<\/p>\n
Saturday night. The trouble with house-sitting is that I always feel
\nlike a stranger, even though I have the place to myself for eight days.
\nI have to tiptoe and make sure everything is in the right place. It’s
\neasier when you housesit for a guy who has three girls between the ages
\nof three and nine, though. The place is trashed when I arrive. It’s a
\nsad thing when the state of a house ruined by three little girls is on
\nthe level of what I’m used to as a 29 year old bachelor. Eating Fruit
\nLoops for dinner, drinking nameless red juice and tearing through the
\nBritney Spears CDs while wearing a funny hat and a sparkly dress is
\nexactly how I live normally. The only difference between me and a nine
\nyear old girl is that my generic red juice has vodka in it.<\/p>\n
There is one thing that I’m not used to, though. Silence. I’ve We retired to the living room, red juice and whiskey, and watched Buffy repeats for a bit until the inevitable question arose.<\/p>\n “So what are we gonna do?”<\/p>\n I shrugged, “A movie?”<\/p>\n “What’s out?”<\/p>\n “Nothing.”<\/p>\n “We could get drunk and go see that Kate Hudson movie.”<\/p>\n “We have to hold hands if we do that,”<\/p>\n James took a sip of scotch, “Dude, I need a Kate Hudson fix. I want to make her beg me to cum on her chest.”<\/p>\n I sipped my red juice and glared at James over my glasses.<\/p>\n “Some bitches like that.” He looked sheepish, “Or so I’m told.”<\/p>\n Carol was done and The Monkees had come on. Last Train to Clarksville. The owner of the house had a video of Almost Famous<\/em> lying Then I came on her chest, Fuck! I turned and glared at James.<\/p>\n “You look like Harry Potter with those glasses,” he slurred, grinning wickedly.<\/p>\n “Fuck you, you dirty, ass-licking muggle.”<\/p>\n Somewhere between searching for the video and drinking my generic red You trying to make your mark in society James leapt onto the couch and guitar-walked like Chuck Barry. “Not yer Somehow, by the time the song ended, we ended up in the same positions “I mean, Kate reminds me of my little sister.” James said, then he I rifled through unmarked tapes and Disney boxes when, out from the James cleared his throat.<\/p>\n “Put it in,” he said, his voice thick.<\/p>\n Once Upon a Potty opens up with The Potty Song, which is strangely It doesn’t help to watch this video while listening to The Monkees on a At the mention of the little poo-poo hole, cartoon Prudence bends over While Prudence discovers the secrets of going potty, at first shitting I wanted to take a stand, because the vodka was with me, so I insisted “Impossible!” James shouted. “Everyone knows a wee-wee refers to dangling outside bits!”<\/p>\n “Girls have outside bits!” I barked. I’d seen them.<\/p>\n “Those aren’t outside bits! Is the outer wall a castle or is it the building inside the wall?”<\/p>\n “It’s both, James! The whole structure is the castle!”<\/p>\n “Girl’s don’t have wee-wees, and I stand by that.” James crossed his “Then if it’s not a wee-wee, what is it? What do you call it?”<\/p>\n “Glory hole, slit, the hungry clam — ” James looked defiantly at me, then crossed his arms again and pouted.<\/p>\n “No, no, for four year old girls! What do you call it?”<\/p>\n “I don’t fucking call it anything for a four year old girl you goddamned short eyes!”<\/p>\n “This is your argument, asshole!”<\/p>\n “I wouldn’t even bring it up until the girl turns 30. What’s this, daddy? Nothing! Get away! Pariah! Outcast! Unclean!”<\/p>\n “If you ever have a daughter, remind me to smother her when she’s born.”<\/p>\n James snorted, finished his whiskey, then walked to the kitchen.<\/p>\n I took off the potty tape and stared at static for a minute or two “Ah,” I tapped my nose, “I will agree with the Senator from the State of Inebriation.”<\/p>\n We finished off the evening with the last two hours of The Sound of Music<\/em> then the Dr. Who serial The Mark of the Rani<\/em>
\nalways had roommates or crazed family members around, so sitting in
\nfront of the TV watching TV Land and the Cartoon Channel all day starts
\nto get to me after a while, especially when all the videos in the house
\nare geared towards ages 5-12. I placed a desperate call to my old
\nfriend James, who said he’d put off drinking himself to death and come
\nright over. I put on Carol King’s Tapestry<\/em> and changed out of
\nthe sparkly dress and back into normal clothes. James arrived after a
\nfew minutes with a bottle of Dalwhinnie, poured himself four ounces and
\nthen took a long swig, sitting down heavily on the floor and pressing
\nhis head forward against the wall for about 45 seconds. Then he said
\nhello, smiled, stood up and patted me on the shoulder.<\/p>\n
\nI would have burst into the air, dancing like a man of religion, if my
\nmind wasn’t bent on the idea of cumming on Kate Hudson’s tits and face
\nand screaming “I’m not your stepping stone, you whore!”<\/p>\n
\naround somewhere and James nodded fractionally when I suggested we get
\nsome early Hudson. I crawled on all fours across a rug stained by
\nessence of dog and the mysterious power of little girls. In the cabinet
\nbeneath the TV, I began to dig fervently for the video, all the while
\nhumming mindlessly to the tune of I’m a Believer.<\/p>\n
\nNow I’m a believer…<\/p>\n
\njuice and vodka, I found myself spread-eagle on the floor and singing
\nto the ceiling beams.<\/p>\n
\nYou using all the tricks that you used on me
\nYou reading all them high fashion magazines
\nThe clothes you’re wearing, girl, they causing public scenes!<\/p>\n
\nstepping stone!” he screamed manically, breathlessly. “Not yer stepping
\nstone! I’m not yer stepping stone!”<\/p>\n
\nwe had occupied a few minutes earlier. I looked up at James. “No Almost Famous<\/em>, dude.”<\/p>\n
\nglanced sideways and looked confused, “What were we talking about?”<\/p>\n
\nshadows in the rear of the cabinet, a fire-engine red tape case tumbled
\nout onto the carpet. Instinctively, I pulled back with a girlish gasp.
\nThe cassette was labeled “Once Upon a Potty for Her.”<\/p>\n
\ncatchy, and then goes into the cartoon story of Prudence, a four year
\nold learning to go to potty. The audience is introduced to the basic
\nphysiology of little girls. Apparently, all girls have a head, for
\nthinking. Eyes, for seeing. Ears, for hearing. A mouth, for eating.
\nHands, for clapping. A body, for dancing. Now, here’s the secret all
\nguys should learn – little girls also have a wee-wee, for making
\npee-pee, a bottom, for sitting, and a little hole for making poo-poo.<\/p>\n
\npowerful stereo system with a volume knob that goes to 12. James was
\nsinging “Valleri” under his breath throughout the entire video, which I
\nfound emotionally invasive.<\/p>\n
\nand grabs her ankles, smiling between her legs, while the camera
\nlingers on the little poo-poo hole for what James and I felt was an
\nexcessive amount of time. It wasn’t until the end of “Valleri,” but it
\nwas close. This sure looked different than the little girl who used to
\nhang around my door.<\/p>\n
\non the floor and spraying gallons of milky piss all over the walls,
\nJames and I became involved in a heated debate about the wee-wee. Being
\nsomewhat na\u00efve when it comes to women, I took the video at face value –
\nwomen have wee-wees. But James disagreed. He said that only boys have
\nwee-wees. A wee-wee, by definition, indicated a penis.<\/p>\n
\nthat wee-wee was a more general reference to genitals. According to the
\nvideo, wee-wee’s make pee-pee. If all girls make pee-pee, and pee-pee
\ncomes from wee-wee’s, then all girls have wee-wee’s. QweeweeD.<\/p>\n
\narms, whiskey sloshing onto the floor. The house cat crept out of the
\nshadows and gently licked at the puddle.<\/p>\n
\nuntil James returned. He wagged a finger at me and grinned, “It’s a
\nHoo-ha.”<\/p>\n
\non PBS until, at 2am, I let James drive home blind drunk and turned off
\nall the lights in the house. There, in the embrace of strange darkness,
\nI sang the potty song quietly to myself and, for some reason, ran a
\nvodka bottle, a whisky bottle and seven bottles of beer through the
\ndishwasher. Maybe my ex girlfriend Eileen has a point – I should find
\nmyself a wife or something. That’s always a hard thing, though, because
\nwhen I look at a woman I think of only one thing: Hoo-ha. The way it
\nfeels, the way it tastes, the outer walls of the castle. My wee-wee has
\nalways loved hoo-ha.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[50,352],"tags":[403,353],"class_list":["post-2454","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cult-culture","category-gsarchive","tag-cult-culture","tag-gs-archive-2004-2008"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2454","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2454"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2454\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2882,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2454\/revisions\/2882"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2454"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2454"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2454"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}