FIFTEEN MINUTE BREAK August 5, 2003
Saturday, being so bored out of my skull and with no immediate plans to do anything (for once) but sit around and read comic books or books all day long- until my former editor and make believe younger sister that I never wanted, Becky came charging into the house and wanted to know if I would want to accompany her to Will Rogers beach, along with her daughter Olivia and her brother-in-law visiting over from England.
I said sure, no problem. She retorted cool and proceeded to order me to go get on some shorts and get in the car. So I went upstairs to change, grabbed my lotto tickets to play at the Seven Eleven, and some DC comic books autographed by Geoff Johns that I haven't gotten around to reading yet. Downstairs as I was tying my shoes and petting the cat- Becky sneaks up to me and tells me something in a whisper. Here is some dialogue that was exchanged between us.
"Dude, you know what?"
"I think my brother-in-law is gay."
"It's just wacky hanging around with him and him being around Olivia, that's all."
"Well, how can you tell?"
"He walks around with his left hand bent all the time."
"Did you ever think that maybe he has a condition or something- I've already remember his hand slightly bends ever time we have a conversation. It's probably because he's English."
"Whatever. Just keep it to yourself, ok? I don't want word leaking to his parents"
"Becky, jeez- his parents probably already know. What's the big freaking deal? I mean, I write tales of a super hero in the afterlife who admits to being gay."
"Yeah- but I know you. You just write about stuff- you always have too much vagina on your mind. You know- just drop it, ok? Forget I said anything."
So then we were off. We got stuck in traffic on the 405 and tried to switch to Sepulveda and to no avail- the traffic was just as miserable. But what the hell do you expect on a Saturday afternoon? While we were grid locked, we all joked around creating silly accents (which her brother-in-law was extremely good at) and Becky was making up stuff and everytime she'd say something remarkably silly, she would ask me to write it down on a piece of paper- why did she do just you may wonder? Well, for my Deposit Man books, she said. I told her I basically have it all written- but there was something I did find magically funny and I could probably make a line or two of it in the rewrite.
Olivia needed to go potty. So while, we grabbed stuff from Taco Bell and I went to buy some lotto tickets- Becky dragged Olivia to the woman's room and after a while she was fuming when we met up back at the car. She told me that these teenage girls were like throwing a party back there and was tired of waiting so Olivia will have to wait until we get on the beach and use the restroom there. Finding that we couldn't park alongside the Pacific Coast Highway for in fear of getting a $160.00 ticket- we pooled some dollar bills together (as I was low on cash after my taco bell and lotto ticket binge) and settled on some $8.00 parking on a lot- but by the time we got out of the car Olivia made a big stink about suddenly not needing to go to the bathroom anymore. Ah, to be young again and to suppress the urge to relieve your baldder- no longer possible in this day or age when you got Cousin Bud, Cousin Coors , or Cousin Corona hanging over your shoulder. Just as soon as we got settled with our beach blankets and chairs- Olivia changes her mind and needs to go to the bathroom. Her mom tells her we're not walking back and go piss in the ocean. Olivia doesn't want to piss in the ocean- she wants to use the bathroom. This goes back and forth until mom gives in and drags her kicking and screaming to the bathroom. Later, as I'm finishing reading my Teen Titans' relaunched #1 (how many volumes is this now) Becky gives us the field report as how fucking bad the woman's bathroom is and how she had to position her daughter over the toilet seat without her ass actually touching the rim. Becky's brother-in-law is too busy prancing around the ocean with a crown on his head made up of seaside as to so much as to give a shit.
You know, this entry was supposed to be about existentialism and how ideas can be expressed no matter what hair color, nationality, skin color, gender, or religion- but I guess it didn't work out the way I planned it.