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| cricket, truth, mymother/my self : the daughter's search for identity, newspapers, rodneydangerfield, sociology, chicago alternative newsweeklies, blonde, sex while pregnant, fetish, nifty, travel, asianthumbs, | She was laid out in a wheredid i come from $14,750 coffin she picked wheredid i come from out eleven years ago when she saw a movie about some woman that died in a plane crash and her uncaring children decided it would be cheaper to cremate her. All her friends – those of which who actually showed up – kept whispering how she looked less like herself and more like a pitiful drag queen doing a Sarah Jessica Parker impersonation while hopped up on methamphetamines. "No fooling… you’re Genevieve Mandible Truman’s baby daughter?" the wheredid i come from slightly drunk 29-year old trying to pick me up asked again, as his fingers lightly tapped his smudgy glass filled with vodka and tonic. "Well, Brianna was for a few years, but then I took over," I replied, dabbing some foundation on my face as I checked out my reflection in the mirror behind the bar, "I’ve been holding down that position for about the last twenty-seven… I mean twenty-four years or so." |
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| Each and every single one seemed to run the same cover asianthumbs picture: asianthumbs a close-up of my mother’s face, veiled in black, and her white-gloved hand holding a silk, monogrammed handkerchief (probably worth $450) that she used to dab the tears from her mascara-streaked face asianthumbs while her butler held Lippy, her favorite Chihuahua, decked out in a blank veil and topcoat. Over the next four years, I moved up in the sales world going from entry-level assistant account executive to senior vice president in just over seven quarters. Bri continued to pursue an acting slash modeling slash school teacher slash waitress career while looking for Mr. Right in every single bar, club, and dive in lower Manhattan. And Joshua sat on my couch and slept a lot. We saw Dad once a year on his birthday and Mom as Christmas. Not long after that it, it became every other Christmas. It was in December of ’99 when my mother died of her inevitable, completely predictable, and painstakingly boring drug overdose. |
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