Showing posts from February, 2009

She Stink!

"Hey! PP! I totally thought of you last night when I was at the YMCA!"

Her beaming colleague, Wondrous Admin Miracle Worker, twirled in her swivel chair as PP dumped her stuff on the floor and opened the desk drawer to search for the key to her office. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was in the locker room, where the Hot Tub is. You know where I mean?"
PP nodded, "Of course."

"Well. I totally thought of you cause there musta been at least 8 women in the hot tub and when this other woman tried to get in without taking a shower there was the hugest Uproar!"

Laughing, PP nodded again. It was a Theme lately. The lack of Shower Taking before soaking. PP recalled DW's extreme distaste last Saturday night when this enormous woman, tattooed, folds of softness on her arms, and evidently a cloud of sweat surrounding her, climbed down into the tub. DW frowned at her, held her fingers to her nose, pinching it closed, waving her hand around, and mouthing "P.…

Birthday at the Pool

It had been a mixed day.

Her Ex, the Famous, (or is it Infamous?) Owen Hill, celebrated poet and mystery writer, had rumbled into her drive in his 1989 Toyota Tercel with books by Roberto Bolano. This was a nice surprise! And her neighbor, the charming yet unpredictable, KE knocked on her door with Ritter Cornflake candy bars and a beautiful card of blue night sky, magic bird nest and resting woman.

So. These were a wonderful way to start her day.

But then, even though it was PP’s birthday, she still had to work. What are ya gonna do? It’s not like Woo Woo U was gonna give her the day off so she could spend her entire birthday at the pool. Which is, of course, what she would do.

And so, the City of Oakland would have to grant her free parking for her birthday so she could spend all day at the pool.

And the YMCA would have to clear ONE lane for her ALL day so she could swim blissfully without interruption ALL Day.

And the angels of the Neck Brigade would have to grant her a PAIN free ne…

Cut the BullCrap!

“I lost my cell phone the other day. My husband gave it to me on Monday and I lost it on Friday.”

PP laughs, though in retrospect it really wasn’t funny. Maybe it had something to do with Cell Phone Loser’s delivery. Sour Latina YMCA Clean-up Woman wasn't laughing, only grunting silently. She just wanted to float in the hot tub. Not hear stories about losing cell phones.

PP, however, was all about the story. But you all know that.
And it gets better.
And more intense.

“Where did you lose it?” PP asks, thinking it’s just a banal story, but she’s game anyway. The pool is Chaos according to Sweet Kindness Lifeguard who was up at the front counter ostensibly to learn the tricks of the counter check-in trade but PP thinks she just wanted to escape the Pandemonium of the Pool. Consequently, PP was gonna hang out in the Hot Tub till the pool calmed down.

Or CPL’s story was finished.

“At Lucky’s,” she laughs ruefully. “I had it in my coat pocket and I was there with my 97 year old father and…

Graham Greene on Pools.....

No one can give you the chills like Graham Greene:

(Dear Readers, please see previous blog entry first for linear storyline if that interests you; otherwise, steal yourself....)

"I followed him down the path to the bathing-pool.... It was empty of water now. My torch lit the shallows and a litter of leaves.

“’Other end,’ Joseph told me, standing quite still, not going any nearer. Doctor Philipot must have walked up to the narrow cave of shadow made by the diving-plank, and now he lay in a crouched position below it with his knees drawn towards his chin, a middle-aged foetus ready dressed for burial in his neat grey suit. He had cut his wrists first and then his throat to make sure. Above the head was the dark circle of the pipe. We had only to turn on the water to wash the blood away: he had been as considerate as possible. He could not have been dead for more than a few minutes. My first thoughts were selfish ones: you cannot be blamed if a man kills himself in your swimming-pool…

Crime Scene

”It looks like a Crime Scene,” SSW announces into the dark and silent Utopian den.

What is she talking about?

The Jacuzzi. It’s ‘under construction’ and it’s scary. She’s right. It does look like a crime scene what with the yellow ‘keep out’ tape all draped across the metal handrails on either side of the steps and the little pool drained to reveal a most disgusting and frightening murky white grayness with 3 little squares on the bottom that may serve as drains but now just stare back and out in eerie uselessness.

Plus it stinks. Like something died in there.

And this is exactly what SSW says next, “It’s like a dead body could be discovered in there. With that yucky red drizzle of something oozing onto the bottom ….”

Her voice trials off as PP and DL sit heaterized and rapt. “Wow!" PP exclaims. "That reminds me of a scene I either read or saw in a movie of a dead body that was hidden in the bottom of a drained pool and the protagonist had to figure out a way to get the body …

Women Are So Vain

“Swim for me…..” Super Swimmer Woman sighs, longingly, “I haven’t been able to swim for three weeks.”

Trying to get her hair into her cap, PP grins down the row of lockers toward her, shaking her head in non-swimming commiseration. She wonders why SSW hasn’t been able to swim for three weeks, but doesn’t ask. She’s in such a hurry to get into the pool before Slacker Lifeguard blows the whistle.

“I can’t wear goggles,” SSW clarifies her reason for non-swimming without PP even having to ask.

Again, PP doesn’t ask why. She needs to swim and she needs to swim now. She’ll find out the story later. In Utopia.

This much she’s sure of.

And it’s true. As DL and she stumble, heaterized, into the dry dark cave after a blissful swim and productive weight training, in comes SSW, to towel off. PP can see now that there’s a HUGE bruise under her left eye. This is why she can’t wear goggles. Obviously.

But what happened?

They were about to find out as DL asks her about the bruise.

SSW shakes her head. “C…

True Beauty?

PP feels a surprise tap on her fins, stopping her in her tracks, so to speak, before turning at the wall.

It’s Hemophiliac Swimmer, waving her into his lane. “I’m done,” he announces, grinning his toothless smile at her. “It’s all yours!” He motions to his private lane, giving first dibs to her.

Feeling quite honored, PP nods and dives under the lane line, “Thanks,” she beams before beginning to head back down the lane. But not before seeing HS attempt to change from a water to air situation.

It’s alarming. HS has somehow managed to heave himself out of the water and onto the deck (PP thinks that he usually uses the stairs. Why not today? To get out of her way?)

Now he's rolling on the deck, in a near fetal position, teetering dangerously on the wet cement, his great turtle head rocking in a weird sort of lopsided bob.

Damn! she thinks. Is he okay? Has he just lost his balance for a moment? Or is he just tired after the effort of the swim and the heave-up onto the deck? Or is he hav…