It’s been a while since I had an epic Beth day. One of those days when all of my flakey, ADD riddled, laziness inspired bad habits culminate to bite me in the ass like a giant karma tsunami. Like talking to strangers in a windowless van and thinking they were acting super shady only to realize I had powdered donut goo all over my face and caked in my cold sore. Or giving a serial killer death stare to someone for parking too close to me only to find out she had a handicapped passenger and I was parked in the handicapped spot. No, the gods of luck and benevolence had been shining down on me vaguely steadily despite my errant disregard for common sense or responsible grown up habits. Until today. I’m sitting in line at the gate on base openly mocking people for not having their ID’s ready thinking what kind of idiot doesn’t realize that armed guards aren’t there to give you a smile and a hand job. You should be ready with your ID you shifty shit bagel. All the while flopping around in my seat to make sure the gate guard noticed my impatience. He did. I pull up and go to hand him my ID and he says, “You’ve been selected for random inspection, please pull to inspection gate. OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE. So I pull forward and lean over to get my registration out of the glove box while I’m rolling to the next gate and totally fucking miss the driveway. So now they have to hold traffic for ALL the lanes while I drive backwards 10 yards, in front of all the families there for graduation day all the while the inspection guard is jumping up and down waving at me yelling, “Wrong way ma’am!” Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. I finally get back on track and he runs up laughing and says, “Did you try to get away from us?” Yes, child I really thought I could go unnoticed in a bright red clown car with personalized plates on a military installation. And because I am lazy, I never bother to print my insurance card anymore. I have the app on my phone and just tap tap it up, right? Hahahahah, no. Two weeks ago I got a new phone and guess which app I didn’t bother reloading? That’s right, my insurance. With the app I never had to log in, just tap and it was there. Never. Had. To. Remember. My. Fucking. Password.!!! So guess what I’m doing for 5 minutes. Frantically trying to remember my password and then gave up and just reset it. Then the email they send to reset didn’t come through. First the guards made me pull forward to get out of the way and then I was there long enough for a guard change and then a 12 year old comes and just leans with both hands on my door watching me fiddlefuck with my phone. I say, “I SWEAR I’m not an idiot.” And he says completely sarcastic, “Oh no ma’am, we don’t think that as ALL, it happens ALL the time.” Now, usually I love me a smart ass but come ON! Cut me a fucking break Baby Einstein. He finally says, “why don’t you go off base, take your time resetting it, then come back.” I tried to give him my best disapproving librarian stare but he TOTALLY ignored it, stepped back, pointed to the exit and said, “please have id and insurance when you come back.” all confident like he’s the mayor of asstown or something. GASP!! How dare he take that tone with my blatant incompetence!! I mean I get that it’s hard to take someone serious when their plates are an homage to an obese rapper from the 1980’s and they look like your crazy aunt with too much makeup and there’s dog hair floating out the window but still! So off I went and once I calmed down it took all of two minutes to install the app, set it up, get my card and go back. I pull up to Officer Tiny Tot and he BARELY glances at my insurance, says, “Oh look, it’s you again, thank you and be safe pulling into traffic.” Da fuq rugrat???
And while this sweet clusterfuck was unraveling I had texted work to make them aware of my situation. I expected some snarky response but was relieved that they at least had mercy on me. Or did they? Of course not. Sure enough when I get to the office Cowoker McSnarky with the photoshop skills hands me this masterpiece. Then my boss is yelling, “Too bad, this is on you!!!” and I’m yelling, “I KNOW!!” and now I’m totally feeling like a less competent version of Rodney Dangerfield. *sniffle* No respect!
In an attempt to fight feeling frumpy I went shopping at one of those chain stores that seems to market to women much younger than me. Because nothing says not frumpy like stuffing yourself into Jr size clothing. Thankfully better sense prevailed (rare for me) and I just bought me a nice new belt. In my rat like fervor for all things shiny I got one with a giant cluster of rhinestones on it. Have been walking around all day basking in my own less frumpy fabulousness till I went to the bathroom and realized my lovely new belt had slid down under my muffin top and was making me look like I had an oddly high beer gut. Like someone’s middle aged dad in drag. Also, my shirt had bunched up under the belt on one side. So I guess it was like a drunken, middle aged dad in drag. That was bad enough but then I went and flopped back down in my office chair, sinking into a slouch because I no longer felt fabulous. While hunched over my dangly necklace caught on my belt. I went to reach for my drink and it suddenly let loose and popped up in my face and startled me into making an odd barking yelp noise. Then I got my skirt wrapped around the wheel of my chair and almost pulled it off when I stood up. My skirt, not the wheel. Thank goodness my coworkers are gone because many expletives were uttered. Many pirate ancestors were made very proud. Also, my giant gaudy belt keeps knocking against my desk every time I move. Thunk, thunk, scrape thunk…. all damn day long. Today is not a bueno day. Sniffle.
My favorite magazine is “Victoria” (yes, I still order paper magazines because OMG how can you not touch and smell things you read for fuck’s sake you barbarians??) which is just as pretentious as it sounds but is full of lovely little old lady fripperies like doily patterns and china advertisements and recipes that include more than three ingredients (none of which come in a box with a packet of “cheese food” so I’ll never make them but still the pictures are glorious!); and instructions for setting your table for an odd number of people and so many more old fashioned stuff and sundries that make my dork heart happy even though I’m far too lazy to ever invite people over to my ghetto hovel anymore. Much less give a rat’s ass where they sit or if they even have a napkin let alone a perfectly folded origami swan linen one with hand stitched edging. (Use your sleeve and then let the dogs gnaw it clean like a real person you finicky fucking princess. Although if I really like you I might break out a ten year old wet wipe from the bottom of my purse. Antibacterial and everything because you totally matter to me and shit. ) It does however strike me as a wee bit bizarre that I have the heart of a sweet little old lady but the sense of humor of a deeply disturbed 12 year old boy (I mean really, who doesn’t enjoy a good holocaust/blonde joke about yo mama now and then) ((No, no I don’t, this is wrong. Please don’t take that seriously, I’m promise I’m just kidding inappropriately)) and the vocabulary of a functionally illiterate prostitute from Jersey. I’m pretty sure with this unique combination of personality traits I’m going to need at least one of you to vouch for me in court before too long. Or walk me on a leash. It’s a toss up.
As everyone knows I am more than a little partial to swear words and insults in particular. The wackier and more obscure the better. However, if you’re a squirrel fellating, dried up old, sneering sack of fetid rectal discharge that looks like a geriatric drag queen without make-up application skills that may have fallen off an Arkansas Incest wagon and look old, hard and worn out enough to quite possibly have serviced most of the soldiers on both sides during the civil war, trolling attractive(ish) and docile, young(ish) women on facebook for shits and giggles and the best insult you can come up with is “fat ass” then perhaps it’s time you logged off and go change your Depends. Or burlap flour sack, whatever you ancients are wearing these days.
Bless your heart, stay classy doll.
So I’m in the checkout line buying Chapstick and Twizzlers (don’t ask, it’s been a rough week) and the cashier bags the Twizzlers but hands me the Chapstick and I just stare at the kid like what the… and then I’m all “whoa there young fella” never mind that it was a girl, it was a Twizzler emergency and also I’m a feminist. So then there was an odd moment of terrified staring from the kid and confused staring from me …and possibly the sound of crickets somewhere off in the distance. Then slowly the kid took the Twizzlers from the bag and cautiously handed them to me. I forcibly placed them in my purse with a huff and finish the transaction. Then walked away with the satisfaction of someone who just taught a young child a very valuable lesson about the importance of Twizzlers. And also access to mental health care.
Over the summer I bought my incredibly not spoiled dogs a pool to splash around in. Sometimes when we go walking they’ll take my arm off trying get in dirty water so I thought maybe I could fix that by getting them something clean to roll around in. But apparently a bright pink baby pool with crystal clear water just doesn’t have the allure of dirty, scum covered, swamp stinking, pond water because they wouldn’t touch it. I even tried picking them up and putting them in there with me but they would struggle like the rabbit in Fatal Attraction and jump right out again. As usual I was quite the entertainment for my neighbors when in all my portly glory, I tried to wrestle a 100 lbs Lab into a tiny pink baby pool looking very much like someone having a seizure while trying to tango with a fat dog only to have him whine like I was trying to drown him and jump out again after we were both good and soaked. I finally gave up and being a meticulously conscientious house keeper I tossed it in the corner of the yard and left it there to slowly rot with the rest of my tiny ghetto shanty. Lately it’s filled up with rain and leaves and slime and with the cold weather the filthy little thing froze over. Or started to. There was still a bit of water beneath the ice which my dear sweet Angus unhappily found out. For some reason he jumped up and was prancing around on it in his fabulous Angus fashion, like the star of canine River Dance when it gave way. It was just enough to wet his feet and legs but I think he must have jumped two feet in the air then ran straight to me in the house like ninja hounds of hell on steroids were chasing him, then stood and barked at it like a badass through the screen door and dribbled fear pee on my hardwoods while I dried him off. What a brave little soul he is. Sniffle, I’m so proud.
Thought I might start planning to think about contemplating a scheme to start dating again. I figured I’d read some pretentious and unrealistic dating advice articles then peruse some dating sites then maybe by March, when it will have been a year that I’ve been single I might dip my toe back in the dating cesspool. So I read some depressing and ridiculous articles then went to look at dating sites. Started with Match. The options in my age range and area were quite frankly terrifying. I know these rural areas are known for their inbreds but it kind of looked like an entire extended family of the genetically challened got a group rate. Sooo..no. Thought I might have better luck on an interest specific site like dog lovers. W.T.F. I fear many of the candidates there may have taken the name of the site a little too literally. (Shudders) Sooo..hell no. Surely a site for vegitarians would have some potential right? Oh for the love of fuck no. There were like 5 men under 70 and they were all rejects from the other sites. Soooo… if anyone needs me I’m going to just be over here researching tips for being the best dog hoarding spinster I can be and trying to decide if being a gluttonous, angry hermit is really that bad of a lifestyle. Yay me! But also, FML.
Learned a valuable lesson night before last about altercations with neighbors over barking dogs at 1130 at night. They were of course right to be upset but addressing the situation with profanity aimed at my dogs only sparks my inner asshole and escalates the problem. After a few exchanges (mine were wittier) she finally saw reason and asked me politely to take my dogs in the house which I did because I’m all magnanimous and shit. Of course about 5 minutes later I could hear my momma’s voice reminding me she did NOT raise a foul-mouthed, ill mannered, white trash, hooligan (she did but not for lack of trying ) so by morning I had worried myself into a tummy ache. I decided after work that a pie was a reasonable apology for late night insult exchanges and ran it by their house.
Bad idea. VERY very no good dirty rotten idea. Once I explained why I was there and handed her my peace offering she puckered up and started to cry, hugged me without permission and 30 minutes later I knew all about her baby being sick, her brothers legal problems, got introduced to said ne’er-do-well brother who impressively tried to pretend he had manners and not a meth problem, was forced into another unsolicited hug, talked about issues with another neighbor and the death of her dog. So the moral of the story boys and girls is if you go stupid in the middle of the night and insult your neighbor’s brother’s penis (he brought it up so it was fair game) among other things and then feel the need to get an apology pie do not take it in person. Either send that shit in the mail with a real pretty note or toss it from the road as you drive by and don’t look back.
The interesting thing about being me is not just the complete incompetence with which I blithely bumble through life but also the colorful characters that for some freakish twist of fate seem to be drawn to me. For example, I like walking my dog in pretty places but I hate other people so finding quiet but safe but pretty places to roam is sometimes tricky. (<That’s foreshadowing. Remember this in a minute.) A great place that provides pretty views with no people is the Vichy Community park. There is kind of a creepy “settlement” on one end but I figured as long as we stayed on the other end, in clear view of the highway we’d be fine. Hahahahah. I’m an idiot. Plenty of times it was totally uneventful, as long as it was early in the day but I noticed if we went after work sometimes cars would suddenly slow down on the highway, drive around to the other entrance then slowly creep through the park give us serious side eye. No one ever bothered us so I reckoned it was just nosy towns people making sure we weren’t vandalizing the park or anything. Hahahahaha, I’m seriously an idiot. Other times I’d notice a couple of cars in the parking lot but no one in them. I was afraid they were poachers or something else illicit so I didn’t stick around. Turns out I was partly right but the only thing getting poached was someone’s virtue. Finally late one afternoon one of the obnoxious oglers stopped and I shit you not, yelled, “You sure got a real pretty dog ma’am!” From 50 yards away this being yelled from a nice car without tinted windows seemed vaguely witty and not TOO creepy. HAHAHAHAHA god almighty my idiocy knows no bounds. We yelled a few comments back and forth but for some reason I couldn’t quite understand him and Donald was curious about this new person so he drug me over to the car. I mean if Donald isn’t bothered by them they can’t be that bad. Right? At least the mystery of why I couldn’t understand him was cleared up. In the car sat an older but clean cut man who was completely missing all of his upper teeth. I don’t know if he had misplaced his upper set of dentures, sold them for drugs or was on a tooth by tooth payment plan but whatever, he had a full bottom set but no upper teeth. The amount of surprised amusement I had to choke on was a. overwhelming and b. probably the karmic reason this crazy shit happens to me. I should have known something was up in the overly friendly way he smiled/showed off his naked gums but, well, we all know my lack of common sense is pretty epic so I just figured I’d chat with Gummy McGum face as my good deed for the day and then skedaddle but every time I tried to walk away he’d start talking again. I heard all about his cat that was missing and by the way Donald kept sniffing under the car I suspect I know where the cat is. And all about his dog who had died and how sad it made him and how he’d rescued her and she didn’t like his girlfriend which should have been a hint because the girlfriend eventually ran over the dog and he had to put the dog down and the girlfriend left him and now he was soooo lonely. This is the point when a normal person would have thought OH FUCK! This guy is looking for a hook up. But no, not me. I just stood there feeling bored and trying to subtly inch away. Thankfully the guy abruptly stopped talking and said he should let me finish my walk. It was weird but I was too relieved to care and high tailed to my car. Still blissfully unaware of what had just happened. Later I recounted the weirdness to someone I now only loosely refer to as a friend as he knew that I walked there regularly but also knew that this is a fairly well known “hook up” spot and also a place where truckers meet up with hookers. When I told him what had been happening he just guffawed for about 5 minutes then explained what that place was and that law enforcement tries to keep on the place and that the guy probably busted a nut when a deputy drove by, hence the abrupt end to his morbid, dead dog filled wooing. He DID say that he thought that kind of thing only happened late at night and since I was there during the day he figured it was fine. So, now, being me I AM relieved nothing worse than that ever happened but there’s this part of me that’s actually pretty offended that out of all the drivebys only the old toothless guy stopped. Really? Are there a lot of better looking whores in this rural area??? Another equally ridiculous part thinks that I can always use extra cash and Christmas IS coming so some old semi toothless guy might as well too. And there could be advantages debauched gymnastics with a toothless person. And…. we’ve come full circle to just how utterly ridiculous am.