A Sentimental Education
Sometimes when I'm in seclusion in the West Wing (read the "Living Room") for three weeks at a time I don't answer emails, return phone calls, go to work, or provide CPR to my octogenarian landlady downstairs. Sometimes, like Cooter, I just need some ME time.
During these periods of reflection I sometimes work on my forthcoming autobiographical novel, Ass Be Not Proud. Let me recount to you a little passage from my hot life that I reflected upon during my last period of meditation and solitude, and leave it to you, gentle reader, to ponder its implications for both Iowa City and our culture, as a whole.
As you may know, for several years I managed a convenience store in Coralville, the Handy Job. (It's a little known fact that all convenience stores in Iowa have to have a sexual overtone in their name. I think Branstad passed that law.) Anyway, one of my duties at the Handy Job was to stock the cooler, and pull stock from the cooler and bring it into the convenience store.
Sometimes, this really got me down, since, as those of you who know may know, before my ass went, my back did. The two may be related, but I don't want to get into that here and now. Suffice to say that I labored on in the sub-zero temperatures moving heavy boxes for several years, occasionally throwing my back out and being humiliated by my supervisor. The usual stuff.
However, one summer morning I was in there doing the usual stocking of the boxes when it hit me like a flash of lightning and the scales fell from my eyes. There I was, in the cooler, Stacking Boxes! Stacking motherfucking boxes!!!
Just like lesbians!
Lesbians love stacking boxes!
I quietly wept with the beauty of my sapphic approximation, quickly masturbated a couple times, finished Stacking Boxes (Hooray!) and strode back to manage that hellhole with a song in my heart.
...and that song was by the Indigo Girls.
During these periods of reflection I sometimes work on my forthcoming autobiographical novel, Ass Be Not Proud. Let me recount to you a little passage from my hot life that I reflected upon during my last period of meditation and solitude, and leave it to you, gentle reader, to ponder its implications for both Iowa City and our culture, as a whole.
As you may know, for several years I managed a convenience store in Coralville, the Handy Job. (It's a little known fact that all convenience stores in Iowa have to have a sexual overtone in their name. I think Branstad passed that law.) Anyway, one of my duties at the Handy Job was to stock the cooler, and pull stock from the cooler and bring it into the convenience store.
Sometimes, this really got me down, since, as those of you who know may know, before my ass went, my back did. The two may be related, but I don't want to get into that here and now. Suffice to say that I labored on in the sub-zero temperatures moving heavy boxes for several years, occasionally throwing my back out and being humiliated by my supervisor. The usual stuff.
However, one summer morning I was in there doing the usual stocking of the boxes when it hit me like a flash of lightning and the scales fell from my eyes. There I was, in the cooler, Stacking Boxes! Stacking motherfucking boxes!!!
Just like lesbians!
Lesbians love stacking boxes!
I quietly wept with the beauty of my sapphic approximation, quickly masturbated a couple times, finished Stacking Boxes (Hooray!) and strode back to manage that hellhole with a song in my heart.
...and that song was by the Indigo Girls.
4 Comments:
At 7:32 PM,
big red said…
Props to Gay Rog. I've got a whole new respect to you. You're an avid indoorsman, just like my sweetie japanesie. I used to think you were just like some A-hole. I totally believe you will suceed in life and go on to become a major pimp some day. You silly goose. Props to Gay Rog. I am a hottay
At 3:31 PM,
mrs larrysgal said…
Gay Roger you are absolutely right about the sexual overtones in convenience store names. Why Larry Bear and I were just discussing that the other day. I'll bet you're right that Terry Braindead was behind the whole thing. You know Braindead's kid was a serial killer while his dad was in office. That kid killed 54 men, women, and children over the course of 8 years. The Federal police caught him red handed, but somehow daddy and his fat cat rich friends got all the charges dropped and they covered the whole thing up. It's true. I heard about it at the bar. One of the victims was the cousin of the boyfriend of a neighbor of one of the other waitresses so I know it's true. KP wouldn't lie about something like that. Anyhoo, my point is it's so true about the convenience store names. How about L&M Mighty Shop, Pony Express, Short Stop, 7-Eleven, Deli Mart, or Hawkeye Express, and my personal favorite, Gasby's, hahahahahahahahahahahaha. That's so gross it's funny.
At 12:16 PM,
Pooper said…
Gasby's is a good one. I like to get the frozen bean buttitos and nuke them there. All that fiber makes pooping easy. My personal favorite is Kum-n-Go,it's the story of my life. Give me a call, I will swing by, cum and go, just like that. hahahaha
Eric Braindead was alot of fun back when his dad was the gov. It was awesome how he could get away with everything. OWI, posession, manslaughter. We should all take his example and live our lives without consequences.
At 2:32 PM,
stoopie said…
Um um, Big Red told me the Indigo girls are um touring the midwest next um month, tsk. And and I um was hoping you'd um join me on a little um road trip down um memory lane. I think it would um be so um enlightening, talking about stacking um boxes, having sex um in cars, and whatever else um pops up.
I'd like to um um also um offer my services to um you as um editor for your book. Ooooh I'm happy with glee that you um are um writting a um book. Um you don't need a good ass or a good back to um write a book. Just a brain, an um open heart and a um strong pair of hands.
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