ants in my laundry

When I lived in OKC back in 2000, my sister and I rented a small house two bedroom house on the east side of the capital.  Our closest main street was Martin Luther King Blvd.  She was working full time and I was working part time and doing drag as much as I could around the city.  I had finally bought a car from a local garage.  I used my recent tax refund and paid 800 cash for the cart was over ten years old, but it ran great and looked good too. I wouldn't have to ride the bus anymore or walk to the store.  I had a car, a place to live and a job.  I was content.   I also bought a washer at a used appliance store. My goal was to buy a set, but only had money for one, so I just bought the washer for 50 bucks.  My mother had hung clothes on the line for years, so I was no stranger to carrying the basket outside.  It was summer and the sun would dry the clothes in no time.  My clothes line was between two trees.  And after a while, the ants were using it as a wire highway to get from one tree to the next.  I would have to shake the dry sheets to get the ants off.  Nobody likes ants in their clean laundry.  I would enjoy my days off, washing and hanging and watching TV in-between loads.  

Just a memory.

When I was a kid, My mom would always make us do chores. Every one did chores. Some time dishes, vacuuming, or laundry.  I always had to throw the trash. That meant taking the tall kitchen trash can room to room and collecting the trash including the bathroom trash. It was not fun. My mother didn't want us dragging the bag by itself, because it may rip and trash would have to be picked up again inside the house.  I remember that the upper rim of the can was about eye level with my 8 year old body.  And I remember how the can would stink when the bag came out.  Oh the stink of household trash, So gross.  Especially if it had been in there for a few days.  I would literally drag the can up the gravel driveway out to the dumpster.  It was a feat of strength to lift the can up and dump the trash in.  There were a few times the bag didn't slide out and the entire can would fall in. Crap!  Imagine me standing on a milk crate, trying to retrieve the tall kitchen can.  Mama would have been mad if I had returned with out it.  I also remember bring the can back empty, thinking my job was done.  Most time it was done but occasionally my mother would say, "get the broom and some Joy and scrub the trash can out in the yard.  And of course, I did it.  And would rinse it with the water hose.  
This memory came to me when I was recently in the yard, washing the trash can.

pics

Small gifts

We used to all get in the car and drive down town for Christmas shopping.  We had a few shops and a couple of department stores, so the selection was sometimes slim.  We would each take turns going in the store with my mom.  Everyone else would wait in the car.  She would give us each 20 dollars to spend.  Looking back now, that seems like nothing.  We had to use it to buy a small gift for each of our siblings.  So actually we spent about five dollars on each gift.  You couldn't get a lot for five dollars, even back then.  We only spent what we could afford on Christmas, which was not much.  My mom would bring us one at a time, back to the car with our bags.  She would warn us not to tell our siblings what we had picked out for them.  She would choose one of us to take our turn shopping with her.  Each time we would return with our purchases in a bag.  We would always try to guess and look through the opaque plastic Dollar Store bag to see what the others had.   I protected mine with my arms and held it against my chest so no one could see.  We would each go home and take turns wrapping our little presents. We would put them under the tree.   Usually they were small action figures, toys, or dolls for my sisters.  I remember once I got gloves.  They were simple kit gloves that would keep my hands warm when I walked to school.  There were many times we didn't have Christmas at all but when we did, those small gifts made Christmas special.  

College

I often went with my college buddies to the mall, movies and even a few night clubs.  We had fun together. It was me, my roommate James,  Jay and brothers Marc and Andrew.  I meet all these guys at MSU.  I was a freshman and did not have any classes with friends from high school.   I had to make all new friends.

James was the only one of us with a girlfriend so he didn’t always go place. He was usually busy spending time with his clingy girl friend to hang with the guys.   Lord knows how many times we would sneak Brandy into the dorms afterhours.  James sand I shared a room that was directly under the view of the security cameras.  It was like having a private entrance that only required you had to jump a three foot brink wall to get in.  Sometimes we opened the window for girls we didn’t even know but they wanted in to see their boyfriends on another floor.  Looking back now we should have charged five buck and used the money to buy beer on the weekends.  Imagine 19 year old me, barely out, enjoying the freedoms of college including clubs and my first taste of alcohol.  The word alcohol sounds too classy, really it was cheap beer.

My buddies and I would hang out in the dorm lounge together. We enjoyed watching Beevis and Butt-head on MTV.  They were cool.  Eventually we would gather together during meals in the student cafeteria. We would joke and carry on.  Every time I would show up later than the other guys, it was like an episode of Cheers.  Do you remember when one of the regular patrons would enter the bar….yep my buddies would holler out in unison “NORM!” Everyone in the place would turn and look.  Yep that was a nick name I secretly hated. I was “Norm”  But really, it was nice to be included in the group.  So I would just smile and laugh.   

James was my roommate.  We had been paired together by the housing department. He was from Burleson, just south of Fort Worth.   I had a sociology class with Jay.  So we became friends. He lived on the second floor of my building.   He was from Rockwall, east of Dallas.  Marc and Andrew were brothers from Austin area. I had seen them in marching band but did really know them until we all started hanging out in the dorms.  They lived down the hall from James and I. 

Once, the guys and I went to the strip club. It was not my idea, but I went along. There was a couple of clubs on the shady part of town. I had never been there.  I was barely out as a new gay person; therefore I had no interest in going.  My buddies did not know I was gay, so I played along and went with them.  We arrived about 10pm.  The parking was crowed and dimly lit. I felt unsafe in the neighborhood.  Woman walked up and down the sidewalk, I was pretty sure they were hooker or drug addict looking to make a few bucks for their next fix.  We parked and made our way inside.  We were stopped at the front door and had to show ID.  I got a big  X on both hand but was allowed entrance.  The X signified me being under age and was not allowed to drink. I was a good thing we had a few drinks before we left the dorms.

The music was loud and I felt awkward being there.  It felt like a pervert.  I guess I still don’t understand how a group of men can lust over the same thing and share their private fantasy in such a public place.  We took seats at a table near the stage.  A young Hispanic girl with rather large breasts finished up her dance and collected her small pile of money.  We ordered some drinks. The guys were mesmerized by the topless women who would shake and grind in front of them until they would give up their dollars.  The women were not very pretty, as a gay man,  was looking in their faces and wondering who they were.  It was not unusual to find girls from broken homes or troubled backgrounds. Some has “daddy/self-esteem” issues according to my sociology classes.  Sociology is the study of human social relationships.  These ladies made money by showing their bodies, dancing topless and some even gave lap dances and let men touch them.  Honestly these ladies sold themselves for a handful of dollars.  But to the men in the audience, and my friends it was just a cheap thrill.  I was a participating observer.  I laughed when they laughed and hooted when they hooted and cheered when they cheered.  But the awkward feeling never left the pit of my stomach.  This was a place where men could objectify women, and treat them without respect.  I tried not to show that it bothered me.  To me the most entertaining part was when a one armed woman came out to dance and strip.  I was not sure whether to laugh or not.  She danced mostly to the side so only her good arm faced the audience.  Her other arm was covered with a tube sock with triple bands of red.  Her white lace bra and panties seemed to glow purple under the black lights over the stage.  The guys and I could not believe our eyes when she turned.  A crudely marker drawn smiley face was on the foot of the dirty sock.  We tried to contain our laughter, but the audience of men, all howled.  I imagine the poor girl heard them too.  But still she removed her top and continued to grind on the pole like all the others. She was there to do her job and make her money.  I guess I felt sorry for her.  I had never seen anything so sad.