100 Things for Which Bouvier is Grateful in No Particular Order

1. Lord Baden Trider
2. Family that I love
3. Family that scares the poop out of me
4. My keen sense of fashion
5. Steak
6. Burgers
7. Smokey gray purple
8. David Bowie
9. Dancing
10. My Mac
11. My brain
12. Curiosity
13. Lexapro
14. Tea
15. Breathing
16. Wood burning stoves
17. Beaches
18. The sun
19. The snow
20. My talents
21. Lucky money
22. "Harlot" by Felix da Housecat
23. "The Ice Wagon Going Down the Road" by Mavis Gallant
    
24. Oysters
25. Barack and Michelle Obama
26. Improv
27. The crazy that is Celine Dion
28. Bacon
29. Experience
30. Stevie Wonder
31. Joni Mitchell
32. NAMIC
33. Susan Rice
34. Massages
35. Katharine
36. Google
37. Apartment Therapy
38. Design Sponge
39. Forgiveness
40. Clarity
41. Hot showers
42. The tambourine
43. The kazoo
44. Spas
45. New York
46. Old buildings
47. Joshua Tree
48. Tomales Bay
49. London
50. Children
51. Old people
52. Big dogs
53. My health
54. Liberals
55. The Pacific
56. NPR
57. Small talk
58. Good aesthetics
59. Kindness
60. The willingness to learn
61. Honesty
62. Gay church
63. Trains 
64. Listening
65. Water
66. Advil
67. Discernment
68. Lust
69. "After the Dance" by Marvin Gaye
70. Southside
71. Mistakes and learning from them
72. The word "dropsy"
73. Dreams
74. Honey
75. Desire
76. Writing
77. Reading
78. Talking
79. Laughter
80. Minnie Riperton
81. My book
82. Good friends
83. Old friends
84. Friends I haven't met yet
85. The future
86. My sight
87. My heart
88. Critical thinking 
89. Birdsong
90. Sun rays on the small of my back
91. Swimming
92. Yoga
93. YMCA Camp Big Bear
94. Shrimp dumplings
95. The pursuit of happiness
96. My homies that couldn't be here
97. Spellcheck
98. Love
99. You
100. Me

A poem for Jessica

When you are good I say, "Peachy."

If you are pretty, I'll call you a dish.

I am living in the 1940's

It's funny, a real stitch

Today I live for hip hop

My cornrows is mad crazy

I throw down on the dance floor

and my beats are amazing

Now I'm feeling the spirit

Of Abraham, Isaiah, and Rachel

I admire wigs covering shaved heads

And thick stockings and dreidels

Jessica

Jessica Beasley thinks she is is not good enough and so she is always trying to be someone else.  Today she thinks she is Veronica Lake so she did her hair in long, sexy loose curls that she calls "swoons."   She wants the men to swoon.  She wants Reid, her roommate, to swoon and to love her.  But she has a harder time with love than she does with identity.   Reid knows Jessica better than she knows herself and that scares both of them into awkward pauses charged with sexual tension.  Jessica works as a bartender at a club where she watches bands and wonders how they do it.  How do they all agree on a lyric or a chord, a set list, or even a time to meet for band practice?  She fights an internal fight over ever decision that leads to not making too many decisions and all five of these people got it together to agree on the name of their band.  Amazing.

Ugly Things #2

The PT Cruiser - As if the memories of the ZZ Top videos from the early '80's weren't bad enough.  Now there's an update.  God or Bouvier will smite you if you're caught driving one of these.

Carrot Top - Darling, this is going nowhere good.  To all my gentle readers, if you are a friend of Carrot Top's (or if you know for a fact that Carrot Top has a friend), it is your duty to find and help him.  Start of slowly by giving CT a mirror and once he is distracted, steal his 'roids with caution.  He may bite off your nose but think of it as part of your civic duty.  

Goatees - Fellas, I am no expert on men's fashion, well, okay, actually, I'm an expert on everything so listen up: you simply must shave the goatee.  I will give you one reason and it's a doozy: it's ugly.  Here's another reason: the 1990's are over.  I know many of you feel it adds lines to your otherwise doughy faces and this is true but that's like a woman saying "the mustard stain on these jeans detracts from the period blood stain on these jeans."  See the lack of logic? 

Anessa

Anessa took out a black Sharpie and wrote on the locker room mirror: ANESSA HATES YOU.  This was not written to anyone in particular.  It was dedicated to everyone, anyone who would read it.  Under the scrawl, she glared at herself in the mirror.  Anessa was a moody girl who lived each day as if her blood was full of irritating things - spit, salt, vinegar, rusty nails - and it showed.  Her cheeks were covered with the first crop of pimples of her 12 year old life.  They were filled with white pus and without a mother, a sister, an interest in fashion magazines, or a single female friend, she had no idea she was supposed to do something about it.  Her one saving grace was basketball.  Hated or not, she was the hero of every game, the eagle soaring through the air, the ballerina, the goddess, the swan.  However, because of the pimples, the rest of the 7th grade girls team and even some of the boys' team had started calling her Cheesy Cheeks behind her back.   About fifteen minutes ago, she found out about it and this is why Anessa hates you.

The Brutal Truth

Two of my closest friends, IMDB and Yogini, have come up with a marvelous idea: they are telling each other the absolute truth at all the times.  I, Bouvier, am never one miss a trend.  Generally, I start trends and abandon them, too, just like pets.  However, today is a holy day and I shall allow myself follow the pack!  With all this and so much more in mind, I offer you THE BRUTAL TRUTH.  Merry Christmas!

Fairy Tales

After surviving an early morning swat in the face from his wooden spoon wielding grandmother; and cutting through the vines of bumper to bumper turnpike traffic in his 1992 Elantra; and the first three hours of his shift mopping the hospital floors, Erich Calder stumbled upon her: Rose.  

He knew she was a royal at first sight.  There were signs, the physical signs, and Erich was keenly aware of each one of them.  The jaw line had to be strong and dominating.  The jaw line has to say, "I know my place in this world," to anyone who is fortunate enough to encounter it.  The nose had to be serious and snooty.  It had to be a nose worthy of looking down, worth turning up.  Just as important were the lips.  Pouty lips.  Give me more lips.  I would never eat anything cheap lips.  If a princess is to have anything, it is the right jaw, nose, and lips.  Without the crown, it was the only way to know for sure.  And Erich, laying his mop at her feet, knew for sure.

The princess slept on a gurney.  They all did.  He kissed her soft and sweet but she did not stir.  He kissed her again and again.  It wasn't supposed to work like this.  We all know the rules.  A princess tries sleeping on a pea?  It just won't work.  A princess kisses a frog?  The frog will turn into a prince.  And if prince kisses a sleeping princess, she wakes up and they live the lives they were meant to live, god damn it.  They don't push mops.  They don't sit in traffic.  They love each other and value each other's opinions, however odd or jaded or sublime.  They don't laugh or swat spoons in each other's fucking faces.  When one needs a sword, the other tosses it over and together they slay the dragon.  They walk the plank.  They toe the line.  With every kiss Erich gave Rose she did not stir causing him to shouted, "Why the hell is everything around here broken?"

He lifted her gown.  He unzipped his Dickies.  It was supposed to work.  

Elena

Elena Mariana Inez Cordoba y Leal did not want to marry. She was tired of all it took to get a good man. First, she had to be educated. Having been born into one of the wealthiest families in Argentina - banking empire on her father's side and 2,000 heads of cattle on her mother's - she had had a tight and tailored education. French, English, mathematics, history, literature, religion, poetry, pottery, and piano. But, she'd rather ride horses than study. Second, she had to be pretty. "Everyone says I am," she would say with a shrug if the subject came up. Amongst her female cousins with their elaborate dresses and hair, the subject came up all the time. She found beauty in nature - trees, rocks, salt formations, cracked earth, fresh fallen snow - and nowhere else. Elena was the only girl in a family of brothers. This was a problem, too. A husband had to be trustworthy and all of her suitors, she rightly suspected, didn't want to marry her. They wanted to marry the banking empire and the 2,000 heads of cattle. For these reasons, Elena Mariana Inez Cordoba y Leal had no desire to marry. And with absolute certaintly, she knew one day soon she would.

Pretty Things

Fashion from the 1920's - Slouchy without being schlumpy.

The Rainbow Batman - This version of Batman is wildly concerned with his muscles, his strapping young sidekick, and his flashy attire. The rainbow indeed!

White carnations - Simple. Elegant. Long lasting.

Santa's Little Hooker

Silent Night

Whorish night

All is feathery

Red and tight

I am a virgin

Hah! Yeah, right

I'm Santa's Little Hooker

Now let's lay some pipe

Sleeping in a puddle of pee

I'm sleeping in a puddle of pee

1980

On Monday we had steamed zucchini, filet of sole, and brown rice.

On Tuesday we had steamed zucchini, filet of sole, and brown rice.

On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday it was the same.

On Saturday and Sunday, nothing had changed.

For a year, my dinner was 

Steamed zucchini, filet of sole, and brown rice.

The only juice in the fridge was grape.

It wasn't white, it was always purple grape.

Every night beside the same meal on my plate.

Now, that beverage is a beverage that I hate 

Because for all of calendar year 1980

The only juice in the fridge was purple grape.

The zucchini was always overcooked

But my childhood was not overlooked

I had clothes and lots of books

It's just that my mom was an awful cook

I'm glad she loved me

More than that zucchini that she overcooked

Old Waitress/New Waitress

The one with the ring on his pinky?

We call him Uncle Drinky

Because he always comes in here bombed

By noon, his breath is stinky

And his tips are super dinky

But he's nice so when he stiffs you

Don't be alarmed.

The blonde with the baby?

We call her Miss Maybe

Because no one ever sees the dad

Slightly under weighty

Such a frail little lady

Quiet and lonely 

Really, it's kind of sad.

The one at the counter whose always chipper?

I have a feeling she's a stripper

Check out the super sized rack

She's a very good tipper

And we call her Ducky Lipper

Because her collagen

Was injected by a quack

You Can Quote Me on That

A woman is like a tea bag.  You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water. - Eleanor Roosevelt

Bullets cannot be recalled.  They cannot be uninvented.  But they can be taken out of a gun. - Martin Amis

So what if the guy threw his shoe at me? - George W. Bush

Americans are benevolently ignorant about Canada while Canadians are malevolently well-informed about the United States. - J. Bartlett Brebner.

I would have gone home to my mother, but I'm not that crazy about my mother. - Cher

Life is too short to be living somebody else's dream.  - Hugh Hefner

When Love is Really Real

Philly was always trying to impress me.  His real name is Philip but he's from Philadelphia and he kind of looked like a girl horse so everyone calls him Philly.  We were together about eight days when we started having problems.  Just little fights about where did you sleep last night and whose wedding ring is this in your pocket.  Stuff like that.  He'd always make it up to me in the craziest ways.  One time, he stole roses from Gracie Mansion and left them on my stoop.  This other time, he brought me a short stack of pancakes from Kellogg's Diner and left those on my stoop, too.  I was like, Philly: CUT. THIS. OUT.  We're through!  Just when I thought he got the message, he sticks a firecracker up his butt with the help of his buddy Jack Lutz.  It shot up in the air and in white sparkles, it spelled my name: T-i-n-a.  Now I'm in love all over again.  I wasn't there when they did it but he sent me the link on You Tube.  And yeah, my name is spelled E-m-i-l-y but whose fault is that?  My mother, that's who.  Me and Philly are going to work it out this time.  I can tell.  

Irina

Irina was always messing around.  She never took anything seriously.  If you were eating, she opened her mouth to show you what she was eating.  If you were trying to do your homework, she would make faces and flash her boobs out the window to the little boy next door until you were laughing a lot and not doing your homework.  If you missed the bus, she would talk whoever she was with into hitchhiking even though everyone's parents said never, ever hitchhike.  Irina missed school one day, then another day, and then another.  An announcement was made over the PA.  Irina was missing.  If anyone knew anything, they had to go to the principal's office immediately!  The announcement was grim.  The kids miss her.

An 8th Grade Thought from the Sands of the Pacific

I'm gonna be late getting home again

I'm still at the beach with my friends

Sure, I've got homework

And yeah, I've got chores

But I've been gone seven hours

What's one more?

On the subject of lateness

My mom's got anger galore

I'm gonna be late getting home again

She'll say I'm getting punished 'cause I earned it

But she'll never say where I learned it

A parent-teacher meeting,

An appointment or a date

My mom's the one

Who's always late

She flip flops with me

Inconsistency, I hate

She'll say I'm getting punished 'cause I earned it.

Gang Affiliations: Coffee or Tea?

Well, let's weigh the facts.

Coffee drinkers are maniacal "caffiends" with no class.

If a cafe runs out of their jump juice, a coffee drinker will most certainly hurl a giant, filthy cup a the establishment.

If a coffee drinker cannot get a date to a picnic, he'll bring a big ol' cup of coffee and call it "Shirley" for the duration of the day. I kid you not!












Tea, on the other hand, is always touched by beautiuful women before you drink it, comes in several colors (green, black, red, and white), and often is served in ceremonies.

Obviously, Bouvier feels tea is the gang for you and me.

Quoted

The best way to predict your future is to create it.  - Abraham Lincoln

Love is a friendship set to music.  - Joseph Campbell

Making love in the morning got me through morning sickness.  I found I could be happy and throw up at the same time.  - Pamela Anderson

Are we to paint what's on the face, what's inside the face, or what's behind it? - Pablo Picasso

Your silence will not protect you.  - Audre Lorde

Gang Affiliations: Denim or Corduroy?

Corduroy is for stylish librarians, dandies, the working man, and deep thinkers. Denim is for hippies. Bouvier is all about the corduroy, darling. All about it.

Gang Affiliations: Jets or Sharks?

This is actually more difficult than you would think. On the one hand, the Jets are rapists but on the other hand, they get to sing When You're a Jet and Officer Krupsky, two excellent tunes. Now the Sharks are murders, no doubt. However, all it takes is one look at Anita and I know for sure that Bouvier is a Shark!

Ugly Things

These pants.

This house.

This weird rash from defective flip flops.

Whatever

At around 5:37 on a Sunday, Marcy turned on the oven, blew out the pilot light, and laid herself to rest. The next day, after receiving several complaints about the gas smell, Alberto, the building's super, used his key to get in. There he found Marcy, dead, with her head in the oven. As he reached over her to turn off the oven, he was struck by her flimsy white nightgown. Not that he found her sexy this way. Doubtless, she was lovely to look at, but he was a church going man. It was the way the silk puddled around her knees in perfect, soft circles. It was as if the the nightgown was dripping out of the oven with Marcy in it. He thought of a drapery in old paintings. He thought of over boiled milk bubbling out of the pot. He thought of The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, shaving cream, Cool Whip, and caulk. He thought of Marcy and realized it was time to open a window and call the police. That was when he saw it. The note.

Now, Alberto wasn't what you'd call the nosey type and Marcy - with her hearty giggle and her wild fashion and her willingness to help neighbors carry groceries up six flights of stairs - was not the suicide type. But, we all lose our way, sometimes. Alberto picked up the note and was startled by its brevity. Whatever, it read. That was it -seven letters scratched out in surprisingly hard, ugly handwriting. He sat on one of two kitchen chairs and let the note fall to the floor.

Whatever is full of so many possibilities. Whatever you want, whatever your heart desires. There are no boundaries, no limits. It's all green lights and endless blue skies. But - and this confused Alberto - whatever also meant nothing. A flippant piece of verbal detritus thrown at others in limp defiance. To say "whatever," lets the other person know "What you were saying is meaningless to me." It's useless. Insignificant. Null and void.

Alberto tapped 911 into his cell phone then rubbed his hazel eyes thinking, "How could one word mean everything and nothing?"

Office Life

INT. DAY OFFICE BUILDING

MAGGIE, early 40's, tanned and toned, in a crisp designer suit, turns down the hall with a confident gait.  She bumps into DEENA, late twenties, rumpled, a little too arty for this corporate environment.

Maggie - Hey, Deena.  You look great.  Did you loose weight?

Deena - I don't think so.

Maggie - Oh.  I did. 

Deena - That's amazing, Maggie.

Maggie - Yeah.  Anyway, come into my office, I want to discuss this Tracey Hinkler super duper rising star!

INT. DAY MAGGIE'S OFFICE

Maggie clicks the mouse, smiles at her computer screen.

Maggie - This was in Kuala Lumpor...(clicks the screen) Have you been to Thailand.

Deena - Isn't Kuala Lumpor in Malaysia?

Maggie - Beautiful people.  Food.  Culture.  People there thought I was like, I don't know, ten years younger than I am.  

Deena - Wow.

Maggie - I don't know how old you think I am, but I bet it's ten years younger than what I really am.  I won't say the number.  I'm not old.  (PAUSE) Okay, well, I'm sure you have something to do.  

Deena - Hinkler.

Maggie - Voice like an angel.  Body.  Face.  Wow!  I'm not that much older than her.

Deena - We were going to discuss Tracey Hinkler.

Maggie - She's going to have a big career.  She's doing Conan, you know.  Whoever works with her is got to be on it.  A big, bright STAR goddamn I can feel it - burn me! (PAUSE) Send Amy in.  She can handle Hinkler.

Deena exits.