behind.)  Instead, I just say something nice and ambiguous like, “It’s a good thing we aren’t actually getting paid for this right?”

Ok, enough ranting.  Be more than just another random visitor to my blog,  let me know how you feel about things like this, leave a commment. I don’t have time right now to respond to every single email that was in my Niteflirt inbox, so here are some quick messages for the sluts who almost ruined their panties when they couldn’t reach me for a bit.

If you just  overloaded your coke spoon, leave me a confession that will make me laugh, then arrange a call with me using a button on the right.  I’m talking to you molly.

chrissy,  I’ve had enough of your one million and two excuses for everything then your whining when I’m away.  I think we’re going to bump your “first date” up a little.

I’ll be around on Niteflirt sometime around 10 or 11 pm EST.  Just ignore the schedule in the All About Me section; it’s obviously not going to work, I’ll delete it later.