wHAT IT FEELS LIKE FOR poop
If yesterday was a character from Scooby Doo it would be Daphne and Fred cause I had no idea what was going on and maybe it was incestuous. So many people will walk through life and never know what it's like for a girl. The same way I kinda don’t know what it's like for autism. We can wear jeans and cut up our hair nice and thin, but if we were to start wearing headphones and carrying around squishy balls it becomes degrading. Because it's degrading to be autistic. I learned this from a Madonna song where in the beginning it's a sensual voice that whispers like there’s Natzis downstairs. The voice starts by saying that girls can wear jeans and cut their hair short like boys, but if a boy were to do a girl activity he would be degrading himself because it's degrading to be a girl and nobody knows what it's like for a girl. The song is called “What it’s like for a girl” and I’m gonna listen to it 12 more times today. But what I gleaned from the song is the principle that when two separate established groups come together, and a leading group starts acting like a lesser group, the leading group would be degrading themselves to act like the lesser because nobody wants to be deaf or set on fire. I can’t tell if the song is fighting against this paradigm or if we want it to crawl into bed with us and tell us about it’s day. All I know is autism is very in right now. I was walking around yesterday and 8 Teslas tried to hit me. And it's always a woman behind the wheel. Why are all these women dressing in jeans and cutting their hair short and doing boy stuff, but when they get behind the wheel of a Tesla they might as well tie a brick to the gas and sit in the back seat with a blind fold on.
You want to hear what was so incestuous about yesterday? You want to know what I did and why I feel so comfortable talking about the cautionary tale of letting kids roam free around the city where I lurk behind brunch menus and saggy ball sacks? First I want to talk about the current climate at a local Target store. I was at Target because I was looking for a bluetooth typing keyboard. I found the key board. I was told by my mobile Target shopping app that there was a pink squiggly one, but everyone lies these days. I’m sure the person reading this has a lot better things they could be doing and is very conventionally attractive. See, it's easy and anyone can do it. But I didn’t mind and there were other non squiggly options and I opted for the white one. White is good. It came with a mini assault rifle and it was camo color. So I’m walking with my white keyboard. La la la! Me and my white bluetooth typing keyboard! Singing in the store* la la la! I can sing doo doo da! I’m still singing, try to stop me, this is America, I have sling shots! Yeahh so… I can sing…. But…
I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!
Running! I am running now! Sprinting. Things fly in the air and break through the ceiling. I’m also breaking wind. Is it wind? It could easily not be wind. What if it was never wind. This is worse than when I pooped in the pool. It was at a billiards bar. Everyone hit me with their long sticks, but that only made me poop more. Then all the sudden I’m sitting there covered in poop looking racially insensitive like Bill Cosby or something! But wait! I made it to the bathroom. I’m sitting on the toilet. Everything falls out of me. Why was I freaking out? Come back everyone, the coast is clear! The evil is gone! Maybe we should start a puzzle? So just when I get my smile back and I’m wiping, the door creaks open and it's a mom and her daughter with light up shoes. “What is that smell mommy!?!?” “Oh, gosh! Let’s leave her alone in here”. I don’t know where they ended up relieving themselves or where they even get off making me seem like the poop monster, but nobody said a bathroom is a place for fresh pine and citrus. Women use those stalls all day pushing out digested tuna fish sandwiches and camel meat. And I am not the straw that broke that camel’s back and then served it at a Golden Corral off the highway. That bathroom smelled like the ashes of an Indian Buffet way before I even stepped foot in that Target. A man can wear jeans, cut his hair short and use poop as lotion. And a woman can do some of those things, but once she does all of them, she will be degraded by the stronger half of the general public. So I felt resentful and similar to how the Grinch and Princess Diana felt. So when I lurked between each aisle and finally found a woman and a small child with light up shoes in the doll aisle, I lunged over, took one of the dolls out of her reach, purchased it, took it home and played with it all night until we were best friends. Because that's what it feels like for a girl. (For some reason when I first started writing this I thought incestuous meant fun. I guess for some people it does.)
