Helmet had a housewarming party once she was settled in. She invited me. I brought Dan. I asked her if it was a special occasion and she said it was her birthday also. I asked her what her favorite baked good was and she responded, “Lemon meringue pie.” I made two from scratch and brought them to her party. She put them both in the refrigerator, and kept them for herself, though I had originally thought one could be served for the guests. There were two guests.
She introduced me to her guests as Anita. She introduced Dan as “the landlord.” Dan shook Shawn and Amanda’s hands and introduced himself by his actual name. He asked if they smoked, and I don’t remember if they did or not, but he offered a bit of whatever green he had on him to be social. Helmet had an 18-pack next to her in a cooler. I wasn’t drinking, but she offered me a beer. I declined because I wasn’t drinking. Dan said he would take one. She said she didn’t have enough beer for him. Helmet refused to give Dan a beer. We stayed for a very short time and when we left Dan was disgusted. “I wasn’t going to drink all of her beer, and leave her empty. I was planning on getting more for everyone.” I knew he was, that’s why he had friends. Normal people shared their beverages at parties they hosted, and when the cooler emptied it was refilled. I should have took the one she offered to me and then handed it to our landlord, but I was moderately entertained by her peculiar behavior. Helmet got her name because “She should be wearing a Helmet all the time,” said Hobbit, my Irish friend formerly referred to as the dog/rapist by Helmet in Parts I and II of this same story. My husband was working in New Orleans after a couple hurricanes tore through, for the rebuild, and was gone for 2 months of my 3rd trimester of pregnancy. I was mad at him because I couldn’t get dog food at Costco, or drive well with the giant belly. He suggested I ask Helmet to drive me and lift the food. I sucked it up and asked her for help as she lived in the grannie house behind us and Costco was right around the corner. It was a terrifying drive. Helmet sped up for stop signs but power braked and peeled out taking off. We lived in the ghetto, it was scary enough to drive in control, but she seemed wasted and probably was. I survived barely, and in my next conversation with Hobbit I said I wouldn’t be getting in her car again without a helmet. In his Irish brogue he cawed, the famous line, that she should permanently wear a helmet and Helmet became her unofficial name. Helmet had moved in too soon, we had just met her, and she worked with me at two jobs, one of which required a 1 hour commute, and to save money and the environment we car pooled. She also lived in the grannie house on my property, I could not get away from her. There was no washer and dryer access in the back house and my unsuspecting husband was kind (dumb) enough to give her a key to our house so she could use ours. It began with my square Pyrex glass pan. I tore the kitchen apart looking for it. I yelled at Dan for hiding it from me. I bake, which means I am a total control freak. Cooking is fun, baking is precise. A lot of people can cook, but few can bake (well). Helmet walked in, without knocking--hello, we could have been doing “it” on the counter, always knock. She heard me yelling at Dan and slowly started doing her laundry. I apologized for freaking out and explained I couldn’t find my 8x8 baking pan. “The glass one?” I learned from Sesame Street when I was 3 years old that borrowing without asking is stealing. “Oh, I used it in my microwave to make brownies.” I had to tell her to go and get it for me, which she did as quickly as a sloth crosses the street, and it still had burned brownies all over it. I was lucky enough to be able to scrub and wash it. Later Dan confirmed that it WAS weird that she took it without asking, that I had to ask for it back and I got to clean it as a bonus. Dan was and is continually fixing up the property, and both houses. Moving a shelf aside to do some work on the grannie house Dan accidentally broke some of Helmet’s unfired clay sculpture pieces. It was a small shelf that had about 5-10 little figurines that, as a former gallery curator, were worth about as much as she paid for the clay before she sculpted it. Being an artist, I can understand that a person can add sentimental value or be delusional about the value of their work. Dan knew he needed to compensate her for her broken treasures. I gave a huge overpriced estimate of $200, just to be safe and though Dan felt terrible about the tragic accident he told her and apologized in addition to paying her for the broken things. She took it well. Little did we know until much later that Helmet began telling people that my husband went crazy and smashed her artwork on purpose. He felt terrible in actuality and already paid her 10x what anyone would pay for unfired, unfinished, poorly made, hand builds. We had already realized the girl was a “do-funny,” Dan’s grandma’s word for not all right in the head. The photography studio moved me into sales as a punishment because the director told me to pick lint off the floor on my break. I was shooting 60+ seniors a day, more than double what the other photographers were doing and on my breaks I sat down. I told her I wouldn’t be picking lint off the floor in between my sessions. The next day I was transferred into sales. Sales was dreamy, especially when I was selling my own work. I got bonus commission, it was weak, but pretty much $3-$4 per package sold and I sat on my butt the entire day and schmoozed people. Helmet walked by sweating in between photography sessions and saw me with my feet up on a table drinking fancy water reserved for the guests. I should have told her to pick up some lint. She was mad and very jealous. She asked the director if she could move into sales, thank goodness, no, I finally got a break from her, or so I thought. We were both sitting in my hot tub later in the evening and she was drinking heavily. Helmet told me about a boy she had a huge crush on, but when he revealed that he liked her too, he also shared that he had a 2-inch penis, and needed to get that off his chest, before dating anyone. I’m a genius, so I told her to have him stick it in her bum, because that would make 2 inches seem like 20. Helmet was quiet, I’m guessing she was contemplating, but she said, no, that she already declined his offer to date because of his “problem.” I told her there were a million ways to make the same thing pop, and she could remedy any lack of girth or width or depth with fun toys, and possibly experiment with other forms of exciting play but obviously she had made up her mind. Helmet then shared that a boy that she was actually dating for over a year finally had sex with her, but he had to go into the bathroom first with the lights out, and she had to wait for him to call her into the bathroom when he was ready. When he did finally call her in he was sitting naked with a boner on the toilet and a wet washcloth over his entire face including his eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh. She said when she tried to take to washcloth off, he wouldn’t let her, but “It was great.” I explained to her that her new boyfriend was gay, but she didn’t care because he was good looking. I’m actually still friends with him and he is good looking (and out now). For some reason, probably because I liked Helmet’s friend, Alissa, I invited them to an all girl’s camping trip at the ocean in Fort Bragg. A lot of girls gathered annually for merriment and wild girly shenanigans. Alissa wanted to drive and I rode along in the back of her car and fell asleep with my butt in the air on top of a cooler. I broke wind on Alissa and Helmet the whole time I was sleeping. They said it smelled like garlic. Alissa decided to sleep in a park-and-ride on the way there, because I woke up in a weird park like environment very early in the morning, probably 5 AM and searched out a restroom. Tiny bunnies, I’m totally serious, these bunnies could fit in your hand, were chasing me, but they weren’t trying to kill me, they were just following me everywhere. I was totally in love with them. This has nothing to do with Helmet, but I love these bunnies and needed to share. I could lean down and they would go right to my hand but wouldn’t let me touch them. When we got to Fort Bragg we were the first ones there. I always slept in the main house with Jackie in our fancy bedroom with the pink wallpaper, but I told Alissa and Helmet to scope out a spot in the barn. They were happy to, and very excited to be a part of the event and made their camp. The barn is converted into a home with two bedrooms and a bathroom and a great room and kitchen. This was the 6th annual Cootertown vacation. The year before we (anywhere from 12-25 females) all gave ourselves Cooter names based on a TV show our host watched. A man named Crazy Cooter was saying something profound but we just laughed and started calling our host “Crazy Cooter,” and then started creating our own Cooter names. It caught on. All the girls showed up at newly minted Cootertown (anywhere there is an all girl party) and everything was lovely until we went to the ocean the next day. A few girls took some mushrooms and I think Helmet may have participated. I didn’t and wasn’t paying too much attention when some of the girls starting pulling sorority style rank BS about how many times a person had attended the annual trip. Two or three girls were mad because the newbies, Alissa and Helmet, had taken the good bed in the barn next to the bathroom and they had 3 people in a much smaller room. They announced that “Queen people” or whatever bully word they called themselves, the people that had been to all events, had priority on space and they returned to the barn and forced Alissa and Helmet to switch rooms. They also ate all of Alissa’s raspberries. Instead of welcoming the new cooters, they were lined up for a spanking. A few other new people were brought by other friends, I think there were 4 or 5 first timers that year. Only one has returned since this lame incident. Helmet was on mushrooms and not happy. I finally saw and realized what was going on, and told her and all the other girls they did not have to participate and that walking away and telling them all to eat shit was fine. I had their backs. Helmet and two other girls went into the house. Alissa stuck her butt in the air meaning ”Spank away, you coot bags,” and she is the one that keeps returning. I did ream the mean girls individually for this terribly unwelcoming behavior, and nothing like this has happened since. I am going to turn this into a Helmet moment somehow, and she may have jinxed the girls trip, because it left a very bad taste in my mouth and burned Alissa’s bum. I felt bad for Helmet and I tried to give her another chance. The flower cutting job started again with me on the hill. She was comfortable now, as this was her second season, and there was a crew of 5 including me and excluding the Hobbit. He just ranted and raved and jumped up and down enjoying a live audience and hearing himself speak. His house, his rules, his product. I had quit the photography sales position and was happily working elsewhere, so the Helmet exposure was lessened in general. This season there happened to be a wee person in our midst. She said, “I’m actually a midget, as the cut off to be a little person is 4’8” and I’m 4’7½” Her nickname immediately became the Midget. I was working with the Hobbit, the Midget and Helmet and a married normal couple. The Midget was a sexy thing, she was perfectly proportionate and though her body was akin to a 12 year old, she was thin and a fully grown woman about 25 years old and she flirted mercilessly with the Hobbit. I warned him, we were friends, do not do this midget until we’re done working as it would cause all sorts of issues with the working dynamic. He, being a man is dumb and ruled by his penis, so he didn’t listen to me, but I don’t think he had slept with her yet at this point of the story. Helmet was very jealous of the attention Midget was getting from the Hobbit, even though she thought he was a dog/rapist. Out of nowhere Helmet starts a conversation with all the workers sitting quietly around us, “You know how you told me to just put it in my butt?” NO. I forgot the offhanded thing I had said in the hot tub, but I remembered now, that you brought it up in such a subtle way. “Well, I don’t think that will work for me. I use a lot of toys and I have to masturbate in a very special way.” The faces of the people around us at this point are hard to explain. Drop dead WTF is this person saying, this is not normal conversation starting. I realize now in retrospect she may have been vying for sexual attention or thinking this was somehow a sexy thing to speak about because Hobbit and Midget were talking dirty to one another, but in a much more tasteful manner. “I made a machine.” Midget was not a Helmet fan, as Helmet was very openly disapproving of Midget’s sexcapade stories earlier, that were entertaining and normal. Helmet may have even insinuated the Midget was loose or a ho in some way, though she was single and free, no judgement here, hump away. The Midget’s smirk was slightly evil as she goaded Helmet, “You made a masturbation machine?” Now one thing I can say about Helmet in the time I knew her, she actually was pretty decent at construction, she used a lot of tools and had good rope. Ew. So yes, she did explain she built her machine out of the necessity to get brutally bonked while having her hair pulled at the same time. She would tie her hair into the machine and viola, sexy time is happening. I kind of blocked out the rest of the conversation until I went home and had to share with my roommate, Gayla. I may have even commented that I wanted a hair pulling sex machine, and Gayla said, “You have one. His name is Dan.” Oh, yeah, I do. Gayla is my smart friend. I also told Helmet later that I would bet on the Midget if there was a Helmet vs. Midget wrestling match because although Midget was much smaller, she had a mean streak and was very witty. Helmet was not pleased.
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