Call Centre Sally spends all of her time, sadly, sitting and starring at things.
Her stomach's all fat and her butt is all flat from the chair she sits and eats in.
Twelve-hour days of boredom and haze are not worth the pain of the pay she gets paid.
And her friends have all got such high paying jobs with health care and raise upon raise.
When Sally's not working she's sleeping, or burping, or eating, or scratching, or worse.
She keeps Jube-Jubes and mints, popcorn and chips, and a shot of insulin in her purse.
On weekends you may find her drowning in booze,
for her paycheck was used to buy hooch and not food.
If it weren't for the nachos she'd be puking up air,
or some gross stuff from her lungs that should probably stay there.
When Monday comes 'round and everyone's down, Sally's the worst of them all.
Her weekend went by in a blink of an eye and the most she recalls is the smell of the stall where the "encounter" with "Carl" went strangely "awry."
When Sally's not well, her co-workers can tell by the hair-raising smell in her cubicle.
One day last week, while reeking of feet, she coughed up a mouth full of cuticles.
Which she mistakenly used to garnish her food.
But continued to chew 'cause it was tasty and new.
Now, yesterday morning, walking and snoring, Sally fell over at work.
She slipped on a key*, dislocated her knee, and the shock of the fall amputated her foot.
Now she spends all her days relaxed in a haze of morphine and drug induced dreams.
And she's fed all her food mashed through a tube while her heart's kept alive by machines.
*lime pie
Monday, April 13, 2009
The Continuing Adventures of Your Mother. [AKA - Romancing the Nile]
Who's that sitting at the bar with a Phantom of the Opera mask on? Your mother, that's who. She's been wearing it now for 12 days straight. Who knew she was such a fan.
"Phantom of the what??" she asks for the 12th day in a row.
"Opera" says the bartender.
"Hmm" she thinks, "that sounds good. I'll have one... Does it have vodka in it?" Her complete lack of culture astounds.
FACT: she wears the mask because she lost her face when a bull gored it off. Sally, her best friend, says "the mask is an improvement." Some best friend. Though your mother is too hopped up on waffles to care.
"Where's my Oprah's Phantom?" she yells at the bartender. He puts an old dish rag in a dirty glass and hands it to her. "Delicious." She muffles while sucking on the dish rag, "Tastes familiar." It should, it was used to clean up her vomit just minutes before.
Don't they throw people out of these establishments anymore after they're sick all over the bar?
"I guess not"... who said that?
"Who said what?" I don't know. I guess I'm "hearing things again," your mother makes those air quotes with her fingers.
A sad lady.
(September 16, 2006)
"Phantom of the what??" she asks for the 12th day in a row.
"Opera" says the bartender.
"Hmm" she thinks, "that sounds good. I'll have one... Does it have vodka in it?" Her complete lack of culture astounds.
FACT: she wears the mask because she lost her face when a bull gored it off. Sally, her best friend, says "the mask is an improvement." Some best friend. Though your mother is too hopped up on waffles to care.
"Where's my Oprah's Phantom?" she yells at the bartender. He puts an old dish rag in a dirty glass and hands it to her. "Delicious." She muffles while sucking on the dish rag, "Tastes familiar." It should, it was used to clean up her vomit just minutes before.
Don't they throw people out of these establishments anymore after they're sick all over the bar?
"I guess not"... who said that?
"Who said what?" I don't know. I guess I'm "hearing things again," your mother makes those air quotes with her fingers.
A sad lady.
(September 16, 2006)
Excerpts From Your Average 14 Year Old's Blog
[journal entry .. 47. 06/09/05]:
... Grrrrr. Like, I can't take it anymore. I just want my parents to leave me alone. Like, they've been on my case for cleaning up my room for what seems like a month. Fuck, it's not even that dirty. Hello!?!? That's right I wrote Fuck. You reading this Mom? FUCK YOU! How about that. I'm 14 I can do what I want.
[journal entry ..54. 06/25/05]:
... You know, if this was the ancient times and I was like some guy in one of those tribe-like things i would be married already. Fuck, if only. I would be having sex like all the time. I'd probably have 3 or 4 kids already. And my hair would be long because why cut it. It's just going to grow again. Jesus, I'm 14 I should be allowed to have my hair long if i want it long. FUCK YOU DAD! I HATE YOU AND YOUR STUPID CAR. WAX IT YOURSELF YOU LAZY BITCH I'M WATCHING WRESTLING!!!
[journal entry ..69 (whoa!). 07/16/05]:
... Man, I'm totally in love with Lucy DePietro. If this were, again, the ancient tribe, I would so want her to be my wife. But like a good wife. Not the kind of wife my Mom is. That Bitch can't even cook. My tribe wife would be a master in the kitchen and I would keep her naked in the cave. She would love me, I'd make sure of that. Nothing but the finest designer make-ups for my tribe wife.
[journal entry ..87. 09/13/05]:
... I Hate my sister. She's such a B-I-A-T-C-H. Today I heard her tell Mom that I swore at school. FUCK HER!! I didn't swear at school. Okay, I did. So what? She totally kissed Jimmy "Knuckles" MacTavish. That guy is gross. He looks like he's 10 years older than anyone else in the school. Bryan says he's a "narc"... whatever that is. Bryan's gay so it probably means he thinks he's hot or something.
[journal entry ..93. 09/29/05]:
... "I'm just a kid and my life is a nightmare" man I looooove that song. It's so true. You know what else is true... Lucy DePietro is a SLUT! That Bitch started making out with the new kid at the dance last night. God and to think she used to be my Tribe wife. FUCK HER!!
[journal entry ..94. 09/30/05]:
... I want to make out with Lucy DePietro... I hate my life.
(December 06, 2005)
... Grrrrr. Like, I can't take it anymore. I just want my parents to leave me alone. Like, they've been on my case for cleaning up my room for what seems like a month. Fuck, it's not even that dirty. Hello!?!? That's right I wrote Fuck. You reading this Mom? FUCK YOU! How about that. I'm 14 I can do what I want.
[journal entry ..54. 06/25/05]:
... You know, if this was the ancient times and I was like some guy in one of those tribe-like things i would be married already. Fuck, if only. I would be having sex like all the time. I'd probably have 3 or 4 kids already. And my hair would be long because why cut it. It's just going to grow again. Jesus, I'm 14 I should be allowed to have my hair long if i want it long. FUCK YOU DAD! I HATE YOU AND YOUR STUPID CAR. WAX IT YOURSELF YOU LAZY BITCH I'M WATCHING WRESTLING!!!
[journal entry ..69 (whoa!). 07/16/05]:
... Man, I'm totally in love with Lucy DePietro. If this were, again, the ancient tribe, I would so want her to be my wife. But like a good wife. Not the kind of wife my Mom is. That Bitch can't even cook. My tribe wife would be a master in the kitchen and I would keep her naked in the cave. She would love me, I'd make sure of that. Nothing but the finest designer make-ups for my tribe wife.
[journal entry ..87. 09/13/05]:
... I Hate my sister. She's such a B-I-A-T-C-H. Today I heard her tell Mom that I swore at school. FUCK HER!! I didn't swear at school. Okay, I did. So what? She totally kissed Jimmy "Knuckles" MacTavish. That guy is gross. He looks like he's 10 years older than anyone else in the school. Bryan says he's a "narc"... whatever that is. Bryan's gay so it probably means he thinks he's hot or something.
[journal entry ..93. 09/29/05]:
... "I'm just a kid and my life is a nightmare" man I looooove that song. It's so true. You know what else is true... Lucy DePietro is a SLUT! That Bitch started making out with the new kid at the dance last night. God and to think she used to be my Tribe wife. FUCK HER!!
[journal entry ..94. 09/30/05]:
... I want to make out with Lucy DePietro... I hate my life.
(December 06, 2005)
Your Mother Runs with the Bulls
There she is. Panini in hand. Too-small yellow track suite barely fitting around her large pentagonal frame. Your mother in all her glory... before the bulls.
"Just let'em loose" she cried. Half eaten panini flings into the air as she hits the hard syllables.
Your mother wants to run with the bulls. I say let her. She could use the exercise for one. More importantly though, the idea of her large yellow covered body getting skewered like some piece of cheese at a fondue party somehow seems appealing. And where's your dad in all this?
"Who cares! He's a bum," she bellows. Ouch, the truth hurts... or is that heartburn? She can't tell anymore. Better to wash the pain away with a diet coke.
AND THEY'RE OFF!!... the bulls that is.
They're coming, and coming fast. Almost like they can smell her candied sweat. I've heard people describe yellow as a calming colour, but not to these bulls. The impact was striking. Red and yellow and red and yellow and red. Sort of like a sunset running down a storm drain.
Tomorrow she will make pancakes for breakfast and call her friend Sally to tell her the news.
(October 04, 2005)
"Just let'em loose" she cried. Half eaten panini flings into the air as she hits the hard syllables.
Your mother wants to run with the bulls. I say let her. She could use the exercise for one. More importantly though, the idea of her large yellow covered body getting skewered like some piece of cheese at a fondue party somehow seems appealing. And where's your dad in all this?
"Who cares! He's a bum," she bellows. Ouch, the truth hurts... or is that heartburn? She can't tell anymore. Better to wash the pain away with a diet coke.
AND THEY'RE OFF!!... the bulls that is.
They're coming, and coming fast. Almost like they can smell her candied sweat. I've heard people describe yellow as a calming colour, but not to these bulls. The impact was striking. Red and yellow and red and yellow and red. Sort of like a sunset running down a storm drain.
Tomorrow she will make pancakes for breakfast and call her friend Sally to tell her the news.
(October 04, 2005)
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