Tanya O'Debra

...a haven for tender artistic feelings... ...a refuge for tears to be shead... ...poetry... ...suicide...

Saturday, March 31, 2007

...for poo the bell tolls...

12/13/06 6:38pm
Skinny and pathetic. Why do I even bother?

12/14/06 10:15am
My period comes but once a month, and it invariably leaves behind a shining example of the effects of menstruation on the bowels. Shocking. Not just the size, which in and of itself was incredible, but the speed with which this brown leviathan shot out of my body. Curled at the bottom, it stuck out of the water by two inches. Noteworthy indeed.

1/8/07 1:16pm
Very sharp. Like Oscar Wilde.

1/31/07 8:51am
Shaped like a lightning rod. The Gods have spoken.

Wily. Possible commitment issues. A painful experience.

Friday, March 16, 2007

...poonut butter and jelly...

11/30/06 7:16pm
One tiny pebble follwed by one large, smooth, robust stone. Oblong and almost cylindrical except for what looked like a rose on top.

12/2/06 11:02am
Forceful, aggressive and slightly bloody. Like an abusive husband, it wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

12/3/06 5:07pm
Soft, dark and fragrant. Limp and melancholy. Reminiscent of Katie Holmes.

12/9/06 afternoon?
Upon waking up, I knew that today would be the day, and I heard a loud, brown thump at my backdoor. With the toilet broken at home, I was thrilled to have some alone time in the office upstairs at work. Masterful. Some of my best work to date. A fine specimen.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

...war and poos...

I've decided to keep a loose record of my bowel movements. I highly recommend this as an activity. It gives me more pleasure than it really ought to. Like, I said, it's fairly loose. Sometimes I forget to make entries. Here's what I have so far. Enjoy!

11/5/06 3:53pm
Three round droppings in quick succession. Diane was here.

11/8/06 5:28pm
One large plop, swift and heavy.

11/9/06 12:35am
Seven tiny nuggets make seven separate splashes. To much effort for such a small return.

11/10/06 6:56pm
After holding back for several hours, a premenstrual bohemoth forged its way into the world, the very point of its head peeking above the water's surface. Gratifying. A huge relief.

11/14/06 1:02pm
Dark, dry and brittle. Perhaps I should drink more water.

11/16/06 3:59pm
Small, two pieces, bland. A let down after being held in for a few hours.

11/17/06 3:29pm
A mass exodus one hour after eating Indian food. Memorable and horrifying.

11/29/06 6:47
Nothing special, really. Medium in every way.

Seriously, I can't stop laughing. If you want to make yourself feel better about life, you should keep a poo journal.

Monday, September 18, 2006

...a doggie purse to die for...

As I was walking down Thompson St. one fine afternoon, something stopped me dead in my tracks. It was an accessory I had never seen before. Perhaps I am not as informed about the latest trend in purses as I should be. Be that as it may, I don't think anything could have prepared me for the sight of a taxidermied dog hanging from a gold chain shoulder-strap. That's right. A dead dog pocketbook.

The dog was probably white at some point in time, but not any more. Now the poor ambigous poodle mix had yellowed from age, dirt and possibly mange. It's four legs were sticking out in opposite directions, as if the dog had just taken flight. The gold chain was attached at the base of the dog's neck and again at the butt right before the tail. Truly frightening.

I wish I could give a good description of the owner of this horror show of a purse, but I was too pre-occupied with the dog. That and the decision of whether or not to follow her. She was probably in her forties with an ear-length brown bob with feathered bangs, and she was definitely wearing coolats. Beyond that, I really don't know what the hell else she had going on. Unfortunately, I decided not to follow her. But guess where she was going. The pet store.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

...sports bra...

So, I went to buy a sports bra. No big whoop, right? I just wanted something plain and simple. I asked the sales girl where they might keep such things as sports bras, and she invited me to follow her into the dressing room.

"So, where are the sprorts bras?", I asked.
"Oh, I'll get some for you. What size are you?"
"34 C."
"Let me see."

I slowly unhitched my bra and dragged it out of my shirt through the sleeves. I waited expectantly for some measuring tape to appear, but the wait was in vain. Apparently, they have their own way of measuring at this bra store.

"No, I need to see your boobs."
"Just flash me."

I didn't know what else to do. I flashed her. At that moment I decided never to purchase anything from this establishment ever. But it was too late. I had already shown them to her.

The sales girl sauntered out of the dressing room and returned with bras that could only be described as not sports bras. They were huge, weird grandma bras. I tried them on out of obligation as quickly as I could, discarding them immediately afterwards.

When I immerged from the dressing room, I thanked the woman. I have no idea why. I certainly did not enjoy giving her a peep show, and she obviously didn't know what a sports bra was. Then she told me to have a nice day.

I walked across the street to a dance clothing store that I hadn't noticed before. The salesman looked at me from over the counter.

"May I help you?"
"No!", I defensively snapped.

I think one peep show per day is plenty.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

...more than this...

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news. Good news. I have good news. There is more than this. There is more than just this. There is more than this."

His teenaged voice wavered as he stood clutching a bible with his thumb jammed between the pages. His eyes bounced around the subway car, eventually landing on the floor where they rolled around aimlessly.

"We have a reason to hope. We have a reason to hope. We have a reason to hope."

The teenaged heart stitched awkwardly to an oversized red sleeve did not help the boy hidden under the shirt to sound convinced. His pants drooped under the weight of his sermon. After a few staccato breaths, the young preacher moistened his lips.

"There is a struggle going on inside of us, and that struggle is sin. Jesus Christ is the only man who can help us. He is God's son in human flesh. He came to help humanity. I have a cup of sin, and I want you to take it away from me."

What sins did this boy have? What sins had he imagined? What had caused this young man to try and take the high road from a downtown A train? Desparation radiated from this child of God. For some reason or another, this boy had given up on the here and now in exchange for a salvation that may never come. From 59th Street all the way down to West 4th, he pleaded with strangers to take his cup of sin away from him. He begged us for a shred of purity. Nobody budged.

"There is more than this..."

Friday, April 07, 2006

...being a Small Woman...

... is wicked annoying. I went to a bar tonight, and I had to make a phone call to my boyfriend. As I was leaving the bar, I asked a man to excuse me so that I might pass. Instead, he decided to take a half a step to his left without picking up his bag, leaving me roughly four inches of room. He said, "Can you make it?" I said, "No, I'm not that skinny." He said, "Yes, you are." And that's when he dragged me by the arm through the four inch passage way. Yes, he actually grabbed my arm and yanked me forward. I wanted to punch him, but instead I said in the bitchiest tone I could muster, "Thanks for all your help." Then the asshole had the nerve to hit on me on my way back into the bar.

Should I just start hitting people?