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.
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.
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.