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2004-01-21 - 10:25 p.m.
I like 'em bowlegged
Tonight's entry is brought to you by Darren. For some reason he volunteered to write a guest entry for me. I have no idea what the hell he's talking about but here it is: I try not to look back in anger - especially at myself. After all, I was just a naïve young colt in the big city for the first time, while "Big Al" knew the city like the back of his pimp hand - a hand I’d get to know all too well in the following years. I remember the first time. I’d ambled into a club called Pork and Bitches - not the classiest joint by any stretch, but they played decent music. I was pretty hungry, but as my finances weren’t in the best state, I figured I could hang out by the bar and sneak lemon wedges into my pockets and bra (there was space as my breasts had shrunk from malnutrition). I definitely wasn’t looking my best when Al saw me. I was standing by the DJ booth, trying to bob my head to the music and look thoughtfully appraising of the spinning, but my face seemed to be severely contorted in extreme sourness recoil as I agonizingly gnashed the lemon wedges. "Are you crying?"asked Al. Well, I guess I was, in a way. "Yeah, it?s been a shitty week," I replied, "but at least they’re playing "Snoopy Track." "You like this song too?!?" jazzed Al excitedly. We talked about the sounds for a bit and then Al said, "You know what, you’re a top notch girl. You deserve a classier place than this, and I’m the type of Towson nigga to show it to you. Let’s go." As we sat laughing and talking at Denny’s, I had trouble with the piping-hot mozza sticks. I was so hungry I was cramming them into my mouth without any cool down. Al chuckled and said, "Easy there baby cakes, let me show you?." He held a mozza stick like a harmonica, pulled it apart, and blew cool air side to side, caressingly, onto the steaming cheese. Without warning he popped the cheesy knob into my mouth, connecting myself to him via a dangling mozzarella telephone wire of love. And there it started. ----- My years with Al weren’t always happy. Often I would take stinging backhands upside the head for poking fun at his liking of They Might Be Giants. If he came home while I was playing my techno, I’d likely hear from a glowering Al, "Music with no words huh? Well I got some words for you: get ready for the pain, coz you bout 2 take it jailhousestyle" And I would. Again and again. After all, what else is love about? I parted ways with Al after about two years, as we agreed we were different people. Al wanted to start a band, I wanted to get the downstairs component of the surgery and become a full-blown woman. We still keep in touch. I hear he’s still in school, he?s got a new girl, one he treats a lot better than he did me. Good. He’s moved on, moved on to pimping subs now. Al, if you’re out there, do me a little favor: put a little extra sauce on the next one 4 ya old boo Darren.
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