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21st Century Lesbian Trailer Trash

These are the mad musings of a middle aged woman, dyke, nurse, poet. I have a dog, a cat, a mobile home, and delusions of grandeur.

Location: California, United States

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Let's Go On An Archeological Dig

Underneath my Christmas Tree. I don't have a tree this year. But for the sake of the story let us forego veracity and assume that I do indeed have a bauble bedecked piece of greenery in my living room.

Remember Pompeii? Mount Vesuvius erupted mightily in the year 79 A.D. and left thousands of hapless humans forever frozen in deed and time.

Suspend disbelief, if only for these few moments, and imagine that a similar volcano has erupted right here in San Diego county, covering my home and thousands like it, with a burning layer of lava and volcanic ash. Let us hope, that when this does occur, time does not find me sitting on the toilet. Although I yearn to be remembered throughout the ages, it would not be for the ignominious title of The Lady Pooper.

I would prefer to have the interest lie in what remains under my Christmas tree. There is a CD of inspirational Christian music by a woman who attends my sister's church. Her voice is haunting and lovely. Centuries hence, I might be thought to be a holy woman, an ancient shaman of the cult of Jesus Christ.

There are several colorful and pleasantly scented candles. And there are books; evidence that the mysterious shaman of the tin house was a learned woman. For few homes in the city contain books. Most homes have large boxes. There is speculation of a minor but widespread Cult of the Box with many gods given names like Phillips, Magnavox, and Sanyo.

Perhaps I was a sacred food preparer. For beneath this tree there are many lovely and mysterious objects called GIZMO by Black and Decker. These objects have been discovered under dozens of these mysterious trees of worship. There is the Holey Cheese Grater that seems to have been a power source. Along side of that is some sort of flat iron that must have been used to steam the ritual breads placed on the religious platter. On this platter, there are many renderings of the fat god of the red suit.

The fat god's pack is reminiscent of the bags of tinsel, colored paper, and bits of food outside my door; obviously an offering to the gods for the bounty bestowed upon me during this winter celebration.

Next to this platter is a beverage cup. The harsh and gutteral language known as English has recently been deciphered so that the archeologist knows that the writing on this cup says "Instant Human. Just Add Coffee." The beverage cup will be given special handling in the hopes that the scientists will be able to grow an ancient human. This could be their answer to the troubling epidemic of human infertility that has plagued the planet for the last 50 years.

This minor culture, with all of its oddly charming rituals, was indeed an interesting interlude in time.

Kinja, the weblog guide


Anonymous Anonymous said...

No grape nectar? The God Cabernet and Goddess Chardonney do not dwell within? For this also says much of the woman in residence....along with the bottle of advil....

10:43 AM PST  
Blogger Seabiscuit said...

LOL ~ttt~ :) That was a good one!

3:52 PM PST  
Blogger Seabiscuit said...

Okay- I'm back. This is fun. I want to join in. A volcano erupts near my location during the night. I am in bed with multiple layers of clothing and a fleece winter hat. My hair is preserved. Centuries later I'm unearthed and they run tests on my preserved hair. They discover that I lived on a chocolate diet. They discover running shoes nearby my body.

6:49 PM PST  
Blogger NursePam said...

The goddess shiraz is the latest addition to my collection. Compliments of my neighbor. I think he has a crush on me. Poor guy. And you can forget the Advil. I much prefer Vicodin. ;^)

7:53 PM PST  

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