I Promise I Won't Punch You

Hello blog. Hello readers. [Echo...] What a lameass blogger I am! And I miss my blog. Funny, surreal, irritating, thought-provoking stuff is happening all the time (my neighbor alone provides enough material for a near-daily rant) that I want to report to you, my favorite four friends who come here to read my silly ramblings. And even more so recently, with the departure of my dear and funny friend Richy from my life - Richy, who listened to my rambling stories every day for the past few months, good man, and remembered them, and laughed even if they weren't all that funny and pretended to be interested even when they weren't all that interesting. So now I have nowhere to turn to ramble except for this little salty spot in the cyberuniverse. But despite working my ASS off here at the old jibby job, I can't seem to unbury myself from the constantly shifting (but never shrinking!) piles of work that surround me in my little cubicle of love, and STILL haven't gotten around to buying the wireless card to get the interweb at home. So the posts are few and far between these days, but bear with me - the future is WIIIIIDE open.



I don't even know what that means. Sorry. I heard a little Tom Petty on the classic-rock-radio in the copy room this morning and all day now I've been repeating lyrics in conversation as the songs roll through my brain. This is the danger of the copy room. You go in there to make one innocent copy and for three days you're singing Janie's Got a Gun without ever knowing what happened.



And then somehow you find that your life is so incredibly lame that you are taking a few minutes at work to write on your blog, and you're writing about work. Because you are trapped in a terrifying mirrored bubble where work looms omnipresent at all times, stretching into the vast horizon of your bleak, bleak future...



But that's depressing, huh?

What I really came here to write was the ONE interesting thing that happened to me this weekend. Yes, there was really only one noteworty moment in 48+ hours. Because Karan was on a kayak trip that nearly killed her and I don't have any other friends that I actually hang out with in this town. So this is a story about strangers. Go fucking figure.

Saturday I venture out to Lowe's for some paint for the kitchen, hinges for some doors, curtain brackets, etc. It was project weekend, because that's what I do when I have no life. This incredibly dorky, splotchy-faced, bright-eyed young fellow assisted me to the curtain bracket aisle and was really just overly sweet and helpful. When I go to checkout, his checkout line is the shortest, so I get in it. And promptly realize why no one was in that line, despite the two other open registers having lines spilling back into the power drill department. The man and woman in his line - she middle-aged and obese, he late-twenties and moderately attractive, both emanating an unmistakable white-trash aura, despite being clad and accessorized with all the trappings of middle-to-upper class American consumer culture. You know what I mean, yes? The hard-living types who have enough money to dress and purchase and live, superficially at least, like "the rest of us."

Ok, I officially feel like an asshole.

Except not that much, because THEY are the assholes of this story. Not quite mother-son, not quite romantic-duo, these two shared an intimacy, and apparently a fifth of whiskey or ten, that was PALPABLE in the checkout aisle at the home improvement warehouse. As I stand there assessing them, judging them, imagining the trajectories of their lives - for a good three to four minutes, mind you - I realize that all of their purchases have been rung and are in the bags, ready to go. All that remains is for them to PAY FOR THEM AND LEAVE. Which, I suspect due to the fact that they spent the morning, and perhaps the previous evening, drinking copious amounts of whiskey (the smell is the giveaway on this one), was exceedingly difficult for them to accomplish. She's rooting around in her purse for much too long looking for, I can only assume, her wallet. But no, she's actually looking for her phone.

The phone cannot pay for your PVC connectors honey. Get your fucking wallet out already.

This is what I want to say, but do not, because my mother raised me to be good and Catholic and demure and to hold all my rage inside and never ever ever ever let it out.

She pulls out the phone, opens it, looks through a few screens, says to her companion, "Did Tracy ever text you?" He shakes his head negatory. "That bitch needs to get on the horn already! I can't get anything done until she gets on the damn horn. GOD!" Then she starts to cackle. He's cackling. He's undoing and redoing his belt buckle for who the hell knows what reason. She pokes him in the arm, "Are you even listening to me? I don't even know why I ask, you never listen." They're both cracking up. Because apparently this is hilarious.

And the poor Lowe's guy just stands there, not having any idea what is going on or what, if anything, to do about it. He opts for my frequent favorite: the do-nothing-and-hope-things-don't-end-badly-option. He looks at me, I give a faint shrug and small smirk that says I feel for you buddy. And meanwhile the insanity rages on, unabated.

Suddenly, the lights come on.

"Hey, you better find your wallet in there so we can PAY for this stuff! Ha ha ha haaa!" He is not drunk enough that he cannot re-fasten his belt while doubled-over in laughter.

"Shit! I forgot what we were even doing! Haaaaa!!" She roots around in her purse.

And just when I think this little episode couldn't get any more entertaining - frankly I was not expecting much delight in my trip to Lowe's - the Universe, perhaps sensing my recent battle with a gripping personal malaise, offered up a little something to make my fucking day. And yes, I realize it may be a little sick that I take delight in these things, but I don't have a whole hell of a lot going on these days, so just give me this.

After another good minute of purse-rooting, she finds the wallet, and swipes the card. And swipes again. And swipes again. She is doing something wrong.

"Just swipe it one more time and if it doesn't go through I can type the number in," says geeky-sweet Lowe's guy. She goes to swipe. And the drunk guy PUNCHES the Lowe's guy! Right in the ribs that protect his fragile Lowe's-guy heart. And this was no sloppy-drunk-on-a-Saturday-morning little skin grazer. It was a full-on, BRUTAL hit that knocked Lowe's guy backwards at least a meter or more. I think it was probably meant to be playful (in the convoluted consciousness of drunk-man-on-a-Saturday-morning), but was executed with much more fervor than originally intended. If there ever was an original intention.

My mouth is hanging open, I'm sure. Lowe's guy's mouth is hanging open as he regains his posture and shakes it off. And drunk guy, pretty much immediately, says, "I'm sorry man. I don't even know why I did that! Ha!"

"Um-" Lowe's guy doesn't really know what to say. I mean, he's awkward enough to begin with, and shit like this just doesn't help.

"I have Tourette's."

"Oh-"

FUCK YOU!" Once again, executed with too much zeal, so now everyone in every aisle has whipped around to see. "Ha ha ha! No, not really man. I'm just kidding. Ha ha ha!"

At this point their transaction has been processed and Lowe's guy is handing them their bags of merch. Drunk Lady is laughing so hard she can't even really function, so Drunk Guy, who is still standing directly across the scanner from Lowe's guy, picks up the bags and yells, "FUCK YOU FUCKFACE!"

And as they walk toward the sliding doors, he turns back around to Lowe's Guy and says, "Gotcha!"

[Scene.]

Where cart-babies come from

dirty.

The Grocery Cart Saga

So last Sunday morning I'm sitting on my front porch reading, and I see a woman walking down the street with a grocery cart full of groceries. That much isn't really remarkable - there is a Smith's just up the street a few blocks, and it is pretty much the only grocery store in the neighborhood. I often see people walking with grocery carts. And these are not homeless people, they are people living in $500k homes who walk because its healthy and environmentally friendly and because in Salt Lake in July, your car turns into an oven capable of melting your skin off when in a parking lot for more than, say, 5 minutes.

So anyway. No big deal, cute girl pushing her groceries home on a Sunday morning - I just noticed because the cart was clattering over the sidewalk and my dog wanted to run out after her. She saw me on my porch, gave me a smile, I gave her the up-nod, she walks on.

Fast-forward to later that afternoon. I am again outside on the porch, lying on my front-porch-couch (which I LOVE, but that's another story), chatting on the phone. Grocery cart girl walks past my house again, heading back towards the store with her cart, which is not empty, but I can't tell what's in there. [Side Note: My house is on a corner in the Avenues which, for my non-Utah friends, is a part of town nestled in the foothills of the Wasatch, so all of the streets head north and uphill. North of my house, the street becomes pretty steep for about 3 blocks before you get to the grocery store.] So she stops at the corner in front of my house, pulls a pillow and a sleeping bag (??) and her purse out of the grocery cart, and parks the cart in the corner of my front yard. And continues walking up the street, towards the grocery store.

Ok, so where do I begin on the list of things that are a wee bit askew in this scenario? First and most importantly, who just deposits a grocery cart in someone else's front yard? Secondly, this girl is in her mid-twenties, in a very active yoga-type outfit, and very much in great shape. She could easily push that cart up the hill to the grocery store. Especially since she was clearly still heading in the direction of the grocery store. But, what? Is she in too much of a hurry to get to her sleepover? What is she doing with a pillow and huge, down-filled sleeping bag in JULY? It is insanely hot here! Its heat-stroke hot, lose-your-mind hot, crank-up-the-air-conditioner-and-lay-naked-on-top-of-your-covers hot, take-a-cold-shower hot, don't-cook-food-on-the-stove hot. Just watching her tote that down sleeping bag up the street at 3:00 in the fucking hot afternoon nearly made me pass out.

My friend on the phone urges me to go yell at her to get her cart out of my yard. But at this point she has crossed the street, I don't have any shoes on, I don't have a bra on under my threadbare tanktop, and there's no way I'm chasing this girl down all barefoot and jiggly-boobed to confront her about a grocery cart. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt more often than I probably should anyway, so I just figured she'd come back and get it when she had the time or the energy to push it back up to the store.

Wrong.

Monday morning - the grocery cart is still there.

Monday after work - still there.

Tuesday morning - still there, looking lonely. I'm starting to feel bad for the poor thing.

Tuesday after work - yep, still there.

At this point, I begin contemplating pushing the damn thing back to the store myself, except that in the past two weeks I've pushed two other grocery carts that were left in my yard back to the store, and now I just refuse on principle. And I want to see how long it will take anyone other than me to do something about it.

And then Wednesday morning, I leave for work and:

CART LOVE! This made me pretty happy. I mean, not only does the lonely grocery cart get a companion, but the whole thing is just vastly entertaining to me. I mean, who just leaves a grocery cart in someone's front yard? And then, who, while pushing their own cart back to the store, sees that one and thinks, "yeah, ok, this is a good idea, this is what we're doing now I guess," and leaves a second one??? I mean really, what the hell?

I relayed the entire story to my mother, who was OUTRAGED and went on and on saying that's just not ok and you should call Smith's and tell them to do something about this and tell them to come and get their carts! and Who would DO such a thing? I just can't BELIEVE it! And, my favorite: Michelle, are you taking care of the lawn? Is it looking shabby? I mean, if you're not taking care of the yard, then other people will just assume no one cares about the property and that it is ok to leave trash or grocery carts or whatever else they please in your yard!

I frequently ignore my mother's suggestions, and this was no exception. I just wanted to see where this was going, how much longer it would take for anyone to do anything. I just had this feeling that there was more to the cart story. My friend Daniel, who lives in Manhattan, said that pretty soon my carts-in-love would reproduce, that I needed to put up a sign or something, because people are lazy assholes and once they see that other lazy assholes have started a lazy asshole trend, they will follow suit, and that before I knew it I would have a whole colony of grocery carts in the yard. I contemplate making a sign that says "Please take us home" and sticking in or on the carts, but end up screwing around all evening and forgetting.

Thursday morning - both carts still there.

Thursday after work - still chillin in the yard.

Thursday night I need to run to the store, and for probably the first time since I've lived in this house, I decide to drive. Its only four blocks, but I need milk and laundry detergent and other heavy shit that I don't feel like lugging home and its hot as balls outside. I even feel guilty, thinking I should walk and take at least one of the carts back to the store. But I hated to separate them, they looked so happy together. So I'm gone for about 30 minutes, and I get home and find:

LOVE CHILD! Oh yes, the carts-in-love had a little cart baby! I mean come on, how fucking hilarious is this? Not only did a third individual decide to be a lazy ass and leave a third grocery cart in my front yard, but it is even one of those little half-size baby carts!

Its just too perfect.

At this point, I decide to do zero about the cart family because I love them. I'm growing attached. They make me laugh, out loud, every time I pass them. And they look cute. I was going to try and find one of Elise's old baby bonnets and put it on the cart baby this past weekend, but when I came home from work on Friday, the whole family was gone.

It was fun while it lasted anyway.