Children need role models, I am told, and this is why I am always telling my own kids so many stories. All of the time, in fact. You know: Myths, fables, fairy tales, with characters that embody some personal characteristic I’d like my kids to see and to emulate, maybe.
So someday – not today, but someday! – I will tell them a story about my old friend, Michelle. I will tell them about a time when Michelle was very scared but also very brave and knew to go and to ask others for help.
I will tell my kids the Story of the Brave Girl Who Asked for Help.
Michelle was brave because she knocked on my door without calling ahead. She was brave because, when I answered the door, she just pushed her way on in.
She pushed her way on in and she started pacing around my living room. She stared at her feet. She crossed her arms. She appeared nervous, you know?
I was eating grapes. Big red ones. Just fantastic. I kept eating and I waited for something else to happen.
And sure enough, eventually something else happened.
“You… you’re a lesbian, right?” Michelle said, still pacing.
“I am,” I said. It was true.
“Could you… Please. Um. Could you do me a big favor?” Michelle said.
I chewed. Slowly.
“Well…” I said.
“That sort of depends,” I said.
“Were those last two questions related in any way?” I said.
Michelle, well, she exhaled really loud and she lowered her head even farther and she marched into my kitchen. That was kind of brave of her, wouldn’t you agree?
She sat down at my kitchen table. She pressed her face down directly onto the tabletop. And she stayed like that for a long time while I emptied my dishwasher.
I could not foresee any scenario in which this encounter went well from here.
“Bryan and I were fooling around this morning,” she said finally, her face still implanted firmly on the tabletop.
“Okay,” I said. I started scrubbing one of the dishes even though it was already impressively clean.
“We were using this tiny little vibrator thing but we didn’t read the instructions for it,” Michelle said. She raised her head off the table. I believe she was gauging my reaction to her story. I tried to show none.
She continued: “Anyway, apparently, you’re supposed to attach it to like a… a… a cock ring, but we didn’t know that… and now it is lost up inside me.”
I nodded my head. Slowly. Thoughtfully. I remember thinking, “Maybe I should go buy some more of those grapes right about now.”
Then I started asking questions. Really, I guess I started asking a lot of half-questions.
Like, “Are you su-u-ure-?”
And, “Does it hurt? Is it… Is it o-o-on?”
-It did not and it was not.
And, “Is it…. magnetic? Maybe-e-e-?”
-They’d already tried that.
“And Bryan, he-e-e-e-?”
-Had tried to retrieve it with his fat, stubby fingers, yes.
“But my fingers a-a-a-re-?”
-Long and skinny. Plus, I was a lesbian.
I sat down. I spread my hands wide across the tabletop and I stared at them for a long, long time. While I was staring, the sunlight through the windows moved across the kitchen floor.
“You’re going to write about this on your blog, aren’t you?” Michelle said.
“I’m afraid so.” I said. “I’m sorry. It can’t be helped. You can pick the name that I use for you in it, though..”
“Joanna,” she said without hesitation.
“Joanna it is!” I said to Michelle.
After that, I talked to Michelle for a long while. I talked about how she was going to have to be brave a little more. About how she was going to have to go see a doctor. About how this wasn’t going to be the most embarrassing object that doctor ever pulled out of somebody. About how this wasn’t even going to be the most embarrassing object he pulled out of somebody this week.
Now, this whole time I went on talking to Michelle, she was still pressing her face straight down on the tabletop. Not speaking, not moving, not acknowledging I was talking at all.
Finally, I got up and started washing some more clean dishes.
I have never been comfortable turning people down when they come to me for help. I hate it! I know how hard it is to ask for help.
So this long silence of Michelle’s, it was driving me insane.
And when I was just about ready to cave, to give in, to agree to go ahead and, you know, give my friend a hand (or at least a couple fingers), Michelle raised her head back up. She got up out of the chair. She raised her right hand.
“Got it!” she said. Sure enough, there was something small and purple there in her palm.
Michelle started walking back to the front door.
I followed after her. “Were you… fishing around inside yourself this whole time?” I said.
“At my kitchen table?” I said.
Michelle walked out my front door, across my lawn, and out to her car. She did not look back.
“Goodbye!” I shouted after her. I waved. “I will tell the world of your bravery in coming here today, Michelle!”
I thought about it some more and then I corrected myself.
“I mean, ‘Joanna’!”
Err... How to comment, without going places I should not dare probeReplyDelete
"Children need role models, I am told, and this is why I am always telling my own kids so many stories. All of the time, in fact. You know: Myths, fables, fairy tales, with characters that embody some personal characteristic I’d like my kids to see and to emulate, maybe."
Heroes Come In All Shapes and Sizes
There are real heroes all over the world, but they are generally not in the spotlight.
I was going to end this post by embedding David Bowie and Brian Eno's song, "Heroes."Delete
We can be heroes just for one day.
Darwin Day, a global celebration of science and reason held on or around Feb. 12Delete
puppy party - I' a puppy hero? - linked - bblDelete
I saw that, GOODSTUFF! I can always tell when you've linked here. I get more traffic from your page than I get from Google!Delete
This comment has been removed by the author.ReplyDelete
“You’re going to write about this on your blog, aren’t you?”ReplyDelete
Hey, I hadn't posted in almost a month. Clearly, I was going to sue whatever material fell my way.Delete
I was going to write a novel once about people trying to prevent me from writing about them in my novel. I didn't do because it seemed too post-modern/meta for my taste, but the idea lingers...
Those fingers of yours plumbing a well?
Actually, how the hell does that cock ring vibrator even work?
I thought Michelle was a kid until the very last bit? Well, she can't be a very adult adult.
You are correct. I have added the word "old" to the phrase "my friend, Michelle" early on in this post.Delete
As for how a cock ring vibrator works: I wondered that myself, then blocked the thought before I'd thought very hard about it. I will never need to know.
You have the most interesting adventures.ReplyDelete
I'm a veritable Indiana Jones. Well, except maybe without that last sequel, because I refuse to have adventures with Shia LaBeouf.
Gawd....I HATE when that happens. Um, having people visit you when you're washing dishes I mean.ReplyDelete
Haha... Yes, well, i will think twice before opening the door next time.Delete
I used to just not have an operational doorbell, which confounds more people than you might think.
But these days, if I do that, people just call and say they're standing in front.
(You'd be surprised how many people don't think of knocking.)
I may be wrong in assuming this, but, is your super power that you're a lesbian with long skinny fingers? I mean, if people are seeking you out for assistance?ReplyDelete
What I do have is a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.Delete
The blog ate my comments, twice, I think it was hungry for grapes...ReplyDelete
I pulled your comment over here from G+ in case anyone else has been having trouble with comments.
I fiddled around with my comment posting rules some more, so i hope the problem is resolved. It might take a while for them to post (because I might be slow to approve them), but I hope they don't disappear down a black hole anymore.
So nice of you.Delete
I came back for the conversations and the grapes. ;-)
As it turns out, the grapes are everyone's favorite new blog character in eons. I'm going to have to give them a larger part next time.Delete
Hahahahahahaha -- I woulda got out the sugar tongs.ReplyDelete
Haha... There was an ugly incident when my oldest daughter was a little kid where a crayon got shoved down an ear canal.Delete
I learned then that all I'm going to manage to do is push it in farther.
This is why the doctors get the big bucks.
You're probably right about asking for help being a sign of bravery. I'd sooner die than ask ANYone for ANYthing. Nope .... my Dad, Bull Meechum, frowned on weaklings, ne'er-do-wells, moochers, and sissies. All one in the same, dont'cha know. But like you I have the same struggle about being ASKED for help and saying no. I do things on a regular basis, for my family, mostly, but friends, too, that are a detriment to my own well being because I can't say NO. If I CAN help ... By gumpers, and have the time, wherewithal,(Usually it's a money thing), or whatever... I'm compelled to DO it. Usually without thinking of the pending consequences(I. am. not. rich. or. wealthy.) or fallout I'm certain to receive from my "partner", Mr. Henry F. Potter, I don't even consider saying no. I realized this situation a couple years ago and as a result the only real new year's resolution I've had for the past two January oneths has been "Learn To Say No!". I'm still not there yet, either. I think I do it subconsciously just to piss off the Bull, but I'm certain helping others is the right thing to do. Especially family. But NO is a perfectly good answer, too. Drawing the line is what's difficult for me.ReplyDelete
And I am POSITIVE you're correct about the foreign objects doctors pull out of people. You'd think that ladies would be the creative ones when it came to that ... but you'd be wrong ... at least according to my cousin's husband, the proctologist. He has some very entertaining stories about the calls he gets to the E.R. in the wee hours and the things he has to retrieve. On the other hand, I don't have a gynocologist friend to ..... rebut ..... so to speak, those findings and I could be wrong.
Speaking of which, I don't mean to bother you, sir, but I ran out of gas on my way to Louisiana. I just need like, like maybe 5 dollars and we'd be able to get down the road to my friend's to get some more money to get there. I hate to bother you, but if you can spare anything at all...Delete
There's a guy who goes by "El Chupacabra" who stops by here and works in the health care industry. If he stops by for this one, I'm sure he has a story or two. Ewww.
I SEE what yer doing there ... try'n'a help me with my problem. "NO, Katy! I don't have five dollars! ... or spare change either! Thanx. Kinda hurts ... kinda feels good.Delete
Is El Chupacabra a gyn? I'll be looking for his comments.
btw ... though I love your Sam Elliot look ... it's nice to see your smilin'(?) face again.
Sometimes you eat the bear. Sometimes the bear eats you.Delete
um ... you don't have a 'pay me now' button. how can I get that $5 to you? You need a 'pay me now button .....Delete
Haha. If I were getting paid on this page, I would instantly be unable tow rite anymore. I can't do anything practical in this world.Delete
Katy. Please give Michelle my contact info.ReplyDelete
Thank you, and Fuck Walmart!
Do you get some sort of special on wedding chapels, Mooner? Like if you use the same one 4 times, your 5th time is free?Delete
Katy. Squat, BJ and I are forming our own church and, after we raise our first $10 million in tithes, we'll have a quite nice chapel. Take maybe six weeks to get the cash, another year to build. You think thirteen months is a decent courting time?Delete
I'm thrilled to learn you're starting your own church - and hopefully your own religion!Delete
I have a list of laws I'd like to get around by saying that I have a contrary "firmly held belief." According to recent Supreme Court precedent, this should get me out of having to comply with the law.
I'll forward you my list!
Were they purple grapes ?ReplyDelete
The package says "Red Seedless."Delete
But I don't trust the packagers of food much. For all I know, they're green grapes that they just painted.
Either way, they are fantastic, so I ignore the fact that all of my liberal friends tell me that they are obtained by horrible, horrible exploitation of Mexican workers.
I guess it's Mexicans. I don't really listen that closely.
As much as I enjoyed this post, you've been away a while and have left a lot of dangling plot holes. It would be like if, after a two month break, The Walking Dead came back and now the show is a romantic comedy. What the hell happened with the stalker? What happened to your brother? Why did you decide to come back? What the hell is going on!?! Was Michelle-I-mean-Joanna wearing a skirt or pants? Did she suffer from Toxic Shock Syndrome like when a tampon is forgotten all up in the works? I'm happy that you're back.ReplyDelete
I needed to really ease back into writing and posting again, so this was sort of a palate cleanser.
I'm sure I'll be back to my twisted dark ways soon enough.
This was fantastic. You know, we always hear stories about people getting things stuck inside of them, but I've never heard of one personally. It's always just a story about a guy or a gal. No name, just something that happened to someone somewhere. So it's nice to put a name to this kind of thing. Joanna. Michelle. Whatever.ReplyDelete
And I'm also glad to hear that I'm not the only one who doesn't understand how this whole cock ring vibrator thing works. And, frankly, is okay with staying uninformed.
I don't know. It sounds like some sort of weird hetero thing to me. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm never going to have any need to understand cock ring technology.Delete
Although, I guess I do have kids, and you never know what sort of mess they're going to get into. I've read Chuck Palahniuk's "Guts," I know how y'all are.
Thanks that was bothering me.ReplyDelete
Next blog post: Onions!Delete
There's no telling what color onions will be involved.
Anything could happen.
Why did you turn on the Anonymous comment again, I wonder.Delete
Anon: I really wish I could always leave Anon comments on, but through the years, I've had a couple problematic people hang around.Delete
However, the recent problem with the wacko stalker has been resolved for now, so I've opened them back up.
I like how I thought I knew why her head was on the table, only to be surprised at the end.ReplyDelete
This was the most throw-away filler post I've written in ages, and I'm glad I did.
Joanna Michelle needs to learn the standard code phrase for embedded objects, "I accidentally sat on this thing, Doc."ReplyDelete
I've always wondered how people smuggle objects into prisons without having the same extraction issues later. I mean, drugs and cell phones or weapons would have to require a bit of space, right? And you can't really get through the "bend over" cavity search exam if you have a draw string dangling around for handy-dandy yanks when you need to make a call. Like the Dustin Hoffman forger character (Louis Dega) in "Papillon" who smuggled a cylinder of money into prison in order to bribe guards and buy protection... how the hell does one get at one's funds if you've shoved it into the nether regions of one's Anytime Teller?
Here I was trying to keep two kittens from tearing the house down around me, and now I'm curious about things a man really shouldn't worry about. It's never a dull moment at your place, Katy.
About the strangest thing I've had happen involving a knock on the door was when a neighbor I don't really even know came over to see if I might happen to have any pain pills he could "borrow". It was about a year after I'd moved into this house, and I'd seen the guy in the neighborhood a time or two and waved, but one day he was at the door telling me about his back surgeries and how he was going to see his doctor again in the morning, but if he could JUST find some sort of relief in the meantime? I guess I'm an enabler of the worst sort. I had a couple of hydrocodone from my own neck surgery and gave 'em up for the cause. He came back about a week later with a different malady, and I had to plead poverty. Fresh out of pharmaceuticals for random strangers, sorry.
Looking back on it, though, I'm glad he wanted pills and not anything invasive like your visitor needed.
Two cats are a lot. I mean, two cats aren't one more than one cat. It seems like it ought to be, but it's not. It's some sort of strange exponential thing. I can't explain it.Delete
I think half the population is seeking pain pills at any given time. It's the reason that I won't take any. I don't need another addiction.
I'm trying to come up with a good soundtrack to this event. At first I was thinking something industrial. Then I came up with "All the Way from Memphis" by Mott the Hoople. Now when people are at my table, fishing inside themselves for strange objects, I'll always think of that song.ReplyDelete
I am going to listen to that tonight. My knowledge of Mott the Hoople doesn't extend any farther than "All the Young Dudes." But I'm always up for good music that goes well with, well, the topic described in this blog post.Delete
You could keep it simple, Peter Gabriel's "Digging in the Dirt" (open up the places I got hurt...)Delete
It's got a lot of other appropriate lines, too. "Something in me / dark and sticky," as well as "I feel it in my sex / That's the place it goes."Delete
One of these days, I've gotta develop a soundtrack for my page.
Well, this is one way of going about handling this situation.ReplyDelete
Haha... Hi, Alex!Delete
Look at all of these comments this week.
I have found the level of the room.
That was kind of my reaction, too. I usually try to make sure every blog I post has at least one moment that is profound or surreal or something. But sometimes, I post... this one.
Emerson said of bravery something like, What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what is WITHIN us.ReplyDelete
Emphasis mine but would have been his if he had heard that story.
Haha! Yes, well, I guess my llife adds new dimensions to Emerson's writing...Delete
I was telling someone in another comment here that you probably had plenty of stories along this line...
Katy, I am glad to hear that you were willing to lend a helping hand...ReplyDelete
Fortunately, I didn't have to.
But I am considering writing a book (or at least a pamphlet) called, "Don't Stick it Inside You if You Don't Know How You'd Get it Back Out!"
As creative as you are, you cannot make this stuff up. Or can you?ReplyDelete
Hey, Brent. For some reason, blogger won't let me reply directly to your comment. I hit "Reply" and nothing happens. This is so frustrating that I now forgot what i was going to type...ReplyDelete
Oh yeah... I believe I can make up some pretty good stuff. However, had I made this one up, I would have described a vibrator I can picture, whereas I have no idea what this one was, exactly.
You heteros and your kinky crap.
Testing 3, 2, 1. Letting me reply. So far. I did have some problems replying to a post a while back. I think sometimes the Internet throws a tantrum.Delete
Kinky heteros, yeah not so much in my house. I would have to do a google search for a picture too. Not sure I want that popping up in my browser history.
Browser history fears. I remember those days.Delete
You seem to be a uniquely talented person.ReplyDelete
Wow, thank you, Anon. I have fun with it, is all. I hope someone likes some of it...Delete