Partying With BJ and Rachel
Monday January 1, 2007
10:47 AM
Just up. To sleep about 4 a.m. Partying with B.J. and Rachel, along with their visitors Wes and Dallas and their three kids, a family from N. Carolina. Nice people. He a cop, she a former cop and now a paralegal, both of them former marines, both smart and a little redneck, her ex-husband and brother both druggies, Wes a drug enforcement officer. They ride motorcycles. What I’m saying, some crude edge, but smart and decent people: very good company. Boy Teddie has nice manners, “Yes, sir.”
The 14-year old girl a very sweet-looking face, pumpkin tits, always on the cel with her friends. She calls her Dad after midnight, he’s drunk and it leaves her crying softly. She was flirting with me a little, coming several times in a row to stand between me and her mom when there were other places to stand, rubbing her butt on my knee to squeeze into that spot. At one point her mom, Dallas, said, “Look at her shirt,” so that I would read the outrageous slogan there, something like, “I’m not this idiot’s girlfriend,” and this seemed strange to me, that a woman would invite me to scrutinize the surface of her teenage daughter’s oversized breasts. I do think that the elephant in the room was the sexuality of this 14-year-old girl, not just those burgeoning breasts, but her peachy skin, her dewy eyes and her raspy bedroom voice.
B.J. served first a Spumoni champagne—sweet and good. Then a drier champagne. Then another bottle of the spumoni. Then regular wine. I had four flutes. They smoked cigars but I declined, admitting they make me nauseous sometimes.
Rachel talked about her stress at work. Example of the “beautiful, beautiful young woman” she helped, a quadriplegic. She got her from only being able to say yes or no with her eyes, to being able to chew food and talk, and her future was starting to look good again. Then staff at the facility fed her too fast, shoving food in her throat, causing food to get into her windpipe, which caused pneumonia. The woman died on Xmas day.
Shopping in afternoon. Spent $200 at Hanaford in Kingston. Not a lot of actual food: a lot of supplies for following the Rosedale diet. Fixed one of the door-racks in fridge with a board, so it has a rail. Organized the fridge.
Watched The Manhattan Project in afternoon. Great line by John Mahoney: “You mean I’m going to die because some asshole didn’t bring a pair of pliers?”
Evening watched Maid in Manhattan. Some bad implausibilities.
Carolyn called in evening to bitch about stress she’s under (understandable though) at work and to see if I definitely want to help her with sites next two weeks. I said I do.~ VIJournalDiary