2001-02-18 - Night
Quote of the week:
"I was stuck in the �Cash Only� line behind a woman buying a carton of smokes, which are locked up and far away, and she only had a debit card. I really wanted to ask her �You�re an addict and you can�t read. What�s strike three, loser?�"
--From the Old Punks Web Zine (kinda cheesy, kinda hokey, and I don�t know why the guy puts dashes in words like f--k instead of spelling them out, but his rants are masterpieces that make mine look like fingerpaintings in comparison).
***
I changed deodorants last week, and the new one must have special freak-attraction qualities because they�ve been hovering around me all weekend. I�m a freak magnet even at the best of times, and I�ve come to accept that fact and even enjoy it--"normal" people bore the hell out of me, anyway--but c�mon already.
It started Friday night at Trader Joe�s. (OK, I can hear you saying, "Well, what do you expect at Trader Joe�s on a Friday night?" and that�s a valid point--however, the weirdos who frequent Trader Joe�s are usually too busy fighting over the last 30-count package of freeze-dried tofu gyoza or hitting on each other in the wine section to pay me much mind.) I was looking for some pierogis for my MST3K breakfast the next day, and as is typically the case with frozen-food sections in markets, the thing I want is way down at the bottom of the bin and I have to leeeeean over in my chair and dislocate my shoulder to reach it. At that very moment, when I�m practically horizontal in my seat, with my sorry excuse for an ass in the air, one arm braced against the side of the chair and the other stretched out to where I can just grab the corner of the pierogi bag with two fingers ... At that moment some long gray-haired hippie-type woman comes up, seizes my hand (the one gripping the chair) and says, very loudly, "You want some HELP???"
Um, no, lady, I want you to get your paws off me.
She startles me, so I drop the pierogi bag, and rather than reach for it again I ask her to get it for me; that way she can leave me alone and still feel good at having done her hippie good deed for the day. So she reaches down and hands me ... a bag of frozen snow peas.
"No, no, the pierogis," I say politely.
"The WHAT??"
"The pierogis. Right there." At this point I�m leaning into the frozen-food bin again.
"Oh, THOSE???" She turns up her nose at them. "Are you sure you don�t want THESE??" She grabs a package of veggie-burgers and puts it in my face. "They�re HEALTHIER."
"No, no, just the pierogis, thanks." (Translation: If I wanted a goddamn package of Soylent Green people-patties I�d have asked for them so just GIMME MY FUCKING PIEROGIS ALREADY!")
By this time I�ve already got them in hand again so I thank her for nothing and send her on her way. Still, she can�t resist telling me one more time, "Those aren�t very healthy for you."
I�m guessing Green Party voter. What do you think?
***
Anyway, it's past my bedtime. Freaks number two and three will have to wait till tomorrow.
***
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