April 24 Th 9:07 AM
I'm at La Subida elementary school in Hacienda Hts. for a teacher training called The Dimensions of Learning. It's the first half hour of six hours, and it's already boring me to death. Me and my righteous indignation. A Philistine at a multi-cultural retreat. yeah yeah yeah Shirelle called last night while I was doing a few measly sit-ups and watching the Dodger game. She has some that edgy girl hysteria that I can't tell if it's phony or not. Her car stopped in the middle of the street and wouldn't start. She claimed to have called a tow truck driver who took fifty bucks from her and drove off. "Okay," I said, "I'll be right there." She was on Gardner just north of Sunset. I drove up and charged her battery with my jumper cables. Got it running and drove it to her apartment. I left it running and walked to where she was in my car across the street. I said, "Why don't you grab your things and follow me to my house and we can let it finish charging in the backyard without worrying about it."
"I don't want to sleep at your house two nights in a row," she said.
"Okay," I said and made for my car to leave.
Her Mustang stopped rumbling. "It' dead," she moaned.
"Why does God hate us?" I wondered aloud. A bit much, I know. We weren't sure what to do. We decided that we could take care of it when I get home from work today. I started to drive away, but I saw that she was crying against her car. I backed up. "What's wrong?"
"You're leaving me."
"I gotta go to work in the morning, and everything I need is at my house."
She decided to pack a bag and come along, but she wasn't too happy about it. When we got home we went to bed. Didn't bone. Not in the morning, either. In the shower she started harrassing me about not inviting her to my mom's birthday party. I told her that for reservations of more than fourteen people at Twin Palms, you have to rent a banquet hall, and my mom's already got fourteen people. Shirelle started trying to get a word-for-word replay of what my mother and I said. She fucking pissed me off. There we went again. Nothing fucking changes. I couldn't deal with her anymore and told her so. She called a cab and waited for it on the porch, crying. I checked my e-mail and did a half-hearted fifteen minutes. I went to the window when the cab came and watched her morose face drive away. A while later the horn for my carpool honked. On the way here, Phyllis and Sara were trying to deepen my divides like a couple of gossipy teenage girls. I played along non-commitally. Or I didn't play, but I didn't disagree.
Flora saw me cock my thumb and blow my brains out with my finger. I didn't tell her it was just something I do when I'm exasperated.
I'm at La Subida elementary school in Hacienda Hts. for a teacher training called The Dimensions of Learning. It's the first half hour of six hours, and it's already boring me to death. Me and my righteous indignation. A Philistine at a multi-cultural retreat. yeah yeah yeah Shirelle called last night while I was doing a few measly sit-ups and watching the Dodger game. She has some that edgy girl hysteria that I can't tell if it's phony or not. Her car stopped in the middle of the street and wouldn't start. She claimed to have called a tow truck driver who took fifty bucks from her and drove off. "Okay," I said, "I'll be right there." She was on Gardner just north of Sunset. I drove up and charged her battery with my jumper cables. Got it running and drove it to her apartment. I left it running and walked to where she was in my car across the street. I said, "Why don't you grab your things and follow me to my house and we can let it finish charging in the backyard without worrying about it."
"I don't want to sleep at your house two nights in a row," she said.
"Okay," I said and made for my car to leave.
Her Mustang stopped rumbling. "It' dead," she moaned.
"Why does God hate us?" I wondered aloud. A bit much, I know. We weren't sure what to do. We decided that we could take care of it when I get home from work today. I started to drive away, but I saw that she was crying against her car. I backed up. "What's wrong?"
"You're leaving me."
"I gotta go to work in the morning, and everything I need is at my house."
She decided to pack a bag and come along, but she wasn't too happy about it. When we got home we went to bed. Didn't bone. Not in the morning, either. In the shower she started harrassing me about not inviting her to my mom's birthday party. I told her that for reservations of more than fourteen people at Twin Palms, you have to rent a banquet hall, and my mom's already got fourteen people. Shirelle started trying to get a word-for-word replay of what my mother and I said. She fucking pissed me off. There we went again. Nothing fucking changes. I couldn't deal with her anymore and told her so. She called a cab and waited for it on the porch, crying. I checked my e-mail and did a half-hearted fifteen minutes. I went to the window when the cab came and watched her morose face drive away. A while later the horn for my carpool honked. On the way here, Phyllis and Sara were trying to deepen my divides like a couple of gossipy teenage girls. I played along non-commitally. Or I didn't play, but I didn't disagree.
Flora saw me cock my thumb and blow my brains out with my finger. I didn't tell her it was just something I do when I'm exasperated.
posted by johnz at 7:15 PM
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