The Chronicles

After my last entry about Pastor Poontang, I received an email from my dear friend, Monkey (we're gonna make gaybies together). The following is his email:

Oh Jesus! WTF!!! I propose an application system for all future sexual encounters. First question should be: are you a god fearing psychopath? If no, proceed to the next question...

And you know what? I think he's right! I need to start carrying an application to be filled out before a sexual encounter happens so as to avoid any future WTF? moments of sex. As many of you know, there have been FAR too many and let's face it, I'm getting too old for this shit; not sex, but the freak shows I end up sleeping with. So with that, I give you my application for nookie. These will be carried in my purse and also housed in my nightstand.

APPLICATION FOR NOOKIE

Name: ____________________________

Aliases: ___________________________

Age: _______________

Address in case I need to seek you out to get back anything you stole from me, seek child support, smack you in the face because you gave me crabs, or to simply drive by and laugh at you:
_______________________________________
_______________________________________


PLEASE ANSWER THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS

Personal Info
Do you have any venereal diseases? ____
If yes, please leave. If no, when were you last tested? ______________

Religion: __________________________
If you listed a religion, are you a god-fearing psychopath who believes they have the ability to heal?
□ Yes □ No

THE CHECKLIST

Are you any of the following? (Check all that apply)
□ Musician
□ Minister
□ Using alcoholic/drug addict
□ Pill head
□ Abusive
□ Cheater
□ Mentally instable
□ Momma’s boy
□ Married/In a relationship
□ Hairy backed
□ Missing visible teeth
□ Penis-less
□ Scientologist
□ Irresponsible
□ Mean to animals and babies
□ Stalker

Do you believe in any of the following? (Check all that apply)
□ Perms on men
□ Unicorns
□ That Elvis is still alive
□ That you have the ability to heal
□ Open relationships/swinging
□ That I am old
□ That Mel Gibson is a good guy
□ That Michael Vick got a raw deal
□ That oral sex is gross

Do you love any of the following? (Check all that apply)
□ Brittney Spears
□ Being in bars all the time
□ Satan

Do you love any of the following movies?
□ Legends of the Fall
□ Beaches
□ Freddy Got Fingered
□ Showgirls

If you checked any of the items on the Checklist, please proceed to the nearest exit, and stay the hell away from me.

If you did not check any of the above boxes, you may remove your pants and proceed with action.

Maybe this will narrow down the freak factor?

OH! My friend Erich just sent this to me. See! I'm not the only one thinking along these lines.

http://www.comedycentral.com/videos/index.jhtml?videoId=219422&title=love-contract

Hello children, I'm home!

It's been many moons, or around 4 months, since I've visited, but I'm back with new tales of the South and this odd spectacle of a life I seem to lead. With that I'll just cut to the chase and get on with my story.

In a few days it'll be a year since when I felt like the House of Heather burned to the ground. Gratefully, I realize instead that life burned that shack down and built a cozy little cottage of contentment instead. Things have been good, I mean really, really good. Minus a current situation of a psycho roommate who stole our money and our landlord's TV (it will all be done by the end of the month thank god); life is truly fantastic and beautiful. To briefly play catch up, I moved to my mom and her boyfriend's house at the lake for a couple of months and had a really nice re-set of calm and sanity. During that time I FINALLY started school to become a massage therapist. A dream of over ten years is finally in action and I can't even begin to express how fulfilled I feel from this. This is for me and me only and I'm so happy! School is amazing and I love putting my hands on people and aiding in their relaxation. Seriously, the best feeling in the world is seeing people walk out of the room after a massage with their eyes all twinkly and their lazy smiles oozing chillness. It's awesome!

During that time two classmates and I rented a beautiful house in a lovely neighborhood with a greenway and huge community garden with a veggie stand. I LOVE our house and neighborhood. Unfortunately, one roommate turned out to be a lying nut case who stole our rent money, the landlord's TV, and did many other things that brought chaos and unease to our home. I won't go into the details, but it's seriously been horrible to say the least. There's been a lot of tears, awe at the lies being told, turbulence, phone calls, emails, legal research, etc., but it's finally coming to a close and my other roommate whom I love, as well as our awesome landlord, can move on with our lives and still get to stay in our lovely home.

So as a week of insanity with our crazy roommate came to a close, we were all looking forward to a nice, chill weekend. Due to other obligations this month, this last weekend was my first full weekend at home since moving in there. We had visitors of my roommate and her cousin (who is staying with us through the summer) come in from out of town to stay the weekend. My roomie's cousin's boyfriend was bringing a friend with him for his visit to Charlotte and they were hell bent on pimping me out, and I was hell bent on not. It's not to say I was 100% opposed to the idea, but I always prefer the more organic version of life and just letting things happen as they may. I've only been with one other man since He Who Shall Not Be Named and I broke up, and it was with someone I had been with before and was just a nice fun evening before he moved away. I say this just to note it wasn't about being closed-minded, or closed-legged, to new experiences.

Due to my insane week of roommate Hell, my friend Priscilla texted me saying she had a bottle of wine with my name on it and so I went over to her place to tell her the tale of insanity. I had a few glasses of wine there, then went home and drank more wine there. I definitely had too much. I decided walking to the grocery store was an awesome idea which took almost two hours round trip, had an encounter with a large branch that almost took me down with it as I tried to purge it from my life, but eventually we made it home safely. That's when the other boys showed up.

The "friend" that came wasn't really my type, but I'm trying to be open to stepping outside of my type. He was handsome and in really good shape, so it's not like he was some troll. His personality...that's more where I was like "eh". He was nice enough and eased in with the night and started joking around though. And the wine...well, I'd had enough where a handsome guy who laughed was apparently enough for me. So wine, laughter, late night talking and next thing you know he's staying in my room. Now once again, I was drunk. I don't use that as an excuse, because to be honest I slept with him again the next day. And the next day is where it gets weird.

Everyone else has gone to the mall and we're by ourselves, do our thing, then go down to the kitchen for some water. We start talking about Bisbee, Arizona and he makes a comment about the guys he was with had a goal of wanting to get him laid because "he doesn't sleep around". Let me preface this by saying I do remember him strongly telling me this the night before in a way that I can't tell if it was more him saying it for himself, or more that I'd still respect him afterwards or something? I remember thinking, "I am SO the boy in this situation". So his comment about not sleeping around somehow turns into the revelation...I have slept with a minister. Well, not a current minister, but a former minister; from 19 until he was 28. And he's planning on doing so again as soon as he's out of the Army. This is where my first inner "What the fuck???" moment came.

Brain: You just did a freakin' minister!

Heather: I know. This is bad. Is it bad? It's definitely weird.

Brain: You're totally going to Hell now. You were already on the waiting list, but this just firmed it up for you.

Heather: Maybe I caught some righteousness though? Like a spiritual venereal disease?

Brain: Don't count on it.

So as I'm trying to process the fact I just slept with a true minister, his story continues...for two hours! In these two hours I learn that he only left because his marriage was falling apart and he didn't feel it was right counseling others in their marriage while his was ending. I learned that he believe he has the ability to heal and has in fact done so he claims. Yep, fucked a healer. He tells me the story of healing a man in the mountains of Mexico and the goiter on the man's neck fell off in front of him and...you'll love this...SMOLDERED on the ground until it burned into nothing. And that same trip he told a blind woman she was healed and she was able to see right then.

Brain: Okay, I don't know if you're going to Hell now. He's a freak.

Heather: Uh, YES he is! I need to smudge my hoo-hah with sage to purge the evil spirits!

Brain: I would contemplate running out the door.

Heather: But this is getting so bizarre, I can't turn away.

And I didn't run. I sat there and listened to him tell me about how God's been talking to him, and he's been talking aloud to God since he was four years old. How he once had internal bleeding and while he was rushed to the hospital, God told him about the paramedic in that ambulance needing Jesus again. In the midst of internal bleeding and pain, he screamed the man's name and told him to come back to Jesus (oh, if only I could reenact this for you); that he knows his wife cheated on him and that he cheated on her to get her back rather than forgive her and all this other crazy hoobbity doobity. He talked to me about obesity being a sin and how he wants his own church that has a gym in it. I tried to comment or interject numerous times, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise! I think I maybe said five sentences the whole two hours, which was likely a good thing for his sake, as boy did I have a lot to say.

I did not sleep with him again. In fact, that night after gorging on a potato the size of a 3-year old full of pot roast and slathered in gravy (uh, what about obesity and being unhealthy?) he went to bed early with a bad case of diarrhea. And he went to MY bed. Grrrr. I went to sleep that night and stayed far away from him. In the morning, I rolled over, forgetting he was there and my arm went across him. That man flung himself back like I'd burned him! So you can hump me and tell me crazy shit, sleep in my bed, poo in my toilet, and stay in our house, but now you act like I'm Heather the heathen? Not cool.

He got up to get ready for church and was really weird and quiet and had this bizarre look in his eye. He didn't say much to the others either. I stuck around a little bit after he left, but then took off to go meet friends so I would not be there when he got back from church. I had a lovely day with various friends, sharing the story of Pastor Poontang which just added to my resume of retardedness.

On the drive back, my cool roomie called and said that when he came back from church he asked where I was? When he learned I'd left, he wanted to leave. They said he seemed into me. I don't get this. I seriously don't get this. I wasn't really into him for more than what it was (a weekend thing) before he turned into Jimmy Swaggart, but I was DEFINITELY not into him after that. And then with his behavior on Sunday morning, I'd figured he at least wasn't into me either and it could just be erased as another "WTF?" moment in my life. And it is, but it just left me feeling off.

How in the hell did I...me...Heather...end up screwing some crazy evangelist minister guy? I will never understand the sense of humor of the universe, but boy is it entertaining.

This is for my friend Shane who has the unfortunate view of a dead end road behind the YMCA at the railroad tracks where she has witnessed one too many blow jobs being given in cars. Shane, this is the story of BJ Lane...

THE LEGEND OF BJ LANE
Gather ‘round folks, I’ve a story to tell
‘Bout a place that’s as hot and as nasty as hell.
Around the corner of the NoDa Y
Sits a secret spot and this ain’t no lie.

Many moons ago an unsightly whore
Started this tale of oral lore.
Late one eve on a full moon night
The whore in town found herself not right.

While there’s many things wrong with a whore we know,
This one little thing posed a dilemma fo sho.
The whore lost her place of business you see,
Thus a loss of a places to get down on her knees.

Then late one night as the whore stumbled home
She came across a place where she’d never roamed.
A dead end road where she could act all defiant
And some railroad tracks to bring her new clients!

With glee and with hope she set up new shop.
At last she could suck more than a Tootsie Pop!
Hushed word spread rampant through the town where to go
To get some action from this well-known ho.

Business was booming, visitors flocked,
To pay for play time with their…well, you know.
The men lined up with their “candy canes”
And there birthed the place known as Blow Job Lane

Ohhhhh boy. I have a fantastic idea that I'm going to do this weekend. Be prepared. Any stories and pictures from the mission will follow.

This place get weirder and weirder, but this specific thing is particularly awesome. I don't have cable, so I was going to go hang out and watch The Office last night with some friends down the road. I grabbed my purse and started the short walk. The street that leads me to their place is nicknamed "Renter's Row" as it's a bunch of lower income homes and duplexes for rent and you often see piles of broken furniture and just house junk that people throw out in their yard when they move out. This one house has been for rent for a bit and as I approached it I saw a huge pile of dirt and leaves in the front yard of the empty house. And as I got closer and could see around the tree blocking part of the view, I saw a large animal sleeping on it! I thought it was a huge dog at first and kind of panicked because it was really big and not in a backyard. As I got closer I saw what it was and kind of panicked for a second...it was a lion!!! The following conversation ensued in my head...

Imagination: There's a fucking lion in my neighborhood!!!

Logic: You retard! Why would a lion be in your neighborhood?

Imagination: It ran away from the circus and found its way here looking for food! What if he's hungry and I walk by?

Logic: It's been a couple of months since the circus was here. If a lion escaped, you'd have heard about it.

Imagination: Okay, so maybe it's an escapee from some redneck who illegally bought a lion. You hear stories about that all the time of people buying tigers or chimps and stuff and then they snap one day and kill or maul their owner's friend. It made its escape and found its way here. Now he's napping and waiting for his dinner. This is the South, weird shit happens all the time here. People find legs in smokers and stuff.

Logic: You're in therapy, right?

Imagination: Yes.

Logic: Good.

So after the battle of Imagination vs. Logic, I compromised; I walked slowly and quietly as I neared the sleeping lion. And as my blind ass got close, I saw it. It was a very large stuffed lion. Okay, so I was partially correct.

My friends and I were talking about scary movies later that night and I got scared to walk home in the dark so they drove me and I told them I had to show them the lion. As they approached I shouted, "There he is!" Josh turned the car a bit so that the headlights shone directly on the large stuffed animal napping on dirt. It was missing an eye.

"It's a faceless lion," I whispered.

"Ohhhhh. It's the Velveteen Rabbit," Priscilla whimpered.

This of course led to conversation of that book and I was getting misty-eyed. I was grateful to stop talking about it by the time I got home, as everything makes me cry lately and I didn't need to add "stuffed animal books" to the list of things that make me weep.

This morning as I drove in to work, I passed the lion and stopped and took a picture. Here he is. I'm still thinking he escaped from the circus...or Toys R' Us.