bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY
playwright in brooklyn, NY

fruit flies (the musical)

August 31st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Ewww/eeee/ughhhh/yow.

People, these little Broadway Babies have INFILTRATED MY APARTMENT.

Causes? Perhaps the abandoned, fermented banana bunch I once planned to make bread with – or my general kitchen apathy as of late – or the Tomato bowl that is starting to grow hair and talk to itself. Whatever it is, I keep cleaning and attempting to kill, and I can’t get rid of them.

So I thought I would google these maestros of irk.

And I quote:

“Fruit flies are common in homes, restaurants, supermarkets and wherever else food is allowed to rot and ferment. Adults are about 1/8 inch long and usually have red eyes. The front portion of the body is tan and the rear portion is black. Fruit flies lay their eggs near the surface of fermenting foods or other moist, organic materials. Upon emerging, the tiny larvae continue to feed near the surface of the fermenting mass. This surface-feeding characteristic of the larvae is significant in that damaged or over-ripened portions of fruits and vegetables can be cut away without having to discard the remainder for fear of retaining any developing larvae. The reproductive potential of fruit flies is enormous; given the opportunity, they will lay about 500 eggs. The entire lifecycle from egg to adult can be completed in about a week.

Fruit flies are especially attracted to ripened fruits and vegetables in the kitchen. But they also will breed in drains, garbage disposals, empty bottles and cans, trash containers, mops and cleaning rags. All that is needed for development is a moist film of fermenting material. Infestations can originate from over-ripened fruits or vegetables that were previously infested and brought into the home. The adults can also fly in from outside through inadequately screened windows and doors.

Fruit flies are primarily nuisance pests. However, they also have the potential to contaminate food with bacteria and other disease-producing organisms.”

I have tried a few remedies, and nothing seems to work. They have been making themselves more and more at home. They are now leaving toothbrushes and boxer briefs here, without my consent. Backstroking through my cheap chardonnay.  Hacking into my myspace account. Not cool, the fruit flies.

So I will do THIS:

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HaHA. Take that. I am bigger/smarter. Or at least, bigger. Curling up in a rotten tomato and getting knocked u 500 times sounds pretty great right now.

Posted in whining | No Comments »

sometimes I forget how to walk

August 31st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

Don’t you?

It’s hard.

Posted in tout, trying too hard, whining | No Comments »

Her heart moved with the Day

August 31st, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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In the morning, it was optimistic, available, and in need of Eight Breakfasts.

In the afternoon:  slightly weary,  busy, bored of walks to the bank.

At night: it filled with blood and grew darker and colder. It wandered around: needy, wistful, confused.  It loved and needed everything.

Posted in fiction | No Comments »

DateAmillionaire.com!

August 30th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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That’s right, ladies. The makers of The Bachelor (probably), I’m a Slut and I want to be on TV, and everything bad Ever that is turning little girls into Gold Digging Whores bring you this AWESOME new service. AWESOME.

Start dating a millionaire- TODAY!  www.dateamillionaire.com

Seriously. It exists. I am saddened, and scared.

Fore a mere yourdignity/ whoringyourselfoutforlargepursesmadeoutofpenguinfuzz, you too can meet, date, and woo a millionaire. Just make sure you put out and mention your student loans. Not only will you Date a millionaire, you get a life-long addiction to Norwegian diet pills, a saggy botched boob job, and 17 exotic inbred kittens – FREE!

Alright, ladies! Let’s DO this!

Posted in factual smarts, i am scared, love, politics | No Comments »

butter lamb

August 29th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

I do alot of interior monologuing. I have a feeling that you do, too. A lot of my innerspeak is thoughts like: whoa. How STINKING crazy would it be if ( ………… )   happened.

And then I realize – in a world of infinite possibilities – most things have already happened – or are happening right now.

For example, little lambs formed out of butter. Orginially some sort of joke I conjured – I now realize they actually exist – as does everything, ever.

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Posted in food, the writing of drama plays, tout | No Comments »

first dates forever

August 29th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I want to die and come back to life.

Why?

So I can meet you again for the first time.

Posted in fiction, i am scared, love, trying too hard | No Comments »

Verbal Toast

August 29th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I am a writer who enjoys the toast. Thank God someone invented this fine contraption, with which things can be printed ON toast, like: hello, the mouth. Or: For God so Love the World he Gave his only begotten son, and whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

Thank you, the person who invented the toastprint. You have combined two of my favorite things.

Posted in factual smarts, food | No Comments »

awesome

August 29th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Posted in famous people stuff | No Comments »

eh.

August 29th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I am $115,343 in debt and I would like a bubble bath, please. Meet me in the middle. Thank you for caring.

Posted in whining | No Comments »

manback surgery

August 28th, 2007 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Before we ever met, there was something happening in your back situation that was Not Good. Not Good things were done to you, as you slept, to fix the Not Good thing. The room went white with doctors, and you slept through the pain.

Afterwards, for what seemed like forever, you lay on your stomach while your skin things healed; while yourself made itself right again. You refused the pain killers for fear of addiction and made things with your hands, to keep your mind quick. You lived.

Day one of Better, you took a drive to a friend’s house, sat on a couch, and smiled. You lived.

When you tell me this story, you grow in my mind into a large impenetrable tree, invincible. The tree holds seven tree houses for imaginative children and the ocean quietly licks at its feet. I know little of real pain, so I like to look up to you, lying on your stomach as you healed, before we ever met.

Posted in fiction, trying too hard, whining | No Comments »

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