All posts by Drea

Control

Dinner is simmering on the stove and she places the vacuum back in the cupboard.  She pauses to say, “Sit.”  Two children and a dog drop.  The children quietly pencil over their homework while the dog politely tilts his head adorably.

“I love you Mommy,” the children say in perfect unison.

“I love you too my darlings.”

She dusts her way down the hallway and glances at her reflection in the mirror.  Her hair is soft, her eyes are bright, and her ass is high and tight.  The house is clean, the kids are brilliant, the dog is behaved, the taxes are paid, the groceries are stocked and she brought her own bags, the hedges are hedged and the phone is ringing.

It’s her BFF.

“I just wanted to call you and tell you that you are awesome!  Thank you for the organic vegetables from your garden and for volunteering for absolutely everything forever and ever.”

“Oh you’re welcome.  You are awesome too!”  She hangs up the phone and wonders if she would have been an even better friend if she had told her BFF that the last time she got her eye brows done one was slightly higher than the other.  She decides she’ll just mention that to her second BFF instead.  Maybe she can tell her.

While setting the table, her husband, Mario Andretti, comes home.

“How is everything dear?” Mario asks.

“It’s wonderful!  Everything is UNDER CONTROL!” She positively beams.

“If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough-” Mario Andretti 

Smart Phone verses Wild

Two men walk into the wilderness.  The first man turns left down a dusty pined trail towing his Camelbak and a smart phone serviced by AT&T.  The second man veers right scrambling over loose boulders carrying his NorthFace and a smart phone wired to T-Mobile.  Both men completely lose their way.  It’s a day hike gone Donner, only it’s a private party and no one wants to eat their own leg.

Hiker number one realizes he’s completely against the wild around 2pm.  His Camelbak is drained and he’s eaten his last dark chocolate covered almond.  A blister may or may not be forming on his left toe.  He whips out his smart phone and texts: Babe, I’m totally lost in the back country.  I’m pretty sure I can get to the tree by the rock that we like with the view.  Be there in 30 minutes?

Babe texts back: You’re an idiot.  I’m looking at your GPS tracking system and you’re not even close.  Don’t worry.  I’ll pick you up off the road.  Walk 200 meters to your right and wait there. I’ll bring Pinot Noir and cheese.

Meanwhile somewhere to the right, T-Mobile Man discovers the error of his ways.  Doh!  He grabs his smart phone and finds a permanent NO SERVICE.  He texts anyway.  Sweetie, Come get me, I need help!  The little green bar slides half way across the screen and pauses.  Eventually, the smart phone declares ERROR!

Thirty years later.

Lefty with the AT&T is happily married.  Not to Babe who saved his ass, but to Betty.

Righty is sitting in the fucking back country with a beard down to his knees squatting on the ground talking to Wilson.  He picks up his smart phone and uses the screen to flash yet another passing private plane a mirror signal.  Damnit, it did not work.  Again.

If the shit doesn’t provide service, it isn’t so SMART.  Attention Bargain Shoppers.

Exert from the Guilt Book

“Mam you’re allowed one carry on only, ” she glances at the fifteen duffle bags surrounding Barbara, “And it has to fit in the overhead compartment.”

“Well can I check all this other stuff?”

“No, ” heavy sighs, “We’re not that kind of airline.  One…Small…Carry on only.”

“OK, what am I supposed to do with all my stuff?”

“What’s in those bags?  What you said in 1985?  The entire month of January 1993?  A hundred pound duffle from yesterday?  Why are you trying to board with all this stuff anyway?”

“It’s my shit!  Nobody else wants it.  Where am I supposed to put it?  I’m not Catholic and from what I hear that doesn’t work anyway, guilt just breeds more guilt.”

“Where you put your excess baggage isn’t my problem lady, as long as you don’t put it on me.  I recommend you walk to terminal 2.  There’s a great bar there, Dante’s Inferno, they have a fabulous Sinfadel and a fire pit.  Burn it.  When you come back here, make sure it’s with ONE carry on only.”

“Everyone else on that plane only has one carry on?”

“Yes.  And a lot smaller biceps for it.”

“You make it seem really easy to unload.”

“Look, you’ll probably just keep picking up new bags along your travels.  I can’t help you there, but I can tell you that if you want to keep moving forward you have to lighten your load.  And that does not mean by putting it in storage, donating it to some other sucker, or putting it back in your bedroom in your parent’s house.”

“Are you going to hold the plane if I go for a drink and a burn?”

“No, you can get the next plane.  We fly all day.  But remember, there isn’t any self check out around here.  We tell you when you’re done traveling.  Terminal 2 is that way.  Say hi to my mother, she is still in there.”

“OK, what’s her name?”

“Don’t worry, she’ll tell you.”