I have no pants. When I do wear what I feel is in style and very far from anything resembling mom jeans and/or toddler Healthtex cords; my teen daughter will make a comment similar to accusing someone of being unpatriotic; and I'll end up returning them. I do have two pairs that I wear repeatedly to work and the only reason no one has commented on it is probably because I pair it with a loud outlandish top such as a green military jacket with a nametag on it that reads "Conrad". I'll buy 4 random tops every 3 months at the local thrift store, and wear them with my two pairs of pants, but not at the same time. This makes people afraid to ask about the pants because well, the tops are so off putting. Top #2 is in the category of gangsta' wear and resembles the early costumes employees at Winchell's donuts wore in 1978, you know, brown, with random stripes, usually in yellow.
The 3rd top I reserve for middle of the week during staff meetings; it consists of a large white collar with such pointed ends it could take an eye out. I call this my Mrs. Brady shirt.
Top #4 is a polyester blend with a pattern of orange circles surrounded by green slashes; anyone with convulsion tendencies should avoid looking directly into this shirt.
I'd like to buy pants that don't' require a pelvis the size of a Popsicle stick, nor a style that exposes my backside when I make any movements from the waist. I want my pants to have two pockets in the back and not sag on my flat behind as if I'm wearing a heavy diaper. Am I asking too much? Do I need to shop at carnival supply sites? What does it take? Sewing my own clothes is out of the question; I'll wear my pants dragging the floor four inches before I even consider hemming.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
At Least I'm Consistent
Any primate looking at my blog will all but notice the last entry was January 2011; now here we are at the end of the year; it's not that I haven't written words other than a grocery list in a years' time; but most of the year was spent writing cover letters and resume updates, and honestly, getting over the fact that I no longer was working as a school librarian. But thankfully I'm employed; and I begin the end of the year by registering for the first time ever, for the upcoming Erma Bombeck Conference in April 2012. There was a reason I began reading her books at age 9; and it wasn't just because I was surrounded by an uninspiring, agricultural town. What a conversation starter this will be, I'm going to a writers conference; now I just need to remember to say Ohio, not Idaho. Right?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
2011 Write Every Day
I'm leary of anyone who makes resolutions. I won't start jogging, flossing or calling my relatives over 30 unless I have personal knowledge that they are on behavior modifying medications.
My waning arrangement with EDD is nearing the end and the timing can't be worse. Just received news our new kitten Lucy needs a pin inserted in her femur to straighten an untreated break. If I can't straighten my Nancy Kerrigan overbite, that cat walks with a limp the rest of its life.
The new year will present us with both our kids in college, at a UC, which in case you haven't read a newspaper in a while, the tuition is somewhere near the cost of a hand held missile launcher and/or 8500 Olympic-style men's Speedos.
I told myself 5 years ago, I'd write everyday, but have failed miserable at that, but I do make comments about people everyday that I'll later use to write about. Usually snide, witty stuff, mostly mean and uncontrollable or planned, but what thought first enters ones mind when their days encounters involve senior citizens driving 30 on the freeway, coffee baristas who spell my name Ivan, dealership mechanics that try to get me to believe that if I don't change the brake fluid in my cdar on the spot, for 299 my car will careen towards the next school yard I pass, trapping innocent children, actually, no, correction, pinning innocent playground equipment, as no children play anymore or run. Carnage non the less right?
What am I talking about here? I have test to study for for an upcoming job, and my review is the high school equivalency test - the math section only - because I couldn't' solve for x if held at gunpoint.
Pray for me.
My waning arrangement with EDD is nearing the end and the timing can't be worse. Just received news our new kitten Lucy needs a pin inserted in her femur to straighten an untreated break. If I can't straighten my Nancy Kerrigan overbite, that cat walks with a limp the rest of its life.
The new year will present us with both our kids in college, at a UC, which in case you haven't read a newspaper in a while, the tuition is somewhere near the cost of a hand held missile launcher and/or 8500 Olympic-style men's Speedos.
I told myself 5 years ago, I'd write everyday, but have failed miserable at that, but I do make comments about people everyday that I'll later use to write about. Usually snide, witty stuff, mostly mean and uncontrollable or planned, but what thought first enters ones mind when their days encounters involve senior citizens driving 30 on the freeway, coffee baristas who spell my name Ivan, dealership mechanics that try to get me to believe that if I don't change the brake fluid in my cdar on the spot, for 299 my car will careen towards the next school yard I pass, trapping innocent children, actually, no, correction, pinning innocent playground equipment, as no children play anymore or run. Carnage non the less right?
What am I talking about here? I have test to study for for an upcoming job, and my review is the high school equivalency test - the math section only - because I couldn't' solve for x if held at gunpoint.
Pray for me.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Did you Vote?
Proposition 19 which would have allowed every Orchard Supply Hardware to carry garden supplies to legally grow marijuana in your back yard, right along with your crook-neck squash, looks like it's going to fail! What a surprise. So law enforcement can continue to fill our jails with big time dealers and users carrying a oregano type spice bottle filled with weed. Move over pedophiles, bank robbers and murderers, the Gardeners are on the way to prison!
That's about all I know about what I voted for today.
Ha, no really Measure A, very important for health care for children passed. And the govenor's race? Regardless of party I would have voted for Fidel Castro, Queen Latifah, Jerry Mathers, or Pippi Longstockings - ANYONE - just get Arnold out!
That's about all I know about what I voted for today.
Ha, no really Measure A, very important for health care for children passed. And the govenor's race? Regardless of party I would have voted for Fidel Castro, Queen Latifah, Jerry Mathers, or Pippi Longstockings - ANYONE - just get Arnold out!
EDD and Me
November begins my 5th month of unemployment benefits and while I've heard it's the 6th month that most people begin to experience depression, fatigue and hopelessness, I must say I am still eagerly facing each day with the same hope the waning brontosaurus population faced living amongst the faster, two footed reptiles. Yes, any day now, my countless hours of library work will pay off and the perfect not-too-technical job will reveal itself in which i spend my day surrounded by books and eager young children delighting in my knowledge. Until then, I frequent the EDD office to meet with my job counselor whoose cubby displays upbeat posters of soft focused waterfalls and steep cliffs,while encouraging me in comforting script to 'hold fast to my dreams'. I leave most visits there with no new leads, to puruse the lobby for job announcemnt and avoid the bathroom sounds of another umeployed person taking a full-on bath in the only sink.
Sure, I've had some interviews, faced a panel of interviewers who took turns asking me pre-printed questions while the others sat and stared at my profile and probably noticed my overbite and frequent use of the word 'um'. The questions they ask are usually provided to me as if to calm and prepare me. Most of the questions are in essay format and as long as 4 paragraphs and go something like:
Describe how in your last postion, you served your employer by either providing outstanding customer service or at least reduced your carbon footprint while implementing cost-cutting paperless documentation for the regional office and it's subsidiaries in Europe and what approach you took in not directly staring at the lobby receptionists' inappropriate motor-cycling riding husbands' photos pasted on her screensaver depicting him in assless chaps and a crushed beer can?]
No, I'm still feeling optimist and as the job industry experts all recommend, I read regularly and following my morning routine of getting up early, wearing some makeup, watching 30 minutes of Bonanza or similar show depicting teamwork and/or someone in a worst circumstance, surfing the web for a used exercise bike, and then spending the rest of the day snacking on chocolate raisins or ranch flavored Doritos.
It's important to know how to write a cover letter that screams out key words that don't sound cliche-ish and desperate such as , "I beg you", "Can I drive by your office", or "Thank you for considering me though hiring me would be better before my benefits run out and I face starvation and run out of facial concealer". No, better to leave those kind of interview-killing statements out of a winning letter. Stick to what's direct and honest, sell yourself, repeat statements someone gave you that made you feel good about the job you did at work even if it means revealing the name of the greasy HR director who slurks around and tries to embrace women he 'catches doing a great job!"
November is a hopeful month, full of things to be thankful for and while you dont' describe yourself as one to network or use Facebook or Linkdin, surely someone out there who still uses an Olympia typewriter will receive your resume any day now and call you for that perfect job packaging dog collars for Dollar Tree.
Sure, I've had some interviews, faced a panel of interviewers who took turns asking me pre-printed questions while the others sat and stared at my profile and probably noticed my overbite and frequent use of the word 'um'. The questions they ask are usually provided to me as if to calm and prepare me. Most of the questions are in essay format and as long as 4 paragraphs and go something like:
Describe how in your last postion, you served your employer by either providing outstanding customer service or at least reduced your carbon footprint while implementing cost-cutting paperless documentation for the regional office and it's subsidiaries in Europe and what approach you took in not directly staring at the lobby receptionists' inappropriate motor-cycling riding husbands' photos pasted on her screensaver depicting him in assless chaps and a crushed beer can?]
No, I'm still feeling optimist and as the job industry experts all recommend, I read regularly and following my morning routine of getting up early, wearing some makeup, watching 30 minutes of Bonanza or similar show depicting teamwork and/or someone in a worst circumstance, surfing the web for a used exercise bike, and then spending the rest of the day snacking on chocolate raisins or ranch flavored Doritos.
It's important to know how to write a cover letter that screams out key words that don't sound cliche-ish and desperate such as , "I beg you", "Can I drive by your office", or "Thank you for considering me though hiring me would be better before my benefits run out and I face starvation and run out of facial concealer". No, better to leave those kind of interview-killing statements out of a winning letter. Stick to what's direct and honest, sell yourself, repeat statements someone gave you that made you feel good about the job you did at work even if it means revealing the name of the greasy HR director who slurks around and tries to embrace women he 'catches doing a great job!"
November is a hopeful month, full of things to be thankful for and while you dont' describe yourself as one to network or use Facebook or Linkdin, surely someone out there who still uses an Olympia typewriter will receive your resume any day now and call you for that perfect job packaging dog collars for Dollar Tree.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Pimp my Ride
Once your children reach junior high, you’ll want to dump the minivan right away. Donating it to a charitable organizing is best, but in a time crunch, leaving it by a lone reservoir in San Jose, will take months for authorities to find it and by then you can plead insanity.
Should you stupidly hang on to your minivan during your children’s middle school years, you’re asking for a lifetime of field trip driving unless you have a friend in law enforcement that can switch your fingerprints with a local pedophile.
I was recently asked to drive for a fieldtrip for a group of 7th graders. With no time left for reservoir hunting or abandoned mine shaft browsing, I instead made a hand-out of rules and expectations to set up clear guidelines for the students in my charge. Well, no one even looked at it, but instead, crumbled the sheets up and made phallic objects out of it.
As they piled into my van I visualized a stampede of crazed wildebeests careening toward a cliff. These two legged versions included your typical Son of Damien type, moody, with slick black bangs covering one eye; the Follower, who has yet to have a growth spurt and tolerates his classmates using his skull as a drum; and the Yakker, who despite not being born in this country, talks incessantly while parking a jaw breaker on one side of her mouth.
Nonetheless, I thought to expand my role as a driver and imagined I could engage them in some stimulating conversation:
ME: So, Jeremy, are you enjoying your advanced math class?
JEREMY: (snort) Ha, the teacher’s such a douche bag and loser. He writes on the board like he’s conducting a flippin’ parade ….
ME: Uh, Eileen, are your folks working at the upcoming Carnival?
EILEEN: (sneering) If my retarded sister isn’t like, having a meltdown to piss them off and ruin our lives and make my grandma threaten to call the cops or the children’s protective services place, yeah. Man.
ME: (wondering if there’s any topic these kids can’t poison) “David, what’d you think of the new combined 7th/8th basketball squad this season?
DAVID: (leaning to one side and flexing his fingers into an arthritic pose that I guess was suppose to look ‘gangsta’) “Sheeet, we owned those schools; we would’uv won the league if they’d pass me the ball. I’d of downed that ball on those wusses”.
There’s something to be said for a morose environment; I decided to give it a try for 16 miles until the kids noticed I hadn’t made a sound except for the sucking of my teeth.
KIDS: “How ya doing Mizz Minassian”
ME: I’m swell, but as soon as we come up to this next light, I’ll be hurling myself out onto the curb…. you comfortable taking the wheel?”
KIDS: Mizz Minassian, do you think we’ll have time to stop at 7-eleven for a Slurpee and Frito Boat?
ME: Sure, and while you’re inside, ask the attendant for a book of matches so I can burn my flesh in punishment for agreeing to this trip.”
KIDS: Mizz Minassian, my chapstick just rolled under the seat and Richard won’t move his feet; can you tell him something?
ME: “Richard, move your Neanderthal feet and use that claw of a hand of yours to get before I make you eat it”!
KIDS: Miss-es Min-ahh-see-yun! Karl said he’s not feeling well and his forehead is sweating”.
ME: “Karl!” Don’t’ you dare throw up in my car or I’ll dump your lanky body at the first Wal-Mart I see and tell your parents you ran off to join a Farmer’s Market!”
At this point, I passed out my rule sheet in the hopes that I could enjoy a few silent minutes as they read, or until the throbbing blood vessel in my brain burst.
1. Inserting Cheez Whiz into your nostrils or your companions’ will not be tolerated. You may however; whip your companion with licorice twists until their back resembles the slave rowboat scene in the Ten Commandenments.
2. Singing songs are encouraged. Pasting a Band aide to the side of your face and attempting to karaoke to Nelly will result in the driver reaching back and slapping you sideways.
3. Making lewd hand gestures at passing motorists is not only un-Christian like, but could result in 6-mile car pile up, which will follow with the Sky 7 news helicopter flyer overhead and displaying your guilty face on the local evening news.
4. Please do not use binder paper to write potentially alarming notes such as “I’m being held against my will”, and “The driver is NOT my parent”, to display to passing CHP officers. The driver will not only slap you on the side of the head, but spread bed-wetting rumors about you.
5. Extra stops will not be made at convience stores, cemeteries, arcades, piñata shops, or bowling alleys. At the driver’s discretion however, quick stops are permitted at Starbucks, Nordstrom Rack, and Conchita’s Burrito Corral. Occupants will remain seated in the vehicle with the windows rolled up.
6. Occupants of the vehicle must refrain from insulting one another even if seating space is tight. Calling your classmate “highway thighs” or “body-odor play uh”, is not only cruel, but could result in the driver swerving the vehicle from laughter.
7. If you feel car sick or need the facilities, please tap the driver lightly on the shoulder and discreetly whisper something to the effect, “My system is unstable, I need a private moment”. Do not yell vulgarities, such as “I’m gonna hurl”, “The big one’s on the way”, “Gotta pause for a whizzer”, or “The doo-doo man’s a knockin’.
8. Though you may not be with a group of people you are most familiar with; use the opportunity to talk to a classmate you might otherwise avoid. However, do not use this time to inquire about your classmates’ medication dosage, family incarcerations, or unusual birthmark patterns.
9. Finally, be sure to thank the driver profusely for her unselfish act of driving, risking life and limb to ensure your education is a well-rounded and meaningful one. And rather than making a class card to express your thanks, your driver would surely accept cash donations, cruise ship tickets, a Juicy Couture bag, or a Merry Maids cleaning contract.
Have a nice trip, and when you reach your destination, try not to slam the door on your neck. Thank you.
Should you stupidly hang on to your minivan during your children’s middle school years, you’re asking for a lifetime of field trip driving unless you have a friend in law enforcement that can switch your fingerprints with a local pedophile.
I was recently asked to drive for a fieldtrip for a group of 7th graders. With no time left for reservoir hunting or abandoned mine shaft browsing, I instead made a hand-out of rules and expectations to set up clear guidelines for the students in my charge. Well, no one even looked at it, but instead, crumbled the sheets up and made phallic objects out of it.
As they piled into my van I visualized a stampede of crazed wildebeests careening toward a cliff. These two legged versions included your typical Son of Damien type, moody, with slick black bangs covering one eye; the Follower, who has yet to have a growth spurt and tolerates his classmates using his skull as a drum; and the Yakker, who despite not being born in this country, talks incessantly while parking a jaw breaker on one side of her mouth.
Nonetheless, I thought to expand my role as a driver and imagined I could engage them in some stimulating conversation:
ME: So, Jeremy, are you enjoying your advanced math class?
JEREMY: (snort) Ha, the teacher’s such a douche bag and loser. He writes on the board like he’s conducting a flippin’ parade ….
ME: Uh, Eileen, are your folks working at the upcoming Carnival?
EILEEN: (sneering) If my retarded sister isn’t like, having a meltdown to piss them off and ruin our lives and make my grandma threaten to call the cops or the children’s protective services place, yeah. Man.
ME: (wondering if there’s any topic these kids can’t poison) “David, what’d you think of the new combined 7th/8th basketball squad this season?
DAVID: (leaning to one side and flexing his fingers into an arthritic pose that I guess was suppose to look ‘gangsta’) “Sheeet, we owned those schools; we would’uv won the league if they’d pass me the ball. I’d of downed that ball on those wusses”.
There’s something to be said for a morose environment; I decided to give it a try for 16 miles until the kids noticed I hadn’t made a sound except for the sucking of my teeth.
KIDS: “How ya doing Mizz Minassian”
ME: I’m swell, but as soon as we come up to this next light, I’ll be hurling myself out onto the curb…. you comfortable taking the wheel?”
KIDS: Mizz Minassian, do you think we’ll have time to stop at 7-eleven for a Slurpee and Frito Boat?
ME: Sure, and while you’re inside, ask the attendant for a book of matches so I can burn my flesh in punishment for agreeing to this trip.”
KIDS: Mizz Minassian, my chapstick just rolled under the seat and Richard won’t move his feet; can you tell him something?
ME: “Richard, move your Neanderthal feet and use that claw of a hand of yours to get before I make you eat it”!
KIDS: Miss-es Min-ahh-see-yun! Karl said he’s not feeling well and his forehead is sweating”.
ME: “Karl!” Don’t’ you dare throw up in my car or I’ll dump your lanky body at the first Wal-Mart I see and tell your parents you ran off to join a Farmer’s Market!”
At this point, I passed out my rule sheet in the hopes that I could enjoy a few silent minutes as they read, or until the throbbing blood vessel in my brain burst.
1. Inserting Cheez Whiz into your nostrils or your companions’ will not be tolerated. You may however; whip your companion with licorice twists until their back resembles the slave rowboat scene in the Ten Commandenments.
2. Singing songs are encouraged. Pasting a Band aide to the side of your face and attempting to karaoke to Nelly will result in the driver reaching back and slapping you sideways.
3. Making lewd hand gestures at passing motorists is not only un-Christian like, but could result in 6-mile car pile up, which will follow with the Sky 7 news helicopter flyer overhead and displaying your guilty face on the local evening news.
4. Please do not use binder paper to write potentially alarming notes such as “I’m being held against my will”, and “The driver is NOT my parent”, to display to passing CHP officers. The driver will not only slap you on the side of the head, but spread bed-wetting rumors about you.
5. Extra stops will not be made at convience stores, cemeteries, arcades, piñata shops, or bowling alleys. At the driver’s discretion however, quick stops are permitted at Starbucks, Nordstrom Rack, and Conchita’s Burrito Corral. Occupants will remain seated in the vehicle with the windows rolled up.
6. Occupants of the vehicle must refrain from insulting one another even if seating space is tight. Calling your classmate “highway thighs” or “body-odor play uh”, is not only cruel, but could result in the driver swerving the vehicle from laughter.
7. If you feel car sick or need the facilities, please tap the driver lightly on the shoulder and discreetly whisper something to the effect, “My system is unstable, I need a private moment”. Do not yell vulgarities, such as “I’m gonna hurl”, “The big one’s on the way”, “Gotta pause for a whizzer”, or “The doo-doo man’s a knockin’.
8. Though you may not be with a group of people you are most familiar with; use the opportunity to talk to a classmate you might otherwise avoid. However, do not use this time to inquire about your classmates’ medication dosage, family incarcerations, or unusual birthmark patterns.
9. Finally, be sure to thank the driver profusely for her unselfish act of driving, risking life and limb to ensure your education is a well-rounded and meaningful one. And rather than making a class card to express your thanks, your driver would surely accept cash donations, cruise ship tickets, a Juicy Couture bag, or a Merry Maids cleaning contract.
Have a nice trip, and when you reach your destination, try not to slam the door on your neck. Thank you.
Sock it To Me
Three o' clock Christmas Eve my teenage daughter, we'll call, Judy,
announces I must drive her to the mall to find a sock monkey for her
newly minted boyfriend. To also protect his identity, we'll call him
Harry although Cabbage Head is more fitting. A nice enough fellow
despite his low slung jeans and some kind of pink crochet bucket hat
he wears that only sets off his slapped-check look. For some reason I
hear Marley music in the background when I see that hat.
Did I mention I tried reasoning with Judy to avoid a trip to the mall.
Me: The mall is going to be too busy now and we'll never get a parking
unless we resort to gunfire.
Couldnt' we just drive to Safeway and get him a gift card?
Judy: (wide-eyed with horror) That's so sketch, mom, so retarded. I'm
not going to just hand him some cheap gift card. That doesn't even
like, take planning."
Me: Planning? Weeks ago, I would have hired a contractor to nail some
two by fours into a personal neck-tie caddy for him to avoid the mall.
Judy: Mutherrrr! It won't be that bad, you drop me off and I'll meet
you inside at Zumi's or something.
I knew dropping her off would require me to then circle the parking
lot for 35 more minutes which wouldn't be so bad if she was actually
looking for a gift. But I know she'll make a detour into Sephora,
House of Cosmetics For The Professional Stage Actor, and then dive
into Forever 21 for a peek at the sateen jacket I told her I'd never
buy even if the disco look came back.
Not that I'd find a parking though I'd probably get close. I'd see a
shopper, bags in tow walking hesitantly looking for her car, head
bobbing, rooster-like trying to recall if she even parked at the mall
or across the interstate at IHOP. I'll be filled with hope as she
spots her car and pops her trunk only to become aware of my presence
and smiley sweetly and shake her head, that no, she's not leaving.
I'll whisper a voodoo curse I recall from Gilligins' Island and speed off.
All the while, Judy texts me from somewhere in the mall: Whr r u?
So now, as I have until Jan 1st in California to text while driving, I
reply: STILL LOKN 4 PKNG
If I had the time I'd like to write instead:
B hind a colosal suv inhalng fums whle they unload 13 mbrs of ther
fmly n wait whil da stupid drivr kiss evry 1 bye as if they leavn 4 a
cruise to Brmuda Triangl.
But I don't because I spot a car backing out and speed toward it. I
can't believe my luck as I swing into the parking only to discover
it's for Safeway and I WILL BE TOWED AT OWNER'S EXPENSE if I park
there without shopping at Safeway.
Okay, I can play this game. I head into the grocery store, surely I
can buy something, dish soap, floss, english muffins, laxatives,
anything. I grab a box of hair relaxer and a pack of Orbit gum and get
in the express line. Meanwhile, another text from Judy: HURY ME IN
LINE NEED MONI
I reply I'm on my way, as I pay the cashier and ignore his looks as he
bags my hair relaxer and gum. He has the customer service skills of a
goat and dead-pan asks me if i'm aware that the relaxer is buy-one-get
one-free? I tell him one is enough and to hurry him up I tell him that
my husband is on oxygen in the car, while extending my hand for my
change.
I'm ready to grab a plastic bag and close his airway as he slowly
opens a roll of nickles and counts out my coins which he finally hands
over with a 6 foot receipt that now includes coupons for things I
wouldn't buy if it was my last free day on the planet.
Purchases in tow, I head into the mall, aware that the Safeway
security guy is watching me but what can he do, I used his store
didn't I. I'm officially a shopper at Safeway, the sign didn't say I
had to stay only in Safeway. I figure as long as I kept the store
bag with me, I'd be safe.
Ten minutes later I find Judy in a store called Rox Shox, impatiently
standing off to the side near the register.
Judy: "Oh my gawd, you took forever!"
Me: "There are 9000 people out there equivalent to a border crossing
during war time. It slowed me down a bit"
Judy: Okay, whatever. I need your card for this top then we'll head
over to Macy's and get the sock monkey,andthenwehav etostop
andgetascarftogowit hit......
Me: You're buying a top? Just get the monkey and lets go.
Judy: Mutherrr! I need this for Sonia's party!
Me: You have 8 other tops just like this.
The clerk interrupts us and loudly lets us know she can't hold
merchandise beyond one hour.
I mumble something about her red tips and lack of personality as I
fish for my credit card. Too mortifying for my daughter, she hisses
she'll 'wait outside for me'. Leaving me alone with Miss Snarly Check
Out Girl.
"You need a gift receipt with this", she drawls.
I reply, "No, but a travel size vial of Valium will do".
She gives me a dead stare as she hands me my bag. I can handle her
dirty looks I tell myself as I turn to leave, taking consolation that
she probably can't even spell Valium.
Judy and I head to Macy's where we discover (surprise) that they are
out of the traditional brown sock monkeys and only have the key-chain
size type left. Judy nearly spirals to the floor in Wicked Witch of
the West melting fashion, as she bemoans the situation and I helpfully
suggest we just buy him a bottle of colonge.
Recovering, she replies, "just forget it. I'll make him a sock
monkey". Let go to Joann Fabrics for the stuff."
Me; Oh sure, and while we're there, maybe we can order some genuine
imported mohair from the women in Peru to sew on and give the monkey
that natural hair look.
Judy: Mutherrr! We need to hurry, everything closes early today!
I began to wonder if I actually went through labor and delivery with
this child and instead entertain the idea that we were given her by
some lovely couple, poor, but determined for their child to have a
good life.
No. Who am I kidding. I've been at this kids' beck and call since she
was in the womb and wouldn't let me drink my traditional 3 cups of
coffee a day without kicking and turning for days. Which reminded me I
desperately needed a cup now and suggested to her that we swing by
Starbucks.
Judy: Now?! Look at the line! Just wait till we get home. Oh my gawd,
why didn't you buy some earlier or something?
Rightfully scolded, what was I thinking, not planning ahead and making
myself a cup of coffee at home and putting it into my car cup.
Back at the car the Safeway parking lot guard hustles over as I
climbed into my seat. I don't roll the window down as he starts
telling me something about 'walking away from my car after shopping..."
"Okay", I wave, and showd him my Safeway bag as I back up. Smiling
and waving I point to my ear, and shake my head, to indicate I
can't hear him.
Back on the freeway I suggested to my daughter that maybe next year
she order stuff online and have it sent.
Judy: Wow, I like know that already and bought your gift that way only
it's super lame and won't arrive until February cuz it's so backed
up." I wanted Harry to open the monkey on Christmas day."
For once in the 3 years since she became a teenager, I understood her
as I recalled the mail order I placed when she was eight years old and
had to have the RealMeal Easy Bake Oven,so I paid $20 extra for
overnight shipping so she'd have it on Christmas Day.
Me: You're right. He should open it on Christmas Day; and the one
you'll make will probably look ten times cuter than the store bought
kind."
She looked over at me warily, sizing me up, her look telling me that
maybe I wasn't sub-human after all. Nah, she probably just noticed the
hair relaxer on the seat is for 'ethnic hair styling needs'.
Happy New Year.
announces I must drive her to the mall to find a sock monkey for her
newly minted boyfriend. To also protect his identity, we'll call him
Harry although Cabbage Head is more fitting. A nice enough fellow
despite his low slung jeans and some kind of pink crochet bucket hat
he wears that only sets off his slapped-check look. For some reason I
hear Marley music in the background when I see that hat.
Did I mention I tried reasoning with Judy to avoid a trip to the mall.
Me: The mall is going to be too busy now and we'll never get a parking
unless we resort to gunfire.
Couldnt' we just drive to Safeway and get him a gift card?
Judy: (wide-eyed with horror) That's so sketch, mom, so retarded. I'm
not going to just hand him some cheap gift card. That doesn't even
like, take planning."
Me: Planning? Weeks ago, I would have hired a contractor to nail some
two by fours into a personal neck-tie caddy for him to avoid the mall.
Judy: Mutherrrr! It won't be that bad, you drop me off and I'll meet
you inside at Zumi's or something.
I knew dropping her off would require me to then circle the parking
lot for 35 more minutes which wouldn't be so bad if she was actually
looking for a gift. But I know she'll make a detour into Sephora,
House of Cosmetics For The Professional Stage Actor, and then dive
into Forever 21 for a peek at the sateen jacket I told her I'd never
buy even if the disco look came back.
Not that I'd find a parking though I'd probably get close. I'd see a
shopper, bags in tow walking hesitantly looking for her car, head
bobbing, rooster-like trying to recall if she even parked at the mall
or across the interstate at IHOP. I'll be filled with hope as she
spots her car and pops her trunk only to become aware of my presence
and smiley sweetly and shake her head, that no, she's not leaving.
I'll whisper a voodoo curse I recall from Gilligins' Island and speed off.
All the while, Judy texts me from somewhere in the mall: Whr r u?
So now, as I have until Jan 1st in California to text while driving, I
reply: STILL LOKN 4 PKNG
If I had the time I'd like to write instead:
B hind a colosal suv inhalng fums whle they unload 13 mbrs of ther
fmly n wait whil da stupid drivr kiss evry 1 bye as if they leavn 4 a
cruise to Brmuda Triangl.
But I don't because I spot a car backing out and speed toward it. I
can't believe my luck as I swing into the parking only to discover
it's for Safeway and I WILL BE TOWED AT OWNER'S EXPENSE if I park
there without shopping at Safeway.
Okay, I can play this game. I head into the grocery store, surely I
can buy something, dish soap, floss, english muffins, laxatives,
anything. I grab a box of hair relaxer and a pack of Orbit gum and get
in the express line. Meanwhile, another text from Judy: HURY ME IN
LINE NEED MONI
I reply I'm on my way, as I pay the cashier and ignore his looks as he
bags my hair relaxer and gum. He has the customer service skills of a
goat and dead-pan asks me if i'm aware that the relaxer is buy-one-get
one-free? I tell him one is enough and to hurry him up I tell him that
my husband is on oxygen in the car, while extending my hand for my
change.
I'm ready to grab a plastic bag and close his airway as he slowly
opens a roll of nickles and counts out my coins which he finally hands
over with a 6 foot receipt that now includes coupons for things I
wouldn't buy if it was my last free day on the planet.
Purchases in tow, I head into the mall, aware that the Safeway
security guy is watching me but what can he do, I used his store
didn't I. I'm officially a shopper at Safeway, the sign didn't say I
had to stay only in Safeway. I figure as long as I kept the store
bag with me, I'd be safe.
Ten minutes later I find Judy in a store called Rox Shox, impatiently
standing off to the side near the register.
Judy: "Oh my gawd, you took forever!"
Me: "There are 9000 people out there equivalent to a border crossing
during war time. It slowed me down a bit"
Judy: Okay, whatever. I need your card for this top then we'll head
over to Macy's and get the sock monkey,andthenwehav etostop
andgetascarftogowit hit......
Me: You're buying a top? Just get the monkey and lets go.
Judy: Mutherrr! I need this for Sonia's party!
Me: You have 8 other tops just like this.
The clerk interrupts us and loudly lets us know she can't hold
merchandise beyond one hour.
I mumble something about her red tips and lack of personality as I
fish for my credit card. Too mortifying for my daughter, she hisses
she'll 'wait outside for me'. Leaving me alone with Miss Snarly Check
Out Girl.
"You need a gift receipt with this", she drawls.
I reply, "No, but a travel size vial of Valium will do".
She gives me a dead stare as she hands me my bag. I can handle her
dirty looks I tell myself as I turn to leave, taking consolation that
she probably can't even spell Valium.
Judy and I head to Macy's where we discover (surprise) that they are
out of the traditional brown sock monkeys and only have the key-chain
size type left. Judy nearly spirals to the floor in Wicked Witch of
the West melting fashion, as she bemoans the situation and I helpfully
suggest we just buy him a bottle of colonge.
Recovering, she replies, "just forget it. I'll make him a sock
monkey". Let go to Joann Fabrics for the stuff."
Me; Oh sure, and while we're there, maybe we can order some genuine
imported mohair from the women in Peru to sew on and give the monkey
that natural hair look.
Judy: Mutherrr! We need to hurry, everything closes early today!
I began to wonder if I actually went through labor and delivery with
this child and instead entertain the idea that we were given her by
some lovely couple, poor, but determined for their child to have a
good life.
No. Who am I kidding. I've been at this kids' beck and call since she
was in the womb and wouldn't let me drink my traditional 3 cups of
coffee a day without kicking and turning for days. Which reminded me I
desperately needed a cup now and suggested to her that we swing by
Starbucks.
Judy: Now?! Look at the line! Just wait till we get home. Oh my gawd,
why didn't you buy some earlier or something?
Rightfully scolded, what was I thinking, not planning ahead and making
myself a cup of coffee at home and putting it into my car cup.
Back at the car the Safeway parking lot guard hustles over as I
climbed into my seat. I don't roll the window down as he starts
telling me something about 'walking away from my car after shopping..."
"Okay", I wave, and showd him my Safeway bag as I back up. Smiling
and waving I point to my ear, and shake my head, to indicate I
can't hear him.
Back on the freeway I suggested to my daughter that maybe next year
she order stuff online and have it sent.
Judy: Wow, I like know that already and bought your gift that way only
it's super lame and won't arrive until February cuz it's so backed
up." I wanted Harry to open the monkey on Christmas day."
For once in the 3 years since she became a teenager, I understood her
as I recalled the mail order I placed when she was eight years old and
had to have the RealMeal Easy Bake Oven,so I paid $20 extra for
overnight shipping so she'd have it on Christmas Day.
Me: You're right. He should open it on Christmas Day; and the one
you'll make will probably look ten times cuter than the store bought
kind."
She looked over at me warily, sizing me up, her look telling me that
maybe I wasn't sub-human after all. Nah, she probably just noticed the
hair relaxer on the seat is for 'ethnic hair styling needs'.
Happy New Year.
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