My Armpits Smell like a Car Air Freshner

Part 1

The California draught has NOT been exacerbated by the few gardeners
who use potable water
to feed their spinach and arugula pizza toppings.

It’s people like me
the bank teller
data entry person
receptionist
accountant
telemarketer
IT
loan officer

who everyday
remove the chemical coat
of makeup, deodorants, and after shaves
with a long long long shower.

I rub myself down with,
“Avon so soft & sensual creamy body wash.”

All over my face I squirt,
“Yes to Cucumbers Gentle Milk Facial Cleanser.”

Then massage into my hair,
“Big Sexy Hair Marylin Monroe Limited Edition Volumizing Dry Shampoo.”

PART 2

During my 9 to 5 work week.  I sit in a chemically doused office.
My body never touches a sprinkle of grime or a pinch of dirt.

MY fingers never type so fast
to make my armpits give off a foul odor.

MY legs never so ardously
stand still behind a desk
to where my crotch becomes stinky.

MY eyes never laborously flicker
at such a rate in front of the monitor
that it makes my forehead perspire.

Corporate cubicle culture expects the worker b’s to smell like Target.
Middle management must smell like Macy’s.

I appreciate that Cambria has chosen to sacrifice the vegetable garden for those of us who need are bodies to smell like a recently deodorized hotel room
or detailed automobile.

These are my thoughts,

Veronica Wonderful

Eggs Won’t Spoil and Sperm Won’t Rot

Not so long ago
before prenatal vitamins,
turkey basters,
and petri dishes
the birds and the bees
the mommies and the daddies
needed clean air
healthy trees
clear water
and
vibrant soil
to make babies
along with a pinch
of horniness

When the ingredients
didn’t work
no worries
their bodies rotted
back into the ground
and the baby making
process
starts over again

Mmmmmmmmmmm
salmon baked with garlic,
olive oil,
basil, and lemon juice
an herb arugula salad
glass of red wine
next to the wood stove
in a log cabin
overlooking a mountain lake
oh yes
and a pinch of horniness.

Baby making moments
created by
earthworms,
rainforests,
goat poop,
glaciers
and dandelions
now harvested from mother earth
by the diseased, aged, cancered and impotent
to keep sperm from rotting
to keep eggs from spoiling
to create a stylish Martha Stewartish
air conditioned reception area
for cozy People magazine reading
while the fertility specialist
keeps the baby making
waiting.

After the credit card transaction has cleared
little test tube baby
comes home
feels loved
falls asleep
in a plastic cage
Momma
holds baby up
to her fatty breast.
the baby latches on
slurps in the paint thinner
toilet deodorizer
cosmetic additives.
When baby is full
Dad draws a bath
and lays it in
warm gassy fracked water.
When baby is clean
Momma will lean down
with fast food breath
leaving red animal tested
kisses

The Bench

Yesterday in his pocket
he had
friends, Neil Diamond concert footage, the constitution, nude women, pac man, conspiracy theories, the stock market,
and streaming Rush Limbaugh.
His pocket was never boring.

Today in his pocket he has a tube of chap stick, a set of keys, and a wallet.
Next to him
my dog sniffs and squats.
By the time the dog finishes its crap
the man’s lips are moist,
and he has Iooked at the one photo of his family
and one photo of his cat.

He tries to engage me in conversation
about the shapes in the clouds
and the weather.
I motion to the Angry Bird game on the iPhone in my hand.
He starts petting and mumbling to my dog.

I wonder if he’s insane, stoned or retarded.
All this makes me nervous.
Then I remember
this is what people with boring pockets
do.

Veronica and the Mental Foreplays

Neither “Veronica” nor Brandon Follett can break the rules, because there simply aren’t any that apply.  They are innocent.

Veronica and the Mental Foreplays, IS her imaginer Brandon Follett.  It’s as straightforward as a one to four person band, named after a blowup doll called Veronica.  Mechanistic Lover Veronica is the namesake.  Brandon Follett is the lyrical observer who spares neither humor nor suprise.

Toss the expectations – these is no preparation for this.

Brandon Follett’s uniquely explorative humor earned its own title “Follettry”.  His sideways observations socially enliven Jesus, earthworms, ribbed coffins and American presidents.  His entertainment smiles at the expense of safe values 1 Corinthians 13:13 And These Three Remain Faith, Hope and Love.  But the Greatest of These is LOVE

There are no hidden secrets – if Veronica is about mental foreplay, Follettry is about Brandon Follett touching all the untouched topics, purely for self entertainment.

Follett goes on with the show without apology.  Some give raving testimonials.  Other counter with “restimonials”.  His Mom has been telling him to put it to rest since Veronica’s debut in 2000.  “Piss Poem” started as his apology to her but took a wrong turn along the way.  Ballad of Johnny is all turns.

“Oddly entertaining.”

It’s no just the lyrics, it’s not the music…it’s the Follettry.

Follett’s redefined take on “obvious” shines through his music, comedy, poetry, books and performances.  See a show, to see anew.

Talented musicians who have played with Veronica through out the years:

June 2011
Rebeca Suarez of Mostecelo on vocals, guitar, drums, tamborine

2002 to 2004
Josh Kindelberger on bass
Isaac Bonn on drums
Allyson Wuenschel on Viola
The four of us recorded the album No Room for Growth released in 2011.

Veronica at the Four E's Bar in Kuna, Idaho

2000 to 2002
Josh Kindelberger on bass

I heard Josh play bass and he heard my poetry and we new their was something special.  The beginnings of Veronica and the Mental Foreplays.  Josh in spirit still plays in the band.

Karma

Yes, you’re right,
a Costco membership
in economic hard times
won’t keep my belly full
like a dairy goat
and a veggie garden.

Keep in mind,
in the last ten years
I have donated
2 boxes of fruit loops
and 3 boxes of strawberry jello
to various newsworthy
disaster victims.

If Costco crumbles
in an earthquake,
I won’t go hungry.
I am cosmically vested
in fortified vitamins
and artificial food coloring.

Feel the need to donate check out Heifer International. Maybe a dairy goat will come into your life instead of a box of Fruit Loops.

Founded in 1944, Heifer Project International is a humanitarian assistance organization that works to end world hunger and protect the earth. Through livestock, training and passing on the gift, Heifer has helped 8.5 million families in more than 125 countries improve their quality of life and move toward greater self-reliance. Heifer helps build strong communities because each project participant agrees to pass on the gift of animal offspring, training, or skills to another family in need.

Charity Navigator Rating gave Heifer International an over all rating of 3 out 4. click here for more details

Earthworm Envy gets Invited to a Poodle Party

Dear Earthworm Envy,

I came across your blog about the Picnic Puzzle Party while surfing the web for cute dog photos. My eyes teared up when I learned about your mom and dogless dog collar. That is why I am inviting you to Whitebird, Idaho for my poodle themed birthday party this summer when I turn 16. Don’t worry about not bringing a poodle. I have two toy poodles, and you can borrow the one named Natty Light.

The party will be fun. I am asking my friends to not trim their poodles for a month before the party so we can have poodle makeovers. There will be different prizes for sexiest, ugliest, sluttiest, and most republican looking poodle. Then we’ll bake special treats that poodles and people can enjoy.

Before I blow out the candles on my poodle shaped boston cream pie, I want you to recite or sing a poodle poem or song. When my parents go to sleep we’ll move the party down to a beach along the Snake River. Around the fire we’ll play spin the bottle. Last time I had to kiss my own poodle 3 times (GROSS)! Will you buy us a case of Natural Light beer?

My parents say if you want to stay longer than a night, you can camp in the backyard and explore the area. You can take Natty Light swimming, hiking, fishing and bicycle riding.

Hope to see you this summer,

Andrea Robey

Hello Andrea,

Thank you for the invite to your poodle party. I hope you didn’t get too choked up over the Picnic Puzzle Blog. Like Jesus, I tend to use parables. My mother happens to be a terrific woman who has never given me a dogless dog collar Christmas present. I hope this doesn’t disappoint you.

As of right now, I cannot commit to making it to your poodle party. Amy and I are thinking about returning to the lower 48 states this summer. We are contemplating riding our bikes from Boise to Sandpoint. If we do, it would be fun to stop by and say hi to you, Natty Light, and your parents. I have always had a good time in Whitebird, especially at the Whitebird Rodeo.

Sounds like your party will be perfectly planned. Don’t forget that your poodles can teach you some valuable travel lessons. Up here in Alaska, I too have been partying with a four-legged friend. His name is Murphy the Friendly Black Lab. Murphy taught me that clapping can be a great nonverbal exclamation point. Also, if you clap enough times in a row, your request might be granted.

Murphy clapping

I’ve also met a few dogs that can fly through hoops and balance on logs.

Earthworm Envy

P.S. Have you considered decorating for your party by hanging cardboard pink poodles from the trees in your backyard?

The Flying Terrier

The Sweet Berries Cafe located in Homer, Alaska

Serve Me up a Microwaved Omelet laid out on a Plate of Chinese Panties

The person who likes to microwave
eggs
while wearing
Chinese panties
wears a smile
stepping into the cafe.

The Sweet Berries Cafe
greets their customers
with something unAmerican:

American products,
cast iron, stainless steel pots,
oven mitts,
and blueberry desserts
line the shelves.

Despite his love for the beep beep,
love of radiation death,
and a love for the feel
of slave labor undergarments,
he loves The Sweet Berries Cafe.

Occasionally, a delicious omelet
made with fresh ingredients
strikes his fancy,
like the time
he stopped watching
iPhone cinema
to visit a movie house.

In an odd world surrounded by freshness,
stainless steel, and cast iron
he comfortably sits.
Underneath the layers of
Carhartt and XtraTuffs
that is Alaskan fashion,
a little pair of Chinese panties
keeps him comfy.

Author’s note:
Special thanks to the friendly service at The Sweet Berries Cafe. When Kimmy, our server, found out we needed a ride back to Girdwood Alaska Backpackers Inn, she hooked us up with Lenny, owner of Kharacters Alaskan Bar. Coincidently, we had spent the previous evening at Kharacters listening to Yellow Cabin. The band with its distorted guitar, thumping stand up bass, melody driven keyboard, and the switching of vocals between the group made the music widely enjoyable. The female vocalist has a unique stylistic quality that separates the Siouxsie, Kazu Makino, Karen O, and Neko Case type vocalists from the ordinarily good. The band has a danceable beat that doesn’t wallow in the usual hippie type Alaskan crowd pleasing music that I’ve seen at every festival in Girdwood. The bar did not charge a cover. Instead, the drink price went up 50 cents when the band started. This way people who only want a beer or two and not sure if they will like the band are not turned away by an overly ambitious door cover.

Girdwood Fungus Fair: My Inner Mycologist looked for God

The Girdwood Fungus Fair is this weekend! Let your inner mycologist shine by going on a little adventure in Girdwood’s backyard. There’s nothing like virgins, water, and mushrooms to get the mind misbehaving.

mushroom on Virgin Creek Falls Trail in Girdwood, Alaska

mushroom on Virgin Creek Falls Trail in Girdwood, Alaska

I crawled back into the womb.
Not my mother’s womb
nor the girl down the streets womb.
But a sleeping bag
a Moonstone womb.

A Moonstone womb
quite comfortable
sheltered from the breeze
the moonlight.
Enough snacks to last 4 hours
climate controlled 98.6
almost like moms.

Curled up in an embryo ball
eyes closed
ready to receive Freudian like dreams
I relax.

Back of my eyelids begin to dance.
Visions not Sigmund.
Visions of weird colorful shapes.
A vision of figures not demons or spirits.
People melting, ordinary people
like you and me.
A nude 3 inch girl flies with fairy like motion.
Her cheeks pulsate rosy red.
She says only two words in a familiar Beatle accent
“Hello, Good-bye.”
She melts into the black void.
My hands reach out
I hit the Moonstone womb wall.

I realize my eyes are open
this is reality not a dream.
I stick my head outside
I feel the breeze,
I see the pines,
Moon’s still bright,
rocks still solid
Mother Earth reality.

I hiked along the creek to experience nature.
I prayed to God for a blessing.
I ate his flesh.

I slip back into the Moonstone womb.
Outside reality already forgotten.
Inside this bizarre sleeping bag size microcosm
I fall asleep afraid.

Afraid that my Moonstone womb
will abort my fragile mind,
caesarean section it,
or birth it breech.

$20 I thought I was buying a new healthy respect for
God and its universe.
$20 I bought a new healthy respect for
Moonstone sleeping bag.

Crazy the way God mysteriously works.

Bicycle Poetry: Almost a Salty Popsicle

pedaling
the steep grade
of the curvy road
that trails off
into the horizon
has tired my legs
and mentally
worn me out

fatigue
pulls me
to the edge
of the shoulder

sleepiness
overtakes my body

I
crawl
into the grass
close my eyes
let nature reclaim
this pile of exhaustion

I stare into the sun
and murmur,
“little tick, little tick,
my blood is healthy
and thick
enjoy, enjoy
grow vigorous
and quick

“big deer,
don’t poke me
with your antlers
but gently lick
my armpits
they are mercury free
I want to be
your salty popsicle

“scary mountain lion,
I apologize
my body is lean
and somewhat trim
didn’t go to the McDonald’s
feed lot
or
graze in the grocery
snack and soda aisle
before setting out
on this trip”

A yellow flower catches my eye.

It has grown
through
the pavement,
dodging cars,
not being eaten
by critters.

A flower
as miraculous
as a man walking on water.

Miracle flowers and miracle men
have the same effect
on the observer.
I find strength
to ask a passing
woman on a bicycle
for help.
I tell her I want to be strong
like the flower.

She happens to be a gardener.

Water with lemon
hits my lips
like stinging nettle tea
to a droopy plant.

A peanut butter jelly sandwich
gives me energy
like worm poop to a turnip.

My legs no longer feel wilted.

I get up off the ground.
She looks me up and down,
admiring her horticultural work.
She says,
“Your bright yellow vest
and white body remind me of a daisy.
From now on, your bicycling name
will be Daisy Spectacular.
I now
beseech you to
ride, ride,
grow towards the sun.”

Natural Shirley Sheep Condoms