It's been a while, but here goes...

Paula, the Chicken Lady, is my evil twin. I know that she plots to take over the Southern United States from her tattered tent because I dream her plans. She started shacking up with Goblin Boy because her relationship with the geek, Jeremy Bilge, was becoming violent in a bad way. And Goblin Boy makes a lot of money in the sideshow.

Paula wrote me a letter once from El Paso telling me about how she wanted to join the cootch show, but they wouldn't let her. I guess no one wanted to see her do the blowoff. She has real skinny legs and feathery tail. Her last words to me were "that bitch Fanny is gonna see what happens when you mess with Paula." I truly hope that the cootch dancers are friends with the strong man.

Sometimes I wonder why she wasn't destroyed at birth. My parents said that she only had slight physical abnormalities but anyone could see that she was evil. Those nights waking up with her perched on my chest, staring at me with those beady eyes and greasy thoughts will forever be burned into my mind. No one believed me when she pecked out the eye of our neighbor Tommy or ate an entire 50 lb. bag of farina. We were always taught to be nice to the "special" kids and so everyone in the neighborhood looked the other way when she pooped in the baptismal font or frayed the rope swing one summer.

I once read that in Indonesia chickens are important to the Hindu cremation ceremony. During the ceremony the chicken is supposed to channel any evil spirits in the area. If there are any spirits they should go into the chicken instead of any of the attendant family members. I wonder if something went wrong during one of these ceremonies and the evil-spirit-chicken became Paula in my ma's womb.

One of these days I know that she will come looking for me. It will be soon; I can feel it. Until then I can only sit and wait and sharpen my axe and hope that I have the courage to do what's right when the time comes. This is what she looks like in case she comes around.

oh dear

Lin is leaving for New York tonight, so I met him and Joe and Jess at the LowBrow Lounge for my "lunch break." Three jack's and ginger later I am back at work and it is not good. Sex is coursing through my veins; I am exuding. Whiskey gives me a naughty, dirty, yummy zing. I must separate myself from all of the male gender. All I would need to do in order to command a nice warm slab of man flesh would be a gesture. "You, come here right now." And lightning of a sort would shoot from my fingers and ensnare the unsuspecting specimen.

BRB

I just had an awesome conversation with Noel (no ensnaring) and he said that best friends are the ones that just get you and that lovers are strange psychological experiments. Brilliant.