This isn’t anything like the foursquare I played as a kid

So the other night at work (while working on my day off…yes, I beg for your pity. I am totally shameless and I’m proud of that fact) some chick (who has actually passed out in my parking lot in the middle of pulling into a space because she was partying WAY too hard) bought a bag of sour patch kids and flipped out, screaming, “I DON’T WANT THOSE! I DON’T WANT THOSE! NONONONO!” And I was all, what?  So I grab the bag and pick it up and she’s pointing at the glass with the lottery tickets and I was all, “But I’m not trying to sell you lottery tickets” and she’s all, “NONONO! NO WANT! I NO WANT! NOT THOSE! NONONO!” And pointing erratically around me and I’m like, “WHAT DON’T YOU WANT!?” And then she finally, very calmly, says, “That bag is open” as if absolutely nothing that happened had happened at all.  And I’m like, “So you want to get a different candy?” And she was like, “No, just a different bag.  These are open, see?” THEN she finally points to the white powdery stuff on the counter (which happened to be right next to her purse) and I was like, “THAT’S NOT MY COCAINE!!!!!!” And everyone in the store just looked at me like I was nuts because THEY didn’t have to go wake up Pukey McDroolerson in the parking lot by rocking her car back and forth because the door was locked and then someone came in right afterward and asked why they were humping some poor girls car and no wonder she drove off all crazy and then had to completely explain the entire situation to a man in his 80’s who simply winked and was all, “Yeah, she was kinda cute.  I can’t blame you, kid.”  Ok, ew, no, gross.  And why would humping some random persons car be completely normal to an 80 year old man?

And I happened to walk past the living room while my parents were discussing “The Lady” the other night.  Um, okay, what lady?  Did some lady stop by today?  And my dad was all, “No, there’s just been this lady in the house, walking around,” and I was like, huh?  So my mom explains to me that my dad has been seeing this old lady in our house for the past couple of months either just standing by the front door or wandering around the house and it’s totally creeping him out because he thinks his mom who died in 1998 is haunting him and/or coming to take him to the afterlife and I’m all freaked out because anyone who’s seen The Haunting in Connecticut can tell you people only see ghosts when they’re close to death and I REALLY don’t want my dad to die because 1) he’s my dad and B) DO NOT LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MOM FOR SEVERAL YEARS BECAUSE THEN I’LL HAVE TO BE LOCKED AWAY IN A HOME FROM GOING COMPLETELY OFF THE DEEP END AND YES ALL THE YELLING IS NECESSARY HERE!

If you’ve ever lived with your mother past the age of 12 you completely understand where I’m coming from here.

And I realize I haven’t written anything about what I was originally going to write about, hence why the title doesn’t even come close to describing anything in this post.  Eh, you’ll just have to wait for it later.

PS: I did the whole spell check thing and it says A) “some” is not really a word and 2) “lady” is biased language and that I should use “woman” in it’s place, but whenever someone called my mom the “Cleaning Woman” when I was little she’d get all mad and start screaming about how she’s not just a woman, she’s a lady, because “Ladies always tweeze their eyebrows and shave their legs” or something…maybe it was really about putting the pinky up while sipping tea.  I don’t know, but “woman” is highly offensive to my mom and, also, most restrooms are called “men’s/gent

Advertisements

Leave a comment

No comments yet.

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s