Depending on when you're reading this and on the type of computer you're using, I can assure you there is no need, as of yet, to intentionally spill coffee (or vodka) on your keyboard or to unceremoniously yank the plug from the socket in an attempt to escape the clutches -- nay, the vice-like grip -- of the mundane (to which I was cruelly subjected in toxic quantities for a seven-hour period.... where are my tissues?! Where is that damn scotch?!.... ).
First, such "training" is normally held at swanky, albeit suburban, hotels with marble-tiled bathrooms and foamy carpet whose patterns wander off, to borrow from Charlotte Gilman Perkins, in "a kind of 'debased Romanesque' with delirium tremens." So, when I signed up, I had visions of these ammenities, along with buffets of fresh danish and hot coffee and fruit salad, and they were of some comfort to me. Late last night, when I actually looked at the registration slip, I discovered that I would actually be sitting in a high school, albeit suburban, the very institution I had hoped to escape.
The next morning, putting all thoughts of what had been irrevocably lost behind me, I climbed in the 'Ho and tried to relish the simple pleasures... coffee... iPod....the masculine hum of the engine... the pleasant vibrations of the road beneath me... no children screaming in the background...And then I had to pee. Not one of those, "Oh, I'm going to have to pee soon" pees, but rather an "I have to pee right now" pee. RIGHT NOW. So, off the exit (once I got to it... traffic jam...). No McDonald's, no Dunkin Donuts, not even a run-down Mobile station. And now I'm running late, which makes me have to pee even more urgently. Thankfully, just as I was about to ransack the car for a Goldfish-encrusted diaper, I spotted a dry cleaners. The woman was nice. She told me she has to go like that all the time. I don't want to talk about the bathroom.
Upon arrival (after signing in at the front office, fruitlessly wandering the postered halls (Damn Yankees! November 12 throught the 14th) in search of the overheated, starkly bright computer lab that offered no sensual carpeting or fruit salad), I was overtaken by a poisonous cloud of gag-inducing musky perfume. Now, I use perfume daily -- just a dab, you know, because I fear the lingering odors of smoke and cats and small children -- but mine is quite nice... floral... or fresh... or something bright and light, like the breeze off a beach hemmed in by rose bushes guarded by watchful Cupids torn directly off children's valentines.... you know, like that. This smelled more like cat ass, or perhaps the odor to be found under the left breast of the Whore of Babylon following an apocalyptic battle. Rancid. And it has given me a cough, which has made smoking a bit of a chore tonight. Will the disappointment never end? I ask you.
There's not much more to tell. I've grown tired, as you surely have as well. Goodnight, then.
~Ana
9 comments:
Not tired at all but highly entertained! I've long nurtered the ambition to launch my own brand of "postmodern perfumes", with names like "Irrelevence", "Sweat" and "Repulsion"; "Cat Ass" and "Whore of Babylon" would make marvellous additions to the range.
oh, i hate nasty perfume! when I used to work in my cat litter-box of a bird exhibit the ventilation sucked air from the public side, through the screen, past me and then out the window. if someone had on exactly the kind of scent you describe it would be amplified and hit me like a train wreck. I can't tell you how many times I almost vomited. I'd rather smell bird. ugh! and no coffee or danish on top of that. you poor thing.
Oh, I know that feeling of wanting to pee!
I've been meaning to write a guidebook entitled 'Loos Where I've Been'... It could be helpful.
Sx
This is very mysterious. You are desperate for a pee and shortly afterwards smell a bad smell. I can't quite connect the dots here...
Gadj -- Feel free to use either of them. You can send me the proceeds in Hungarian palinka.
Kate -- I'd rather smell bird, too. And I don't like birds very much. I have tomorrow off. I'm going to Zumi's for a danish and coffee.
Scarlet -- I would buy that book, especially if I ever traveled to England. Would there be plans for an American edition? If so, cover the north of Boston first.
Mr. GB -- Dear Sir, what are you implying? I can assure you, my good ape, that I am familiar with my own odors, and I would be horrified if my bodily waste smelled that wretched. On an unrelated matter, do gorillas hurl their poo as well? Or is that more of a monkey thing? I'm sorry if you've covered this already....
Miss Ana, are you yourself a Maghiara? I do hope so - I need somebody to help me learn the language, and what with you being an educator and all...
Alas(?), I am not. But I can teach you three crucial sentences in that elusive tongue:
1. I would like 30 decagrams of ham, please.
2. Cold water has gone into my shoes.
3.The dog lives in the doghouse.
What a nightmare - I think those days are put there to make us enjoy the days when we do get coffee and Danish.
We could book you to come and teach us a few choice phrases, speaking in tongues can be so useful
xx
Lulu -- Speaking in tongues, which I was also once well-versed in, was never useful to me. But you could book me to come teach a few choice phrases in that peculiar language, too. There's not much to it, actually. A few eye rolls, some grandiose gestures, and making up words that sound vaguely Middle Eastern. :-)
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