thursday nite after Baretta burn'n their fingertips peel'n back the toxic tin foil on their swanson tv dinner that consisted usually of a slab of turkey drown'n in a not-so gravy like sediment saturated in the beyond recommend daily balance of sodium chloride intake...tastelessly nutritious bean cutlets....half frozen mashed potatoes and a dollop of pipe'n hot cherry sludge
then wash'n it down with their fav-or-o-rit chemically enhanced 10% fruit flavored carbonated swill
while totally turn'n into a complete puddle on the burnt orangey brown shag carpet after learn'n about some adorably soft spoken arachnoid's demise played by the late DEBBIE REYNOLDS at the end of "CHARLOTTE'S WEB"
now listen...i have always have been deathly petrified of anything that has
more than 4 legs (well…unless they’re neg…dd free…vaxxed and not into S&M w/M&M’s…BB w/butter or any sorta combo of fruit flavored spermicidal jams and jellies…i ain’t made outta yeast after all however i know how to “rise” to the occasion properly and can make you pop when prompted) hmmm…now where was i? oh yea…
thanx in part to bein psychologically scarred as the pre-unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe forced into a musty dungeony like cellar with the light bulb purposely removed as a form of "punishment" on more than enough occasions than i care to relive when i lived a home…i completely felt like Starling search'n fer the light as an army of arachnids practically the size of himalayan rhinoceroses' tried attack'n me from all sides (hey...i was a very imaginative teenrager after all)
BUTT...h-o-w-e-v-e-r
flashforward to the summer of '89 and i was now on my very own...in my
very own shitbox (i mean my very own quaint lil shitbox) i could finally call my very own with no one around to tell me what to do on the 2nd floor of my bff at the time grama's house in Homer, MN where the only thing that adorned my walls was a simple yet stunn'n "A CERTAIN SACRIFICE" movie poster i found at the local FACE THE MUSIC record store that starred my fav-o-rit blonde ambition that she starred in back in '79 before she hit the big time (that i can freely admit...the poster was the only thing good about that movie)
i loathed any sorta facial or body hair except fer the ever color change'n
mop that grew outta my noggin (i had reluctantly removed my eyebrow hair as well and repainted on new serial killer brows at a much high altitude that were so sharp they could practically take an eye out)
i had used any sorta depilatories and waxes up to and include'n duct tape
that was humanly possible just to rid my mug of any and all facial follicles so my war paint would be much more spreadable like parkay until i had moved into my new place turn'n my limited funds now limited to rent only so i needed to devise another plan of attack
merely a week had gone by and i practically looked like some sorta benign
non essential castaway from Gilligan's Island that no one would ever notice and therefore i could no longer bare to cope with my scruffiness plus it didn't help the fact that i was carless...bikeless...baseless...phoneless and penniless except the allocated rent and the $150 in food stamps that i recently acquired via the state of MN welfare system at the time and unless a friend gave me a lift to the grocery store (which i will be ever thankful that many did)
the closest means of food was the kwik trip that was roughly 3 and 1/2 miles away that i would have to huff and puff it on occasion if i wanted a bean burrito with somethin' to wash it down with
and i was not about to show my face without my burka on...which...incidentally was bein held at the cleaners fer a small but important ransom
one hot summer afternoon as i was look'n out the front window of my
paltry palace try'na figer out what i was gonna do fer the day...i noticed a spider practically the size of a Willmar water buffalo...spinn'n her web in the lower corner of my window sill and instead of have'n an absolute mental breakdown as i normally would...i became totally transfixed on the intricacies of her artwork and her dedication that I had decided enough was enough so i flipped over a milk crate next to the window...
grabbed my half emptied maybelline new york shine free oil controlled pressed powder compact and tweezers from the bathroom to pluck each and every hair off my face and neck one by one cuz i figered if she (we'll just call her Charlotte fer obvious reasons) can map out a maze wait'n aimlessly fer her dinner...i had all the time in the world to remove my follicles...besides i had already plucked my own eyebrows fer the last 5 years...what's the diff? my face just looked like an elephants eyebrow had exploded all over it and i was not too damn happy with the current situation happen'n all over my mug!
i had mapped out my plan of attack by splitt'n my face and neck into 3
sections...the left hemisphere of my mug and the right hemisphere of my mug then the lower hemisphere (which was my neck) and began to pluck away...one by one...notice'n Charlotte sit patiently outta the corner of my eye i figered at the very least i could do was to help her out with her dinner plans since she was probably as hungry as i was
so i set my hands to stun and after a few tries i had cupped...crippled and captured an annoy'n fat ass musca-domestica...toss'n it onto her web then started to pluck away
i had never actually seen the maliciousness and meticulous way Charlotte
and her ancestors dealt with feast or famine before although after i had tossed the crippled bug onto her delicately ornate dinner table she had spun it made Charlotte react like Carrie deal'n with her neurotically religious mother by attack'n the defenseless fly like nobody's biz
pluck after pluck it felt like my face was on fire though i knew i had no
other options left so after remove'n roughly 20 or 30 follicles i had built up enough tolerance and became quite numb to the pain
periodically i would peer down to see how Charlotte was doin with her
new found feast and to my amazement she had already had it wrapped up tight like a christmas gift after a few hours of pluckage...inbetweeen every other hour or so i would take breaks to stretch my back and watch my stories ("YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS" Mrs. Chancellor was like my heroin...tough as nails who didn't take shit from anyone)
roughly 5 1/2 hours later i had finally and completely removed the right
hemisphere of foliage from my face and it felt as smooth as an alabastered ass from the ozarks though by now my back had felt like a worn out murphy's bed pulled up and down like a taffy pull so i figered it was time to hit the hay so i bid ado to Charlotte and began my weekly ritual by lay'n down a couple of cool cucumber slices on my eyes and slapp'n on the ol' trusted St. Ives mint julip mud mask to help cool down the irritation and tighten my poor plucked pores
in the middle of the nite i would be awoken by a knock on my bedroom
door by the nice neurotic neighbor downstairs who needed milk fer her puke bucket but she couldn't be bothered to drive herself to kwik trip so i told her to flip on the lite so i could collect my senses
"WHAT THE FUCK IS ON YER FACE?" she said stunned look'n down at
me lay'n on the floor like a dead hooker under my bed sheet that did not consist of an actual bed at this point....i explained to her that this was my weekly ritual and i don't remove it til morn'n when i would have to chisel it off in the shower with a putty knife practically plus it also made my face look more uniformed since 2 thirds of it was still covered in hair...i told her gimme 2 minutes to throw on my combat boots and get the soup cans outta my hair and i'd be good to go
"are you fuck'n kidd'n me? yer not goin to the store like that are you?"
she said with a bewildered tone in her voice completely amused i hadn't removed my smurf pajama's before lace'n up my boots (kittens...don't judge me!) "gimme the damn keys i don't give a fuck what people say" i thought to myself i bet Mrs. Chancellor would've said and done the exact same thing if the writers were brilliant enough to write this scene into the script when she was still around
even though i was still a bit of a scaredy cat in the middle of the nite when it comes to lonely isolated dirt roads thanx in part to bein removed along
with half of my sibs from our moderately priced green station wagon on the farm back in the late 70's when Joan would drive far ahead as we bickered and watched the red rear lights fade into the dark of the nite and imagine'n a Mr. Voorhees like figure would pop out from behind the bushes at any give'n moment...
i sucked it up...buckled my belt and scurried off into the dead of the nite drive’n illegally cautious since i won’t be with license fer another 10 years to get a gallon of moomoo juice fer the bawl'n puke bucket in full combat boots...smurf pj's and my St Ives mint julip mask temporarily plastered to my face
there ya have it...tune in next week fer pt.2 of "THE WEB WE WEAVE"
now GET OFF MY DRESS!
