SMOKING KILLS - ALMOST

Left the theatre last night as lightening cracked and roared in the night sky, by the time I almost got to the bus stop, it started lashing down. Bummer. Good thing was that by the time I got off the bus, the rain had stopped but the lightening continued. So I did what I always do when I get off the bus, prepared to light up a fag. Got out my metal cigarette case and my metal lighter and thought to myself, shite, wouldn't it be ironic if lightening struck me down just as I was lighting up? I was rather taken with the idea that smoking kills in, perhaps an unusual way, but no such luck.

Earlier in the day I had another interesting encounter at the bus stop on my way to work. Approached the bench where two blokes were sitting, one of them offered me his seat but I said that I reckoned if he moved over a bit I'd be fine. We than had the following conversation (not verbatim, for feck's sake I'm gettin' too old to remember anything word for word).

Me: I was just wondering if I looked fat in this frock and since you didn't think there was room for me on the bench, you must have thought I did.
Him: You must be crazy, what do you weigh, all of 129 pounds?
Me: Don't know, haven't got a scale.
Him: Now I'm big (with a bit of a glower).
Me: Yes, you certainly are.
Him: Can I introduce myself (holding out his hand).
Me: I'm Bette (shaking his hand).
Him: My name is Monster.
Me: So what do you do Monster?
Monster: My job is to scare people, haven't you seen me around?
Me: No but I haven't been in Austin very long. Just don't scare my daughter, 'cause I can be pretty scary too.
Monster: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Me: GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

Then Monster smiled, we decided we really admired each other and I handed off the remainder of my fag to him as I boarded the bus and he continued to hang out on the bench drinkin' beer from a can in a paper sack.

Altogether a good day.

3 WOMEN, 2 FOAM MATTRESSES & A BED

Sarah picked me up from work in a cab the other night, which was especially nice as I had missed my bus, and we went to mine. I rang Thea who arrived a bit later with a very nice extra large bottle of red and the three of us brought all of the chairs (exactly 3, serendipity indeed) in my flat out to the veranda where we sat in the warm night air and smoked, drank (sorry, no wine glasses, I guess I need to make a Goodwill/Sally Army run for those) and delved into all the dramas of young women’s lives (I was playing my usual role of wise old crone). Some of our discourse was crucial, some possibly life changing and a lot of it was more of a smack on the head realisation that the grass is indeed not greener on the other side of the fence. Personally, I believe the grass is greener ranks right up there with the cheque’s in the post and, of course, my all time favourite, I’ll pull out before it’s too late. Why do we all want what we don’t have, get it and then long for what we used to have? Perhaps more importantly, is the urge to procreate so strong that we forget that head smacking epiphany and consider our lives a failure if we don’t pair up; or is there some innate hunger for love that makes us seek it out as if it is our most important mission in life? I was thinking about all the men I thought I was in love with and realised there was actually only one man I truly loved. How did I come to that conclusion? He was the only man who didn’t bore me. So there you go, there’s my tide mark. As the young ones faded, yep I was the last man standing, not bad for an old broad; I doled out the mattresses, pillows and blankets gave my girls ibuprofen to forestall the morning after headache and got them both settled on the floor then retired to my bed for a little reading. The next morning was a cacophony of moans, groans and where’s my coffee? Still we all made it into the day with a minimum of damage and grateful that we had each other as friends. Ah women….. good friends are there for you forever… men come and go.

THE HIDEOUT

I'm sitting in The Hideout, the coffee shop where Kobrinsky works, using her fabulous laptop (Sarah made me edit this so I could tell y'all that her laptop is named Wolfgang - I'm a bit disturbed by her insistence on naming things), I'm very covetous of her widescreen. I thought it would be appropo to write this here as it all started here. What's that, you ask? The Austin branch of the Pussy Posse is offically established. Was hangin' out here last Friday night whilst Kobrinsky worked and got to talking to one of her co-workers, the lovely Melinda. Kobrinsky finished early and suggested we all go for just one drink. I'm sure you all know how that turned out. Anyway several glasses of wine and good conversation later, I inducted Melinda into the Pussy Posse. Not surprsingly, perhaps, Melinda is.................. a Brit. She's from Bury St Edmunds and has been in Austin a little over a year. Her husband plays blues harp in Porterdavis, a band that is often away touring, so that's good for the Posse as Melinda is available and up for trouble. I did tell her that the first thing I told my daughter, when she was old enough to notice boys, was Don't marry a musician. As soon as I said it I realised that Thea's mystery dad is indeed a musician. Doh... I didn't ignore my advice totally, however, as I conveniently didn't marry him. We're both oh so glad about that.

Other than that, the weather here is in the 90's and we're all workin' so life ain't too bad at all, at all.