The big fat cross dressing tattooed and pierced bisexual elephant in the room
So I recently ran away from home and moved to a teeny tiny east coastal town that shall remain nameless but y'all probably know my exact coordinates so it doesn't much matter but let's all *pretend* this town is anonymous so I don't get my proverbial ass kicked in a dark alley at three o'clock on a theoretical Monday morning, k?
Well anyway, this *mystery* town is, well, a lot different from just about any other for a variety of reasons which are mostly self-evident, but to get to know the different-est part ya really need to sit down and stay awhile. And this different-y thing can sort-of-kind-of best be described as some kind of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon-ish thing, but only swap yourself with Kevin Bacon and instead of movies it's more about long but more likely than not short or very short term sexual-ish relationship-like situations. Playing house if you will. But most definitely for mostly grown grownups. Throw into the mix that in this Oz-like land of less than 5,000 people there is every combination of gender and preference imaginable and the results make every denizen part of one big and er, very happy family.
I must admit I was a little taken aback in weeks one, two and well into three to discover through whispers, innuendo, confessions and loud admissions that x had 'dated' y who 'dated' z who used to be married to the ex-girlfriend's boyfriend of the chick who had the threesome with the guy I went out with last night. And then after say, the third time this happened in so many days at a probability rate of about 99.99997% or better, that little voice in my head that keeps my company at night and tells funny stories whenever I am stuck in lots and lots of traffic said 'eff it, beat em, join em and do everything in between'.
And that's when I figured out that after not to many turns on the merry-go-round, one could easily become 'related' to every one else who is, has ever been, and ever will be a part of this town. It actually kind of feels like being part of history, and history is a really good thing that we get days off from work, have parades and throw barbecues for and I'm proud to hang my name on it.
So the next time your mail doesn't come on a Monday because the post office is closed in celebration or you have to wait an extra day for a check to clear because the bank is 'on holiday' you can thank people like the people here and me for being part of this very very circular circle of life. And you can't beat us so you might as well get on a plane, train or automobile and come visit. <wink>Just make sure you stay a while </wink>.
So this is pretty much what the welcome wagon looks like in these parts
Posted by Jennifer at 10/12/2010 9:18 PM 
Categories: Confessions, Mostly true stories, Better to fuck up your own life rather than have someone else do it for you
Tags: What a tangled web we weave a post you never ever ever ever want your mother or your boss to read
Categories: Confessions, Mostly true stories, Better to fuck up your own life rather than have someone else do it for you
Tags: What a tangled web we weave a post you never ever ever ever want your mother or your boss to read
Jennifer, stop hanging out in dark alleyways on Monday mornings!!! Also, I'm glad you're enjoying your new town! I desperately miss that scenery that you have. I hope to follow suit someday!
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But James, the dark alleyways are the best part of the scenery!
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