April 02, 2006


Orlando International, of all the airports I have been through, is perhaps the most effective as birth control. It is so serious, and potent, that not only did it make me want to never have a kid, but it made me not want to be related to anyone, ever, at all. Save for the nice toddler who chatted me up on the car rental shuttle about her stuffed Shamu, her babbley words doughy and clicky and spun together, the rest of the kids I encountered, the little ones sunburnt, spoiled, mickey-ear hatted, all strung out on Epcot concessions and crying as well as the grown-uppish ones spring breaking ones who's insides were like a well stoked mini bar and their outsides were puffing and pink, save for the skunky-white ring around their necks where their hemp-n-rope necklace was during the 194 hours they just spent oggling Mudslide'd soph-jiggle on the sand.

I am small-sized , you know, hence the "tiny"--and so I think those boys with the white hats, they thought I was not an adult and fucked with me thusly. Three sep. times. I was not my best self after Spring Break Week 06: Nana's Nursing Home , and I brustled a bit. Did I mouth "fuck you" to boy of oh, 15? Yes, yes I did. That's about all I will admit to. I acted like the child they thought I was. Whatever, fuck them, my shirt with the squirrels on it is awesome, and unlike their woven Senor Frogs hoodie or their PSU jersey, has not been vomitted on this week.

Posted by Jessica at April 2, 2006 06:58 PM | TrackBack