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

I’m not vain, it’s just that you’ve been promoted to Captain Idiot

So when I was a kid they had this Time Life commercial for a record collection (I am NOT old, y’all, really) of 70’s greatest hits.  It was an awesome commercial until this one song came up called “You’re so Vain”.  It drove me nuts.  I’d ask my mom whenever the commercial aired what the song meant and she’d look at me like, “Where have I gone wrong raising this child?” but she’d actually tell me, “Don’t worry about it, honey, it’s just a song.  I’m sure you’ll understand when you’re older.”

The lyrics, if you didn’t know:

You’re so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You’re so vain
I’ll bet you think this song is about you
Don’t you? Don’t you?

I couldn’t help it and we went through the entire ritual everyday until she finally got frustrated and screamed, “WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THE DAMN SONG?!?!?!”

Me: If she’s saying that I’m so vain that I probably think the song is about me then doesn’t that make the song about me and me not actually vain at which point she wouldn’t need to sing the song because I’m not really vain at all I’m just the victim?

Mom: 0_O Don’t ever bring this song up again.  EVER!

So cut to 9 years later when I’m fourteen.  We were listening to the oldies station and that song came on and I immediately reached over and turned the radio off.

Mom: What the hell are you doing?

Me: I hate that song.

Mom: Well, when you’re driving, you won’t have to listen to it, but as you aren’t old enough and I still have to drive your ass everywhere I’m in control of the radio and I say we’re going to listen to it. *turns radio back on*

Me: But it doesn’t make sense!

Mom: What?

Me: It doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.  None.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.

Mom: How does it not make sense?

Me: If she’s singing I’m so vain I probably think this song is about me then doesn’t it make it about me?  At which point she shouldn’t even be singing the song!  It’s a completely pointless statement of her own stupidity and she probably opened a riff in the space/time continuum.

Mom: Okay…honey, I think we’re going to up your medication.

I’ve mentioned this to many people, and none of them have ever thought about that.  NOT. A. ONE.  They just nod along to the beat while singing nonsense lyrics and look at me like I’m nuts whenever I bring it up and for some reason they never really want to talk to me again.

I’m gonna be a drug dealer, yay!

So some totally crazy lady offered me a job working at the pharmacy chain she owns.  Like, wow.  Who would want me near their drugs?  I mean, after all, I was voted “Most Likely to Become a Drug Dealer” in High School.  I guess they were right.  Maybe High School was an important part of life and wasn’t just about making everyone feel totally awkward at the time where we felt most awkward and vulnerable.  Or maybe the people at my school were part of some super secret government experiment to enhance the human brain power and create the greatest soldiers and intelligence officers ever in the history of the world and the drugs the government gave them actually worked and they voted me “Most Likely to Become a Drug Dealer” because they knew that, some day, I would have a career in pharmacies!  Or, you know, they could have just voted me that because I used to sell the free coffee creamers from the corner store by the school for a buck a pop and those $.99 grab bags of Dorito’s for $5 and boxes of Girl Scout Cookies I bought for $1 each for $8 each (true story).

Hey, I had the best profit margin out of any seller of any goods in that school, and I am very proud of that accomplishment!

But all this reminiscing has got me thinking: Just how much of what I did in high school affected who I am and what I do today?

For starters, I no longer wear crazy Hawaiian shirts with camo pants and running shoes when trying to hit on girls.  I learned that doesn’t work so well.  I’ve also become an excellent salesman and can sell almost anything to almost anyone.  I’ve thought about car sales, but that’s easier with my selling technique, so it would be too boring.  I mean, really, who wants a quick and easy path to being rich?  I sure don’t; I wanna have as much fun along the way and struggle quite a bit, living on beans and rice, and having to patch my socks with woven grass because I can’t afford thread.  Mmmm-hmmm, yes sir.

So maybe this lady really isn’t completely psycho for wanting me to work for her since I have a great smile and am the most wondrous customer service person on the planet, or she could just be too lazy to go out and hire people so it’s easier to just chat up and hire the strange guy who sells her coffee and cigarettes everyday and also it makes her feel good because she has ginormous tits and wears low cut outfits.  Seriously, it’s like a lava lamp, you just can’t take your eyes off them!

But when the zombie apocolypse happens I’ll be able to easily get antibiotics and pain pills so I won’t get a sinus infection and, when I am about to die, I can get totally high and completely enjoy the zombification process, unlike this guy.