Shopping on the DL -- October 8, 2012
Demonic possession is the only explanation for my recent eruption of immoral behavior. I am ashamed and it makes me feel dirty every time I do it, but i can't stop shopping at Walmart. I know they are driving all the other local retailers out of business. I know they treat their employees poorly with low wages and no benefits. I know that they strong-arm manufacturers and suppliers into unfair agreements. I know that they stifle free speech by banning controversial books and music. I know that they sold weapons and ammunition to numerous unstable individuals who shortly after went on psychotic murderous rampages. I know, I know, I know.
But when I am holding a box of name brand, authentic Nabisco Food's Oreos in my hand, priced at $2.50, something strange happens to me. I suddenly turn into an amoral, sub-human creature. Yes, I want more! More I say! More of these outrageously low prices! Groceries, electronics, scented candles and Frank's Original Red Hot. Nothing can satiate my unspeakable desires. Strolling down the aisles I am like a sex maniac in an adult book store, which coincidentally - I am, and not coincidentally - that is the next stop on my errand list.
Oh, what's this? A family size bottle of genuine A-1 steak sauce? No, I didn't win the lotto, it's on sale for $3.99 at Walmart. Get in my cart b*tch. I'm gonna eat you on some pork chops later like a f***ing billionaire... Hello beautiful, is this a hardcover copy of Snooki's first book, "A Shore Thing" selling for $8. I really shouldn't. Oops, it must have fallen off the shelf and neatly between the absurdly low priced Cool Ranch Doritos and Glad Plug-ins that are nestled snuggly at the stern of my shopping cart... Well, well, well, what do we have here? A brand new laptop with a multi-core processor, 8 gig of ram and a 16 inch screen? Well I did fry the OS on my old laptop looking at porn so why not, it's only $299 at Walmart. Maybe this time I'll back up my system and create a restore media before visiting some of those risque sites. Or maybe not. With these prices, no big deal either way. In. The. Cart. I'm gonna own you...
With my cart overflowing of trinkets, toys and treats, I have the world in my hand. I feel powerful. In this moment I am all things. I am Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and a flask of Janis Joplin's boob sweat all wrapped up in a shirtless picture of Vladimir Putin. Nothing can phase me. I am invincible.
There is a family with 19 shoe-less children and five carts filled with groceries in front of me at the only single open checkout lane #30. As I scan my eyes along the closed lines #1 through #29, I think to myself "Hmmm, the other 29 cashiers must be out sick today?" I ambivalently notice that the 19 shoe-less children all have dried snot on their faces. The parents and two of the older children are pushing their carts one after the other like a choo-choo train. But none of it mattered. It's like stealing things without breaking the law. You just have to wait in line a little longer. And block out the dilemma of compromising your morals for 30% off your shopping bill.
Then I paid for my sh*t and left.
The End
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Living Alone -- August 19, 2016
I'm starting to realize that what started off as a novelty 4 years ago has now become an inextricable part of my being. After spending the first 36 years of my life living with family/siblings/friends/roommates/significant others etc. I have become so enraptured with living alone that I can no longer even imagine going back. Let me put this in a little more perspective. It's not that I think I would dislike having to live with a roommate or anyone else again. It's that I wake up in cold sweats having nightmares that I have a roommate again and I would prefer death to this horrible fate.
It's not just the obvious things either, like having to wonder whose hairs are embedded in the shower bar soap and what body part did they come from? For example, whenever I am home I now enjoy being naked with the shades drawn. Always. Always naked. Watching TV. Naked. Vacuuming. Naked. Doing my taxes. Naked. Frying bacon. Naked (with an apron - learned that one the hard way). Or playing the never ending ping-pong match of butter dish goes in the fridge or stays on the counter? Fridge. Counter. Fridge. Counter. Fridge. Counter. I pray that butter has not attained any level of consciousness lest we have emotionally damaged it as a pawn in our all-out butter wars. Or, as another example, my personal favorite, laying in bed awake for half the night fantasizing about your roomate coughing up blood when you finally kill them with your bare hands in a fit of rage because they put the cups in the dishwasher wrong. With blood coming out of their mouth they BEG you with their dying breath to forgive them for how TERRIBLY and STUPIDLY they put the cups in the dishwasher so they don't have to meet their maker with it on their conscience. But you laugh in their face, "I will never forgive you! NEVER!!!" Try explaining yourself for that one at the pearly gates!
In conclusion, as long as I have any say in the matter I will never go back to living with roommates again.
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Going for a Sea Drive -- October 3, 2016
As many of you may know I work at a helpdesk providing application support for end-users. Often times in the course of my job I have to verbally walk users through setting or accessing file paths on their local computer. Inevitably with many users, "browsing" or "clicking" to various file locations on the system become synonymous with "driving" the computer somewhere. So when I told one of my users recently that we were going to the "C:\ DRIVE", she heard that we were going on a "Sea Drive." Without skipping a beat she replied "That sounds lovely! I adore driving the ocean-side! Have you ever been down Route 1 in California?"
Suddenly we were whisked away to California State Highway Route 1. We were no longer two boring and mundane office workers muddling away with computer problems. She was Audrey Hepburn with a head-scarf and Jackie O' sunglasses and I was Rock Hudson in a tailored suit and wing-tipped shoes in a 1960's model convertible. The wind whips about with the top down on our convertible and the salty mist tickles our nostrils.
"Ohhh dahling," Audrey Hepburn says, "I just adore these trips up the coast to San Francisco you take me on."
Rock Hudson replies, "If you enjoy the Sea Drive, just wait until we get back to the hotel!"
"You Devil!" Audrey squeals with delight as she playfully slaps Rock Hudson on the shoulder.
They both throw their heads back in exasperated laughter knowing full well that as soon as they check into the hotel Audrey will take a 3 hour nap and Rock will hop on a trolley to Castro with a tub of vaseline in his pocket.
What were we talking about again?
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