Wednesday, April 26, 2006

"You Want It When, Bitch?"



A few weeks ago, I detached my grip from the withered corporate lingam to which I had been clinging. For 7 inertial years, I had gorged my abdomen like a tick upon the saccharine sap that coursed down its necrotic shaft. But a messenger's breeze carried nature's aroma to my nostrils; the notes of her fragrance relaxed my anxious arms, and slowly, and then with gathering speed, I slid down to *PLOP* on the warm earth. Here I find that I ambulate well enough. A forest of opportunity awaits; between the trees, open space & beyond, distant mountains.

One of the thrills of this separation was giving away my collection of chotchkies I've accumulated over the years. I also had to decide who would be the recipient of the totemic Xena doll, which was bequeathed to me by a dear friend who worked in another area of our phallus (on the underside of the ball-sac, Vas Deferens divison). For many months Xena had kept watch over my shoulder, her broadsword raised in her mighty clenched plastic fist, her projectile bosoms bursting manfully beneath her moulded breastplate. She'd been a strong companion, a familiar to keep me calm as the pointless busywork piled up and people rushed in to trouble me with random unnecessary urgencies.

How strange that androgyny should be more empowering than cock, under such circumstances? But on another level, it made sense - had there been a G.I. Joe in her place, or a bare-chested Wrestlemania doll, the telepathic voice I would hear would be not Xena's: "Function with pride and know that this unreality does not rate your noblest attentions" but "Do it NOW punk! Drop and give me 20!" and "Be a man, bitch!"

Every employee deserves to be the alpha dog of their own workstation fantasies. So Xena was the ideal wingwoman.

Of course, what I really wanted was to glue a floppy dildo on my PC with my name and title hung about its neck, and have a ceremony in which all execs would process by and minister to it with fragrant oils and chrism. Come to think of it, this is rather tame.. Now that I'm liberated from the evil Dick, I could imagine more inspiring tableauxs, roaming the forest floor with my own Cock in tow.

7 Thoughts:

Blogger iBegToDither said...

One evening around dusk I lay soaking in the tub trying to utter syllables I'd never heard before. It was a spontaneous thing that I found myself doing after a day that seemed to be calling for newness. I'd grown tired of the same old thoughts and nouns and routines.

Whatever it might have sounded like to a putative evesdropper, my stream of ad hoc phonemes produced a pleasant confusion in which I temporarily mistook bogus terms for real ones and in some cases spoke real words with no immediate sense of their realness or meaning. For a minute there, words were released from their definitions and disentangled from associations.

Perhaps by perfecting this technique you could liberate unfortunate words -- and finally, your full self -- from the yoke of bureaucratia. Cubicle, Memo, Perquisite, Resource. These and others could soon join you in freedom.

Remember, though, that you can always return to the security of the corporate mothership. Just check your chutzpah and cojones at the door.

Thursday, April 27, 2006 10:25:00 AM  
Blogger pookalu said...

first of all, your comment was crazy.

second of all, what the heck are you gonna do, now that you're detached? and to whom did you give xena?

Thursday, April 27, 2006 5:52:00 PM  
Blogger pawlr said...

Pook - Xena was passed on to a friend I've worked with for many years, she is in good hands now.

For too long I have been tooled by some other tool - and so from now on I'm gonna be my own tool. When there's grubbing for dollars to be done, I'll be manipulating my own trowel into the earth.

Lemonade stand, 5 cent psychiatry, Tarot readings. I'll do whatever.

Saturday, April 29, 2006 11:45:00 AM  
Blogger For the Love of Bod said...

Hi, there. Curious blog and very curious post about Xena Warrior Princess. Kinda inspiring, tho. Filtering out the bitterness, of course...

I've been phantasizing about quitting my job for a few years now, ever since I found out how douchebaggz my bosses is. I like the work and I'm at the top of my game, but one of the honchos brought me into his office to say my pigtails weren't professional and were girlish. They're just pigtails, who gives a flying finger? Later his dolt assistant toady told me my open sandals were too provocative. Yes they're strappy and yes they're painted Asian toes (ooh aah). But WTF? You're not going to bend me over my desk in a phit of lust are you? Concentrate, focus, do your work. It's hot out and I like sandals. They put me at ease and connect me with my people : )

I don't get it, lot's of things can be sexy. A nice tie on a handsome guy is penile, but I don't just walk up and suck it. Polished leather shoes are pure porno, but we don't get all sweaty and lick them. Instead we learn to control our urges... and do sex like rabbits on our own time.

Anyway, I'm wondering, did you sit down and make a plan? Or did you just phreak out and run for phreedom? How are you gonna feed yourself without mother's milk direct deposit?

Monday, May 01, 2006 4:01:00 PM  
Blogger pawlr said...

FTLOB - Welcome. I think I'd been preparing for my jettison sequence by unconsciously conserving my liquid assets. So I've got a backpack full of teat-milk or dick-juice, take your pick of metaphor. Should last me at least a year before I need to whore again.

You sound like my type of working girl-- a fresh breeze in a sterile tank. I'm reading this book now that encourages men to "absorb the attractive erotic energy around them" while contianing their desire for release. So we can enjoy the pigtails and open toes without spurting and gushing and wetting the industrial carpet. But I guess HR thinks us peons so weak that we can't manage these daily attractions.

But I guess your bod is a threat to the social order. The honcho is probably writing emails right now to security: "Her energy is too strong, can not compute.... we're brekking up....MAYDAY.. send reinforcements.."

Tuesday, May 02, 2006 8:53:00 AM  
Blogger Medea22 said...

for the love of bod....I've got a solution. Tomorrow morning walk into the office cloaked in a full chador...let's see what that does for masculine arousal.The little whittle boy who commented on your "pigtails" probably won't even get the on point message you are trying to deliver with such theatrics.
DUMBASS.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006 4:20:00 PM  
Blogger femme d'espoir said...

another post on the way?

Friday, May 12, 2006 7:40:00 PM  

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