One of my coworkers has a football at his desk, as though he were OJ Simpson or...some other football player such as Jim Namath. Because they were famous for having footballs on their desks. It's on a little stand--not my coworker, his football--like it has its own three-pronged house or whatever. "Hey, I'll hold the football, and you come running up and kick it!" I said to him. In unrelated news, love for self grows deeper.
Anyway, my coworker was playing with his new football, right there at work, and it's always funny till someone loses an eye. Then all the "I'm sorry"s in the world won't bring back that eye.
Whenever a grownup said that to me, it slayed me; I thought that was hilarious. I loved the idea of someone saying, "I'm sorry," then looking around the room, hoping that eye showed up so you can pop it back in.
One time I was having a tantrum, for a change. I was maybe 7 or 8. I was sobbing and carrying on, and my mother had had it with me. "I've had it with you," she said. "Get in the bathroom, stop that crying, and wash your face with hot soap and water."
First of all, has telling anyone to stop crying ever worked, ever, in the history of time? However, I stopped my crying immediately, because I was all, "Hot soap?"
Dig if you will the picture, of having to be my mother.
Speaking of which, last night I was on the phone with old mom, of the Hot Soap and it's-always-funny-till-someone-loses-an-eye old moms, and somehow I discovered she'd never heard the song Bigmouth Strikes Again, which is one of my all-time favorites.
"Really? You've never heard that song?" I was incredulous. I guess in 1988, when I was out dancing to cover bands and swigging the White Zinfandel, mom was busy being a grownup. "And now I know how Joan of Arc felt/NOW I KNOW HOW JOAN OF ARC FELT!" I sang, and let me tell you what. Singing voice? I got it, man. Did I ever tell you that throughout my marriage, I was not allowed to sing in the house? "Too scrapey," Marvin used to say.
"Well, how DID Joan of Arc feel?" asked mom, and you know, I never know what the hell they say, there. So I looked it up. They say,
And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her roman nose
And her Walkman started to melt
Well, that's just nonsense. When you're drunk on the Zin, lyrics don't matter.
Oh my GOD I never, ever get to the point. How can you READ me? SO THIS GUY AT WORK had a FOOTBALL and I have no idea how I went from that to The Smiths and Joan of Arc's Walkman. And he was PLAYING with said football, and it occurred to me that he kind of looked like a senior picture. You know how sometimes senior pictures are all atmospheric? They take you out in a field somewhere, and you pose doing Your Thing? Which for me in my senior year would have included making out with Cardinal while drunk on Reunite Lambrusco. White Zinfandel hadn't been invented yet.
Anyway, my senior picture involved me looking over the shoulder of a blue sweater, sporting a Princess Diana 'do and some lindy star sapphire earrings.
The point is, and now I know how Joan of Arc felt, I made my coworker pose in a senior picture pose, and then I am sorry to tell you I made MORE coworkers pose, and this is where it gets exciting. Gird your loins. I've decided to do
June's Daily Senior Picture
with all of my coworkers, showing you one picture a day till everyone hates me or we run out of senior picturesque poses. Oh my god, I am so excited about this I could smash every tooth in your head. Am hoping to somehow acquire a wagon wheel. You know how inexplicably, some people put their foot up on a wagon wheel? "Oh, here I am, a senior in high school, who just happens to have one leg on a wagon wheel. Hello, future."
My coworker's kind of cute, isn't he? Just another soul y'all can lust after. Oh my god, we totally have to make Ryan do a senior picture pose, right? I mean, his senior year was last year, but whatever. I wonder how he feels about looking thoughtfully into the distance. Maybe considering the wagon wheel.
Is there an app where you can make someone's head float behind a picture of their own head? That's always my most ut. Why I have no pictures of my own head floating behind my head is beyond me. Let me put my foot up on a wagon wheel and consider it.
I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good luck with the guys, and stay sweet.