All posts in Friday Conclusions & Explanations

Friday Conclusion

This afternoon, before the wind whipped up into a frenzy that would prevent Cooper and me from taking a walk along the bluffs up above and alongside the shiny blue ocean in the Palisades we stood at the stop sign that, if I must be honest, IS THE MOST CONFUSING AND ASSHOLE ENGENDERING STOP SIGN IN ALL THE UNIVERSE.

There are about 89 trillion options at this particular corner that leads to this space in the universe that is filled with:
bikes
old ladies
old men
joggers
trainers
speeding motorists
distracted texting models
large muscular men attempting to pounce upon the distracted models
dogs
cats on leashes
crazy homeless people
elderly tribes of Middle Easterners carrying food coolers
weight lifters
sun bathers
lone females reading under trees
confused maintenance lawn mower guys

And so as Cooper and I sat, obediently, at one of nine corners that converge at the spot that takes you across the street and to the strip of wide lawn that overlooks the ocean we were VERY mindful to look to the left and then look the the right and when we saw that the coast was clear—when we were sure that it was our turn—we marched across the street as fast as we could.

Until we got halfway.
Until we were .000098ths of a millimeter in front of the horn of a Porsche that honked so loud I thought for one second that I might have lost The Coops, he jumped so high out of his skin, as the Porsche owner screamed at the top of his male pattern balding lungs: YOU HAVE NO CLASS!!!

Which brings me to my point and my conclusion:

YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT CLASS?  WHAT YOU NEED TO DO IS GO COOL YOUR SWEATY BALLS ON THE SOOTHING SAND THAT NESTLES UP TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN UNTIL YOU THINK YOUR TEENSY DOGGIE TESTICLES MIGHT ACTUALLY BE SMILING AND WRITING IN THEIR JOURNAL—-THEN, AND ONLY THEN, CAN YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT CLASS.

Your Horn Is Your Penis,
Commander Coolio Coolmeister

Friday Conclusion

Since I’m like nine and a half minutes old, I got hip to the world of infinite talismans that encourage me with sweet, profound poems and keep me from jumping off a cliff or odd shaped tidbits with just the right word written on them to remind me I’m very opposite of a worm, or gorgeous little trinkets that remind me of that day I KNEW FOR SURE NO MATTER WHAT THAT WE ARE ALL CONNECTED or pages ripped from old books that seem to convey that thing I know will keep us all alive and so the best thing about all my special treasures is that I know I’ll always find new ones that will be speaking just for me but meant for everyone and if I’m having a bad day, perhaps, if I’m remembering those times when I used to pretend that I didn’t LOVE Jon Bon Jovi because I thought it would make me look uncool I can just root around in the talisman section of my droopy paranoid resourceful life and find something to pump me up like Hercules so that I’m able to admit YEAH I LOVE JON BON JOVI I THINK HE IS VERY HANDSOME AND HE HAS A GREAT VOICE without giving a shit about what anyone thinks—which brings me to my point and my conclusion:

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM THE DETERMINED LITTLE FUCKER THAT WANTS TO JUST BE YOU.

WOOOHOOOO! FREEBIRD!
Audrey Authentic

Friday Conclusion

My illustrious moon was shining brighter than mere mortals should be capable of comprehending tonight and so as I took Cooper out for his next to last nightly pee-pee I immediately thought of a piece of paper that I have, that I have kept with me since the moment I found it:

And so when Cooper and I came back home I went foraging for this piece of paper with these glorious four sentences I scribbled on it and I read it over and over and rubbed my solar plexus in that way you do when you feel true love and I felt happy that I took the time to write this piece down, that day in the library, when I saw it nine million years ago—I just knew I’d need to carry it along with me in my life.  Which brings me to my point and my conclusion:

IF NOTHING ELSE, AT LEAST YOU KNOW YOU HAVE THE DIAMOND SHARP INSTINCT TO COLLECT THE PRECIOUS THINGS  AND WORDS AND IMAGES AROUND YOU THAT WILL SPEAK TO YOU IN YOUR DEEPEST DARKEST CONFUSION AS WELL AS  YOUR MOST GRATEFUL HAPPY FACE BOUNTY HOUR

Choose What Speaks To You Most Deeply and Then Stick With That,
Gertrude of the Constant Goosebumps

Friday Conclusion

The other day I was lucky enough to be side by side with this Funk Mobile long enough to take its photo without killing anyone. I mean for the love of grand mol seizure green, how could I not?

I come from a long line of proud(ish) Pinto owners. Actually there are two Pintos in my past. One was a real classy white number with red interior and red piping on the outside and this was the car I drove when I wanted to appear wealthy. My mother ended up crashing this car so I turned my gaze upon the remaining triangley shaped ass mobile…

The other, tragic Pinto was a dull yellow without piping and the interior on this death trap was the color that I think of EVERY TIME my dog has diarrhea—kind of a mocha/nutty/beige-ish/70’s suede jacket hue. It didn’t go in reverse so my entire high school years were spent in the state of mind not unlike a master chess player thinking BLOCKS and CUL-DE-SACS and PARKING SPOTS ahead as if my life depended on it.

Additionally there was the whole Get-Hit-From-Behind: EXPLODE GO BOOM! component. Seeing as my anxiety was reeeeeeeeally gaining mach speed during my teen years, this added such joy to my driving. I was constantly looking in my rearview mirror trying to determine the reliability of the driver behind me. Killer? No Killer? Blown To Smithereens? Remain In One Piece?

Nevertheless, The Pintos got me around. They got me to Linda’s house—my best friend and savior. They got me to the hills overlooking the Valley where we would drive and drive and then stop and stare and ooooh and aaaah at the gorgeous lights. They got me to my first true love’s house, where I would find a spot to park that had at least twenty feet clearance behind The Pinto’s possibly explosive, incapable of reversing backside. And even though The Pintos were homely and dangerous I appreciated their ability to transport me to the places I longed to go where I might find a half inch of happiness and freedom and for that I will be forever grateful. Which brings me to my point and my conclusion:

YOU CAN TAKE THE GIRL OUTTA THE PINTO BUT YOU CAN’T TAKE THE PINTO OUTTA THE GIRL

I Love Ya Now Keep Yer Distance,
Petunia Petal To the Metal

Friday Conclusion

This is more of a short play/parable but I would like to share it with you nonetheless. I would also like to say nonetheless.

Okay. Listen up. The stage is pitch black. The curtains part and a small prairie dog dressed in a tuxedo takes the stage. Under one glaring light he stands. An orchestra of chipmunks plays Nessun Dorma on violin. The prairie dog stares out into the audience, captivating them with his large brown eyes and one inch bow legs.

The strings cease and he says:

In a small village there once was a small (ish) shy mouse who worked her way up the mouse chain and became a rat.

The moral of this story:
The corporate world, although conducive to copious shoe purchases, is primarily for rodents.

The crowd ERUPTS in JOYOUS applause!

Curtain.