Madrigle

archive -- on display -- contact -- profile -- host -- links -- cookbook


I dream of Martha--
Monday, November 12, 2001 @ 6:21 a.m.

I so have to stop doing this on week nights.

Martha buzzed in for the evening again. I hadn't realized it had been a month since her last little get away to my little refuge.

I always know she is about to appear cause a whole crew of 10 french maids descends on my little one bedroom near-town Houston apartment that I lovingly refer to as �The sty.'

Yes, as in Pig sty.

My apartment has no in between. It either looks House and Beautiful "Gorgeous!" [I have a whole shabby sheik/country sheik thing going on], or well, lets face it, styish.

The crew of 10 french maids are experts at giving the place a 15 minute once over that amounts to me getting a free and thorough periodic professional spring cleaning.

She always says she loves me, but she can just not abide by the sty. I guess the maids are her way of making sure I don't push any of her pet peeves too far. Giggle. They always manage to show up 30-45 minutes before the big �M' makes her dynamic entry.

As she repels down the slick looking black rope that leads down from her silent running black helicopter that I thought only the C.I.A. had my jaw drops in near disbelief, shaking my head I have to remind myself, "She is Martha."

I asked her once, "M?" That's what I call her cause were close like that.

"M, how did you manage to get that black helicopter?"

Of course this was all in the strictest of confidences, with that she gets a little sparkle in her eye and the corners of her mouth turn up just so� In that way that is so completely Martha.

"Do you remember that White House special I did with Hillary a year and half ago?"

"Yeah, er Yes." I'm always forced into a state of decorum when M is around. She says I'm rough around the edges, but that's why she likes me.

"She goes on, well! Hillary was absolutely adamant that we do that special. I really didn't want to, I mean who wants to see the 200 year old trappings of some old white peoples idea of what a big grand mansion should look like? The last bitch to inhabit that house with any sense of style at all was the style diva herself, the Big �O' With the mer utterance of her name M crossed herself and muttered something about "hail Jackie full of grace . . ." I couldn't catch it all, but obviously Mrs. Onasis holds a special place in the heart of M. Anyway, to make a long story short. [M is longer winded than I am, and delves off into even more side stories. I know hard to comprehend] Hillary finally arranged with her friends over at the C.I.A. for this little pay off in the form of the black helicopter, for Martha finally consenting to do the White House Special.

"It's really just on lone for 2 years, but I've got the boys in Martha by Mail backwards engineering it for sale to the general public in my magazine, I'll have my own model in another couple of years, and much improved too. I just can't abide by those tacky vinyl seats it has. REALLY! You would think the federal government would have more class than that! I mean, what are all the other super secret spy organizations going to think?"

M, swears that Hillary never would have won her senate seat without it. "Why half my cult� er viewers live in upstate New York."

I flash her a little smile letting her know I don't really mind that she has a cult. I mean wouldn't you if you were the big M?

She always swoops in with a great pizza balancing precariously in her left hand, palm up, ala waiter style, as she descends down the line with all the style and grace of a Cirque De Soli performer. Last time the pizza was a sun-dried tomato and herb roasted chicken concoction on a whole wheat/rye crust fresh from her brick oven at Turkey Hill. Fabulous I swear.

I've gotten into the habit of keeping some fresh baby organic greens in the fridge, and a baguette in the freezer. Some fresh croutons and a nice green salad always seem to go great with whatever she has brought in.

She brought one of her collection of vintage gay porn movies for us to watch while we chatted. What? You didn't know about THAT collection? Well don't expect it to be gracing the �collecting' section of the magazine anytime soon.

Last nights selection was the 1950's classic, "Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a damn!-- That you're a man in Drag."

Right as the Red Butler is getting down to business we both kinda loose interest and head to the kitchen to get right down to our evening of homemade facials and pedicures.

Let me tell you girls, you have NEVER had a spa day, until you have had a spa day with Martha. She LOVED my new body oil by the way. Yeah! :)

We decided on a nice pecan meal, expressed juice of sugar cane, and cotton seed oil mask to go along with the southern theme of the nights film.

We were passed out on Mustang Grape wine from some little southern estate near Mobile, by 2 o'clock.

I'm always sad to wake the next morning. My mask all crusty and flaking, her shoulder replaced by a pillow from the couch, the cotton gauze still holding my toes apart, noting that the troupe of 10 french maids had been back to make sure everything was just so, but also realizing that Like the proverbial Cinderella's pumpkin, Martha had quietly breezed out of my life again�

Well, that is until our next little get together.

*

0 comments so far

guest book

notes

previous | next

ASHES, ASHES
WE ALL FALL DOWN

yahoo messenger: James87106

[ CoffeeCup - HTML Editor & Web Design Software ]

This icon is in the titles of entries with images. Most images are taken with my Nikon Coolpix 775 or Coolpix 8800. All image editing accomplished with my trusty Corel Photopaint 12. Pictures taken by the author are attributed as such. All others are attributed where able.

� Madrigle, 2000-2007

Site designed by Madrigle. All words are the intelectual property of Madrigle. Images are the property of Madrigle unless otherwise noted or used in the review of a movie or book.

birth of stars
Birth of Stars, Acrylic on Panel, 36" by 48" Collection of the artist

older entries

sticky note.
(Tuesday, Jan. 12, 2010)

mispelled
(Thursday, Jan. 29, 2009)

The Finger Prints of God.
(Sunday, Nov. 09, 2008)

Hugh Everett's Quantum Physics is tripping me out. Multiple Universes. Infinite multitudes of me me and you.
(Tuesday, Oct. 21, 2008)

It's like getten screwed with your pants still on!
(Wednesday, Sept. 24, 2008)

Madrigle's Gallery

Cast and Crew

Toot My Own Horn

Once and Future favorite tunes

www.flickr.com
This is a Flickr badge showing photos in a set called botanicals and landscapes. Make your own badge here.