Absolution Is Just Around the Bottle
true life stories from the desk of LaToya Prater
Permanent Mistake
When I was five or six years old, there was a popular toy called the D'Arcy Doll.
D'Arcy was like a Barbie, but she was a supermodel and came complete with an extra inch,
portfolio and built-in eating disorder. I was very excited to get my own D'Arcy doll. But
after awhile, I got bored and decided to give my doll a "perm" which involved
baby oil and a rusty iron. Needless to say, her shiny synthetic hair was much worse for
the wear after my beauty treatment, and she now had a permanent rancid-singed smell. A few
days later, my best friend across the street got a brand new D'Arcy Doll. I couldn't help
but envy her doll's shiny, stink-free hair. One day, I was sitting in a corner of the
dining room, sneaking a few hits of brandy out of my dad's favorite liquor bottle (which
my parents naively kept in an unsecured cabinet), when I had a great idea. I told my
friend if she gave her doll a special perm, it would look just like Farrah Fawcett. I gave
her the baby oil, the hot rusty iron and tried to look suitably shocked at the results.
Bulkier and Bulkier
In my first job out of college, I worked with a receptionist who remains to this day
one of the biggest bitches I've ever met, as well as one of the dumbest. One of her
favorite bitching points was how skinny I was, and did I have anorexia or what? She knew I
didn't, since I used to buy candy at Mr. Bulky's everyday and eat it like there was no
tomorrow. I grew tired of her dull raving about my appearance, so one day I shared a
little secret with her. I lowered my voice, looked around and said "You know how I
stay so thin?"
"How?" she inquired.
"Well, it's a little-known secret, but I guarantee if you do it, you'll see
REAL RESULTS in a couple of weeks. What keeps me so thin is all the sugar I eat. You know
how I'm always eating candy? Well the sugar in all that candy makes you so hyper, your
metabolism kicks up to two or three times its normal capability, so you burn calories like
crazy."
She seemed to buy this completely, so I offered to get her plenty of candy on my
next lunch run. To celebrate my plan, I went and got drunk on margaritas over my lunch
hour, then picked up 3 lbs. of Jelly Bellies, 1 lb. of creamy mints, 2 lbs. of assorted
chocolates, and a big bag of Now 'N' Laters. I delivered most of this to the receptionist
when I returned.
After only two weeks, she DID begin to see the results. She was 19 lbs. heavier
than when she started.
Blue Kangaroo and Tequila
At work, they have a group birthday party every month for people with birthdays in
that month. June rolled around, and I was finally one of the birthday folks being honored.
There was a drawing for prizes, and I won a stuffed kangaroo (my place of employment's
mascot). Right after me, a crippled (but still upright) elderly lady won a large yellow
umbrella. I had noticed a tattered plastic rain bonnet sitting with her things in the big
conference room where we all gathered to glut ourselves on cake and idle banter, and
figured she could probably really use that umbrella. But then I thought about how much I
needed a new umbrella, and was too lazy to buy one (or too broke because I had just spent
$200 on some sexy new stilettos from Frederick's).
I decided I should have that umbrella. After the party, I saw the elderly woman
making her way slowly toward the stairs. I ran and opened the stairwell door for her.
"Thank you," she said, in a voice like leather cured in baking soda.
"You're welcome," I said, with my brightest smile. "Give me your
new umbrella."
"Pardon?"
"I said, give me your new umbrella. I want it," I repeated patiently.
"Oh. Well…," she faltered, "well, I'll trade you prizes
then." She brightened up at this idea. "You give me your gift, and I'll give you
mine!"
I thought about this for a minute, and pulled out the stuffed Kangaroo I had
gotten. It was awfully soft and pleasantly silky to the touch. It was also a delightful
shade of royal blue.
"I don't think so," I said, stomping on her foot and grabbing her
umbrella.
As I sprinted up the stairs with my TWO prizes, I could hear her whimpering
piteously and I thought "Wow. I am really lucky! I got TWO prizes, and everyone else
only got one."
When I returned to my office, I sipped thoughtfully from the flask of tequila I
keep taped to the back of my computer tower and decided that all in all, it had been a
good day.
The moral of these stories is this: As long as you drink before, during or after
anything you do, you are automatically exempt from any behavior that might be perceived as
"bad," "inappropriate" or "self-centered evil bitch."
