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a little tribute to even littler Lonnie

2005-05-04 -

I�m gonna be one of those girls who walks around with no bra coming up, just a warning. A woman I work with is 45 and has a very redeemable chest which makes no apologies or excuses.

Little Lonnie at work got fired today. I�ve written about him here before, he�s like a little 65 year old horse jockey, only he�s 71 and is scared of everyone. It didn�t stop them from changing the locks on the doors when he left though. They gave him a half hour meeting and then he packed up his things and said goodbye to me as he walked out with the littlest box of stuff you�ve ever seen for 27 years of employment. He was cute! I can only compare his working life to a babies life; if he wasn�t eating his lunch, he was sleeping. He did this for years, and since I sat near his office, I really got a kick out of it. Once in a while someone would come in his office to upgrade his computer and he�d wake up, then fall back asleep. I feel like I should pay him some sort of tribute, mostly because I know no one else will.

Memory #1 The company wide two day blackout. Lonnie stayed in his office, and didn�t come out the whole two days. Now I know it was because he was sleeping. When he did come out , he wore a smile I didn�t know he kept in his box of emotions. Everyone else was walking around and aiming flashlights at everything.

Memory #2 The company Christmas party, the second time I ever saw Lonnie smile. He had a beer in his hand, and was sitting alone in a crowded table laughing into space.

Memory #3 The day Lonnie kept walking through the hallways, and repeatedly sniffling for 10 minutes straight, for no apparent reason. After the ten minutes was up, he stopped and went back to work. (sleep)

I guess that�s about it. Lonnie, I hope they comped you with a good severance package. I don�t know what else to say except it�s like you were never there.

It turns out I have lots of homeless thoughts that don�t belong anywhere.

WHEN I MOVE YOU MOVE

I had a crush on Eddie Bueller when I was five. My brother was seven and we went to see Eddie who was hanging out in the street. I was petrified. When we got to him, the first thing he said to my brother was

�What�s that thing behind you?�

He was referring to me, and if my brother moved even one arm, well I�d move one too. I�d just die if he left me. Whenever Eddie came over I�d hide under the bed or better yet, yawn compulsively eight or nine times.

QUIETLY. LIKE WE�RE ONE PERSON.
I thought I was pretty slick getting drunk at seventeen and losing my virginity again on the beach with some dumb guy, then taking him home and sneaking him into my room so I could pass out on him like I�m sure he was anxiously wanting, on some level at least. He was dumb and clumsy, so on the way up the stairs, I made him step only when I did.
�Shhhh. Like we�re one PERson. Like we�re one PERson,�
was all I could say. When I came to, and realized I�d get killed if my parents found out, I shoved him in the closet and shut the closet door for the night. Then I forgot about it and went back to sleep. Until he started whining that he was thirsty. I didn�t think it was appropriate to be thirsty when my parents were just feet away in their room, so I brought him a bucket of water from the bathroom, previously used for god knows what. And I told him to shut the hell up now. In the morning, I told him to run out the front door and walk around to the backyard where my mother was planting something, and ask if I was home.

COLD STONE GRAMMA RY
My little friend Jodi from across the street and I got word that there was going to be ice cream at my house that day, and we ran across the street to check it out. My parents were granola rice patty eating parents and there was never a speck of sugar in the house except the time we won the Flintstone raffle cake at my brother�s eagle scout party and I ate half of it and got sick everywhere. That and when my grandmother came over was when sugar would appear, and you can bet I�d be consuming it like a tiny hoover. My redheaded friend was very happy about the news too and walked into my living room, pushing open the swinging saloon doors like a western movie guy when she said

�Wheeeerrrre�s the ice cream?�

It pissed my grandmother off for some reason and she gave my little friend a hard time. She said to my mother,

�How rude. Where�s the ice cream she says! No manners!�

I thought it was kind of cute, coming from that little freckle faced buck tooth redhead. She ran home and cried, but I stayed. I was no fool, after all. I used to bring her dog (named Roach) food so he wouldn�t bite me in the a.m. before we left for school. He�d still growl at me, that little inbred two toned fucker.

I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW

One of my mother�s friends told her teenage daughter to leave me alone when we were visiting them once.

�Melanie, don�t touch the baby.�

I understood that I was the baby, but I couldn�t yet communicate any words to let her know it was okay with me if she touched me. She never did, so I just sat around in my diaper wondering how long I would stay a baby.

ANOTHER DOG I WOULD�VE LIKED TO KILL

I finally agreed to babysit my niece and goddaughter Gianna, because she was just exiting the really fragile breakable stage, and my death complex eased up enough so I could be alone with her without feeling like her every breath was in the palm of my hand. The night went perfectly, and I was so proud, I thought we should do this every weekend. Her face was just washed and we were laughing, when my brother and his wife got back home. Their pitbull Harley, was more excited than anyone to see them, and he and Gianna got up at the same time to run to the window. Thirty seconds before they walked in the door, Harley ran over and knocked little Gigi flat on her back, where she lay, screaming her bloody head off, when her horrified parents walked in.

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