Dec 112007
 

Operation:Pig Mask didn’t achieve quite the level of trauma that I had strived for, and daydreamed about on my ride in yesterday.

At approximately 8:30PM, I spied Kim entering the women’s room, so I bolted back to my desk and grabbed my delightful mask. I opted to stand vigil directly on the other side of the door, so that as soon as she exited, we’d be nose to snout.

I heard the toilet flush and I adjusted the mask. I was having a  very difficult time breathing in it and the sneaky anticipation had my pee threatening to escape in giggly droplets; I had to keep squatting.

I heard the water running as Kim washed her hands, and I heard the automatic paper towel dispensing as it churned out for her. I had to keep shifting from one foot to the other and my heart hurt from how difficult it was to breathe beneath all that heavy plastic.

It seemed to take forever before she finally pulled back the door and we locked eyes. She didn’t cry or scream or emit Turkish expletives like I had hoped, but she did take a giant step back and her facial muscles seemed taut with fear. Or maybe it was just confusion. After a few moments, her hand flew up to her chest and I took that as my signal to rip off the mask and it felt so good to have cool air hit my face. That mask is a real fucker.

We laughed for awhile, but it wasn’t climactic enough to make a scrap book for the grandkids, and eventually the laughter trickled down into amused intakes of air and we just went back to work.

Today, Kim acted faux-mad at me, but that charade was soon forgotten when I charred a bag of popcorn a little while ago and she became For Real-mad at me.

Dec 102007
 

So, it’s here! I’m freaking out! It came at a perfect time, because Henry was napping, so I shoved it over my fat head and crept up the bedroom to give him a nice little surprise. And by crept, I mean that I clambered up the steps on my hands and knees, pausing every other step to squeeze back pee. I couldn’t stop laughing, and I tried ever so hard to muffle it, but I only ended up making the inside of the pig’s snout very warm and moist.

Anyway, Henry was not sent spiraling into the land of heart attacks, like I had hoped. He rolled his eyes and quietly begged, “Please don’t show that to Chooch” (who was also napping), before rolling back over and pulling the covers up to his chin.

But I’ll tell you who WILL be taking up residence in the land of heart attacks: My boss, Kim. Everyone got to leave early Thursday night and I thought I was the only one still packing up all of my stuff. (Seriously, I bring half of my house with me in my giant purse, and then it takes me five minutes to stow everything back in it at the end of the night.) When I was finally ready, I went to round a corner, where Kim was hiding behind a wall like a child and lurched out at me. I dropped some stuff, that’s how startled I was. I startle very easily. So my plan is to stash the mask in my gigantor purse and wait until late tonight, when all the dayshifters have left and our department is left in silence. I’ll wait for Kim to go to the bathroom, and then I’ll hide behind the door.

I hope she cries.

Dec 022007
 

Last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the pig mask and all of its possibilities, even beyond its role in the photo shoot. I kept imagining myself driving around town with it over my head, and staring out the window at people during red light downtime. I was laughing so hard in bed last night that it was disturbing Henry.

“Just go downstairs and buy it now, please! So I can finally get some sleep.”

So this morning, I bought it. I even wrote myself a gift note for it.

I think I managed to offend Eleanore at work Friday night. I was telling my boss Kim about the Christmas tree I’ve wanted to fashion ever since I was a spry sixteen-year-old.

“And then I’d take extra arms and legs and solder them to the mannequin, you know — for boughs.”

Kim’s eyes widened, and she asked me if I’d be making my own ornaments too. Eleanore was in the kitchen for this part, but she returned just as I was explaining what Homies are, and how I wanted to make dioramic ornaments using them.

Realizing that Homies are slightly racial and that perhaps Eleanore was getting annoyed, I blurted out, “But they’re not all black! There are Mexican ones, too!”

Crickets. The slight bubble-popping sound of Eleanore’s blood boiling.

Always spitting out one sentence too many, I finished digging my grave by saying that I wanted to make a crack house ornament and have some of the Homies loitering outside of it.

“Damn, girl. You’re taking this too far, now!” Eleanore groaned. “Don’t you be teachin’ my baby[1] about no crack house!”

Then Kim and Eleanore tried to come up with a word to describe me. Eleanore muttered, “We’d need a thesaurus for that.” I laughed. Many appropriate words popped into my head, like: sweetheart, genius, loveable, adorable, precious.

I spent most of the night searching for cheap mannequins online. Every time Kim turned around, she would catch a glimpse of a variety of eerie plastic models on my screen and shudder. “Would you stop looking at those! They’re freaking me out.”

I’m going to decorate my (future) Christmas tree while wearing my pig mask.

[1]: Eleanore calls Chooch and everyone else’s children “her babies.”

Nov 292007
 

pig.jpg

Shit, I need this for the hillside picnic photo shoot. I need this badly! I found one on sale for $17, but I don’t know enough about masks to be certain this is a good deal.

Can you imagine getting raped by someone wearing that? Chilling. You know what I’ll be thinking about all night now.