Lu Lu Eightball by Emily Flake

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all shook up

If I've missed my one calling in this lifetime it's as a travel agent. I love planning trips. I love the booking of the tickets, the making of the reservations, the confirming of the reservations, the research of the restaurants, the hunt for "off-the-beaten-path" attractions. I don't know how I would do actually, booking trips for people that I didn't get to go on myself. It would be difficult watching them leave without me. Anyway, there's no money in it now a days because people like me can do it all ourselves so easily.

Dup and I are going on a little trip tomorrow. I booked these tickets in January. JANUARY PEOPLE. And I have been so excited, looking forward to it ever since. I'm so excited now that I have to calm myself down because I'm afraid that if get too happy about anything, something will go wrong.

We're going to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee. We're going to Graceland.

Dup is a huge Elvis fan. I am not. It's not that I don't like him. I like him. I just don't LOVE him. I like his music; it's amazing. I've just yet to have that defining moment where it all clicks. I suppose, if I'm ever destined to have that moment it's going to happen this weekend.

The thing I'm most excited about, I'm excited about so many parts of this trip but the most exciting part is that my cousin and her husband are meeting us there. My cousin Megan, I've spoken of her before on this blog, she's my best friend. We grew up with our houses sharing the same back fence. Her parents are like second parents to me and I've just always thought of her as the moon. She is truly the coolest chick ever. And her husband Jim Brown, could have fun at an insurance convention. If you look up "Party" in the dictionary his photo is there and he has his fingers in the "rock on" position. This is a man who took his five year old son to a KISS concert. It will not be boring.

What I love about this trip is how white trash it is and how American it is. Do you have any idea how many fun things there are to do in Memphis? Get this, we're going on this tour on Saturday night where this guy picks us up at our hotel in his refurbished '57 Chevy and drives us all around town to "Juke Joint" dive bars and blues clubs. He will stay out with us until the bars close at 3am. He was born and raised in Memphis and he is an aficionado as far as history and town culture. Plus, everyone knows him, so if you're with him, even though they know you're a tourist, you're cool. I talked to him on the phone for a while when I booked the tour. He seems really great. Here's his website, if you're ever in Memphis: www.americandreamsafari.com I'll let you know how it is.

Another thing you can do in Memphis is go to the church where Al Green preaches. He is there in the flesh and he has a big gospel choir and they sing the praises of the lord. We will probably be too hung over to fully appreciate it but it sounds awesome.

There's Graceland of course but what I'm really looking forward to is what's called "Graceland Too" Here's a website that explains: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/attract/MSHOLgracelandtoo.html
This guy is supposed to be completely crazy. He is the number one Elvis Fan in the world and he says that his house is open 24/7. You can go in and view his insane Elvis collection at any time. His son, named Elvis of course, used to help him until he got out of Dodge. Too Elivsey I imagine. I love meeting eccentric people like this and just watching them spin their webs of insanity. It's delicious.

Speaking of delicious, there is the FOOD there, which is you know, all deep fat fried and bbq. There's a "beer brunch" that Dup found and so we're for sure going to THAT. Hello. Beer for breakfast, hello? To top it all off there are apparently THRIFT STORES for miles there and the biggest five & dime in America.

Why don't they just call it HEAVEN?

See here I go, getting to excited again. Calm down, calm down, calm down.

I think what I love most about travel is not so much the escape, the escape is pretty good but that's not the best part. The best part is motion. I love being in motion and it's when I am moving that I am able to be the most still.

I made this realization when I was on my trip in Europe that I took by myself when I was in my early twenties. I was on a train and I realized that my favorite parts of the trip were just being on trains, moving but still, no one can touch me. Thinking about what I have done and where I am going. I have nowhere to be. I can just sit withmyself with no anxiety. Planes aren't as good for that because you're so cramped in there and it's hard to tell if you are moving but it's motion nonetheless. Everything is set. It's all been thought of. It's all planned. Just sit back, relax and ...

Drink.

A lot.

Lu Lu Eightball by Emily Flake

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from Daisey's Blog:

Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. and then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

ahmen.

I find that I feel most alive after I've taken about 25 hits of acid, like this chick apparently did.

Beagle Baby

Last night poor Baby E the beagle had such a bad dream. He was grunting and crying down at the bottom of our bed where he sleeps, moving his little paws back and forth. He was so upset that I tried to wake him up out of it. He did wake up eventually and then he got up and couldn't go back to sleep. The poor little dear was just pacing and walking around the bed like a doggie insomniac.

Dup finally shot up awake and said, "He cant sleep!" He turned on the light and I saw that Eliott had thrown up on the bed. Luckily we put a sort of throw thing over the comforter for him to sleep on and it was just on that. I changed the throw but OH POOR E. He was so upset by his dream that he puked! It just makes me so sad to think that this poor little beagle has thoughts and images rolling through his mind that could disturb him so.

We got him back up on the bed and (WE NEVER DO THIS) put him between us, under the covers. He laid down and I put my arms around him and he fell right to sleep like a little human baby. He's such a furry little human baby. Soon he was snoring and snorting like a little pig. It kept me up but I didn't care because he was so peaceful and I was so relieved that he was sleeping sound.

Sometimes I will say to Dup, "Don't you wish that Baby E would just turn into a real baby?" Dup's reaction to this notion is always horror. He looks at me as if I've suggested something evil. I do wish it though. I feel like we've taken on this challenge in taking him in. We've become adults because we've had to put this little being first. We've changed our lifestyle completely to accommodate his needs. We've spent a fortune on vet bills. We've spent a fortune on training. We've fattened him up. We keep him clean. We keep him safe.

So wouldn't it be great if, after passing this sort of test we've given ourselves, he could turn, like Gipetto's Pinnochio, into a real boy?

If and when we are so blessed to have a child, it's going to be hard taking care of E on the same level we do now. He's going to get shafted. A lot of young couples get dogs to fill their baby void and then once the baby comes, they get rid of their dog. That is not an option for us. Baby E is a part of us now. He is our family. I would no sooner give him away than I would chop off my own foot. It's a ridiculous notion that is not even worth entertaining for a second.

However, it's going to be hard. One of us will be working full time for sure and the other will have to go back to work at least part time after a while. So we will have to take care of the baby on our own a lot. I'm imagining myself hauling a stroller down the stairs with a baby in my arms and the dog on the leash. What if Eliott got away from me somehow? I couldn't chase him with a baby! What about when it's snowing? What then? Everytime the dog has to pee I have to bundle up the baby in the baby snowsuit! What if the baby has a cold?! or a FEVER?!

There are two solutions to this problem. A. Have the baby, ship it to my mother in California and have her raise it until it can talk, walk and do household chores or B. Somehow morph this dog into a baby.

I'm open to suggestions.
Also, this is all still extremely hypothetical because I AM NOT PREGNANT.

HA!

we were here

There was this time when my family went on vacation, I must have been seven or eight maybe younger. We had gone to Yosemite and we were driving to Sequoia or we had gone to Sequoia and we were driving to Yosemite. It was me and my sister and my mom and my dad and we stopped off the side of the road and went swimming in a creek. It was a very larger creek coming down of the side of the mountain. It was called 5 mile creek or 3 mile creek or something like that. We hiked up a bit so that we were off the road and it was as if, suddenly we were cut off from civilization completely. For a short moment in time, it was just us.

There was this little waterfall and the water came sliding down the rocks. My dad found this place where he could slide down like a waterslide. We watched him slide down and we were all laughing. Of course, we were all naked, which was pretty normal for us. We were always getting naked, especially my sister and I, in our back yard swimming pool. My parents encouraged us to not be ashamed of being naked. It was a natural thing. As soon as the sun went down, off came our clothes but here we were in broad daylight. It was so exciting and so much fun.

We weren’t able to swim in this creek for long before someone else came along, another family maybe? I don’t remember who they were but I remember getting out of the water and hiding from them and then putting my clothes back on. I remember my dad putting on a towel and talking to them and then we sort of packed up and left. We could have stayed but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun, so we took off, party over.

I remember getting into the car and being so bummed that it got cut short because we were having such a good time. I remember my sister and me asking, “Can we go back there again?” And my parents promising that we would but of course, we never did.

Sometimes I go back there in my mind.
Sometimes I go back there in my dreams.

on a lighter note...

This is a shout out to my guurl fou fou. You may also know her as Millie. Some even know her as Trisch or Trischa Kathy.

Not long ago Trischa Kathy met the man of her dreams and just this last weekend they flew to Vegas and got married. Elvis walked her down the aisle and this photo is of her and her new husband Dr. Jack outside the chapel.

This girl is so funny, so cool, so beautiful and so smart. She deserves it all and now she has a rock on her finger the size of Gibraltar. Also, she's pregnant. Now, I'm not only happy for her, I'm jealous. (Bitch!)

Mostly though, I'm so happy. Way to go Jack. You scored yourself one hot broad. I see a long happy life for both of you (and the tiniest pair of designer jeans you've ever laid eyes on).

Yay!

rant

This morning I woke up to an NPR segment about the NYC budget. Michael Bloomberg has allotted money to buy a bunch of bullet proof vests for police officers. I think this is great. They should pay for police officers to be protected but what he has also done, is cut funding for schools.

WHAT? How could anyone in their right mind even consider CUTTING funding for schools? They need so much more money than they have as it is! The Public Schools are in such bad shape and kids are falling through every crack. They are falling through every crack and they are growing up to be criminals.

We are breeding criminals in our public school systems and we spend money on bullet proof vests. Fucking A. Better get some more vests Mr. Bloomberg. Better get a whole lotta of 'em, 'cause if you keep cutting funding for education these kids are going to come back at you packin heat. Whatever you do, don't put money into education. Don't give these kids a chance to learn, to respect themselves, to respect the people around them, to avoid a life of crime. No, no, no, don't waste your time with that. Just buy more bullet proof vests.

Fuckwad.

Lu Lu Eightball by Emily Flake

upright in a beer cozy...

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rip princess P., sniff, sniff....

Paris my love, my sweet little bottle of light. I love you. Your time has come but it is only the begining for you. Please record some jazz standards and put them on an album so that we can all run out and buy it. I will be the first in line.....

if it's the last thing i ever do

This morning when I was walking to work from Grand Central this thought entered my mind, “This city is choking me.” This is not where my story begins but I don’t think it’s much of a coincidence that I had this thought first thing.

It is by the way, choking me.

I got home from work today, this is about 1 hour ago mind you and I was tired and Eliott’s Polish au pair, Asia, was hanging out with us. She talks ninety miles an hour. She is never NOT talking. It is amazing to me that there is someone who talks more than I do. She can only be described as, ahem, a teenager. We hung out with her for a while and she showed me Eliott’s jumps. She sits in the door so that her back is against one side of the door way and her legs are up against the other side making a barrier and he jumps over her legs. He really catches air and I’d say he can jump about 2 ½ feet, which is pretty cute considering he’s less than 1 foot tall.

I digress.

Asia said she'd go on our walk with us and I said, “why don’t you stay here?” Because, you know, she's sweet but she's driving me nutz and so she walked us to the door of our building. Earlier, I had heard a bunch of yelling outside, sounded like some older kids yelling. Asia told me disdainfully that they were "rowdy drunks". She’s very judgmental towards sinners of any kind. Her mom is a religious freak. I see a rebellion in her future.

I got out side and the first thing I saw was a cop car. No idea why they were there. Their rollers weren’t flashing. They had just stoped their cruiser in the middle of the block and got out. I kept walking, didn’t think of it. Then I saw the kids up ahead of me, the rowdy drunks. Two guys and a girl. The girl was yelling at the cops, “HEELOO Officer!!” She was taunting them but this one kid, he was wearing a grey sweatshirt, was falling over and she was also sort of trying to help him. The other guy with them is like, “let’s get out of here. Whatya gonna do, piss on the wall? Are you gonna take a piss right here?” Well my friends, as it turns out, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

I had slowed my pace down quite a bit to take in the action and just as I passed, I got a fantastic view of this kid’s penis as he whipped it out and proceeded to pee all over the wall of the medical clinic two doors down from my apartment. He was swearing and doing this as a way to say something to the cops like, “fuck you cops, I’m not afraid of you. I’m pissing on this wall!” But the cops couldn't see. They were on the other side of the block by then and they could see the kids but they couldn't see him pissing on the wall because of the way his back was turned.

A lot of shit was going through my mind at this time and this just goes to show you that people are complex because I like to think of myself as very liberal. I like to think of myself as someone who has earthy, hippie even, sensibilities but sometimes I pull such raging conservative shit. This is often in conjunction with the police because unlike most citizens, I actually trust the police because my dad was a cop. I don’t like, love the police or anything but I respect them and I actually, unlike most citizens, believe that if I were in trouble, they would help me. Which is probably true considering my whiteness. What was going through my mind in this very moment though is, “how dare this kid be so arrogant. How dare he just whip it out like that right in front of those cops. He should be afraid of those cops. He’s breaking the law in ten different ways.”

This is the ever familiar point of the story where I actually float outside myself and watch the action. I no longer have control. I started screaming at the top of my lungs, “OFFICERS!! THIS GUY IS TAKING A PISS ON THE WALL!! HE IS EXPOSING HIMSELF! HE’S WASTED. THIS GUY IS WASTED!” The cops started walking over. The kid’s friends were pulling him away, Saying smart stuff to him like, “stop it man! You’re so busted. Get out of here.” The peeing kid stoped peeing, turned and stared righ at me. He was so drunk that his eyes were rolling, ROLLING in his head. I’m sure he was seeing at least three of me. He must have been 17 years old. Why was this kid this drunk at 5:30 pm on a Tuesday night? I hadn’t reminded myself at this point yet, that I had a tendency to get that drunk at that age, maybe not in broad daylight on the city streets but still.

I pissed this kid off royally (no pun intended). He was a little pit bull now, growling at me, spitting at my face as he screamed through his teeth, “you fucking BITCH. YOU FUCKING little, DO YOU WANT TO DIE? I’m GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU. I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!!” His friends were dragging him away now and I was just walking away. I wanted to walk over to him, blow on him and watch him fall over. I’m looked him right in the eye the whole time he was screaming at me and then I said, “Have fun in jail.”

Am I fucking Dirty Harry? It was like my dad was speaking through me almost. He loved that shit so much. The low-lifes, the dirt bags, the scum of the earth . He loved to put them in jail. I interviewed him once for an article in our fourth grade paper and I asked him why he wanted to be a policeman and he told me, “because I love putting the bad guys in jail.” I was getting a little taste of that in this moment. I felt so safe because these cops were right behind me. One of the cops was putting on black leather gloves as he walked over. Why was he putting on the gloves? That part was weird. I got the feeling suddenly that these cops were like, showing off a little bit for me? Or something...

The kid finally looked at the cops walking toward him and tried to walk away. Whooah, waaay to late for that little buddy. I stoped walking away myself ‘cause I was thinking, the cops didn’t see him whip his dick out and piss on the building. I did. They might need me for their report. I stand there watching and things get weirder. This is what happens:

Cop #1: Get back here.

The kids stop walking.

Cop #2: Why you always gotta be such an asshole?

La Ketch’s Inner Monologue: He knows him.

Cop#1: Yeah why is it, every time I see this guy he’s being an asshole?

la Ketch’s inner monologue: Ok, now I’m seeing why, why he was so defiant to the cops. He has a history with them.

la Ketch: He also threatened me! He told me that he was going to kill me. Twice!

Cop #1: (to the peeing kid) Take off your sweatshirt.

Peeing kid: What?

Cop #1: Take off your sweatshirt and wipe up that piss. That’s what I’m gonna make you do. Take it off and wipe it up.

La ketch’s inner monologue: What? Dear lord. Why don’t they just write him a ticket?

I’ve switched sides immediately. This poor kid. What an upbringing he must have had and now they have to humiliate him?! What have I done?

The kid is scared now. He sobers up a bit. He’s faced out toward the street, the cops, me, everyone. He’s going to cry. His lip is quivering.

Cop #2: Take it off Asshole.

He takes it off.

Peeing kid: You want me to.. What do I do?

Cop#1: Wipe up that mess.

He does it. He wipes up the pee. I walk away pretty confused.

Why the fuck did I feel it was necessary to do that? What good did it do? Was I helping that kid? Is he really going to kill me?

I think there was a part of me that thought I was helping him. He needed to learn to respect authority, to know that next time, he won’t be wiping piss off the wall with a sweatshirt. He’ll be scrubbing the toilets in the hooskow. But God, that kid was so drunk, he’s not going to remember a damned thing. That is probably to my advantage considering the death threat but those cops didn't really teach him a lesson. All those cops taught that kid was to hate cops. They should have written him a ticket. They didn't need to taunt him and humiliate him. It's not their job to punish. That should be handled by the judge. He should get a ticket, go to court, tell his story GO TO JAIL. No, no, do community service or go to alcohol counseling or something. I understand the whole "punishment fits the crime" thing but golly. I don't know.

They didn't need my testimony because they never wrote a report. I remember my dad telling me about that too. So much about being a cop is paperwork and it's really boring. A lot of times the cops will let you off with a warning not because they are being nice but because they don't want to write a report.

As I walked along, playing it all over again in my mind, I noticed that Asia was suddenly walking next to me. She'd see the whole thing from the door way and she followed after me and I felt even worse knowing that. She says to me, “those are bad kids.” And I say to her, “Yeah, I guess they are.” We don’t really talk until we reach the edge of the park and I say, “You should walk back home.” I’m too upset to hang with her. “But be really careful walking back.” And she’s says, “Ok, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

Lu Lu Eightball by Emily Flake

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