The Universe is a magical place. I really believe we are all engaged in an ongoing dialog of creation with the powers that be. Sometimes, however, I'm just not smart enough to figure out what the Universe is saying, or what it is that is being created. There are times when the message is crystalline and instantly understood. Take for instance, the dialog Mr. Brett Farve had with the Universe this week. After an unfortunate lapse in judgment whereby he sent a photo of his genitalia to a winsome sideline reporter with the text, " hope you can come by later." ( not really known for your romantic prose, are you now Brett?) which was leaked to the press, one can assume by the winsome reporter hoping for her fifteen minutes of fame, Mr.Farve received an IM from the Almighty. At his next practice, he missed catching an errant pass which nailed him in the nards and dropped him like a stone. Now, I am sure that after what has been by all accounts a lengthy and illustrious career with the NFL, and what must be thousands of brutal brain jarring tackles, the Universe has to be very remedial with Mr. Farve, but it appears to me that a chimpanzee could decipher that one. Brett you dick...stop hyper focusing on your dick... lest it cause you to suffer. The end.
The cosmos is not nearly so clear with me. I have had, in the last month, a series of revolting visual vignettes that appear to be designed especially for me, but which, for the life of me I cannot decipher. It started with a homeless man on a bike. I was in a nearly empty parking lot and he did not see me. He sailed by me, and as he crossed my line of sight, he thrust his false teeth out the side of his mouth with his tongue, plucked them out with his free hand, examined them, gave them an enthusiastic lick, shoved them back in his mouth and disappeared from sight. I sat there momentarily stunned and earnestly considering plucking my own eyes out, but resisted the urge and chalked it up to wrong place wrong time. But then came the nose pickers, one after another, each more disturbing than the last. The first was a random stranger who drove by me in a car, his nose impaled upon his index finger and a far away gaze in his eyes.The next day the former District Attorney of twenty years who is wildly recognizable in our county was stopped at a light in his car mining for boogers like he was alone in his bathroom instead of encased in glass at the busiest four way intersection in our town. That afternoon, one of my neighbors, a woman who's family I refer to as The Perfect's, who is in fact such a vision of perfection in word, deed, and perfectly hot body that I want to hate her, but she's so perfectly nice I cannot, drove by my kitchen window with her finger so far up her nose I feared it was somehow stuck and she was en route to the ER. This was the point at which I started questioning the significance of the nose picking vortex which seemed to be circling me.
That night I went to bed pondering the message which I was obviously supposed to receive but was too dense to get. Am I picking my nose and I'm not aware of it? Am I supposed to start picking my nose? Are my manners in general up to snuff? Has everyone on this planet lost their effing minds and none of this means anything? I fell asleep in fear for my Karma in general. At 3:20 a.m. the next morning I was awakened by an extremely loud conversation in the yard next door. My house is a large two story and my bathroom window overlooks the yard next door like they designed it for spying. I'm not proud of it, but my little drug dealing neighbor is so obtuse and entertaining that yes.. on a slow day I have been known to treat him as a matinee because he simply never looks up to see me, totally engrossed in his supremely stoned white trash hi jinks. More about him later. So into the bathroom I go, bleary and furious, a dangerous combination in a woman my age. I throw open the bathroom window and there, bathed in the dual flood lights my little drug dealing neighbor has installed as porch lights to deter any hoodlums who might want to approach and steal his mountain of weed, are a man and two very large women, naked in the hot tub, drunk beyond redemption. Let me digress momentarily and say that I am not a small girl, and have been at times quite a big girl, and the mention of size is in the interest of accuracy and to convey to you, gentle reader that it was not Carmen Electra and her twin sister in the tub out there. In the moment that it took to absorb the scene before me, large naked woman #1 stood up in all of her full frontal glistening glory, shoved her thumb deeply into her nose, perched her index finger daintily atop her nostril and bellowed, " Hey! I just lost my nose ring!" I opened my mouth to inform her that the loss of her nose ring was indeed secondary to her missing self respect, but found myself struck mute with shock and awe. Big girl #2 then emerged from under the water where she was doing something I mercifully repressed and bawled, " Wha?? I couldn't hear you, my head was under the bubbles and I can't hear anything when my head is under the bubbles!" I opened my mouth to inform her that indeed, her head was not under the bubbles, but clearly up her ass, but all that came out of my mouth was an ineffectual rush of air. I took a deep breath and channeled a sixty year old cigar smoking drill seargent and in a moment of intellectual brilliance I screamed, " HEY!" out the window at them. It then dawned on the three bathing beauties that they were not alone in the world and they drunkenly looked up at me. " THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING ON A WEEKNIGHT!" I bawled like a branded cow. " Sorry Dude." one of them said. I slammed the window as hard as I could and stomped back to bed. Then, in what was, without a doubt, the most agonizing part of the entire experience, came a few minutes of conversation, about five minute of the sound of someone retching up their soul into the grass, and then an excruciating 10 minutes of the rhythmic clap of large expanses of wet skin slapping together during which I lay in bed with my fingers shoved into my ears singing nursery rhymes in my head.
So, apparently, the message I am supposed to receive is so vital that I must be awakened in the middle of the night for a tutorial and yet...here I am, clueless, as usual. Anyone want to weigh in?
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