Lorelei was my Captain.
Essy was my Director.
Glinda was my Conductor.
She asked me to give her a ride. In my Celica, my tiny but powerful spaceship that had rescued Lorelei, Joey and Nolei from the Dance melee, and delivered us to the moon, if you recall.
I had my own reservations about this. My car was special because of the 10-10-10 Moonshot, Baby, and the trip back from the Moon.
Always pack away your memories.
Reservations about a reservationist?
Don’t look at me that way. I’ve lived on a reservation most of my life.
But in Fuckno, I was without my home, and I wanted to get back to my reservation.
Until that happened, I had no reservations at all.
So, I agreed.
She wanted a ride to a picture shoot, and then, for me to go and meet her family.
Neither of these things would end well.
You will see.
Glinda said that she wanted to have facial shots taken for her portfolio. I would have gladly helped Glinda take some facial shots, but she was talking about her portfolio.
Now, you know that I would have something dickish to say about her “folio port,” but I restrained myself. She seemed to be quite fraught.
“Hey Glinda, why so worried?”
“Well, Will, the photographer wants me to do some upper body nude shots.”
Again, I restrained myself.
“Uh, why take nude shots at all, Glinda?”
She just stared at me.
I jabbed at her arm playfully.
She jumped back. “Don’t fucking give me a bruise, for chrissakes!”
Hokay. Now she had my interest. I mean, of course, watching a photographer taking nudie pics of a pretty young African American lady would be very cool, but why was she so scared?
Well, you will see some truths here.
First was that I have never and probably never will have the sort of instinct that women in my life seem to be born with and then use quite well.
She was sketchy about this dude. She knew something on a lower level, but kept brushing it away.
Hey, always trust your instincts. These protection skills have been in our DNA for thousands of years before we somehow became enriched with the almighty Logic with which to rationalize such instincts away, and then get ourselves into a bad situation.
Never doubt your instincts.
Second was that I was not as invested in her as she was with me.
I was an asshole at that part of this tale. I chust whanted to escape Fuckno for good.
Glinda did not deserve my detachment. She was an amazing young lady. I hope that she is doing very well. That, my friend, is the third truth here.
So I said yes. I would take her to her photo shoot.
I was up for anything with her, or in her.
I mentioned that I was an asshole, didn’t I?
The photographer wanted to shoot Glinda in the outskirts of Fuckno, and so we drove there in my Celica at high speeds. And yet, no amount of my expert skillz in drifting in the desert dust along side the old tar of the country lane eased her mind all that much.
Do you think at all?
I wasn’t thinking.
Until I had to do some very quick thinking.
Well, it was a cool old house that looked to be the sort of place a fugitive might call home. An old, abandoned structure in the desert will become sinuous in its wooden textures, paint worn away from decades of sand blasting from the desert’s lovely, windy kisses.
Glinda carried three duffle bags of clothing changes in and had me carry in her make-up suitcase.
I kid you.
She did have quite a lot of make-up, and I was glad that I wasn’t her boyfriend, because that would mean much of the chump change I was earning would be helping her out with her warrior face paint.
I chust didn’t realize that I was her boyfriend, unbeknownst to me.
Until later, that is.
So, we met the photographer dude, and he seemed cool.
Glinda made us both wait outside while she changed.
Then she made me wait outside, but within hearing distance, when the frontal nude shots were taken.
You should know that I will be introducing you to Glinda's family. It would not end well.
I've liked this band since they began. Social Distortion has made a movie short for their new song, like folks used to go for MTV.
Machine Gun Blues.
Mozilla stands up to Homeland Security. Fuck yeah!
MSNBC has a solid story and video of that now dead terrorist megalomaniac asshole, who shall not be named anymore here. His name must be erased from the memory of mankind. Evidently, he was obsessed with looking at news videos of himself. Fucker.
Oops. Al Qaeda pissed about that asshole being killed. Vows retaliation. Um, Hokay. Boo Fucking Hoo. More underwear bombs? Losers.
Lesson, Don’t be a Dick.
Speaking of hard news. Shake Weight news story. Me next!
On another note, here are some good ideas for how to actually contribute to the betterment of us all working together to help move things forward.
This is what sane people do, no?
Here are solid tips for a good meeting when you are going to be brainstorming for some good input. I will be doing this today, when this posts, starting at 9AM, for my tribe. We will have our General Meeting, and I will help chair it.
Antidote to thinking about work: Monster pics.
Hey, let’s go for a ride on my out of control snowmobile. I think I can catch it….
Time lapse vid about cityscape. Kinda cool.
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
OK, one more for ya.
From my dotta.