A while back my mailbox got knocked down. Or was cut down. It was an oddly clean break for a knockdown but whatever, seeing as I’m only a vaguely functional adult and I live in a sketchy neighborhood with a shady mailman I figured it was easier just to get a PO Box than mess with putting it back up.
I shop online a lot but wasn’t sure how that would work and just assumed if packages were too big for my box (no pun intended) they would leave me a note or something saying to come to the desk. But no!! It’s much cooler than that. They put the large items in big lockers that are all over the Post Office and just put the key in your mailbox. Since I shop online quite frequently but only go to the Post Office once or twice a week there’s usually 2 or 3 keys my mailbox and since most of my shopping is done while I’m drunk it’s like a fun surprise and it ends up being like a life size advent calendar with me skipping around the Post Office to all the different boxes gathering my packages from behind different doors. Being irresponsible and lazy has a LOT of drawbacks but thankfully the USPS was prepared for my shit and this is really working out well for me.
I was sitting in an after lunch meeting all super sleepy and not paying attention as usual and just half heard (literally) the speaker say something about the contractors in the back of the room. Out of curiosity I turned around and there was no one there and still being sleepy and not very socially savvy I kind of interrupted the speaker and was like “ummm is there someone there other than those obvious to me?” And the guy just stopped and looked at me and was like, “what?” And I was like, “Exactly” and he goes “I said the contractors who HAD BEEN in the back of the room. They’ve left now.” So I went into full awkward I-don’t-know-how-to-get-out-of-this mode and just fake laughed and was like “ohh I thought I was having a stroke hahaha do I smell toast?” (supposedly people having a stroke sometimes think they smell toast) And the room fell silent and everyone just stared at me except for the old guy sitting next to me who waited a beat and then tried to laugh with me but it was pretty obvious it was just a pity laugh. Thankfully the speaker just started talking again like I hadn’t said anything. Still trying to figure out why they let me out alone.
It’s bowling night and I’m shitty as ever
but I also I can’t find my Easy Slide which is powdery stuff that helps you slide. Shocking right? Finally gave up digging through the doorway to Narnia that is my purse and went to go buy some only I’m old and kind of a flake so for the life of me couldn’t remember the name. The only thing that came to mind was Astro Glide because apparently I’m also kind of a perv as well as an old flake. To be fair it’s the same concept but for a completely different sport. Thankfully my brain engaged just enough to keep me from actually saying Astro Glide but still not enough to save me so there I stood just repeatedly saying, “Do you have any, umm…umm..” and turning beat red because sex lube was all I could think of while staring at a kid young enough to be my child. Eww. Finally got my shit together enough to stutter, “sly stuvv.” Dougie Howser just looked at me like I’d taken one too many hits for my glaucoma but figured out what I meant and finished the transaction without further trauma but what the ever loving fuck is wrong with my damn self? You’d think I was a geriatric back alley hooker instead of a mild mannered middle aged former librarian.
Once again it’s been a banner week to be me. Monday we found out our boss’s father had passed away and for some bizarre reason my coworkers trusted me to order something for the funeral. Everyone knows I am not the most competent or practical person in the universe so giving me this kind of crap to do is always a bad idea. Thankfully the coworker I share an office with lent a guiding hand and instead of ordering $70 worth of fried chicken and a sympathy clown we decided on Panera bagels and pastries. I got it ordered all fine and dandy and was feeling really proud of myself until the end of the conversation when the sales person said, “thank you for your order and we’re so sorry for the loss” and me being me, I’d already checked out of the conversation mentally and instead of saying something appropriately solemn and polite like maybe, “Thank you” I had to say in my most chipper voice, “oh no problem, thanks a bunch!”. WTF? I’d just spent 10 minutes discussing with this woman what would be the most appropriate thing to send to a wake (apparently flip flop sugar cookies are not as acceptable as plain short bread cookies, who knew?) and then blew off her sympathy like Marsha Brady ordering penis cookies for a bachelorette party.
Then last night I took Donald for a walk as we are both starting to look like overstuffed sausages. I was too lazy to look very hard for walking clothes and there was a pair of Dave’s old sweat pants on top of my laundry pile so that’s what I grabbed. He’s nearly 6 feet tall and I’m barely 5 so needless to say his pants are a wee bit baggy on me which is fine while I’m putzing around but once I put my keys and phone in the pockets they started to drag just a bit. Of course Donald had to poop at the beginning of the walk and he poops something that looks like the giant mound of dinosaur droppings in Jurassic Park so I couldn’t just kick it under some bushes like I do with the smaller dogs and had to pick it up and drag it around with us for the rest of the walk. Then Donald caught the scent of something and used his 100 pounds as leverage to drag me along behind him, one hand desperately clinging to his leash and the other trying to keep my pants up while slinging around a bag of warm dog poo. Pretty sure I’m gonna end up on YouTube for that performance.
Cripes it hurts to be me sometimes.
There’s some sort of excitement going on in my ghetto neighborhood tonight. There are rural fire trucks and cable guys everywhere. I’m guessing a cable line came down but the meth makers are worried about their product and keep calling the rual fire department. They keep showing up, drive around for second and then leave again but the cable guys are still here. Was standing at the window with my dogs watching the excitement of meth heads scrambling to hide their stash when I noticed one of my neighbor ladies. She’s either a tweaker in her late twenties or a normal person in her late fifties. Either way she still does a pretty good job of rocking what she’s got. I saw her come out of her house, dressed like a normal person after work, sweats and a tshirt and pony tail. She surveyed the situation and went back in only to reappear a few minutes later in cute but tight capris and a sleeveless shirt with her hair down and flowing and standing in one of those cute girl poses with one knee sort of bent. Not to be outdone when the Gods of man meat are smiling down on me and practically delivering potential afternoon delights to my door, I sashayed out onto the porch in my own super sexy wear, aka sweats I stole from my ex boyfriend who was 6 ft 4 and 400 lbs. Just imagine a super white sumo wrestler with a goatee and redneck accent and that’d be him. So you can imagine just how seductive this getup really is. (Or how unseductive he was.)The crotch of my sweat pants sags down to my knees and are held up with a safety pin. And being outside braless isn’t really doing me any good as this shirt looks like something I bought at Ozark tent and awning. So I’m just standing here hoping the breeze will blow my way and at least sort of show off my pendulous bosom in the right light. So far I haven’t captured me a hunky fireman but my efforts (or my dogs) did earn me a wave from one of the volunteer fire kids so I’m still calling this evening a win. Bow chica wow wow ya’ll.
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!