Poetry Friday Word for Tomorrow…I'm not dead yet!
Oh dear baby jeebus and all the wing-y things that fly around his head…where has the time gone? You know how it is…you have a brilliant, witty blog post in your head, or a crappy stupid one where you talk about poop and sanitary items, and you're no where near a computer…or the cat pukes on the living room rug…or you find out at bedtime that your daughter has pages and pages of math homework due the next morning…and that blog post shows you its butt in the rear view mirror…totally gone.
Today is the day I’ve been dreading all month. Overlapping events involving kids and sports and work, last night I baked my tootsies off for two work events, tonight there’s 2 soccer events, an outing for Girl-child, and I have my last cardio strip-tease class, which always makes me feel like puking when the instructor runs us through her boot camp of crunches and pushups and butt lifts for the first 15 minutes. Yes, I’m apparently out of shape, thanks for asking.
Plus work. Ah yesh, the job I love. Lately, though, work has pushed me very roughly to the desk, bent me over, pulled down my panties, and is spanking me with the hairbrush of Overloaded. Whap! It’s not even in a “Secretary” sort of porn way, either, it’s people hounding me throughout the day…”Do you have Major Internet Payment Method attached to our 10 internet sites yet?” Whap. “When will you get those emails done?” Whap. “This needs to be done ASAP…but so do those other projects I gave you this morning.” Whap frickin’ whap.
Enough complainin’, alright?
This morning on my way to work, I heard a commercial for motorcycles, and the snappy voice-over guy said, “Get your crotch rocket NOW!” Crotch? Rocket? That gave me pause. Firstly, the word “crotch” is dirty to me somehow, dirtier than ordinary names for genitalia, in my mind, I would much rather hear "dick", or "clit", or "bouncing ball sacs". Second…rocket? Does anyone really equate motorcycles with rockets? And if so, is that something you want thisclose to your crotch? I got a visual of some poor schlub in leathers and a helmet, straddling a rocket like Major Kong in “Dr. Strangelove”, riding his Harley rocket to great heights, singeing his pubic hair on the way, shiveling his balls, and falling ass-over-end to earth, where he makes a crater big enough to fit in the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.
The Poetry Friday Word for tomorrow is ROCKET.
For extra credit, also use the word CROTCH.
Feel free to sprinkle these words liberally over your hot dish of blog posts tomorrow, in whatever tasty form you choose…story, poem, photo, guitar solo, answering machine message, excuse for what that red mark on your neck REALLY is….
I’m hitching up my crotch and rocketing over to get more coffee. Hasta banana!
Work, spanking me, in Spanish: