“That Cowboy Salsa Katie made shot out of my ass like peanut-butter blasting out of a machine gun, this morning,” this is a direct quote from my boyfriend. He’s very poetic. I overheard him talking to his friend Ryan about his bowel movements as we were floating in a boat somewhere in the Intracoastal Waterway. This is not the most unusual thing I’ve ever heard him say. He has a way with words. Often times he makes up his own words because they convey his message better. My favorite made-up word is “Persevail” it’s a combination of “persevere” and “prevail”…and it’s hilarious. Near as I can figure, men start talking about poop at four and it’s a common conversation topic until they die. My son is always talking about poop. I’m not sure if this is normal, but I’m not sure if anything that occurs in my life is normal. I don’t ever really ask anyone. Chances are I’d only get confirmation that my life and all the people in it are certifiably nuts. It keeps things interesting.
The Cowboy Salsa that my boyfriend was referring to is actually called “Cowboy Caviar”. It’s a delicious concoction of Garbanzo Beans, Corn, Tomatoes, and other shit that I don’t care to identify, but they make my mouth happy. Incidentally, Garbanzo Beans always make me think of Gonzo from the Muppets. As I type, I have visions of him sexually harassing a chicken dancing through my head. This is probably evidence that I’m crazy too. I think of the Muppets a lot. Not the new, homogenized Muppets that suck. The old, anti-PETA chicken launching, “Pigs in Space” acid trip, Muppets that shaped my childhood. Jim Henson and his felt friends created the first music videos I ever laid eyes on. They never get credit for this. When you watch the VMA Awards on MTV and some transgender looking idiot gets up to accept their Moonman; they thank God, their mothers, agents and fans…but they never thank Jim. Jim shoved 18 pigs on a pirate ship and had them sing “In the Navy”…before most of these music video directors could even hold a camera. They are hailed as being visionaries…but they really aren’t. Jim was the visionary, they’re just ungratefully riding on his coattails.
Anyway, back to the caviar…it’s made by Katie, she’s the fabulous girlfriend of my boyfriend’s roommate. I don’t ever use the word fabulous lightly. When I say fabulous, I mean it. Katie makes large portions of this salsa-like dip on a regular basis. When she does, I have learned that she requires herself to wear cowboy boots. I wouldn’t believe it either, but I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. I feel that I should inform you that no one was intoxicated when this occurred. This is one of the reasons that Katie is awesome, she plays dress-up all the time. She’s like a real-life Barbie, only she’s prettier and actually has facial expressions. I have never once wanted to cut off all of her hair and shove her in the trunk of a pink Corvette, like I did to my Barbie’s when I was a girl.
When I first met her, I wasn’t real sure what to think. My boyfriend and I went to a wedding out of town and when we returned Katie and her friend had taken up residence in my boyfriend’s room. They were visiting from somewhere up north for the week. My boyfriend made fun of me for the bag and a half of things I took with me for our weekend getaway. He quickly apologized when he saw the amount of clothing and shoes I could be lugging around with me. They brought a loooot of stuff with them. There was girl-swag EVERYWHERE. My boyfriend is a bit of neat-nick, I thought he was going to blow a gasket, which he probably did internally. On the outside he was cool as a cucumber. His apartment is a revolving carousel of interesting people, it never much worried me that there were two women I didn’t know staying there. I actually thought it was nice to have some girls around, that way we could talk about something besides poop or other male topics. The other girl eventually left, but Katie stuck around.
It took me a little while to formulate an opinion on Katie. I wasn’t real sure what was behind the wardrobe choices, the Britney Spears obsession, and the Spice Girls music that always seemed to be playing when she was getting ready for a night out. I’ve mentioned before, that I am not the most feminine woman on the planet. It takes me an hour to get ready for an evening on the town, tops. I normally do this with a beer in my hand. Katie’s preparation happens over a few hours with the help of vodka shots. It’s done in phases. I’m pretty sure Phase One is a shower and Phases Two and Three involve hair and make-up. But I could be wrong. The end result is full-blown glamazon. It doesn’t matter how many vodka shots she does, she never seems drunk.
I look forward to seeing which Katie-persona is going to walk out of the bedroom. Sometimes she looks like a 1940’s Sailor Pin-up girl, sometimes she’s dressed like one of Santa’s helpers complete with red velvet, fur trimmed mini-skirt. She’s very entertaining and unapologetically herself. Everyday is a reason to celebrate and dress-up, it’s refreshing. I sometimes wish I could be more like her, but then I remember that I’m a dude in a chick’s body and vodka makes me sleepy or angry. Katie is the only one who can be Katie. I’ll just stick to being Sara, it’s what I do best.