afagddu's Diaryland Diary
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The mortal drag of being an old lady
I emerge from my bedroom in a white tank top and boxers shorts with a string of pearls in one hand and a stained wedding dress in the other. I am sure that Ms. K had already guessed, but I want there to be no confusion in this matter and speak, “Ms. K, it is time.” She hurries into her room to grab a camera and I slip into the lace abomination, pleading to be zipped up. Ms. K returns shortly with the camera and I take a final pull of my beer then charge at her down the hallway, like the spectre of an old woman might. I then open doors and then close them in a demented geriatric way. I listen to records as only a grandmother can. All the while Ms. K documents this with photographs, which it is my intention to use as art for my DJ compilation for the radio station and as a self-imposed barrier in case I ever wanted to run for senate…
Many thanks to DJ Margatroyd who made this fashion disaster possible by letting me borrow her dress
-C. Killiman
01:31 - 11.05.06
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