Ode to Tina Belcher

Uuuunnnhhhhhhhh!

Spixie Drawer comes to a halt at her station on the outside of the track, red whistle held lightly between her lips, waiting for the next jam when she feels it.  Could it be?  Yes.  The round magnificence of a butt, right up against her very own.  She looks back over her shoulder, ooooh, not just a butt, but Ira's butt.  Sure, he was busy talking to others behind her, but his behind was making nice with hers. She looks back across to the starting line. Skaters were moving into position, Reftractor was conferring with a coach.  Yes.  There was time.  The shimmying begins, back to back, butt to butt.

Then, Reftractor is back to position. The whistle blows. The jam begins. The butt shimmy ends as abruptly as it begins, leaving Spixie with the warmest butt she's had all day.***

Sometimes, I have a moment of brilliance.  My ode to Tina Belcher's Erotic Friend Fiction, I feel, is one.

It came to me while I was in the car. A welcome change from my mind's meanderings of late. Most of my ideas seem to come when I'm driving, which sucks.  I'm usually not near anywhere to pull over and I never remember what it was once I got home.  I would just remember that I had a good idea.  In an effort to combat this, I downloaded a voice recorder app, but I was busy on the highway and about to exit, so I couldn't really use it.  Luckily, I was almost to Chipotle. And I could see the line was long, as usual. I whipped out my trusty Moleskine and began to write.  A glance in both directions told me I was looking pretty anachronistic as everyone else had a glowing screen.  Tonight, I was not one of them, I was a wielder of pen and paper.  And this ode is my gift to you.

Today I bought tickets to see Father John Misty at the Grenada in April.
Today I ate 2 glazed chocolate donuts, a venti soy cappuccino, 2 single serve Quik Trip cheesecakes, a Chipotle Sofritas burrito.


***based on a true story!