Sunday, February 9, 2014

How I Got a Black Eye

It was the morning last week when the sleet pattered against the front windows, and I remember lying there listening and also wondering why the side of my face was throbbing like a son of a bitch.

Something had happened the night before and that something had led to my face throbbing now. However, there was just no way to know – no way to mentally reconstruct – what in the blazes that something might have been. Point Z to Point A: There was no way to get back there from here.

I reached over to the blinds. I wanted to see the sleet I was hearing.

When I reached over, I saw my arm, and I saw the word “Supertramp”  written in blue ball point across my arm. I did not recognize the handwriting.

Then, the word on my arm – the word “Supertramp,” I mean – it brought the remembering, and the first thing I remembered was my voice, and my voice was saying, “I am an incurable lech.”

The second thing I remembered was Yvette laughing and whinnying and saying, “You are NOT a lech, Katy!”

We had been in a bar when she said it. I never did remember which bar.

“I am a disgusting pervert!”  I said. I announced it, really, and loudly too, in order that all the people in the bar could hear it. “I am a pervert held in check only by my own freakish appearance and the paucity of lesbians in the general population.”

I do not believe that Yvette knew what that meant, but her husband, who was sitting next to her, laughed like hell.

I remembered well.

Yvette said, “No, no, no.”  She was attempting to convince me I was noble after all, you see. She said, “I have known you since forever and you have never tried to get with me. You just talk about those Thomas Pynchon books and Andrei Tarkovsky movies and about black metal music.”

I should have let it go at that, but I was drunk and believed my lechery bona fides were under attack. I mean, my reputation might be a bad one, but it is mine and it needs to be upheld.

I set my hand on Yvette’s knee. I said, “Yvette, talking about those books and movies and music IS the way I get with women. It is the only thing that has ever worked for me.”

Yvette’s husband was not laughing like hell any more. His name was something like Charles or Carl or Cal, or maybe it was Brett. I can never remember. Charles or Carl or Cal or maybe Brett looked annoyed now. I do not know whether it was because of my talk about getting with his wife or the knee thing or my lech braggadocio.

He sucked at his bottle of beer and he wagged his finger at me. He said, “You… You girls can’t even. You can’t begin to understand how bad the average guy really is. How disgusting. Obsessed. Just absolutely gross…”

I said, “I can imagine, Charles!”  even though I was not then and am not now certain of his name. 

I said, “I talk about girls with average horny straight guys. I have watched porn with average horny straight guys.

I said, “A guy will watch porn for eight minutes. Ten if he is lazy. I will watch porn non-stop for seven hours. All day! I will watch porn until I hate myself. Until I have to set fire to the computer I watched it on.”

I said that, and then I said some other things. Then some other things happened. There is a lot I still can’t remember.

But my memory of the night picks back up, and it picks back up where I am saying, “The only reason my Tumblr page is not just pussy galore is because of Roger Hodgson of Supertramp. For some reason, he follows my Tumblr, and I have too much respect for the man who wrote ‘If Everyone Was Listening,’ to subject him to my dark nauseating fantasies.”

Yvette’s husband, whatever his name was, sucked at his beer and said, “You are wrong.”

He said, “‘If Everyone Was Listening’ wasn’t a Hodgson track. Richard Davies wrote that one.”

Now, there are some lines in life that can simply never be crossed and one of those lines had been crossed here. Yvette’s husband – now that I think about it, I think his name was probably Ed – could steal away the good women. He could question my level of perversion. He could even deign to speak on behalf of all the human males in the world.

But when Ed (Thomas? Esai?) questioned my knowledge of early Seventies prog rock, a line had been crossed, and that’s when I threw down.

I mean, Richard Davies! “If Everyone Was Listening”? Can you even imagine?

Lying in bed that morning, after that, I felt the area around my right eye and tried to smile. This is going to be a bruise, I thought. I had suffered for music and, judging by the empty bed, had not even gotten the girl.

There was always the next night, though.

I am an incurable lech. 


42 comments:

  1. Maybe it was Yvette who wrote the "Supertramp" while Ed/Charles/Brett blacked your eye? Or maybe someone prefers Black Eyed Peas or something. Where's the picture of the Supertramp? And of the black eye? Maybe we could judge.

    ReplyDelete
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    1. I weighed my options for pictures and decided to go with these.

      I'm guessing that no one will complain that I did.

      Delete
  2. This post brought ME the remembering about the time I got a beat down for sticking up for a woman. Which is different from the reason you got a beat down, but considering I eventually married her, I may have had boobs on my mind when I stepped into that fight as well.

    Also, would this qualify us for bad-assedness? And if it does, I suspect you're probably a bit more bad-ass than me.

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    1. Your story sounds like it might have been way more bad ass and respectable, actually. I pretty much just had a bar fight.

      I think.

      I mean, there is a chance that there's part of the story where I am standing up for a lady and I simply do not remember it.

      Delete
  3. You may be the only person I know whose knowledge of Supertramp goes deep enough to argue about who wrote individual songs. Oh Darling, From Now On, during Casual Conversations where you're trying to take Another Man's Woman, remember that Some Things Never Change and there are Better Days ahead. It's Alright, you're a Child Of Vision, I'm Beggin' You, and Maybe I'm A Beggar, but Listen To Me Please, don't commit yourself to an Asylum. Instead, Put On Your OLd Brown Shoes and go Slow Motion Downstream. Sure, It's A Hard World, but you're Free As A Bird, And The Light will show you in time, that you're Bloody Well Right. But maybe I'm wrong, You Win, I Lose, Goodbye Stranger.

    That's 21 Supertramp songs worked into that comment. You're welcome, or I'm sorry.

    ReplyDelete
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    1. Once, when i was in junior high, a friend and I decided we were going to talk the whole day in song titles. I'm not saying that you act like a junior high kid, though...

      regardless, some of the commenters who were around in my pre-blogger days can attest to the fact that this is not the first time I have caused a ruckus over Seventies rock.

      Delete
    2. thanks Pickleope - I used your comment in my Facebook Playlist

      Delete
    3. I started thinking about Pickleope's comment last night, and it occurred to me that it probably took a little time to write.

      It's kind of impressive.

      I am going to work Pink Floyd into my next blog to see what he does with it.

      Delete
  4. LOL - "I was drunk and believed my lechery bona fides were under attack. I mean, my reputation might be a bad one, but it is mine and it needs to be upheld." - I really like this

    How long ago, how long, if only we had listened then
    If we'd known just how right we were going to be
    For we dreamed a lot and we schemed a lot
    And we tried to sing of love before the stage fell apart

    I know where you are coming from... Back in the "good old days", I was a rumie. The combine effects of batwings, sugar and caffeine would cause unexplained aches and pains. After a couple of visits from the Grim Reaper, I swore off of hard liquors and now just drink beer. This is the best "life style" change I ever made

    thanks for the morning boobs - so good and so good for you!

    ReplyDelete
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    1. You know, it's funny that sometimes I can accurately predict which one of my readers is going to like a particular blog even before I post it.

      I had you pegged for this one.

      Rum was my nightly drink of choice for years. I've switched to wine when I drink at home now. When I go out, it's harder stuff and crap like this happens...

      Delete
    2. I am using the quote in the next issue (valentine issue)

      Delete
    3. I'm very quotable. I might not be quotable in the context of a Valentine's Day blog, but generally, man, it's like quotes a-go-go.

      Delete
  5. I love the mashup on your tumblr page of two separate animated gifs: the one where a prosecutor is about to reveal a defendant's internet search history, and the one where the defendant says he would rather confess to the crime.

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    1. I have someone set up to get rid of my computer if I ever die in a car accident or something.

      Seriously.

      I mean, my parents are already dead, but the kids would be scarred for life if something like that ever came out...

      Delete
  6. I would ask, "Who's Supertramp?", but I don't want to get my own black eye.

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    1. Hey, you bring up a good point. No one has asked me "How's the other guy look? yet.

      Which is just as well because frankly, I don't remember.

      Delete
    2. I just know better than to pick a fight with someone that passionate about music. I once watched a pair of hipsters fight over Wilco at a bar, and while it was hilariously terrible, they did throw a few bombs.

      What I'm saying is, you should check local obituaries and make sure you didn't kill someone.

      Delete
    3. I don't think I'm very dangerous in a fight. My arms are like pencils. The element of surprise ("This chick just hit me?") is all I have going for me.

      The trick with hipsters is to never run down Joanna Newsom. I don't know what it is, but she's like the universal daughter to all hipsters. if you act like you don't know the difference between her and that "Friday" girl, you'll be tarred and feathered... assuming tarring and feathering is environmentally friendly, I mean.

      Delete
    4. I just said out loud "Wait, who the hell is Joanna Newsom?" and a trio of hipsters just appeared out of nowhere and beat me unconscious. Then a fourth ran me down with his Prius.

      My lawyers will be sending you the medical bills in the morning.

      Delete
    5. If it was just a Prius, i think I can cover the bill.

      This post is getting some great comments. I might have to post pictures of tits more often...

      Delete
  7. "You just talk about those Thomas Pynchon books and Andrei Tarkovsky movies and about black metal music.”

    Well, it appears your problem has been diagnosed. I would also add getting in fights with people over early Seventies prog rock, though I imagine that like talking about Thomas Pynchon and Andrei Trakovsky, there's a certain subset for whom that totally works. All in all it sounds like a pretty good learning experience.

    ReplyDelete
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    1. I'm not sure.

      There was a moment with Dana where I realized I'd been babbling about William Burroughs for 45 minutes straight - basically without taking a breath.

      I said, "I am so sorry! I just babbled for 45 minutes straight!"

      She said, "That's okay. I love to hear you babble."

      I felt good. I kept doing it.

      It turns out, nobody likes hearing someone babble about William Burroughs for 45 minutes straight.

      Delete
    2. Hmmm. See, I think the key point there is that she enjoyed hearing you babble, and that the subject matter was perhaps irrelevant. Most people are forgiving about the particulars of the conversation when they're smitten. Alas, our quirks also tend to be used against us when the period of smitten-ness is over...

      With that in mind though, it appears that is has to be something else that's totally working for you. Which could be either encouraging or distressing given that you feel these are particularly strong subjects for you.

      Delete
    3. Hmmm. I can also do THIS...

      You can't see what I'm doing, but trust me, it is REALLY impressive.

      Delete
  8. You need to start another tumblr account to specifically post stuff you don't want members of Supertramp to see.

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    1. That is a sentence that I bet has never been said before in the history of mankind.

      I am so proud to have made it possible.

      Delete
  9. I want one of those Medic Alert bracelets with the words "Delete my browsing history!" on it. But it would have to have another paragraph or two about hidden porn stashes and toys. The codeine allergy would be an addendum clause.

    Nice boobage, by the way. Not freakish in the slightest.

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    1. I tried to keep the pictures tasteful for my audience. I have a high class audience here.

      Delete
  10. Well, I had been reading your blog Katy to make FG jealous when she stalks me with my browsing history- now you're going to make her mad too so theres that I spose...

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    1. You need to make sure and tell her you read this page for the articles.

      Delete
  11. Katy. I've logged-on to this posting thirteen times and have yet to read the words. As are you, I'm an ardent admirer of the female form and have found myself quite enraptured with the pics of breasties you have heretofore posted, therein, above.

    I've this raging debate swirling inside the cauldron boiling my brain--the wondering if your favorite pic is, likewise, mine. I'll know which is my favorite with another few viewings and we can then compare notes.

    Fuck Walmart!

    ReplyDelete
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    1. You can joke, but this post has fewer comments and more page views than any of my recent ones, so other people must be having the same problem.

      In addition, not a single female has commented.

      This experiment won't really be complete until next I post the next one, which will chock full of penis pics.

      Delete
    2. OK, it's the one with the small beauty mark. As for your busted face, every onceinawhile a person can wear a black eye as the badge of honor, courage that can can only be worn by the Honest Proud. Sometimes facial bruises serve as reminders that we are not always wise.

      But there are those few occasions when we should show them with puffed chests. Naked chests held high.

      Fuck Walmart, once and again!

      Delete
    3. I think my favorite is the second one, which is weird, because I'm usually not into huge breasts.

      Looking back at this a week after I posted it, I think it's a deceptive post. "How I Got a Black Eye" with a picture of a chest next to it gives the impression that I got hit in the face with a breast.

      Since I was the woman involved in the fight (I think I was the only one, so far as I can remember), then it seems unlikely that anyone got hit in the eye with a breast.

      Anyway, I do dumb stuff all of the time and wind up paying the consequences. It's better than the alternatives, which is doing nothing.

      Delete
  12. You have good taste in boobs. :)
    This post reminds me of American psycho - everything sounds kinda same expect the fact that you are saying "Delete my browsing history" instead of "I was returning some videotapes".

    You get into bar fight? Do you beat up men? That would be my kind of porn. I dont know women who beat up men kinda makes my adrenaline rush.. What's more erotic than a lesby punching someone with her breast or her fist.
    Please wear lifealert kinda cameralocket and record it every time you get into fight.

    And, you always try to post about how bad you are, what your weakness are, but to all of us or atleast to me you sounds like a intellect and a woman with strong sexuality and a tigeress who cant be tamed. Looking forward to see those posts - you saving a puppy or punching a sexist loser if you dont know any - I have a huge list .....

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    1. It really does seem a little bit like "American Psycho," doesn't it?

      I was trying to lighten things up a bit from the post before this - which was about methods of suicide! - but now that i read this one, bar fights don't sound a lot better.

      Still seems a little dark, and I'm not sure the one I'm writing right now is going to lighten up the party at all.

      Delete
    2. "bar fights don't sound a lot better" - they sound pretty good atleast in this post. I compared this to American psycho in a good way. The way he Is passionate about music and yuppie/hippie and several "notes to self" and "watermark" and all. It's a classic Katy. Let me catch up with suicide post and looking forward to next time.

      Delete
    3. Thank you! The line I liked from this one was, "I did not recognize the handwriting," which kind of sums up the experience of waking up after a lost night.

      It could have been worse, of course. I could have woken up with a black eye and a Supertramp tattoo.

      Delete
  13. Bonus points for not only the whole Pynchon-references-as-a-pick-up-strategy routine, but then going the extra mile and spinning your own exquisitely Pynchon-esque riff on Supertramp.

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    1. Anyone who is relying on "Gravity's Rainbow" to get them laid is targeting a narrow group of people...

      One of these days, I'm going to write a thousand page book about how some famous mathematician and his penguin were secretly responsible for the Haymarket Square incident, and only then will I deserve to be called "Pynchonesque."

      Delete
  14. It wasn't me. I don't hit women and I'm far too fond of you to ever hit you... even if I think your music sucks. Haha

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    1. Hey... Don't say you'd never get into a bar fight with me until the opportunity arises. I can be awfully irritating, and add a little alcohol to the mix and you wouldn't really be to blame if you wanted to...

      Delete

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