Since my kitchen was bare and suffering from a severe case of Frat Boy Fridge (that is, all condiments and beer – no food), I finally went grocery shopping after, ohhh, a couple months or so maybe. I bought a lot of good things for smoothie making and have been doing a lot of experimenting that way.
But my most important discovery of the weekend: is it just me, or does Pirate’s Booty actually taste about ten better when you’re sporting an eye patch?
Other things news worthy - my shopping trip to Target last night started out with a little shop lifting. Not my own, mind you. I am too old to get busted pocketing lip gloss and things thankyouverymuch. But rather, a little shop lifting by some young white-bred brat, who, obviously filled with suburban ennui, decided to take danger into his own hands.
Right as I came through the automatic doors, I saw this kid coming at me, with this huge like, box-thing stuffed right the front of his zipped up coat and it was all in slow motion at first with this young kid and his shifty eyes coming at me looking for escape and I just kept staring at him and I was totally going to say something like, “who do you think you’re kidding?”
Because, seriously, it was such a sad attempt and the most poorly executed and so painfully obvious cases of shop lifting I had ever seen in my life I was certain he was kidding.
But nope, he darted his bulky-self right by me trying to go OUT the IN door where he was immediately trapped for a few seconds because the automatic IN door he was trying to run OUT of wouldn’t open, which left him scrambling around the vestibule door way glass entrance area like a trapped gerbil while the magnetic detectors he set off were blaring away and the red-shirt wearing special forces employees immediately got on their radios all excited about a little Target Five-O shakedown.
The kid made it out the doors finally, and I am not sure what happened after that because there are cameras all over the place so it’s not like it would be too hard to track him down and I had an emergency hair-dye situation to take care of, so you know, life goes on.
Also bizarre: the two couldn’t-have-been-a day-older-than-16-years-old girls in front of me at the check out buying mounds and mounds of Reduced for Clearance thong underwear.
And one early detection pregnancy test.
Do they not teach the basics of cause and effect in High School anymore?
Speaking of bizarre, when I woke up at about, ohhhh, 9:30 this morning the first thing that popped into my head was something like, “I’ve got a half an hour to make it to ten o’clock mass.”
My next thought was something like, “wha? Wha?!? Ten O’clock mass? The fuck?”
People, I have not been to mass in years. And years.
Where the hell did that come from?
I blame it on my February Crazies. That is, this dreary month leaves me so depressed, it’s like I don’t do much at all. I waste time with little projects and obsessions trying to fill the hours until the days are warmer and the sun is a permanent fixture in the sky until at least 7pm.
Old wives and their tales would probably say it’s a sign my soul is empty and meaningless and what I need a little God and The JC in my life, or something.
You know, should a Scientologist come knockin’ I am ripe for the picking.
Because if I’ve learned anything from that rash of the “Beware of the Moonies” kind of After School Specials in the 70’s where parents spend thousands of dollars trying to deprogram the Krishna out of Kristy McNichol, it is those Heavens Gate and Tony Robbins types try to get you when you’re down and out and feeling blue causing otherwise rational and intelligent people to sign away their lives to become Nike shoe sportin’-alien chasin’-baby clonin’- airport hangin’-robots.
And if I have learned anything else it is cause and effect and that is the last time in a long time I will go to bed early and sober on a Saturday night. I mean, sleepin’ til noon takes care of ten o’clock mass, now doesn’t it?