Today's stories [5.29.07]

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Pad, please!

An insurance man visited me at home to talk about our mortgage insurance.
He was throwing a lot of facts and figures at me, and I wanted to follow as
Best I could, so I told my 6-year-old son to run and get me a pad. He came
Back and handed me a Kotex right in front of our guest.

How to win that war

Take all American women who are within five years of menopause - train us 
for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks, 
moisturizer with SPF 15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna and 
drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of Afghanistan, and 
let us do what comes naturally.

Think about it.

Our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff, like grocery 
shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make even armed men in 
turbans tremble.

We have had our children. We would gladly suffer or die to protect them 
and their future. We would like to get away from our husbands, if they 
haven't left already. And for those of us who are single, the prospect of 
finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely as being 
struck by lightening. We have nothing to lose.

We have survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet, 
and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across America and never lost 
a pound. We can easily survive months in the hostile terrain of 
Afghanistan with no food at all!

We have spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, 
hardware stores, or sporting events----finding bin Laden in some cave 
will be no problem.

Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new government? Oh, 
please.... we have been planning seating arrangements for in-laws and 
extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years---we understand 
tribal warfare.

Between us, we have divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is 
for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources. 
We know how to find that money and we know how to seize it.... with or 
without the government's help.

Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we 
crawl like ants with hot flashes over their godforsaken terrain!!!

I pulled into a town I couldn't believe still
existed in 1999.

A dusty, dirt road, a little old wooden store that
actually said "General Store", and that was it.

There was a little old man sitting in front of the
store in a rocking chair. I said to him, "What do
you folks do around here?"

He said, "We don't do nothin' but hunt n' fuck."

I said, "What do you hunt?"

He said, "Somethin' to fuck."

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