Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Morning After Offering

The wonderful, awesome, totally amazingly terrific thing about being part-divine (SORT'VE BEING LIKE A MULATTO, BUT WITH MORE BENEFITS, AND LESS INHERITED ETHNIC FEATURES) is that sometimes you wake up in the morning and there's been an offering left by a devoted worshiper.

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(IF YOU CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK THE ORANGE THING IS SITTING ON THE BROOM WITH THE GREEN OWL YOU'RE IN GOOD COMPANY; IT TOOK ME ABOUT 10 MINUTES AND SEVERAL DIGITAL PICTURES BEFORE REALIZING IT'S JUST ANOTHER OWL, BUT //UPSIDE DOWN//. "WHOA," I KNOW.)

(AFTER YESTERDAY'S ANTICS I CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT ITALICS IS THE GREEN OWL AND I'M THE ORANGE OWL SINCE THERE WAS A POINT LAST NIGHT - AT THE BAR - WHERE, THONGLESS, DRUNK, AND LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY AT HAVING SPILLED SOME OF MY MOTHER'S ASHES ONTO MY DRESS (AND THEN DELIBERATELY INTO MY DRINK - WHAT, I WAS SUPPOSE TO SWEEP HER CREMATED REMAINS //ONTO THE FUCKING FLOOR//?!) I ANNOUNCED I WASN'T FIT TO DRIVE HOME.)

(WHICH WORKED OUT OKAY SINCE I DON'T OWN A CAR, DON'T HAVE A UK DRIVING LICENSE, AND MY MOTHER-IN-LAW WAS PICKING US UP.)

Maybe it was for the ZIPPER ABRASION received last night on my inner labia after an extended Lent approved lap grind. Maybe it was for me shouting IT PAYS TO BE THE FAT GIRL TODAY! when all of the £1.00 novelty underwear at H&M were size 16. Maybe it was for STRIPPING OFF MY BLACK SEQUIN THONG AT THE BAR TABLE AFTER ASKING ITALICS WHETHER IT'D BE SEXIER IF I ATE MY DOUBLE STEAK BURGER WEARING MY NEW SPUDS MACKENZIE THONG but forgetting to follow-up that two part hypothetical situation by putting the new pair of panties in question (suggestion?) on.

Maybe it was for ACTUALLY STANDING OUT IN THE FEMALE POPULATION and being the only woman who WASN'T wearing THE SAME TWO GODDAMN BANGLES OVER HER CARDIGAN. Maybe it was for suggesting WE SHOULD TOTALLY COME BACK ON THE NIGHT WHERE KNOCKED UP WOMEN EAT FREE and I should DISTEND MY STOMACH TO PROVIDE THE NECESSARY "BUMP", ORDER TWO MAIN COURSES, AND EXPLAIN "I'M EATING FOR TWO, YOU KNOW" to an unknowing waiter who suspects nothing short of honesty from expecting mothers-to-be.

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(HEY, I EFFING BREASTFEED LAST NIGHT, OKAY? THAT MAKES ME AN HONORARY MOTHER, OR THE LIVING EMBODIMENT OF THE GREAT FERTILITY GOAT.)

(I'M GOING WITH "HONORARY MOTHER" SINCE THERE WEREN'T ANY FREEBIE NIGHTS AT THE BAR FOR "LIVING EMBODIMENT OF THE GREAT FERTILITY GOAT". BUT ONCE THAT NIGHT POPS UP, I'M TOTALLY ALL OVER THAT SHIT, YO.)

Maybe it was for MY HAIR BEING HALF-UP (I like it ALL THE WAY UP, he likes it ALL THE WAY DOWN), or WEARING THAT GOTH PLUM MAC LIPSTICK, or BEING SLIGHTLY DRUNK AND NOT GIVING A FUCK, or SUGGESTING HE SHOULD GROPE ME IN THE DISABLED BATHROOM, or JUST BARELY MANAGING TO ESCAPE AN ESPECIALLY LOLERIFIC SITUATION WHEN "SECURITY!" RUDELY INTERRUPTED ME GETTING EATEN OUT BY ITALICS AS I TRIED TO TAKE A PICTURE WITH THE DIGITAL CAMERA.

When you have a day like yesterday you can "MAYBE IT WAS FOR..." indefinitely, so I'll just assume it was one of the above, or a combination of one or two.

(ITALICS REALLY LIKED THE FAT GIRL COMMENT, BUT, THEN, HE ALWAYS DOES.)