remember that time we were kidnapped by gypsies? or wanna-be porn directors?

so semitrue torystellar, affectionately known by some of us as tory, tagged me in some clusterfuck about questions and choosing blog topics or something.  you can read it right about here.

sorry.  it's monday. 

now, i've not been kidnapped by gypsies.  and i've not been anyplace with tory where we'd have the chance of being kidnapped by gypsies.  BUT i figure one of two things would happen if we were kidnapped by gypsies:

1.  we would turn the tables and make them our sex slaves.  they'd have to bring us vodka and tequila, cheesey poofs and fondue.  there may be chocolate drizzled on particulars of some people.  once we had them wrapped around our fingers (so to speak) we'd have to start a little business.  we're both business-minded women with customer service experience, so that gypsy caravan would essentially be turned into a traveling brothel where we would be the awesome madams who don't pay for sex with the men (or women, please).

2.  they would drop us off at the next major city or port on the caravan's travels because we'd talk their fucking ears off.  seriously.  tory and i are opinionated, well-spoken, intelligent women who would probably be able to convince them that we were cursed or something ridiculous like that.  or that by kidnapping us the karmic retribution would be horrifying.  or we'd just start going on about customer service and CSATs and stupid fucking agents who can't do their damn jobs and socialism and the liberal agenda and how far right christian conservatives are trying to take over the country and how cats are better than people and why you should get a mac and lipsticks we've known and loved.

i know. 

so we'd just talk and talk and talk and talk and they'd eventually get annoyed and toss us out of their covered wagon the next time they stop to feed the horses or whatever the fuck would be happening.




anyway.  in reality my mother always told me that no one who kidnapped me would want to keep me because i'd never shut up.  she ended up being partially right.  the closest i ever came to being kidnapped by gypsies was when i lived in a crack house in smithtown, new york.

seriously.  i was on welfare living in a one-bedroom basement apartment with FIVE other women, one of whom smoked crack in our bathroom.

and i'd take the bus to visit with awesome husband every day.  i wasn't working, and i got room and board from social services, so i only got $19.50 every other week for necessities like toiletries and shit.  and a handful of bus tokens, but usually only enough to get you to and from your appointments with social services.  so any ride was welcome.

or so i thought.

the bus stop was on a major road at a fairly large intersection, right in front of a mobil gas station.  a couple of times i had been propositioned standing there, waiting for a bus, in like regular clothes - jeans and a tee or hoodie, carrying my bag.  i know that prostitutes flaunt their wares on this main road, but hello - it was the MIDDLE of the day, in the MIDDLE of the week, and i was standing DIRECTLY UNDER a bus stop.  so one day a middle aged guy drives up in a minivan.  tan with that fake wood paneling on the sides - screams 'i'm a dad'.  he's wearing a button down and a tie, glasses, combed hair.  the picture of dad on his way to work or some shit.

so he pulls up to the bus stop and asks if i need a ride.  i'm like, well actually, yes i'm going to huntington, it's a straight shot down this main road like 30 minutes but it takes me three buses and almost two hours regularly.  i'm excited because i'll get to the mall early and can go read in the bookstore while waiting for awesome husband.  he says he can take me to the mall, it's not too far out of his way.  i hop in his minivan and away we go.

i don't remember much of the conversation because i was a bit nervous.  the car was neat, too neat almost.  i didn't give my name and we chatted a bit about dumb shit.  he asked how old i was and i said 19.  he asked if i liked to drink or party.  that set my first alarm bell off.  i told him i didn't drink or use drugs (blatant lie).  he then told me he had a spot he liked to go to eat lunch, we could go there to talk for a while.

uh oh.  now the alarm bells in my head are going off like woah.  my heart started pounding a bit faster.  i wasn't one of those new york women who carry mace or a taser or anything like that.  i knew how to use my keys or thumbs to gouge out eyes, though, and i had a thorough knowledge of how to use a direct hit to the groin for maximum pain.  where does he 'like to go to eat his lunch' in the middle of winter?  one of the parking lots at sunken meadow park.

any long islander will know, during the winter this is generally a desolate place.  i knew it.  we were going to a large empty parking lot, in the middle of a big state park - no houses, no pay phones (this was before everyone had a cell), no nothing.  i was in trouble. 

no knife.  no mace.  no weapon aside from a couple of keys.

but i did have my mouth and a big ass brain full of crazy shit.

so we park, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns his body towards me.  he starts talking about his friend, who makes movies.

SO CLICHED.

but his friend makes these movies, would i be interested in starring in one?  he gets a bit graphic about what the movies entail.  so i decide to get creative. 

wide-eyed steph gas:  oh, no, i could never do something like that.

creepy van driving guy:  really? why not?

wide-eyed steph gas:  god wouldn't like it.

creepy van driving guy:  huh?

wide-eyed steph gas:  well, i'm a virgin.  i've never even kissed a boy.  i'm totally dedicated to god and my faith.

creepy van driving guy:  glaring at me.

wide-eyed steph gas:  yes, i know i'm for sure saving myself until marriage, but i'm still thinking about becoming a nun.  you see, the problem is that i was raised lutheran.  we don't have like monasteries and nuns and saints.  but my best friend, she's catholic, and i've been to high mass and it's so pretty.  and i went to a lutheran school and lutherans are just too lenient.  like, girls would kiss boys in the hallways! at school!  and i was talking to someone i met in that catholic church, and they don't allow anything like that.  and i started reading at the library about catholicism and nuns and stuff, and i really like the idea of being married to god.

creepy van driving guy:  very uncomfortable shifty eyes, facing forward and starting the minivan.

wide-eyed steph gas:  yeah, i figure i either want to be married to god, or i want to be a housewife.  i'll find a good catholic man to marry me and bear him children.  because that's the only thing you should ever have sex for, is to procreate.  so, like, i want to have my first two babies within a year of each other, but not until i'm at least 23 or 24.  so i have to convert to catholicism and decide if i'm going to be a nun or not really soon.  i was actually hoping to go to the catholic church in huntington this weekend to talk to a priest about it.

creepy van driving guy:  well, okay.  you know what, this has been great - but it's a lot later than i thought.  i can't drive you all the way to huntington.  i'll drop you off in commack at the macy's.

wide-eyed steph gas:  oh, thank you.  that's two less buses i'll have to take, and it saves me a lot of time.  you're a good man.

now, i have to tell you.  when i was 19, i had been having sex for 3 years, two of them with awesome husband, and i had not considered myself lutheran for well over a year.

but the christian god saved my life that day with all the bullshit that humans decided catholicism included.

so, i guess i at least owe him that.




yes, i know this is not a picture of god.  shutthefuckup about it.