Min Joo

For many months now, Min Joo had a feeling she was being followed.  Every morning, when she left her house, she checked all the closets and under the sink.  She looked up and down the block six times in each direction before getting into her car.  She showed up to all of her classes a half an hour early but entered seconds before the bell to make sure no one was behind her.  She didn't see any of this as a problem but merely a fact of life.

Sarah

Sarah was saving up for something special.  A wedding dress.  The biggest, prettiest, princessiest one she could find.  She was in love.  She had met Alex at the car wash.  They were both late for appointments, both waiting impatiently for the suds to squirt and quiver.  He was on his way to meet a woman - a blind date set up by his coworker Steve who had some sort of mystery skin condition on both arms.  But Alex was taken with Sarah's honest eyes.  The wisps of hair falling around her eyes reminded him of honey, of wheat, of happy times.  Sarah was late to pick up her dog from the groomers.  She loved Mipsy but could not bring herself to wash the dachshund, not with the way he squealed.  If she was a dog, she wouldn't want a bath either.  Alex, with his cologne and pompadour, vaguely reminded Sarah of Italian actors in black and white films.  Only he was 5'3".  Perhaps the movie stars were, too.  You could never really tell.  They exhanged glances that day at the car wash.  Then phone numbers,, then said goodbye.  They met for breakfast the following Sunday and it became a weekly tradition.  Seven weeks passed and even though they'd never kissed, never seen each other at night, Sarah new he was the one.  She started washing the dog herself to save cash for her dress.  One day soon, it would be worth it.

I hate that.

Paris Hilton has a lot of money.  I do not.  I hate that.

Things That Will Kill You #3

David Lee Roth in Assless Chaps

Now, I know there are some of you out there who are thinking, "I can handle that mess" and I am here to tell you, "No, you cannot."  

The year was 1984 and Jennifer Kozlov (not even close to her real name) met David Lee Roth somewhere near the bathrooms of the Troubador, the world famous heavy metal club on the Sunset strip.  Well, I wasn't there but it was all over school the next day: Jennifer gave DLR a BJ in the bathroom.  The men's bathroom. Best or worst of all, depending on your personal relationship with Satan, she was only 14!  

Not surprisingly, Jennifer Kozlov was never heard from again.  Lisa Cordoba was waiting outside trying to look mature by Long Island Ice Tea with one pinky up.  Apparently, Jennifer's young eyes and mouth were no match for Davids hot flesh.  Upon touching him, she spontaneously combusted right there in the second stall.  David strode out in his assless attire like nothing happened.  Shameful.

Every year, a group of us get together and leave a pack of apple flavored Now and Laters in that very spot while singing "Jump." Now and Laters where Jennifer's favorite.  

If you see David in assless chaps, leave him alone!  I beg of you.

Love,

Bouvier

Things That Will Kill You #2

The Giving Tree by Shell Silverstein

If, after seeing the serial killer-esque extreme close up photo of the author on the back cover, you still dare to open the this "children's" book, I cannot help you.  You are a person who openly lives teetering on the edge of sanity and apparently, you like it there.  If you want to share this book with your child, I suggest saving money for years of therapy, too, because this book will eff your kid up.  Trust me on this one.  

This tender tome explores the co-dependent relationship between a self centered little boy and one enabler of an apple tree.  Oh, the boy is ruthless!  He carves his initials in the tree.  He eats all of her apples.  He cuts the branches to build a boat or something and still, the little booger wants more, more, more!  And the tree, being sick in her "oh, I'm just a nobody" way, just gives and gives

and gives until she is nothing but a stump.  All the while repeating the phrase, "Come boy, come swing from my branches..." If you are a pimp or are thinking of becoming a pimp, you should read this book to all your best back alley hos. Those ladies will identify with being used and abused a little better than the rest of us. 

The Giving Tree has been scarring the young since 1964 and if you have a child, eventually someone will give it to the kid as a gift.  Smile politely then return it to the bookstore immediately!  I beg of you.

Love, 

Bouvier

Things That Will Kill You #1

Chicken in a Biskit

I am pretty sure MSG was invented specifically to make these crackers taste like chicken.  Many people who survived the 1970's will tell you, Nabisco succeeded.  But woah, gentle reader, coercing baked goods to taste like poultry is one dangerous endeavor, indeed.

Selflessly, like a noble taster serving her queen, I tried them, almost died of over exposure to monoglycerides, and lived to warn one and all.  I beg of you, never eat them.

Love,

Bouvier

Sorry.

Ingrid

Ingrid had a car, a cat, and a boyfriend.  The car was an old diesel Mercedes.  She put shells and driftwood and raw cotton in the back window.  "So nice," she said.  The cat's name was Buttermilk and he was blue-eyed and beige.  She loved him, he loved her, the neighbors let him in their apartments because he was so charming.  The boyfriend's name was Rudolfo.  He was a pig.  He ate too many Snickers bars and hid the wrappers under the seats in Ingrid's car when he borrowed Ingrid's car, which was often.  He watched hours and hours of football on television and got mad at Ingrid if she called it soccer.  One day, Ingrid dropped Rudolfo off at the post office and said, "I'll be back after I go to the bank."  She pulled away from the curb and a Snickers bar wrapper fluttered around the floor like a lost and dying butterfly that doesn't know it's lost and dying.  Would she return?

Darla

Danica changed her name to Darla thinking it would make life a little sweeter. Though her parents thought themselves original at the time of her birth, the girl always felt Danica sounded hard as a rock, severe as an angry coast. Also, she had been called Danica the Manica by inspired classmates. Even so, she wore her hair short as she pleased, wrote far away poems, and bought flashy, second hand shoes. Now 19, now living abroad, now known as Darla, she was surprised to find herself sobbing on the Tube thinking, "I want to go home."

Beth

Beth faced the sun.  "Looking up," she said, "gives a person a cheerful disposition."  She walked on, eye to the sky, never mind puddles or land mines.

waiting

the girls are getting their first wrinkles now

they paint themselves in expensive denim

let shiny things dangle and detract

they order too much wine 

too much fish

too many chickens cooked under so many bricks

they no longer talk but squawk like seagulls 

fighting for old baloney and wonder bread left in the sand

i remember being 20

being a waitress 

waiting on women like us

not too concerned and not too impressed

i still am

waiting

Life is very unfair.

This is Princess Elisabeth of Denmark.  She is a princess and I am not.  I repeat, Elisabeth is a princess and Bouvier is not!

love as gestalt

oh, girl, 

what can you do

when your boyfriend 

is mad at you?

you can be demanding 

you can be demure

you can say you're sorry

and even thought you're sure

it's kinda not your fault

and when he stays silent

a move subtle yet bold

you hold your breath 

feel yourself growing old

though times seems to have come to a halt

he's stares at you intently

reading your face

a skill he's quite good at

so you blank that space

love as gestalt

girl, let me tell you, 

there's naught you can do

when your man

is mad at you.

Stop Making Sense

Saw some art today.  Mediocre art.  How do they do it?  Get it into a museum, that is.  I am confused by this.

It doesn't make sense.

Also, I am anxious.  I am taking pills so I am not anxious and yet I am anxious.  I am jumpy.  I think it is because the pills take all the distraction out of my head and now I am in a vulnerable place.  

A small lot has been cleared in the forest.  There are piles of wood and nails and tools.  I have to build a house there or else I will freeze.

Does that make sense?