17:38 - 2004-02-29
Rations That May or May Not Be Rational
I would be very tempted to take up the offer Spee is extending (I think). To drive, to drift, to sail down an empty black stretch through an empty, clear black night, past (hopefully) empty dark storefronts.
Though, the world is not perfect. Stretches have dead ends, nights have mornings, roads are littered with sleepy, dangerous drivers, and storefronts that look empty are usually brimming with hobos.
All things that are usually quite harmless, but still, it isn't picturesque. But coffee is nice, and it was only last night that I also stared up in my mind's eye, with awe, into the stars.
The sun always brings logic with it though, and laws of humanity, and those bleachy, garrish day-things that pull you out of the purer world.
Today, the Day World brought me: A trip to the grocery store.
I try not to get too bummed out about these things because, as this story will prove, there is usually some laughs to be had in it.
See, originally my mom wanted to go out to eat because her feet hurt. If you don't see the correlation there, worry not, it, to truth, isn't all that clear unless you share experience. And it's a good thing I mentioned this earlier, because now that I think about it, it really is a good idea to explain these things:
The ancient process of cooking (from the ancient gaelic word "kook") involves a lot of standing, which can be a bit unpleasent if your feet hurt. Therefore, why not sit on your duff while a group of people BRING you food?
You get the picture, though you are probably asking yourself why this moron keeps meandering from the subject of "We went to the store". Well, I can answer that for you:
Because.
Now, we did go to the store, don't worry. I'm not trying to trick you into reading about our delicious, fresh entrees at Chili's, or about the incredible service and impeccable cleanliness of the resturaunt. We decided after that, and by "we" I mean "my mother", to go get the grocery shopping over and done with.
Remember at this point that my mom's feet still hurt. Well! She had this idea in her head that she was going to give me the grocery list and wait while I gathered everything up and returned to the front of the store. That seems reasonable until you take a look at the list:
"Oking Sprey"
Bean
Paper Towls
Lettuce
Hot Dogs
Q-tipsy
and what looked to me like "Lonely Soup"
And even as she was handing me this list, she was telling me not to forget the corn bread mix, and the chicken with the coupon, and what kind of chicken it was.
Now, yeah, I could probably find most of this stuff with ease, but do you think I know what brand of Lettuce to buy? Or what in the heck "Oking Sprey" is? About the hot dogs, that sounds easy right? What brand? What flavor? Do they need to be on sale? Are they for us or the dog?
And I asked about the Lonely Soup and it turned out to be "Laundry Soap", whereas "Oking Sprey" was obviously meant to say "Cooking Spray".
I shook my head because I know that I live in a hole and that with MY level of experience, I woulda wandered around that store for an hour, searching hopelessly for Oking Sprey and Lonley Soup. This wouldn't work. So we (and by "we" I mean "I") formulated a plan.
I tried to think of some way my mom could be srunk down to travel-size and placed in my pocket, so she wouldn't have to walk, but then I remembered her motion sickness...Couldn't put her in the basket...How could I still bring my mother along without forcing her to walk?
AHA! Stationed around a display of balloons were the handicap motor-round car things with the basket at the front. And I finally had a good excuse to play with one!
And these were the cool kind where you didn't have to go ask the cashier for a key to turn the thing on! Score!
So we began our journey, trying to run over as few pedestrians as possible (our record was five).
And yes, my head filled to the brim with giddy notions of using these delightful technological achievements to race or play bumper cars or--since I couldn't resist as it was--to run over more pedestrians!
I was also amazed to see someone sitting in the little chair who wasn't extremely obese, disfigured, or old. And yeah, I admit, when I hear those things coming in the store, I usually duck behind something because I'm kind of frightened of old people when they have grouchy faces and are sitting in something that whirs and buzzes. It's something I retain from a rough childhood.
Anyway, we got our "Oking Sprey" and our "Q-tipsy", and all the other stuff my mom had to get that she hadn't written down, and things went smoothly.
That is, until...
The moto-chair began to get sluggish and tired. It began to make a pitiful, arduous wheezing sort of noise, and we realized that the batteries were dying like all batteries someday will. It's just a fact of life.
BUT IT SUCKED! Because we weren't DONE yet! Get the lead out, you stupid geriatric go-cart, we still have to get the po'k chops! And I ended up pushing the darned thing the rest of the way, whilst of course, making tired, inept, senile noises to go with its sputtering and eventual lack of power.
It was pretty fun all and all. But with my mom, the fun never ends because she hadn't gotten the kind of hcicken she wanted.
So we had to go to Albertsons and I made small talk with myself and the groceries while I went and gathered the few, but unbelievably heavy things we needed.
Ain't I just one big, walking hyperbole? ^_^
Since we only had a couple of items, we went to the Self-Checkout booth, unaware that it was managed by the paragon of persniketty talking machines.
You scan your card.
"Acknowledged".
I love being acknowledged. Then you stand there and wait for something to happen. Oh, that's right, this is SELF check out. So you start scanning things. Wow, you feel like a real-live cashier now! Hey, we've got what? Seven packages of weenies here, right? (We did.) Let's try that nifty thing where you just scan one package seven times!
"UNIDENTIFED! Please scan a new item!" demands the machine.
Well alright. You shrink away and carefully scan each package individually.
"There is an UNAUTHORIZED body in the bagging area!"
What? Look I'm not a security guard, send someone certified to deal with the intruder in the bagging area!
You notice your hand is still poised over one of the bags. Oops. You move it and the machine calms down. Ah. Quiet.
So the scanning continues nad you scan your card, as the machine prods you with weapons. And you pick up your bag--
"PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE THE BAGS FROM THE BAGGING AREA!"
OKAY! Gosh! Set 'em back down, wait a while. Then:
"Please remove your bags from the bagging area!"
And you leave, etc. Look, I understand this is just public machinery and that it isn't alive, but isn't this a little TOO realistic? I have enough HUMANS being short with me, and I'm more than a little sensative to being verbally berated when I really am doing my best to cooperate. And if this is to avoid theft, what's the machine planning to do if someone does "REMOVE THE BAGS FROM THE BAGGING AREA"? No amount of stern, overreactive "please"-ing is going to stop a guy from running off with bags.
But oh well, those are the sorts of things I'll have to remember to avoid in the future.
Snarky cashier machines...who do they think they are?
Well, there are plenty of more important thigns to worry about anyway. Especially since our household has started experiencing a great incline in cat-pee related cases.
Only this time the tables have turned:
--No, the humans aren't peeing on the carpets now: We're just dealing with a different culperate.
I have two cats, as I may have mentioned.
'Keba is anti-social and snotty, and Raymi is entertaining, despite his occasional puking habits and lack of common sense, he is lovable.
And Raymi used to be our problematic cat, in the way that he would pee in places where one does not prefer for a cat to pee. But he got better, and even if he hadn't, he had is redeeming qualities.
Keebie, however, is a bit lacking in those qualities. She's rude when we have guests, hiding or being cold toward them. She refuses to play, even when it's just us. She snobbily hops into my mom's lap and demands attention constantly, ignoring everyone else. And now this habit of peeing, particularly in my room, where I choose to reside away from the rest of the household, and where I usually choose to entertain my guests.
Just like last time, this WILL end, not necessarily without violence. I'm not Gandhi and I don't appreciate my room reeking of cat bladder!
That seems to be the worst thing on the menu right now, luckily. My fears melted away the other day as I was able Brandon back his book, unfinished and probably underappreciated, and I was able to come out without any kind of paralysis or injury.
There have been issues before. I hate to speak against people when they aren't preseent, but I also try to avoid lying. And Brandon is perhaps one of those individuals who is gifted with a slight temper. One of those who you don't doubt to be a little irrational at times. I certainly don't disvalue him for this or any trait, but that isn't to say I don't worry at times about evoking his wrath. A good conflict is always refreshing, but I prefer them to have a firmer basis than "you didn't like my new pants" or "you sneezed near my hamburger". I made those two up, of course, but "you didn't adore the book I lent you" isn't much better. "You wrote bad stuff about me in your diary" however, IS a good excuse to be mad, so I better shut up. The point is, I had good reason to worry about starting some kind of uncomfortable friction between Brandon and myself, and I wished to avoid it because Brandon is my friend and he is cool. I'll take this moment to transform this explanation into a *flashy letters, echoing announcer voice* BIG WASTE OF TIME by telling you that, fortunately, Brandon was not unhappy with me or my opinion. But I am a chicken so I didn't give the book back to him in person, and instead sent it through a messanger with whom I sent the message "I liked it but I couldn't finish it." This person, however, forgot to say whatI told her to, so Brandon, I'm told responded with a confused "She...said she hadn't...finuished it." Sigh. Well, it should conclude peacefully, at least. And if not, I hope Brandon realizes that I mean no offense to him in any way. Some people are just harder to please when it comes to books and that I really didn't HATE it or anything, in fact, I enjoyed the way the front cover corresponded in no way whatsoever with the characters in the story--at least up until chapter 20-something where I left off.
The Academy Awards are on tonight, if ya didn't know. Johnny Depp was just on TV, donning his tux, with his snazzy hair-cut. I always kind of liked his dingy pancho get-ups, but it's still cool to see him dressed more "slick", and still without all the showy nonsense some of those other people get decked out in. I look forward to watching it entirely for the chance to be surprised by the new, improved ridiculous methods of accentuating clevage and more sneak peeks into the art of adorning women in shower curtains. I haven't noticed too much when it comes to how the guys are dressing at these things, except that it looks expensive, but every year it seems more and more obvious that these women have just rolled out of the rack after an 8 hour flight, and they just didn't have enough time to do anything with their hair. You feel bad for them, mostly because you know it must be driving them nuts and they must be so embarrassed, but it really doesn't look too bad and Billy Crystal's hosting tonight anyway, so you may not even notice ^_^
I gotta go, I'm missing a good opportunity to be entertained! *wave wave*
