Putting the Madge in Danna by Mia Natasha Page A

doubt I would have ever
even thought about having sex with anyone besides Zeus, and now
look at me. I’m a woman with good witch gusto, right? I couldn’t
start this thing without ending it – without having contact with
all six fuckers. Everything about this missed opportunity felt
frustrating.
    She not being there left me feeling terribly
empty. You must know what it’s like when you plan to go somewhere
and you take your last pee and you are so ready, like a filly about
to run the Preakness or whatever. Then you have to abort, at the
five second mark, with no hoo-ha fill-up….
    I’m so not used to failure. I felt so
incredibly glum, as though I wanted that particular lesbian
experience the way I really wanted that Madame Alexander doll from
FAO Schwarz that had been way too expensive. I was six years old at
the time, in my defense. She was that baby doll that looks so real
she even pees after you give her this fake watery milk. I cried
until I got her. Then I abandoned her on the porch swing (not sure
where she is today). I think I was too young to take care of a
baby. Have no idea how I will do it when I do get pregnant, truth
be told, unless our mothers and Yaya step in.
    Mom loves kids. Her world practically
revolves around us, especially my brothers whom she treats as gods.
I feel sorry for Penny and for the woman who marries Dean, because
they will have some big-headed babies on their hands. Please god,
don’t give me boys, even though we’ve already picked out their
names. Of course, a boy who looks like Zeus wouldn’t be bad at
all.
    I didn’t want to go home and sulk or type up
this blog empty handed. Thought I’d lose my audience if I did that
– on the off chance that there is an audience out there. All talk
and no action is a sort of pitiful work ethic thingy. With the
extra time on my hands, I decided to head over to Jasmine’s for my
wedding gown fitting instead of waiting until tomorrow night. I
guess I was using the remains of my positive energy, thinking that
since the lez-lez event was a bust, the staff at Jasmine’s would
stop whatever they were doing to assist me. I would only need a
drop of good luck for that to happen, and I only thought this
because every time I go to Jasmine’s everyone falls all over me
showering me with compliments on the way I look in my wedding gown.
They are so sweet and always make me feel good.
    I figured now would be a good time to hear
pleasant comments. It was either that or make an appointment with
my priest to rid me of my disappointment guilt. Do you know that
the way the Orthodox Church does confession is face-to-face? No
secret playhouse box, like in the Catholic Church. I’m not sure if
anyone has ever used that sacrament, except maybe that woman,
Joanne, the one who makes excellent spanikopita. She went to jail
for tax evasion, and I’m pretty sure she had confessed to Father
Phillip before she left in case she gets shanked in the big
house.
    I love Jasmine’s Bridal Shop. It’s in a
small plaza that has a white picket fence around the perimeter next
to Giuseppe’s Tailoring and that cobbler who seriously looks like
Pinocchio’s father. Jasmine wasn’t there - do you believe that?
She’s almost always there. Instead, a thirty-something blonde stood
in her stocking feet by the tall T-stand near the cash register.
She took the end of the tape measure that was around her neck out
of her mouth and began to speak in broken English.
    “ Ha va you?” she
said.
    Since I too speak B.E., I had no problem
with it. Many people who attend our church are off-the-boaters, you
know? Broken English helps when speaking Greek too. I’m not great
at it, not Greek fluent yet, so I tend to throw in some American
words in a sort of Greeklish thingy. Greek’s hard to master.
    “ Hi, there. Dannika,” I
said pointing to myself.
    “ Margot,” the fragilely
thin woman replied. She was pretty in that way people who need
makeovers look breathtaking afterwards. That