Tuesday, January 17, 2006

belly candor and the walking dead

This morning my friend B stopped by my office. While she was there, K, a young pregnant girl who works in billing walked by, stopped inside the door and said, "I’m just stopping by because I saw B in here." Oh, welcome then. That’s why I’m here. To help other people connect.

Conversation ensued. K showed us her swollen pregnant belly, then told us her nipples were turning black. Her husband likes them, though, so it’s ok. "He really liked them last night," she told us. "But that’s it for the dirty talk, though."

Then she looked at me with big eyes, then back at B. "Poor Sara. She’s not used to talk like that." Oh right. I’m a 29-year-old puritanical virgin. I forget sometimes.

K left and I said to B, "Why is it universal that people think I’m pure and innocent? People act surprised when I say ‘fuck’."

She shut the door. "That’s why I like you," she said. "It’s your face, young and sweet. That’s why people think that."

"Hm," I said. I s'posed so. "That makes it easy to surprise people." Baby games really.

I forget sometimes, being rather inverted and introverted. The picture I have of myself is rather dark and profane. I forget what people on the outside see.

Later a bathroom epiphany showed me I probably perpetuate the lie. Because I know myself not to be a puritanical virgin (PV) but rather a person who pretty frequently has crass and grimy thoughts, it’s funny to me to respond like a PV in conversation. But I forget that that’s what many people actually expect from me, so that it isn’t funny at all, except maybe in that, to them, it’s true.

Months ago I attended my first post-work bar gathering in honor of someone I liked who was leaving for another job. I was very tired and had only a couple of beers (also, I suppose I get a kick out of upholding a certain distant identity in the workplace). The others had many beers, shots of whiskey and tequila, and various fruity alcoholic beverages. The following Monday several people gave me shame-filled looks, apologized for my having had to have seen them "like that" and hoped I didn’t think poorly of them.

Eyebrows furrow in perplexity.

Tomorrow we will fucking talk about pierced rosy nipples, why some vibrators are shaped like elephants, and whether or not Jesus was well hung.

* * * * *

This (from Mr Anigans) reminds me of when I called maintenance to hang a picture on my wall. They insisted they had paperwork to prove it had been done. I told them I had a picture on the floor to prove it had not. Who’s correct? Is the man dead or alive?

"Can you smoke in a cubicle in a sex shop? Or in a room in a brothel? Or in a morgue? Can you light up a joint of grass in a place where tobacco is forbidden? The answers, respectively, appear to be: no, yes, no and probably not a good idea." How will Spaniards handle this cultural blow?

Exercise might help delay dementia. Tomorrow will it induce dementia?

3 Comments:

Blogger Benjamin said...

Hiya Sara. Your posts remain very readable, funny and, every now and again, enlightening. All quite delightful, thank you x

7:13 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I don't know if I ever thought of you as a PV - shit I can't even imagine it. I may have thought you were "shy" but I always knew, underneath is all, you were a cum guzzling snot sucking slut bag whore. You can't fool me Sara, you can't fool me.

- melissa (blogger will not allow me to login)

8:14 PM  
Blogger Sara said...

You sure know a lot about Jesus, finnegan. What a dirty fella he was.

Hi Benjamin! I'm glad to see you here. And thanks. I hope things are treating you well--or at least interestingly.

Melissa, I will have a talk with fucking blogger, just as soon as I suck off my next customer.

8:53 AM  

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