Saturday, October 01, 2005
Zip it
All I do anymore is sleep, think about applying to grad school, and run on tracks and treadmills till I can't breathe. This is why I have not a single recollection of what's happened this past week. I did go to the gyno because I found a giant lump in my tit, but it turned out to be nothing. I lied and told her that my period was over because it had been two years since my last checkup and I wanted one. She promptly wedged my feet in those stirrups, took one look at me, and announced, "Okay, you still have your period."
What's funny about that is that I thought I could lie about it. There was a steady stream of blood leaking out of me that I hoped she wouldn't notice. It's not like going to the dentist, where you can lie about how often you floss.
On Sunday night, this short redheaded guy who looks like Ed Norton in American History X came in. His name was James, and he blew out every candle that was sitting on the bar. He just hopped off his stool and raced up and down the length of the bar, blowing them all out over the course of about twelve seconds.
I said, "Why did you do that?"
He said, "I felt inspired. I did it to the beat of the song."
I said, "Get out."
I actually didn't say that, but it would have been excellent if I had. After he left, a sixty-year-old woman from Arkansas started fondling barback Jeff's head and asked him if he'd like to come back to her hotel room. He said no.
Sandy came in late Sunday night and started bragging about how good a songwriter Tom is. She said, "He just wrote this really good one called "Zip It," where this girl's dad molests her and whenever she says she's gonna tell someone, the dad says 'zip it,' and then at the end of the song, the girl's all grown up and she goes to see her dad and she says 'zip it,' but- get this- she's not talking about his mouth. She's talking about his fly!"
What's funny about that is that I thought I could lie about it. There was a steady stream of blood leaking out of me that I hoped she wouldn't notice. It's not like going to the dentist, where you can lie about how often you floss.
On Sunday night, this short redheaded guy who looks like Ed Norton in American History X came in. His name was James, and he blew out every candle that was sitting on the bar. He just hopped off his stool and raced up and down the length of the bar, blowing them all out over the course of about twelve seconds.
I said, "Why did you do that?"
He said, "I felt inspired. I did it to the beat of the song."
I said, "Get out."
I actually didn't say that, but it would have been excellent if I had. After he left, a sixty-year-old woman from Arkansas started fondling barback Jeff's head and asked him if he'd like to come back to her hotel room. He said no.
Sandy came in late Sunday night and started bragging about how good a songwriter Tom is. She said, "He just wrote this really good one called "Zip It," where this girl's dad molests her and whenever she says she's gonna tell someone, the dad says 'zip it,' and then at the end of the song, the girl's all grown up and she goes to see her dad and she says 'zip it,' but- get this- she's not talking about his mouth. She's talking about his fly!"
# posted by Katie @ 4:21 PM 
