open rejection, or feigned interest?

oh yeah, and I've been told im getting promoted.

having problems with fellow (e:strip)pers?! winter grays got you down? cabin fever making you want to eat your neighbor? well, (e:vycious) has the solution for YOU! just follow these easy to... er, follow, instructions and you too can become a expeditious mitigator of disputes over ever-so-important issues such as:

1. testosteroned hoopla!
2. estrogened ballyhooing!
3. pheremonal mis-appropriation!

how is this possible?!

first. both parties must gather a good 5-10 friends each to a large, relatively non-cluttered region. enknot can back me up on this by endorsing the local ymca with his dodge-ball league.

second. both parties involved in dispute must drink, in advance and under supervision by chosen individual of opposed party, a gallon of water an hour for 3 hours. conflicted parties may urinate for first hour, only.

thirdly. parties assemble friends around them as a circle in chosen area, numbering as one party, then other, around entire circle- so to keep the cirle unbiased.

finally. tickle-death-match, thunderdrome style. done in sections of 15 minutes, with drinking breaks between. first to urinate loses. winner leaves with dry pants, and the whole of the pissing contest will have run its course, sans wasted time.

had to go to Albany today. on the way home, found myself staring at a Denny's in Hartford in front of the thruway.

funny the things we try to forget.

in 96, ten years ago, i was sitting in that very place, eating hot fudge cake sundaes (you know, the ones they used to sell, before they switched to brownies?) ...smothered in hot fudge. it was late, about midnight-ish, and roughly forty miles from where we were going to college.

when i say *we* i am not referring to the royal we. it was with a woman i just so happened to be secretly in love with who i called Tigger, for her orange hair and exuberant spirit.
..heather..
a year later it would be bleached and replaced with blue, complimenting her soft hues, but hardening her heart. we hung out every day between Denny's and then, and it all hit me at once again as i passed...

its three days to my birthday, and im brought to remember now, how my mother swore till her dying day that she wanted one of those hot fudge cake sundaes, along with a carton of smokes, in her coffin.

pan back one year. about this time, all i can say is dural av fistula and gates.

go back another year. in three days, i would find out my mother had cancer. i didn't even see her on that day: 'i need a day off', and took liberties with the selfishness of my birthday. i promised her i would come to see her, but she was hardly awake anymore. i never saw her again. she died the day following.

funerals are expensive. my father, after getting the most inexpensive casket, a family plot, and services- had no money for an entire carton. besides, she died from lung failure, anyways. so... i got her that sundae. even put it in a Tupperware container so she could have it at her leisure. don't think the funeral director believed my asking for its allowance, until i brought it in and saw her stifle a laugh. suppose there is some humor in death. even as a mortician.
that laugh carried me through the rest of the day. it was just the way my mother affected people. you had no choice but to remember her. to stare a gasp at the absurdity of her. there was never middle ground- love her or hate her.

i was an asshole to her the entire time she was dying. i kept calling her a jackass. i just wanted her to be angry, so she would stop being so weak. she was always at her strongest when angry. i realize now how weak i was. i promised i would be there for her on my birthday. the day before she died. the last day she had. and i squandered it. every promise i made to her before she died i could not sustain. every one. what i would give to get ten years back.

so i pulled over and had myself a good cry. somewhere on the thruway between utica and syracuse, in the company van. gods, i fucking hate my birthday.