Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Obscene Pickles And Bad Dates

I had a date over the weekend. It wasn't good. I ended up at the emergency room.

The Story As I Remember It:

The phone rang this morning just as I was soaping up my face to wash the overnight crud away. I hurriedly wiped my face off and grabbed for my cell; it was Dahlia, one of my very best friends.

Instantly, she could sense that I was depressed just from the sound and timbre of my voice, “What’s the matter, Kenny?” I scrambled for something evasive to say but just sighed instead, “Nothing and everything…” I can be so eloquent at times, ya know.

I had met Dahlia when I was still shuttling back-n-forth from North Carolina to Los Angeles every couple of months to be with my boyfriend at that time. She had been a MAC make-up artist for Nordstrom at the grove for just one month on the day we met. I literally bumped into her as she stood out in the middle of the aisle by her counter trying to shanghai suckers into a “free” makeover.

“Excuse, Ma’am. Which way is the rest room?” I had questioned after I apologized for bumping into her. She laughed about me calling her ma’am and wondered aloud if she needed to apply her own MAC with a spatula if people were going to start calling her ma’am so soon already. Just as I turned to leave, she told me to sit down and she’d make me look like the latest GQ cover boy. Well, I had my doubts about that but something about her smile put me at ease.

So, down went my ass in her little barbershop-type chair and let her pluck, primp and rub about eight million products into my face over the course of the next hour. When she was done, I looked like not so much like a cover boy for GQ but more like one of those overdone queens in WeHo with plucked eyebrows and a fresh chest wax. I feigned pleasure at my appearance and wondered to myself how long it would take my brows to grow back into a more masculine configuration. When Dahlia found out how strapped for cash I was from constantly traveling cross-country, she filled up a bag up with the goodies and said, “Happy Birthday, baby!” I thought that she was giving me trial sizes at the time, so I took them and left, not thinking anything of it. Later I found out differently, there must have been $500.00 worth of the full size MAC products in that little gold bag.

The 15 years that we’ve know each other seems like an entire lifetime to me. We just clicked from the beginning, that’s the only way I can describe it. I’d never been able to open up and talk so freely, so soon with anyone and it was damned refreshing. But don’t be fooled, Dahlia can be a bit of a nutcase at times and some people don’t quite know how to take her at first. But I think that’s a plus for her, it keeps things interesting, ya know and I loved her for all her idiosyncrasies. The next day, she called my cheapie motel by the freeway and asked me to come to her house for a facial; she was seriously worried about my pores, it seems. Dahlia is middle-eastern, shortish, extremely buxom (after three sets of implants), fuckin’ sexy and very LA. She claims to be down-to-earth, but I’d have to disagree. She’s kinda, really into material things and well, beauty is EVERYTHING to her. Just the other day, I forget how it came up, but we were trying to imagine her as a street person. Picturing Dahlia by the highway off-ramp in a mink coat & Manolo Blahniks with a ‘Will Work For Food’ sign is quite funny.

Six months later, I was manless and back in North Carolina full time, my boyfriend's penchant for crystal and Mexican strippers having killed all traces of romance between us. One day I received a phone call from an unlisted Charlotte number. It was Dahlia, talking a mile a minute and about to burst her seams with some news to tell me. “Guess what, Kenny?”

“What, girl?”

“I live here now!”

“That's fuckin’ cool, bitch!”

It seems her Swiss (tall, blond, blue-eyed) husband Lars had just received a professorship at UNC Charlotte. We were thrilled to be together again, to say the least. She has always been Grace to my Will. It seems so wrong to call her my fag-hag because Dahlia is so not a hag of any sort. How about, fag-friend? Fag-companion? Fag-buddy? When I hear the term, fag-hag, I think of a messy woman with fried gray hair and smeared lipstick knocking back shots with some bitter old queen in a dark gay bar.

“What’s wrong, bitch?” Dahlia’s voice snapped me back to the present.

“Nothing, just tired I guess.” I offered lamely.

“Oh, come on, are you mooning around over some bastard?”

“Ewww, perhaps…I don’t know.” I changed the subject, “How are you, dear?”

Dahlia copied me, “Ewww, perhaps, not so good, Kenny,” she paused, “Lars is pissed at me again!”

“What, you guys fighting over money again?”

“No, the other thing…”


“Yup, he wanted to swim in the muddy river last night.”

“He wanted to fuck you when you’re on the rag? Gross!”

“No, silly. He wanted to do me in the butt!”

I gasped, “No way! He wanted some ass?”

“Yep, you know I can’t do that, Kennnnnny, that’s just plain nasty!”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean, it’s okay for you guys to do it, I mean what else are you going to do? Ha! But, a married couple?” She added softly, “What if I poop on him?”

"Well, you know what they say, you can't travel the Hershey Highway without getting some mud on the tires occasionally.

“Ewww, gross! I can’t believe you guys do that, it hurts so bad! I let a guy a guy stick a finger up there once, you should have heard such a scream I let out.”

“Just simply tell Lars that you’re not into anal.”

“Kenny, he’s getting so weird in bed now, he actually did want to poke me last time when I had my period!”

“TMI, Dahlia…TMI!”

“What does that mean?” Dahlia asked disdainfully.

“Too much info. Have you not heard that before?”

“Whatever, bitch…you coming over?”

“Yeah, see you at 2.”

“Kenny, darling…. It’s so good to see you!” Dahlia cried and offered her arms after I pounded on her door several hours later. I walked into her tiny arms and hugged her, “You look fuckin’ fab, babe!” I offered up my standard greeting. This lady was really into her looks. I’d watched her change from a tiny overly made-up Iraqi girl into a buxom, brown-skinned Anna Nicole Smith type via the numerous plastic surgeries she’s undergone since we’d met.

“I do?” She rolled her eyes.

“Fuck yes, just look at you!” I tried to convince her. She knew I was lying. She looked scared and nervous, her hands constantly twitching. And now, that I looked closer, she was very pale, her usual heavy coat of make-up MIA.

“Hold on, I have some other friends coming over. Let’s walk out to the parking lot so they can see us, they’ve never been here before…” We walked out to the main parking area and sat down on a bench under a weeping willow tree.

“Where’s Lars?”

“Working, again.”

It’s Sunday for God’s sake, Dahlia…”

“I know. He says it for “us”. I can’t really complain, now can I?”

"You better watch him, Dah... I just got a funny feeling about him, ya know."

“I know, Kenny, I know. I love Lars; it isn’t like I’m going to do any better. We get hang-up calls all the time. Sometimes you can even hear a girl giggling." She sighed and averted her gaze from mine.

Pretty soon a new Land Rover pulled up and parked near Dahlia’s front door, she squeezed my arm, “That’s them, come on.” We got up and walked toward the pair. I extended my hand to the beaming, plump Indian girl in daisy dukes and a lime halter-top (two sizes too small). “Hello, I’m Ken.” I introduced myself and smiled back.

Dahlia slapped her own cheek, “Where are my manners?”

“Ken, this is Kathi, she took Doreen’s place.” She said referring to a pregnant co-worker.

“Girl, don’t you act like you don’t know me!” I turned to the third person in the group.

“Hey, Jared.” I flatly greeted the spiky-haired young man. I never knew quite how to take Jared, one day he was gay, the next he was straight. I find it hard to trust people whose sexuality can turn on a dime just like that. I just want to smack them and say, “Choose something and stick with it, ho!”

We suddenly remember that we were standing in the middle of a parking lot when a carload of black girls slammed on their brakes in front of us.

Kathi turned around quick as a flash and began to swear at them, “You fuckin’ dingbats, you almost killed us! I got a knife in dis here purse an I'll carve you up like a tanksgiving turkey if you don’t get the fuck out of here, bitches!”

My mouth must have dropped open, watching this serene Indian girl morph into a roided up version of Foxy Brown just about blew my fuckin' mind. I was totally speechless for once. Dahlia just giggled, grabbed Kathi’s hand and motioned us to follow her into the apartment quickly.

Jared grabbed my arm, “Girl, let me tell you about this guy I went out with last night,” he stopped for breath, “It must have been 13 inches long!”

“I didn’t know you dated black guys, Jared.” Kathi said seriously. He shrieked and playfully smacked her arm, “You whore!”

“For God’s Sake, Jared, chill out!” Dahlia complained from the kitchen as we settled onto leather chairs.

“Yes, Jarred. We don’t want to hear how he made your bum bleed after he poked you,” Kathi joined in and winked at me, “Ee’s such a nasty bitch,” she nodded toward Jared.

Jarred sighed and shut up, out-numbered. I patted his arm, “You can tell me later.” This seemed to cheer him up.

“So Kenny, are you really okay?” I gave the Gallic shrug and took the cup of tea from Dahlia’s trembling hands.

“Not really. But, I'll live.”

“Kenny, where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while.” Jared asked, leaning forward.

“DC, I moved to Washington for several years.”

“Yeah, goober here, was living in DC with a guy he'd only known 3 months before they moved in together!” Dahlia chimed in.

“Oh My God!” Jarred clasped his hands over his mouth. “You moved from DC back to North Carolina? What are you, like retarded or something ?”

“Yes, I did, I had some family issues I had to take care of, Jared.” I was growing tired of this line of conversation.

“Girl, You know, I’m from San Diego.” Jarred added proudly.

“I knew I hated you for a reason.”

He considered for a moment and made a pouty face, “I never can tell if you're kidding, girl.”

“Ohhh, I'll bet Charlotte, North Carolina was thrilled to see you coming, Jared.” Dahlia said, punching his arm playfully.

“Yeah, that’s all this city needed, one more big old bottom, size queen that's sucking dick at the bookstore one day and bumping pussies with a chick the next day!” I added and ducked the large pillow Jared flung at me.

“Excuse me, Excuse me, Kenny.” Kathi implored. “You are queer just like this Jared, here?”

“Yes, Kathi. I’m gay.”

She leaned forward and touched my knee, “Should I dye my hair red?”

“Kathi, I don’t think it would look natural on you. But, then again; I don’t have the gay hair gene.”

“Ohhh…” She was thoughtful for a moment.

I helped her out, “I’m actually kind of boring for a homosexual.” I almost stopped when I saw the crestfallen look on her face. “I do like Judy Garland, of course, Madonna and Cher.”

Her face lit up, “Oh yes, I heard dat song, Somewhere Over The Bluebirds?”

“Yeah, something like that, Kathi.” Jared snickered.

“Kenny, you look so thin…” Dahlia interrupted, circling my chair.

“Yeah, well. Not really hungry today.”

“Didn’t your date feed you?”

“Yes, Dahlia. He fed me.”

She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. She came back with a flaky pastry on a tiny Wedgwood desert plate.

“Here, eat this. You need it!”

I started picking at the pastry to please here. She settled back onto the ottoman and looked over at Kathi as if to signal a remark.

Kathi ran here tiny hand through here long blue, black hair, “Kenny, she needs to worry about her own weight, look at her!”

“Dah, you do look a bit thin…”

“Not as thin as you, Kenny.”

“Oh, shut up!”

God! Girls, Leave him alone!” Jared suddenly seemed upset. “He'll eat if he wants too!” He got up and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door.

“God, dat boy es a moody bitch!” Kathi blasted.

“Ahhh, his ass is just hurting.” Dahlia added seriously.

“So, that story about the 13 inches was true?” I nodded my head toward the bathroom door.

She nodded and reached for the bottle on the coffee table. “Hold on, let me take my pill. I want you to tell me all about your blind date from the other day, Kenny!” Dahlia jumped up and began to rumble through the kitchen cabinets.

“Since when do you take pills, Dah? I asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing, my doctor put me on Paxil last week.”

“Paxil? Are you depressed?”

“Yeah and who isn't?”

“Just wondering…simmer down, girl”

“Yes, every since Lars and I started having trouble. You know, I can't sleep anymore and he wants such strange things from me in bed, I just don’t know what to fuckin’ do anymore, Kenny!” Dahlia seem to panic at that point and hungrily gulped her pill down with a tiny sip of white wine.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore, just tell us about your date but hold on a sec...”

Dahlia got up and went to the bathroom room door, tapped it lightly before she pounded on it, “Are you fuckin’ jerking off in there, Jared? Get out here, Kenny is about to tell us about his blind date!”

Dahlia settled herself back on the ottoman and waited for Jared to come out, “I swear, he’s worse than a girl, always messing with his hair!”

Jared came out and sat down on the couch without a word, I could still see the white powder on his nose, “Go ahead, miss thang.”

“Well, guys. There’s not that much to tell, except that it was the date from hell.”

“What, dis man, he did not make love to you at the end of the evening in poo-poo hole?” Kathi questioned and I cringed, I swear this girl must have learned her English by watching old episodes of Sex In The City, Taxi Cab Confessions and going to blackpotation film festivals every weekend at Johnston C. Smith.

I blushed for a moment, “It didn’t get that far, I’m afraid. I actually ended up in the emergency room.”

Jared squealed and threw his hands into the air, “Oh Lord, girl…NO! What did he stick up your butt?”

“Kenny, what the hell happened?” Dahlia took my hand.

“Well, he took me to one of those expensive Italian deli’s with a red checkered tablecloths, overpriced ham sandwiches and opera blasting constantly in the background, it was nice and I learned a very valuable lesson about dating.”

“What’s that honey?”

“Never, I mean, never, order one of those large kosher dill pickles with your meal.”

“Oh girl, no… not one of those big schlong-shaped things?” Jared started fanning himself, this story seem to be exciting him.

“Yes, one of those, but not because it looked like a dick, Jared. But because, when I bite into it, every last drop of juice in that damned pickle shot into my leg eye with the precision of a flit gun.” This statement caused a collective gasp around the room.

“At moment like these, most people would just scream at the top of their lungs because of the intense, searing pain they were in. I was so fuckin’ embarrassed that I just laid my head on the dinner table and whimpered softly until the pain died down enough for me to leave for the emergency room in a cab.”

Everyone seems to be struggling not to laugh at my experience, but were quickly losing the battle.

“Oh my God, Kenny. Has he called you?”

“Duh, Dahlia. I hardly expect him to call. He was too “pretty” for me anyhow and kind of boring. You know he sat there and told me how many grams of fat he'd eaten so far that day. Not exactly a romantic date, wouldn't you agree?”

“Kenny. Only you. Only you.”

“I know, Dahlia. I know.”

P. S.

My eye is almost better. I still look like I've been crying though.


.::STELLA*DELLA::. said...





KenPaul66 said...

Della, I'd have to agree. Strange shit does seem to happen to me. Luv ya and thanks for reading.