Iris Myandowski loves intimate moments with herself

Dear Adoring Fans,

Life is hard. Work is long. Pleasure is short.

Yesterday I had a 6AM to 8PM shift at Arby’s followed by a two hour rehearsal with my trainer Rick Swanson. Rick has trained some of the most famous handwalkers working today like Sissy Lightleather and Kimberly Wishaw. I respect his talent as a pioneer of the trade but he has a habit of smoking tomtom cigars. While walking on my hands up a black staircase I kept choking on his fumes and toppling over. Dragging my exhausted carcass home you can understand I needed some light relief.

Flopping down on my bare mattress (the maid stole my bedsheets) I found I couldn’t get up again. I was hungry but also in need of some two-fingered relief. Luckily by my bedside there was a jar of Planters Peanuts. I tipped the jar back emptying the contents down my throat and enjoying the dry-roasted salt sliding against my tongue on its way down. I don’t know what happened to my Channing Tatum fan mag so I didn’t have anything to visually stimulate me as I dug into the mouse hole. So I stared into Mr Peanut’s midnight dark eyes while riding the waves of jelly pleasure. It goes to show you how resourceful a working girl can be when she’s in a jam.
I’m not ashamed about openly discussing female masturbation. It’s natural. 2011. Get over it.

Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski loves being special

Dear Adoring Fans,

Being American, I know that I am special. That’s the great thing about being raised in this beautiful country. We are all raised with the understanding that we are special. Now that the world population is tipping over to seven billion I have to stop and marvel thinking there are seven billion individually special people in this world. Yes, I know special also means retard. I’m not talking about billions of tards. And yes, some are more special than others. Not everyone was born with my talent. But they are all special – in their own way.

I’ve been thinking about this because I had an argument with Stephanie who works at the Arby’s drive-thru. Hearing the news about the population reaching such a scale she grimaced and said she was heading straight down to the abortion clinic (she’s two months pregnant). She said the world is filling up and she knows the future must mean misery for any child born today that will have to one day live in a world crammed with fifteen billion people. I told her, “No Stephanie! There is a special little life growing inside you. You must keep it!” She turned to me flicking her nasty dyed bangs and said, “Get real Iris! Nobody around here is special. Everyone just likes to think that. But how can you call me or you special when we’re stuck working in Arby’s.” I told her she was wrong. I have ambition. I will make my come back. The world will see I’m special.


Well, dear readers, I had to take a few moments to go to the ladies room and cry at her nasty words. Of course my boss cussed me out when I returned five minutes later having taken the unscheduled break. I can’t stop believing that I’m special – that we all are. Some of us just don’t have the ambition to realize our special potential. Rest assured I have that drive. As president James A. Garfield said, “A pound of pluck is wroth a ton of luck.” I do have pluck. And I’m going to make it. You’ll see Stephanie. I’ll make you see.

Yours and forever,

Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski Loves Being Exposed All Over the Net

Dear Adoring Fans,

It seems like every time I turn on my computer there are new security features to be downloaded, new privacy settings, new passwords required, new versions of secure software to be installed. You know what? I don't care who knows my business. That's right, the internet can take all my life and put it out there for anyone to look at for all I care.

I have nothing to hide and no money so there isn't a lot that can be stolen from me. So go ahead and read what you want, peruse my deepest thoughts and secret longings. Plaster my pictures over every inch of the web so 12 year old boys in Indonesia can gratify themselves staring at my beautiful image. Take it all.

Security systems be damned. Privacy, who cares?

Yours and forever,

Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski loves eating lunch by herself

Dear Adoring Fans,

I never expected to be the most popular girl. People are naturally jealous of my considerable talent. But at the very least I have always expected to have a small circle of loyal admirers. So it’s come as a shock to me that I find myself day after day eating lunch by myself during my break at Arby’s. When I first started I thought I’d found a pal in Amy, the 25 year old drive through check out girl. She’s friendly and bubbly. However, after I criticised her tattoo she no longer gives me anything other than cold blank stares. I once asked Sally Fenchurch if she wanted to have lunch with me, but she spent the entire break talking on her cell phone with her boyfriend Chip. Damini spends every break reading her O magazine. So there aren’t any girls I can have lunch with.

Now, I have a confession to make and I feel shy about writing this on something so public as a blog but… I have a crush on one of my co-workers. His name is Delroy. He’s just graduated from high school, but his family doesn’t have enough money to send him to college yet. I know what you are thinking… has Iris Myandowski turned into a cougar chasing after a hot young thing like Delroy. Well, my darlings I can’t help it! He does this incredibly cute thing of pouting his lips as he pulls French fries out of frialators. And every time my boss tells him he should be mopping the floor rather than standing around he says in a really exaggerated fake black southern accent “Yessum Mista.” His can’t-be-bothered attitude totally charms me.
Alas, the one time I built up the courage to ask Delroy if he’d like to have lunch with me he made that incredibly painful exasperated face which I’d previously found so charming and said he had other plans. While he and a few of the other burger guys went on their break I heard them all snickering. So I sit down to eat my roast beef cheese smothered sandwich and curly fries alone. Reading the free Arby’s nutritional information leaflet is my only company.

Yours and forever,

Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski loves New Years with the gays

Dear Adoring Fans,

My invitation to Bette Midler’s NYE party seems to have got lost in the mail. So I invited three young Latino gay men who used to work at Arby’s with me over to watch the ball drop. I laid out a beautiful spread for us to enjoy – all the best frozen canapés I could buy. By the time they arrived at 11pm I’d already drunk my way through a whole bottle of champagne and ate a dozen crab rolls. They plonked themselves on my couch and looked disdainfully at my spread of food. “We don’t eat carbs after 7PM,” they informed me. During the time they worked with me at Arby’s, I swear I’d seen them shove curly fries in their faces when we worked the night shift together and no one was looking.

I talked merrily about my plans for my big comeback tour in the new year, but the selfish little men simpered, rolled their eyes at me and watched all the news coverage showing cities in the world who saw the new year before us while bitching about the clothes of everyone on the screen. I tried to practice my routine for them although it was awkward in my silk and silvery new year’s dress. I kept tumbling over and crashed into my coffee table splitting it in half which sent the gays into a hysterical fit of laughter. When the ball finally dropped, they kissed each other and got up to leave saying they were going to party at some club named Circus. They took my remaining bottles of champagne with them. I stayed up for another few hours by myself eating the rest of the pork balls and devouring several packs of Reese’s peanut butter cups.

Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski loves buying as much candy as she wants

Dear Adoring Fans,

Yesterday, my insane Arby’s manager spent an hour complaining to me about how he doesn’t have time to do everything he has to do: train me further, supervise me, write an evaluation about me. Rather than doing any of these things or running the restaurant, he ranted and raved while I made roast beef sandwich after roast beef sandwich. By the time it got to my twenty minute lunchbreak I was nearly in tears.
I went to the nearby RiteAid to pick out a candy bar (actually six candy bars). Standing in front of all the candy was a child looking at all the butterfingers and lollipops with such longing. His mother angrily refused him any candy. Meanwhile, I loaded my basket with chocolate bar after chocolate bar. Kit Kats, Hershey bars, Baby Ruths, Junion Mints, Mars bars. Walking past the little boy who was in tears I laughed at him. I may work for a miserable man, but at least I’ve earned this as an adult: the right to get as much candy as I want!

Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)

Iris Myandowski loves white people looking awkward

Dear Adoring Fans,

I was waiting for my bus to get to work at Arby’s this morning. A small white woman reading the new Stephen King book and listening to her ipod stood just outside the bus shelter as I was taking up most of the bench while eating my second scrambled eggs and bacon bagel. A black homeless man wandered down the street towards us. He stopped beside her and started to mumble incoherently. The woman looked uncomfortable but pulled her white earplug out and said, “Excuse me can you repeat that?” The man mumbled incoherently again. Her cheeks colored pink. She looked around, but I was the only other one there and she seemed not to think the fat woman in the Arby’s uniform staring curiously at her could help.

The man gestured wildly while spluttering and mumbling. He smelled like old poop. The white woman looked frightened. But I could tell she didn’t want to be nasty to him or just leave because that would be like admitting she is a privileged white woman who doesn’t care about a black homeless man. The man gruphed and harrumphed and coughed. She looked down at her Stephen King, but that only seemed to irritate him further. “I’m sorry. I don’t have any change,” she said. The man scratched his crotch and the bus pulled up. The white woman said to the man "Happy Thanksgiving." She and I both got on the bus. The woman went to the back of the bus scratching her face looking very perturbed. The homeless man continued on down the sidewalk.

I didn’t think to intervene because as Ronald Reagan said, “What we have found in this country, and maybe we're more aware of it now, is one problem that we've had, even in the best of times, and that is the people who are sleeping on the grates, the homeless who are homeless, you might say, by choice.”

Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)