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Sunday, October 31, 2004

By the way, I am now taking submissions on Le Grande Plan (le NEW grande plan, since Kathryn's didn't work out so well) on How I Can Have HIV Testing Man All To Myself, Short of Turning Him Into a Batch of Chocolate Chip Cookies and Eating Him, Slowly, and then Licking My Fingers and Oohing. So think of your BEST plan. How might you woo the HIV Testing Man? What will lure him into a fancy restaurant faster than you can say "whipped cream?" Does Leticia look better in the blue dress, or the green dress? Fire away!

Saturday, October 30, 2004

I rented Harvest Moon: A Wonderful Life, and I want somebody to tell me... is there any particular reason why my character wobbles around like he has boots made of Teflon? It's seriously enough to ruin a game. It literally gives me a headache. I cannot identify with a character who is compelled to do the pee-pee dance every five seconds while I try to get him to walk across town. Is there any remedy for this, like, buying him some boots that aren't meant to kill him? Because I just have no idea.

Friday, October 29, 2004

Ha! Ha! So you've gotta hear this story.

So my mentor gives me cookies that she got for me. I really love my mentor, so I really want to eat them once I get home. My mom reaches in, STEALS ONE OF THE ONLY TWO CHOCOLATE CHIP ONES, and eats it, without asking. (Well, she DID ask, but she also didn't wait for a response.)

So I get really mad. I mean furious. Problem is, I can't bottle it all up because then I'll have to explain to my mom why I trashed the house over a cookie. And I can't really explain why just one cookie made me so angry, beyond the simple smugness that came from stealing a cookie that my loveliest mentor gave me. I had about a thousand sugar cookies, ginger cookies, etc. in my bag but NOOOO, she has to take a CHOCOLATE CHIP one.

After she raises her voice and makes it very clear that she had the right to take it from me because it was rude of ME not to give one to her in the first place (you know, if you had waited three seconds...), and that I'm not going to win this conversation (yes, don't get into a power struggle with your mom) I walk away, in bitter defeat, and whine to my diary.

And then, I get an idea...

So I take my bag of cookies and tell her, you know, I can't eat all these by myself. I want you to have one. But first, what do you say?

Now she begins to lose it. She pinches her eyeballs together and paces around, saying she wants a cookie but won't do it under my insidious, role-playing circumstances, saying it would be better if I would just say, "gee, Mom, would you like a cookie?"

Right ahead of her, I tell her, "gee, Mom, would you like a cookie?" and she is tongue-tied. "Given the circumstances," she responds, "I wouldn't care if you--" she resists the temptation to say something vulgar, "--flushed them down the toilet."

So I take the cookie away. "Well, no, I just thought you might want one. Now, what do we say."

She sighs. "May I have a cookie?"

"Yes, you may," I tell her, handing her a sugar cookie.

She looks at it. "...Why have I lost my appetite?"

I grin. "Because I just got the best of you?"

She laughs and buries her face in a magazine, embarrassed to admit the truth.

I win!

And that's how Leticia got the best of her mom. Ha! Ha!

(Yes, you may regard it as a character flaw that I have a stake in "winning" these situations... but you never know, maybe I could be President some day!)

(Except, Bush is just no good at social engineering. I'm a pro! Hey, if you're ever looking for somebody to replace Karl Rove...)

Sunday, October 17, 2004

"We women have, if I am not to lie,
In this love matter, a quaint fantasy;
Look out a thing we may not lightly have,
And after that we'll cry all day and crave.
Forbid a thing, and that thing covet we;
Press hard upon us, then we turn and flee.
Sparingly offer we our goods, when fair;
Great crowds at market for dearer ware,
And what's too common brings but little price;
All this knows every woman who is wise."

(From the Canterbury Tales, as translated on Librarius)

Wife of Bath, let's go to lunch sometime. I'll buy.

Friday, October 15, 2004

Hey! Gossip time. Time to run the Gossip-O-Matic! (A big machine begins turning and boiling and Leticia is sucked through a huge vacuum tube and turned into pure gossip. It is up to Suzy to reconstruct her beloved client before she dissipates into the gossip circles forever. This summer! See! One woman! In a land! In a time! An action packed thriller the New York Times called "boring...")

I watched Outfoxed yesterday. That is, I looked toward a screen that was showing Outfoxed. What I was actually looking at was my own image, of the HIV Testing Man, with my legs firmly wrapped around him, never to let him go. Oh, I tried to watch Outfoxed. I really did. I think it had something to do with Fox News. But nothing could change the channel from the All-Leticia-Wrapping-Her-Legs-Around-The-HIV-Testing-Man-Network (or: Real News, No Missionary Position). (Or, I Cavort, You Comply.) So, what's a thinking woman to do?

I go to HIV Testing Headquarters.

I AM GOING TO ASK THAT SON OF A BITCH ON A DATE.

Now, you've got to understand, I never have a plan for these things. Ever. I just decide, okay, I like this person (usually a girl, up until now; I was a baby-dyke throughout most of my adolescence, I developed a taste for boys around the time that I, well, met Dante and started watching Digimon), I'm going to ask "Will you go out with me?" Then she will look at me funny and never, ever respond. I will be heartbroken. I will feel dirty. But the last thing I can ever do it plan ahead for these things.

But this time, I knew. THIS GUY WAS THE MAN FOR ME. Hell, he was the _woman_ for me. I would dress him in a skirt and call him Princess Manlyman. But that is a story for another day. (Actually, I just made that up. Do I get points for effort?)

(Did I mention that HIV Testing Man calls me sweetie? Oh I did. You besta believe it gets me going.)

(...Well, it doesn't, but it makes me feel all purdy.)

SO! Like any thinking woman, I go to HIV Testing Headquarters to ask this fellow on a date. That simple! He DEFINATELY has a crush on me (and you besta believe it; public servants do often want to take orders from you in more than one way, bwa ha ha...), so we'll go to a fancy restaurant, I'll wear a nice purple dress, and I won't have to worry about things to talk about (don't worry, I'll find other things to worry about), because we'll just talk about Classy Adult Things like Volkswagen beetles and sex.

(Did I say sex? I meant burritos. What a day...)

SO! Back on track. I'm standing in front of the entrance of HIV Testing Headquarters. And I realize, lo and behold...

I... am... seventeen.

Maybe I should wait JUST A LITTLE BIT LONGER, until I'm eighteen, and, you know... legal.

(Good GOD it feels good to say that! I will be legal. Makes me sound sexy. I sound like, er, a sexy lady atop a pile of legal briefings. Or maybe that I'm so sexy, I collapse and turn into a pile of papers on the desk, each to be individually sorted and typed on and photocopied and signed in triplicate and distributed to every government center in the United States, with John Ashcroft looming over me, because he thinks I like it when he watches. HA!)

So this whole just-a-little-bit-longer strategy, as any stockbroker would now, came back to bite me in the ass, and most certainly not in the good way.

I go to the community center to brood that night and

there

he

is.

FUCK! FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK FUCK! FUCKIN' FUCKIN' FUCKITY FUCKIN' FUCK FUCK! FUCKITY DOO DAH! FUCKTIME FOR FUCKERS IN FUCKANYYYYYY.....

So you can see how this went. You see, too recap, my whole idea was

1) If he is an adult responsible for my well-being, he cannot date me.
2) If he does not show up at the community center for a long time, he is no longer an adult responsible for my well-being.
3) Licorice tastes good.

So my whole plan on asking him on a date came CRASHING TO THE GROUND when he chose this time, by God, THIS TIME OUT OF ALL THE TIMES HE COULD HAVE COME to do HIV Testing Night. FUCKING FUCK FUCK! FUCK YOU, HIV TESTING MAN! And, as you know, I mean that in the nicest possible way. Oh, please please please, go out with me. Puh-leeeeeeze. I'll do ANYTHING! I'll dive off a cliff into a river filled with sharks that will tear my flesh apart and then put little toothpicks in each severed piece of flesh and serve them in an elegant French restaurant! I'll walk through a car wash only to have the rollers squash me until I'm as flat as a sheet of rubber and the sexy auto mechanics can have their way with me! I'LL LET THE PREPPY SCHOOL BULLIES FROM THE CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL PUSH ME INTO THE CHOCOLATE MACHINE! THAT'S HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU! AND THAT'S HOW MUCH I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU HERE, TODAY, OF ALL PLACES, DAMN YOU!! DAMN YOU TO HELL! AND DAMN YOU TO THE NICEST POSSIBLE HELL WHERE YOU HAVE DAILY MASSAGES FROM DEVIL WOMEN THAT ARE ALL CLONES OF ME!!! Gahhhh!!!

So, after I spazzed out an exploded... I gave him a hug. Oh, I got close to him. I buried my head in his chest. I went to the very boundary of a hug. And, at the end of the night...

he....

winked...

at....

ME!!

BOO-YEAAH! Leticia McKenzie is back in the running! She is holding the lead with only a few sorry, wayward college girls for competition! She will have this man in her bedroom (or, well, at least in a fancy restaurant) before you can say, well, um... "you're fired for dating the youth here."

Ohhh shit.

If anybody's got bottles of chocolate soy milk and Japanese romance comics they can send me, I'm going to need a lot of them for this to work...

I'm going to have to think of the most elaborate plan! Some how I will get him. I may end up having to dissassemble him piece by piece and then only be able to put him back together in a sexy nurse outfit and using an ironing board, but I'll do it.

Trust me.

Have I ever lied to you?

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Listen, Dad, I know that you think blogs are cool and all, and I know that you started your own and I know that you like to update it often, but please, please, don't access Blogger before logging out of my profile.

You see, we have a trust in this family, that the fact that we never bother to log off the family computer is an implicit trust that we will not use this opportunity to look at other people's files. But I was stupid. I shouldn't have allowed Blogger to put a single cookie on this computer.

But what I can't stand is that you must now know the name Leticia McKenzie.

That's too much to bear.

This site is all I've had and now you've ruined it, and what hurts the most is that it's all my fault, and now I have no idea how to cover my tracks. Do I confront you about it? Do I assume you'll forget the name over time? Do I just let it pass and forget that you can now access all of my private thoughts over the past year of my maturation?

Please don't, Daddy. Please don't. We have an implicit trust in this family, and I urge you not to break it.
I just got off the phone with Dante.

You know.. I still love him.

Odd.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

I've been thinking...

I kind of talk about religion a lot like it's really pretty silly (and it is, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth it) but...

You see, I was talking to this woman who told me about a children's book about a boy from outer space who, for his whole life, took care of one flower on one distant moon, and when he eventually left that moon he absolutely had to go back because no flower in the universe meant as much to him as this one flower.

And I remarked that... people so often become better people just for having one thing to care about beyon themselves. It's like they give up a piece of them just to be a part of the universe. And I guess that's what religion is; having the courage to care about something that it not you.

Today I thought about going to see the HIV Testing Man, but I decided against it, becuase, well, I should dress up in something really nice and make myself look pretty and then walk into his office in HIV Testing Land and convince him, unequivocally, that he should go on a date with me. It will absolutely work. I promise.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

You know what? I have NOT seen HIV Testing Man around the community center lately.

You know what that means...?

If I am not, technically, a "youth" for which he is responsible...

...maybe...kinda...sorta...

I can ask him out. Really!

And I promise that I will absolutely not tell him that he has been the focus of my sexual thoughts for the past few weeks, or that I just imagined him holding me while we boil to death in a rather small pot. No, sir-ee. Or him turning me into Leticia pancakes several times over. Or any of that! Leticia's going clean-cut for this one. Nice purple dress, nice restaurant, I will stare dreamily into his eyes...

And, as the Moon Eyes channel opens, I will IMMEDIATELY prep the Leticia Virus which masquerades as a dreamy stare when, in actuality, my comrade Suzy has snuck into your brain on a particle of dreamy-stare and is preparing to rewire all your circuits to become obsessively in love for Leticia, despite the fact that she is... well...

Significantly younger than you are.

(sigh)

At least I can get tested for HIV from him... not the same as exchanging germs, but similar...

...oh baby, give me the cotton swab one more time...

(Maybe, if he took the cotton swab and used it to swab me out of existence, THAT would turn me on.)

(Speaking of which, Sonic Team's dating game has been revealed. It's a love story, Wario Ware style! I can't think of a better game concept since Capcom decided to mate Virtual On and Pokémon.)

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