The Punk Down of Babz

I was writing a comment to Bedazzler, which got me thinking. Put on your safety goggles people, this is a thoroughly dangerous post, especially if I'm thinking.

Anyway, it got me thinking about my oldest son, Lee. At one time, Lee was a fierce Bitch but has calmed down, to some degree. Time has a way of taking young gay men and turning them into and I quote, "An Old Queen." I disagree with him and his personal assessment of himself but I think it's due to his reaching the age of 31 and the fact that his significant other is so responsible.

What I mean by that is the B, his significant is an Airline Executive, a very professional guy, very responsible and very boring. Now, I don't mean boring in the context that he is not capable of laughter or having fun or that he can't hold a conversation. I guess what I'm getting at is that, although B is not in the closet, he might as well be. When you meet him, well I would've known he was gay but he likes to pretend he's not, in the work place and that basically, is everywhere but in his home. Does that make sense to you? B's own family, do not know he's gay or rather it's not spoken of and they believe that my son just shares the house with B.

Now Lee, is exactly opposite and it's stifling, I'm sure. He used to love to go Clubbing and to Pride parades and events, so on and so forth. He can contain himself, he has proven that but there was a time, when he snapped his fingers and they sparked. He was a flaming Hair Stylist and worked at a Salon called Prima, in McLean, Va. and a modeling agency. Nights were filled with going to Traxx in D.C. and the likes of DuPont Circle night life. Lee was openly gay and had been for years.

Anyway, it's a damn shame, not to be true to yourself. We can thank society for such repressive people, who worry that they may loose their job, if someone knows or they admit that they are gay. True love is thwarted.

The extremely sad part is the fact that two men, who love each other and are devoted must live a dirty little secret, every day. They should be able to celebrate their love for each other, just like anyone else. I don't think you can imagine, what it is to love someone and even want to hold their hand, at the grocery but because you live in Bumfuck, Pa., you can't do that. My god, what would the neighbors think? But that's not the point of this post, just an open exclamation of disdain. Disdain for those dumbass fucktards that want to throw stones.

The point of this post is actually humorous but it shows how the dominant Bitch gene can be passed on. Regardless of sex, it can be prominent. It is most assuredly, prominent, in my son, Lee. Now, their Father, was a son of a bitch too. His nickname was, "The Executioner," and he looked just like the tattoo, a piece just like his namesake, less the hood of the executioner. So, in a complete scientific study, is is proven, when you put a Bitch and a son of a bitch together, you will have children that are super ball busters, vindictive fuckers and straight out assholes. I love all my sons equally and unconditionally but I can clearly see they are all Pricks with a capital "P." I can also stand back and see a clear cut case, a double dose, coupled chromosomes that make a person uncivilized, rude, crude and socially unacceptable. They think violently, are extremely plotting and methodical. Suffice it to say, even I have paid, in one way or another, for my transgressions against them. Yes, they hold a grudge...

When Lee was little, he was a fucking brat, plain and simple, a hellion. I could whip his ass and it wouldn't matter, he'd still do whatever he wanted. I credit this to a high tolerance in pain, all three sons are insanely unaware of pain and a swat on the ass or two, proved, pretty much, useless. Thus, I turned to good old terror techniques.

When Lee was 4-5 years old, maybe younger, I'd take him to the Grocery with me. This was a traumatic affair every single time. Lee would put shit in the cart and if I didn't catch it, I'd often pay for shit and wonder why I'd bought it. He once took all the labels off all the cans, in the lower cupboard because he'd seen me do it. Except I was saving Campbell's soup labels to get these little ramekins. So, he thought he'd help me. Now, I didn't know if the can was dog food or corned beef hash.?

Anyway, he'd poke holes in the hamburger packages, if you got close enough to the meat display or if he got a hold of it in the cart. He'd steal women's purses and put them in my cart or steal their wallet and throw it in the cart. If I'd been into crimes of that nature, at the time, he'd been a little Oliver Twist to my Artful Dodger or Fagin. But it was quite embarrassing, when some lady'd come flying up the aisle, looking at me, like I'd done it. Any time he'd do something, I'd smack his hand and he'd start crying, acting like I'd killed him and the women would flock and comfort him. He was the cutest lil prick too. He'd go on, to be a child model for the likes of Kinderfoto, Olan Mills and more but he knew how to work a crowd. The first of my con artist sons, was talented in every aspect of the game, even then.

I'd had just about enough, one fine day. I can't even remember what set it off, except he'd been warned and it was not without provocation, that I set out to traumatize him as much as he'd traumatized me. I knew, when we walked past the Lobster tank, around the area of the deli, he had a complete fear of them. To this day, I don't know why but I was going to use it to my advantage. As I said, I'd been pushed to my limit and was going to teach his ass a lesson. I turned the cart around, so the front of the cart, with Lee sitting inside the seat for kids, was facing the Lobsters and I pushed from behind. I placed him right in front of the Lobsters, pinning him right up against the tank. There was no escape. I said, "See ya," and walked away. He started screaming, looking back at me and back at the tank, back at me, back at the tank and real tears began to flow. I'd made my point and before I removed him, he had to promise to behave. He was crying so hard but managed to tell me that he'd be a good boy. Yes, I did that and I continued to threaten him with it, once even telling him, if he continued, I was going to put his ass in the lobster tank.

Jump Forward 1999

Lee and I lived together, after I'd left my husband, Sonny, in 1998. We had a two bedroom apartment and would often stay up, half the night talking, if I was off the next day. It is then, that we'd usually catch up on the comings and goings of our daily lives.
As we sat there, listening to music, enjoying each others company, he began to tell me about a "big breakthrough" he'd had with his therapist. I listened intently as he told about the panic attacks, he'd get in the store. There apparently was a noticeable upset, when he went past the lobsters and deli area. He and his therapist were trying to figure out why he had this aversion to the lobsters and design exercises, to over come it.

At first, I didn't think about it but as he went on about it and was telling me how the therapist felt he should handle it, I began to remember what I'd done to him, pushing him up close and personal, with the lobsters. I must've looked like a deer caught in the head lights, from the look on my face or as if someone had just shoved a broom up my ass, as I painfully squirmed in my seat. Lee asked me what was wrong and I just smiled. I wasn't going to tell him but I was visibly uncomfortable and he kept pressing me as to what in the hell was wrong with me? "It's not that bad, Mom!"

Then, I told him about his troubled childhood and what I'd done to get him to behave. He said he forgave me.

Jump Forward Three Weeks

Lee is a licensed Hair Stylist. My hair was getting stuck in my butt crack. Approaching 40, I'd realized that the Crystal Gale look was long gone but I'd been so used to my hair being long, I had a hard transition to not having it long. At one point, my hair was to the back of my knees. When I cut it, back in 1982, I cut it in a Farah Fawcett do and as I'd never curled my hair, in my entire life, my lil sister, the Prima Donna, had to show me how to use the curling iron. Old hippies die hard. I hated that frigin hair cut and having to use a curling iron, every single day. I guess, I'm more tomboy than a prissy bitch.

So, I'd had a couple of drinks and asked Lee to "Trim" my hair. He got out his good scissors and I sat talking, while he trimmed. I really didn't pay attention but I did notice that he kept cutting. I finally asked him what he was doing, I just wanted a trim, ya know? "Oh, I'm just evening it out and trimming strays. It felt pretty light but he kept "fixing and fixing." Next thing ya know, my hair was below my shoulders, when I looked in the mirror. "Well, it needed it," was all he said and walked off.

A couple weeks went by. I asked him to get me some hair dye from the distributor. You had to have a license to go in this place and he comes back with a generic looking bottle. All it has is a number, not a name on the bottle. I should've known better but I can be gullible, case in point. I let him dye my hair. After I blow dried it, I realize it's fucking purple. I confronted him and he's says, "No, it's not purple, it's Eggplant." Eggplant, what the fuck is eggplant, it looks purple to me. He's got this snide, sly ass look on his face. "This is just another exercise. It's kinda Lobster black/purple. I'm facing my fears dead on."
I'd been punked/owned!!


Edd.D said...

lol, infact rofl. Karmas a bitch, u must upload a picture

oh and "if the can was dog food or corned beef hash.?"

Is there a difference? its all good with potatoes.x

Dirty Bitch Society said...

Edd.d, I know that bitch Karma, real well. Actually, we're now pretty good friends. But there was a time, when I couldn't stand her. Live & Learn, huh?

I do so love corned beef hash with eggs. I may have eaten dog food, who knows? Dog food and eggs, yum yum!

brotherray said...

HAAAAA...HAHAHAHAHA omg that was so good and so damn funny. I was laughing like a SOB reading that. You are THE best story teller!

And oh my - corned beef hash? Now I'm craving CBH with eggs and buttered toast and a tall glass of milk. Guzzle the milk nonstop at the end and then just put the plate on the coffee table and crash the hell out on the couch. I swore CBH off two years ago but I'm known to break all the rules.

kelly ripafart said...

damn your son is hawt!

Dirty Bitch Society said...

Brotherray, I can eat me some frigin CBH and eggs, any kinda eggs and thick buttered toast, oh fuck yea and lay around like a fat dog. I used to cook breakfast for dinner, my kids loved it but we'd have CBH. I need to go to the store and get some right now damn!!! hahaha!

Dirty Bitch Society said...

Kelly ripafart, he's me if I was a guy, for sure, I mean you can tell I'm his Mom but he's built like a brick shit house. His little bro is bigger though and is the ladies man. I'll have to post his pic. But thank ya kindly madame, I am partial to him, ha!

Webmiztris said...

oh man, no pics of eggplant hair stage? i feel gypped!! ;)

Dirty Bitch Society said...

Webmiztris, I actually grew to like it. My boss wasn't too impressed but...