Exerpts
| Reviews |
Booking|
Excerpts
“Twinkie”
My first true love was a homosexual folksinger named Bruce. He was short, he was twenty years older than me, and he ate nine Twinkies every morning. But his name was Bruce and at the time that was all I wanted in a man. To say the name “Bruce” you have to create a vibration in your vagina and push it up past your breasts until it rolls into your throat and is passed through round, moist lips. “Bruce” is a little verbal orgasm. Unlike “Natalie” which gets stuck behind your sinuses and then falls from your upper teeth dropping directly to the floor with a thud. My name is “Natalie.” …Anyway, I knew he was gay but my brain never put that information into practical use. I guess I thought if I said his name often enough he would have to love me. At nineteen I looked enough like a boy. These (indicating breasts) came later. But Bruce just tolerated me as an androgynous groupie who lived on his floor and lent him money. Then “Bob” moved in and Bruce wouldn’t even tolerate me anymore. The name Bob is a premature ejaculation. As I packed my tattered sleeping bag I hoped they both chocked to death giving head to Twinkies. All rights reserved © 2000
“Word up from the G’Ma” Natalie’s Grandmother:
OK, Alright. The great and powerful Bubbie will now reveal the secrets of the universe….Life is not as hard as you’re making it. All this struggle, all this worry. It’s just not that complicated. All you need is a stereotype. Look at yourself. You’re a mess. You don’t even know who you are. How you gonna find somebody? How do you expect someone to get to know you when there is no YOU to know? …Get a stereotype. Look at me; you think I was born a Jewish broad? Well, actually I was. But the LAYERS, the nuances, honey that was all me. And it makes your life so much easier. Look at me. People take one look at me and they make assumptions. They make judgments. It’s wonderful, I don’t gotta work at all. OK, you’re looking at me cynically but listen to me. You get yourself a stereotype and people look at you and they think they know you already. They don’t got to do all that hard work of looking at you and wondering, “Who is this person? Is this somebody I’m gonna like in the future? Ah, do I want to be wasting my time getting to know this person only to find out she’s a rock climber and I’m a couch potato?” People are too busy for all that. You get yourself a stereotype *BOOM* they know right away. “Bookworm! I’m a bookworm, I like bookworms, I’ll go say hi to her. Punk Rocker! Good! Let’s go smash some beer bottles on our heads.” It’s easy Honey. There’s millions of stereotypes out there. All you got to do is find the one that works for you, and then play it to the hilt. Trust me on this one. Look around, experiment. It’s like putting on makeup, painting yourself a different color. Try a few on for size. You can’t tell me I didn’t go through my phases. I tried being a goody two shoes. Not my style. I tried out Bohemianism for a while. Gave me a stomachache. All that striving; to be cool, to be hip. It was a pain in the ass. Now all I got to do is go to one little lesbian bar and everyone thinks, “Wow! What a cool old broad. Yo! Word up from the G’Ma.” All rights reserved © 2000 |
