Wednesday, January 7, 2009

I'm a blind poodle

The guy in the dress is my roommate.
(This is why I hate white people.)

Everything is fine
I must preface this by saying I am now calm, cool and bathed. I'm snuggling in bed with over-sized pillows beneath a crisp hotel hotel bedspread and silence is around me. Delicious, sexy silence.

Who shot my life?
Once again another day spent on the bus, or as I call it, eat this bag of steamy piss, stun-guns me in the brain and leaves me cross-eyed and drooling. I cannot take it without some sort of sedative. And tears.

Who put this shit here?
I was on time for the 8am bus call and I thought it'd be smart to move the bag of tangelos (someone put in the cubby above my seat) beside the bus door for the person who put them int he cubby above my seat to see them and find a new home for the rotting fruit. Instead, people saw the bag and enjoyed some morning rot-gnawing. Minutes before take-off, I tiptoed down the disgusting bus steps in my new Wal Mart ankle socks,snatched up the bag in shame and put them back in the same goddamn spot I pulled them from.

The driver got lost seconds after getting on the freeway, so I watched him poke back on, then I remembered the sleeping pill I didn't take and crawled into my hovel on the bus floor and fell into a deep painful sleep. Right before I closed my eyes, I saw the person behind me's toenails.

Next customer paying with cash
I got woken up by the overhead announcement saying we'd be stopping shortly at a McDonalds for breakfast. I'd rather catch a mouse with my teeth. The McDonalds we stop at is not a dump and is not run like a soup kitchen, but for some reason the one lane I go into (we'll call it Cash only) is Cash only. I would have known that before I placed my order, but Little Miss Mexican Lips had horrible diction, obviously untrained and remarkably ethnic... like one of those employees at the Mexican pavillion at Epcot who serves the Margaritas. No I don't want extra vodka. I brought my own in the hootch canteen shoved between my butt cheeks 'neath my skorts, Nanafrita.

Brown worries
I worried walking back to the bus carrying my bag of greasy "food" that it would make me toot. Should I not eat it? I'm hungry. Should I eat it? I could fart on a bus full of actors. We're all already miserable from the bus ride, the breakfast, the economy, and now we have to smell toots? I will be hated. I eat the food.

I'm in darkness now
I sleep with an ipod on my ears playing podcasts about technology. The people in them are talking in a creative roundtable. They are happy and laughing at jokes and discussing things they did on movie sets. I listen to them and dream I am with them, laughing along, not lying face-down in a puddle of drool on a pillow with no pillow case on top of an unopened sleeping bag and a $7 maroon body pillow... with toenails in my eyes.

We're here. In one hour.
After a pee break at a California Info Station which ends up being the first floor of a 5 story office building, we get back on the road and I go back to sleep. We stop at a mall for lunch... 30 minutes from our destination. I find this so funny I ignore my tummy ache, headache and dizziness. I never have headaches. I am sure it's cancer and disembark the bus in pain. I let out a flowery fart that, if visualized, would look like a circus tent covered in cotton balls, as I walk into the 1960s mall.

There's no food court
We stop at the one mall in America with no food court. Goddammit. It's a sad mall in the midst of refurbishment for my enjoyment. No goddamn food court. I walk in circles like a blind poodle because I'm in such pain. I buy a Diet Coke near the elevator in Sears and walk back to the bus dizzy and more retarded than ever.

I get to the hotel, kill 2 hours sitting on my bed checking email from 2 people, eat 5 cookies in the lobby, do a show (horrible as always), eat pizza (who invented this food? it's absolutely disgusting.) and sit in bed laughing at this post until I fall asleep.


Summer said...

I am laughing at this post. PLEASE if I can't send this book to you, you have to get it yourself. Amazon has the paperback version on sale at like 10 bucks or some such. It's Amy Sedaris's hospitality book and it reads just like your posts-random, funny and touching all at the same time. I love it and it might give you some thing to look at besides toenails.

Mark Baratelli said...

Ok I will look for it. I remember when it came out. I thumbed through it in Barnes & Noble. And I wrote a nasty post about them marketing it on myspace.

Summer said...

I remember that. I also have to think she wasn't involved with it, but what do I know? The book is funny and her writing style reminds me of you.

Mark Baratelli said...

I agree that she probably didn't manage that myspace profile. I don't think she'd be so annoying. I didn't research it any further, unfortunately.

Stacie Johnsen said...

I nearly crapped myself laughing at this post. It's almost too true to be funny but you've just summed up bus and truck tours for all who don't know better. Amazing and I adore you!