"Why I can't

with my mother."

My good friend Jasmine's mom is coming to town this weekend and Jaz felt compelled to transcribe and share some of the love her mother was sending over the phone earlier this afternoon. I know for a fact the firm Jasmine works for records all phone conversations, so hopefully she will run for public office and we'll hear actual audio on this someday:

"you know im going to be there at the end of this week, im going to touch you and kiss you all over. are you ready for that, baby jasmine? are you ready? make sure your body parts are ready, all waxed and greased up cause im gonna be all over you come thursday"

MY MOTHER

Shit is your mother smooth Jay-Z.

Born on eight wheels

I am gliding around the rink in an arabesque, arms outstretched elegantly behind me, extending the perfect line. Watch me execute this triple-salchow and launch straight into a round of tight spins, arms crossed, body stiff and taught in perfect pike position. I am Kristy Yamaguci’s wheeled alter ego. No…no, wait. I'm falling on my ass…

I trained hard for this moment of triumph, downing seven drinks of Mexican origin thirty-minutes prior to performance. I was sure the guacamole appetizer would heighten my sense of balance. Certain the vegetables in my wild card tacos would both improve my eyesight and directly feed my motor skills. And now I am polishing the floor of the Roxy with the knees of my jeans.

Oh the delicate balance of pain and pleasure as I slide across the wood on my kneecaps with the lumbering grace of an ice borne penguin. I am Nancy Kerrigan: frightfully injured, but a champion nonetheless. I am a girl who believes ice-skating and roller-skating are basically the same sport. A girl who knows the names of two professional female ice skaters and isn’t afraid to use them in the cheesiest, most obvious athletic metaphors.

It is the morning after and I am black and blue. Responsible party: the roller DJ who played Alicia Keys' Olympics-routine-worthy ballad, “If I Ain’t Got You.”

The Battle: Vincent Cary Fabtrano vs. himself

Rarely does an email have such potent entertainment value as this little gem forwarded to me by a coworker. From an achingly oblivious guy with whom Veronica went on ONE date, this marks the third in a series of gut-busting emails, too ridiculous to have sprung forth from a cognizant mind. Since this kid obviously needs an editor, I took it upon myself to draft up an amended version that is a bit more concise, employs correct rules of both grammar and spelling and leaves the advanced collegiate thesaurus on the shelf. Check out both versions below and decide which Vincent Cary Fabtrano has a better chance of getting the girl:

Dear Veronica,

I hope you are well. I am indeed. It has been quite awile since we saw eachother or I made "too forward" remarks which were out of line and not apporpriate. In any event, I think of you fondly even though we went out only one night. Your bright chatter and spirit were a pleasure to be a part of, and our conversations were deep that night at the bar, maybe too deep. It is a mad world, people searching for false identities, and chasing lies into superficial realms of daunted, limited contentment. Nevertheless, you poped into my head today amidst the chaos and I wanted to send you an email. I am living in Morningside Heights without T.V. or a computer and it is wonderful. I find myself reading a lot and working with children-they have so much to teach. I know the world is in a state of flux and it is magical to be a part of. I hardly drink anymore and find it rejuvinating for the soul. You are a very passionate kisser I remember well in the lobby of your building. I did! indeed felt a bond with you after that, it was passionate, and something I could feel. One must trust one's own feelings, true feelings over all else in a society bogged down with flesh oriented recognition. Veronica, I wish you all the very best:

Kindest Regards,
Vincent


And the email VCF should have sent:

Hey Veronica,

What's up? It's been a while since we've seen each other and I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing it again. I hope my remarks weren't too forward the last time we spoke. I know sometimes I can be an arrogant prick and my overzealous emails can be somewhat pretentious, its just that I liked you. I thought there was some passion in our kisses and was hoping to impress you so I could get your sweet little arse up to my place either for another hot make-out session or even just some rumination on philosophy or politics. You know how much I like to wax geo-political theories post-WWII.

I know sometimes my emails don't make sense. But I've been working with children alot lately (a replacement for hitting the bottle) and the one thing they've taught me is that love doesn't have to make sense. If I think you are the princess tasting of the fruit, I need to tell you, even if I'm not quite sure what I mean. Even if I'm not sure how to spell princess.

It's a mad world Veronica. Since I'm completely oblivious to current events I'll go out on a limb and say its a mad, MAGICAL world. I know you ignored me the last time I contacted you, but I can't ignore my hunch that you were just waiting for me, Sir Vincent Cady Fabtrano, to sweep you off your feet, away from the simple temptations of the flesh and into a world of neverending dribble masked as "deep" conversation.

Forward this email to all your friends if I'm wrong.

Kindest Regards,
Vincent