When looking for fodder, one may look too hard. When simply living your life, fodder seems to fall out of the FUCKING sky.
I went out and about on Long Island today with a friend visiting from Chicago. Our goal was to thrift shop on this fine Monday without the throngs of people aimlessly taking up space, parking spots, and things of that nature. I mean, it’s Monday. Negatron, Ghost Rider. I completely ignored the fact that 97% of Long Islanders are active members of AARP. Of that group, 75% still drive. Of THAT group, 20% drive the longest Cadillac their pension could afford. I kid you not, there were pods of traffic on the parkway. It was like swarms of Cadillacs. We get to the mall and it was the set of Golden Girls, if anything else. The incessant clanking of kitten heals and the swooshing of track suits didn’t give Taylor Swift a chance to be heard at PacSun. In case you didn’t know; while you’re at work, the mall is a gym for the geriatric. If you work at the mall, lucky you! A 76 year old man “speed walking”, wearing a sweater vest, dockers, and loafers, is comedic gold.
Moving forward to the shopping piece of this pie… Do you ever go into a store wearing something you’ve purchased there before and PRAY that not only do you not see it, but it is not on the clearance rack?! Or that an employee isn’t wearing it? And by “employee”, I mean mannequin. Another embarrassing task for me is to try things on and look in a mirror… in the middle of the store… while the associate is breathing on you. I never know what to say or how to feel about the merchandise because I no longer care. I just want the associate off my fucking neck.
Anyway, just thought I’d move through my day in a few sentences with you. Going to continue to pretend I have a life… Please, wait up for me. I won’t be going far.