traffic talk

why i shouldn’t be left alone for long periods of time

setting:  pamie’s brain.  Yesterday afternoon.
place:  her car, stuck in a traffic jam
time: just after work.

Man.  It’s hot.  It’s really hot.  Just in here, though.  I have got to get my air conditioning fixed.  I can’t believe I went through the entire end of the summer, promising myself I’d take care of it in the winter when it’s cheaper, and then I didn’t and now it’s about to be summer again and expensive and I still haven’t fixed the damn air conditioner.

Blah, blah, blah.  I’m tired of talk radio.  Commercial, commercial, “No Scrubs,” commercial–

I haven’t moved my car in ten minutes.

The radio just said that there’s an accident on 51st street.  I’m at the 51st street exit, so I should be through this jam soon and then it’s smooth sailing all the way home.

Should I Tae-Bo when I get home?  I probably should.  Maybe I’ll do some yoga.  Or I could go swimming.  I bet the pool will be too cold.  Or they’ll be a bunch of kids.  I hate having no one to talk to in the pool.  I get too bored with laps.

Beastie Boys song!  Time to rock…

I haven’t been to a concert in a very long time.  Does this make me old?  I’m going to the REM concert in August, but I’m not even excited about it.  Who’s Mercury Rev?  Where’s my denture adhesive?

That’s funny.  “Denture Adhesive.”  I’ll have to remember that for a Squishy entry.  I’ll tell Eric about it.

I hope the play goes well tomorrow.  I haven’t done a play-play in a long time.  You’d think with a degree in acting I’d go out for more plays.  Comedy.  Comedy.  Comedy.  How did I get involved in comedy?  It was like, two years ago we were all a bunch of actors just trying to figure out what coast to move to and now all of my friends are in their own comedy troupes.  What happened?  We used to be serious actors discussing our “art” and whether or not Zach Scott could do an accurate representation of Angels in America.  Now we talk about whether farting on someone’s head or hitting them with a block of ice is funnier.  We have lengthy debates on which season of SNL was the best.  I’ve almost gotten into a fist fight about Kids in the Hall.

I’m still in this traffic jam.  What is going on?  I passed the 51st street exit forever ago.

Oh.  It’s Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You.”  Somewhere Matt is dancing up and down.

What is that on my nose?  Is that dirt?  Ew.  I hope that was dirt.  How long did I have that there?  Was I talking to someone with that on my nose?  I would have thought they would have told me.

There is sweat on my back.  It is so goddamn hot in here.  I’ll roll down all the windows.  Let’s see, the clock says it’s 4:25, and since it’s eleven minutes fast it’s actually 4:14.  I’ve still got those math skills.  Good thing I keep leaving myself all these mini tests.

“I have to Praise You!  I have to Praise You!”

I have to Roll Up the Window!  Because the Car Next to Me is Staring!

Like they’ve never seen a girl jam out before.  Lighten up, people.  Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer?

Oh, that’s great, pamie.  Real mature.  How old are we?  “Take a picture?”

Now, why am I talking to myself out loud in the car?  See, this is the kind of thing that’s going to get me in the loony bin.  I need my sunglasses.  It’s kind of bright.  Damn.  My bag is way over there.  I’ll just lean over.  Let’s see. Is it in the front pocket, the side front pocket, the side side pocket on the left or the side side pocket on the right… no… let’s check the middle inside pocket, the middle middle inside pocket, the middle back left inside pocket, the middle back right inside pocket… no… oh, here it is.. in the back, back inside–

Woah!  That guy almost hit me!  Hey, buddy, it’s my lane, too!

Okay.  Shades on.  Sugar Ray on.  Retreat! Retreat!

change the station– arms of the angel…every morning…then you really know what it’s like (I can channel  this song anywhere in America.  It is truly amazing)…fuck it.  Back to talk radio.

Okay, it looks like we’re coming up on some flashing lights.  Oh, here’s 51st street.  It’s like five miles away from the exit!  Jeez!

I think I need to get my teeth cleaned.  I should call the dentist.  I can’t believe I’ve only been given half of my Aspen money back.  Well, I wonder if that credit went through yet.  I’ll call the bank….

Where’s the phone?  Oh, yeah, side side pocket on right.  Woah, merging while dialing. I’m pretty good.  I need some lip balm.  Front side pocket… lip balm while calling bank, entering account number while merging to the right.

That’s a pretty bad accident.  I should probably pay more attention to what I’m–


Oh, this is stupid!  I can’t believe I’m still trying to get this money back!  Oh!  Man!  Shit!  Oh!  Dammit!  Dammit!  I can’t believe–

Woah!  “Sorry!  Sorry!  My fault!”

Like he can hear me apologize for almost ramming into his BMW.  I’ll do the sheepish wave.  “Yes, yes.  I’m a big idiot.  You are genetically superior to me and you’ve proven it by your excellent choice in automobiles.  I will forever remain in your tailpipe dust.”

Hey, the road has cleared up a bit…

My feet are sweating.  This is so nasty.  I think we’re out of kitty litter.  I’ve got to pick some up.  No.  Not today.  I’m tired.  I won’t have time to get to rehearsal and workout and talk to Eric and eat if I stop for kitty litter.

Although, Taylor did grab me by the neck yesterday and yell at me.  Oh yeah, that was because I forgot to leave the air conditioning on at home.  I did that today, though.  He should be happier with me.  Look at that scratch on the back of my hand from Lillith.  Eric screamed so loud at the Penguins’ victory she sliced my hand trying to get away from us.  Just a little reminder of Jagr’s prowess.

Blah… I’m so bored.  Do I have any tapes to play?  No.  I keep forgetting to put them back in after we went to LA last August.

Here’s my exit.  I could stop right now and get some kitty litter…nah, I’ll just do it after rehearsal.  Yeah.  That’s what I’ll do.  I’m just so sweaty I just want to go home and swim.  I feel like swimming.  I’ll drive by and if there’s no one in the pool then I’ll swim.

I always get stopped at this red light.  Always.

Okay, there’s the pool.  No one’s in it.  Looks like I could go swimming… but look, I mean, it’s all in the shade and everything.  It’s probably too cold.  Plus, no one’s been in it, so that water’s been just sitting there.  And I know me in a pool, I never really swim.  I just bob up and down and then I read.  I don’t even think I have any sunscreen.

(but trust me on the sunscreen)

Great.  Now I’ve got that “song” stuck in my head for the next hour or so. Hey!  Parking right in front of the building.  Maybe I can get Eric to drive us to rehearsal tonight.

Oh, it’s much cooler outside the car.

“I’m home, kitties!”  Oh, look, they missed me.  Man!  It stinks in here!  Jeez, we need new kitty litter.  Oh, Lillith wants to be pet.  I’ll just lie here on the floor and let the feline love cover me.  Hello, Lillith.

Ooh!  I still can catch the last fifteen minutes of Oprah.  Yeah, I don’t need a boyfriend to prove that I’m somebody.

Eric should be home in fifteen minutes.

Commercial is on.  My body still feels all hot.  This shirt is awful sweaty.  I’ll take it off.  Just rest my head on it for a second….


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