January 29, 2008
That occupation is "Warrior Goddess".
I always want to fill that in.
Before anyone goes there, lemme' just say that I am not currently on any medication (although am thinking of knocking that one on the head, I'll be honest). I am also not hearing little voices in my head telling me to boil the bunny. I do not have a stuffed swan that I am turning into a dress, because that's been done, too, with some Icelandic flair.
Nor am I Xena, or even something like Xena. For the record - I only ever saw one episode of Xena and I was pretty fucking drunk when I saw that one episode. I'm pretty sure Xena was created by a man because no woman would choose to dress like that, and Xena and Gabriel definitely munched the fish taco. Seriously, you just know they went south of the border on occasion.
"More blood of the Garbangon, Gabs?"
"Don't mind if I do, Xena. What is that, 80 proof?"
"90, but who's counting. Say, you look pretty hot in that ripped leather outfit that resembles nothing more than a chamois I used to buff up the leather on my dragon this morning. Speaking of buffing up..."
No, I'm not Xena either. Nor am I deity or anything like that. But I do want to put down "Warrior Goddess" on my occupation form everytime, simply because sometimes I like to pretend that's what I am.
Honest.
Take this pond business, for instance. Dressed in crappy sweats and my hair in 6 different directions of ugly, I was pulling and forcing tree stumps out of the ground. With my hands. And a great big fuck off shovel that I think has been in a number of CSI episodes as a potential murder weapon. And with each stone I removed, I would turn to Angus and report.
"The Warrior Goddess has removed another tree. She is beholden to none. NONE!"
And he's nod and go about pruning the apple tree because he's used to my nonsense.
The Warrior Goddess, she can come in handy. When people start to get the better of me, sometimes I whip out the Warrior Goddess. The Warrior Goddess speaks in the third person. She does not wear leather. She can be a slightly arrogant bitch, but then we all get a little PMS from time to time, the Warrior Goddess is no exception.
The Warrior Goddess is slightly tougher than her more mousy alter-ego Helen, whom the Warrior Goddess looks at with disdain sometimes, people, disdain! Why does Helen feel the need to wear gardening gloves when pulling out tree stumps! This should be done with one's bare hands so that one can feel the pull of the earth! One should have blisters and callouses to prove one's worth! Why does Helen need to tap the pickle jar lid against the cabinet, if Helen wasn't such a weakling she could simply grab the jar and twist, to release these brine encapsulated prisoners! Why does Helen let that man who smells like cheap bourbon to sit on the tail of her coat on the crowded train from London? She should kick his ass, enroll him in an alcoholics program and administer breath mints in a one-two-three punch!
The Warrior Goddess, she can be a handful, but she's pretty helpful.
Helen doesn't always lose, of course. When Captain Constipation finally left (THREE tablets, that's the key) I found myself spending a long time in the bathroom. I was also exceptionally pleased I've always been a stickler for the soft toilet paper.
The Warrior Goddess, however, grumbled. "I don't see why we need that fancy soft quilted shite. The Warrior Goddess can use tree bark! I am a real woman! I do not need three sheets in one!"
"Shut the hell up, Warrior Goddess," Helen retorted. "It's my bog roll, I'll do what I want. If this was just your ass we were talking about, I'd say to grab the nearest Oak trunk you find and rub yourself happy, but since it's not, your view on how soft the toilet paper is isn't welcome. Next time you go to the store maybe you should buy things instead of running around trying to slay dragons or free canned peaches or whatever the hell it is you do in your spare time."
Occasionally even the Warrior Goddess needs a smackdown.
She's not real, and she's not some alter ego of mine. I just think it's amusing to enter situations and try to channel my strength into something with a sense of humor, which to me is a tough chick who speaks in the third person (which I do get really fucks off most people around you if you talk in the third person, so the Warrior Goddess, she refrains from speech around all but Angus because really, he needs to know what he's getting himself into here.)
But if I put down "Warrior Goddess" on a form then no doubt the nice men with the clean white jackets and sparkly attractive drugs would come find me and talk me into their nice shiny car. Probably much like you want to do after reading this entry.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
10:41 AM
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