Monday, December 10, 2012


This seemed like a good title today, because that’s kind of the way I’m feeling. Do not misconstrue. I do not feel bad; I feel quite well actually. As absolutely boring as this is, so I’ll make it short, I’ve been eating well, exercising (if walking is an exercise) and sleeping. A lot of sleeping. Like 10 to 11 hours at night.

We’ve kind of been doing the Christmas thing, à la watching gobs and gobs of ABC Family Christmas movies on HuluPlus, which are pretty good. Lots of laughs and plenty of tears. But the holidays do that to people, don’t they? Times remembered, or mourned because they never were, tend to bring out the hankies. It’s okay, though. It’s genuine, and again, JC and I are scheming on how to get some Christmas to folks around here, who won’t have a Happy this year.

Turns out Señor and Sra Chupacabra like chocolate and we like Mango juice, so they’ve been renamed Señor and Sra Neighboress. She also cooks a mean picadillo. Mama runs in and out of the house and Neighboress pays her no mind, so the curse has been lifted. For those who were out in the lobby getting snacks during that part of the show, Viola put a curse on Sra Chupacabra when Sra C complained about the cat’s non-existent fleas to Señor Landlord. Viola put a Scottish Erse curse on Sra C for that. The fact that no one speaks one another’s language in this scenario may have led to a wee misunderstanding.

Anyway, we’ve been trying to spread our brand of Christmas cheer, but sometimes it’s hard going. JC and I were walking back from the little market on the corner with a Sunday paper. Some sour old guy was sitting in front of the market when we came out. JC greeted the man. “Hi, how are you?” …. “Not so good, eh?” Of course, I burst out laughing. A lot of it is just JC’s deadpan delivery. Great. Now, this sour old guy thinks I’m laughing at him.

JC hustles me along. I had been to the grocery store, earlier and I had JC meet me at the bus stop to help me carry the cat food. Yes, cat food. This is the most spoiled-rotten cat in the history of. I had too much other crap to stuff in my back pack, so I called him and he met me to help carry. So, I start telling him about the sour clerk I had at the store. She never did crack a smile. And I used all my best jokes, too! I know! Usually, I’m laying them in the aisles. So, I said something inane and she just looked at me. Everyone else was laughing and I just said to her, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your day.” Asperger strikes again. I couldn’t get my shit and get out of there fast enough.

I almost left 2/3 of it sitting in the store. If the bagging guy hadn’t stopped me, I would have left it behind. I’m so socially inept, it’s painful. JC thought it was funny, and it actually is (everyone else, sans target laughed.) We stopped at the little market to get our Sunday paper and Maria and Rick and people we actually know are there. I had broken my sunglasses, which JC repaired, but I really need dark glasses, so was trying on new ones, being ridiculous. Some lady looked at me aghast, like “act your age,” but who knows what she was really thinking. I found another pair. JC was down the counter, talking to Rick. I looked at JC and pointed to the glasses, and he said “We ain’t left the store yet.” That garnered a laugh from Maria and Rick.

I’m trying to pay for the paper and glasses, and as usual, my mouth is running 190 miles per. I do this when I’m trying to get stuff and pay for stuff. I hate, hate, hate to put anyone out and make them wait for me. Yes, I’m that insecure, or nervous, or whatever. Echoes from my childhood. So, I just spew whatever is bouncing around in my head.

I’m trying to hoist this stupid back pack full of cat food off my back and up onto the counter to get my money. I tell Maria, “This is nothing, you should have seen when I had 300 lbs of crap in my shopping cart and I almost took out the wine aisle in Sweet Bay. That poor couple I was bearing down on saw their lives flash by before their eyes. I could see it in their doomed souls. When I zoomed by, I said, ‘This is why Mary don’t drive.’”

I had 24 cans of this crap in my back pack. She will ONLY eat the Shreds. No Paté, no Gravy Dinners. Just Shreds. Dammit. *Stamps her little foot* 

I thought we were going to have to pick Maria up off the floor. I didn’t think it was THAT funny. Okay, maybe a little bit. At least we got to spread a bit of our Christmas “cheer.”
Post a Comment