blackbird.jpg (30437 bytes)

2006-09-09 @ 11:43 p.m.
ya know what happened at 11:09 a.m. edt? I do.

Ever wonder why I am the way I am? Case in point. My 78 year old mother just called me to give her a quick synopsis of two movies that were coming on TV. She wanted to decide between "Basic Instinct" or "Mona Lisa Smiles". So I explained that "Basic Instinct" was a rather violent, sexual murder mystery starring Michael Douglas and Sharon Stone, but that's all I could really remember since it came out about 15 years ago. And then I explained that "Mona Lisa Smiles" was a sweet gentle movie set in the 1950s with Julia Roberts as an art teacher. And how she teaches her snooty Ivy League students how to look beyond their mundane futures as housewives and see the world.

My 78 year old mom? "Oh that sounds boring. I wanna watch the sex and violence!" Click.


So today I decided rather than wait until sometime in October for the Medicaid eye doctor appointment and then wait another 2-3 weeks to get my glasses, I'd just pay to see an eye doctor who has an office in a nearby Walmart and get the ball rolling. I wasn't thrilled having to pay for the appointment, but consider the alternative. Blind Mole Syndrome.

So I went to Walmart this morning. Oh rapture. I never go there. Why? Well, first off, I have to be greeted by that fugly toothless hag they have sitting in that wheelchair by the front door. Yeah, that one! "Wel(spit)come, to Wal(spit)mart, hon." Arghhhh!!!!!! I hate being called "hon". Hate. It. I'm not your hon.....HON!

Fortunately the eye doctor's office was right inside the entrance, so I didn't have to mix with the Walmartian minions much. I love that they give you a bunch of paperwork to fill out when you first go in. But wait! I can't see!! I do have some glasses my aunt gave me last weekend. They look like something from a 1980s soap opera. Big pink square plastic ones. They look like something Dustin Hoffman wore in Tootsie.

When I went in with the doctor, I wanted to verify once again that I could take the prescription to my Medicaid place for the glasses and he looked at me and said, "You could take it to Saudi Arabia if you want".

Um, ok. He actually wasn't as much as an asshole as THAT indicated. He was actually pretty funny. I was telling him I was switching careers to cake decorator and needed to be able to see what I was writing on cakes. And he said, "You mean like if a woman comes in and wants you to write: "I want a divorce sleaze-bucket!!" It was so unexpected I almost bust a gut. I told him I wouldn't want to spell "Sleaze-bucket" wrong and he laughed too.

Who knew eye doctors were so funny?

I did get my prescription and drove all the way to the Medicaid eyeglass place up north and would you believe they wouldn't take my order because it was the weekend? Bugger! The first girl was really rude to me and I almost started crying. I then asked if I could at least look at the glasses and she let me do so grudgingly. Then a second woman started to help me and was a lot nicer and checked to make sure I was eligible for a new pair of glasses. So I'm all set. I just have to drive north once again Monday.

I then shot over to my aunt's house since it was only about 1/4 mile away. I had to return the dish from last week's cakie lessons. The thing about going to my aunt's house is you MUST be fed immediately. Its the Law! It doesn't matter if you just arrived from The Last Supper. I said "No" because I had just had scrambled eggs and toast. But then there I was, within minutes, eating one of her famous fat-free grilled cheeses on whole wheat. And then we went on to some more cake decorating lessons. I had wanted to go for a walk, but since she was nice enough to offer once again, I stayed and learned how to make roses and leaves out of frosting. The frosting was a little too soft and she was very fretful. But she said I did very well. Fortunately she didn't send any cakies home with me this time, otherwise I wouldn't be able to button my pants by next week.

I did finally get to go on my walk. I went back to the canal, since its so pretty right now. And for another reason. I had been for a 2 mile walk yesterday and saw a gorgeous blue heron standing right by the shore and taken a bunch of pictures. He was totally unaffected by all the people standing there watching him. In fact he had put on quite a show. There had been this long, black snake gliding through the water and the heron had arched its neck and made this dramatic jab into the water and nailed the snake. We all had gasped and screamed like a bunch of little girls. But it was so freakin' cooooool! And then the heron had just dropped it back into the water. And the snake had just laid there. I figured it was dead. Like punctured or something. But then about a minute later it wriggled like about 100 mph over to the shore and disappeared.

So I went back again today and the blue heron was just about the same place. And people were watching it again. And I took some more pictures. Unfortunately its just my little cheapo throwaway camera so I'm not sure how well they'll come out. We'll see.

And then when I got home I found this stuck in my door:

The XXXX's have been inserted to protect the innocent, but this is yet another note from my increasingly ardent suitor Harold the Geek. Note the precision. "11:09 a.m. EDT" WTF??? Why not 11:09:52 EDT? Why not some latitudinal and longitudinal information as well? I mean if you're going to be precise. Because personally I really think he slipped up by not including temperature and wind direction while he was standing and writing the note.


"A", what have you done to me? I am like the very antithesis of "11:09 a.m. EDT." I don't even know what the date is today. I like to watch blue herons stand in creeks. People obsessed with facts and information make me itch. Harold the Geek and I are not a good match. I know you're trying to be a yenta and help people find people, but you've got to be kidding. We just are not meant for each other. Not by a long stretch. And I have a feeling he'll probably be back tomorrow.

And its bad enough that when I listened to my voice mail at work this week, I had a message from the Psycho Lesbian Chick. I haven't heard from her since around April when she smashed my car windshield. What did she say? "You won!" And then screamed something so loud it was indecipherable. Lucky me. I get such undying devotion from my crazies, ya know?

So I just have to get rested up tonight. Tomorrow is one of my mom's big parties. No, not at her house, but at the Has-been Cowboy Bob Actor's House. The one who used to work as a stuntman but now terrorizes old ladies by announcing that he's not wearing any underwear. Yeah, that one. And Gay Elvis will be there too. Yippee. The smarmy devastatingly handsome studster with his posse of elderly groupies. And then there will be me. I don't fit into any category. I don't flutter and faint at the news of no tightie whities on Cowboy Bob. I don't get the vapors when Gay Elvis sashays strides into the room in his polyester Elvis gear. Nope. I just sit there and take it all in with amusement.

The reason I go? 1) Food. 2) A wealth of comedic material. 3) The fact that Cowboy Bob has telephones installed right next to all his toilets which I find infinitely amusing. 5) The guy who wears mascara and an ascot will be there. 6) The new season of "The Office" hasn't started yet.


8 comments so far << | >>

Older Entries
upsy, downsy, upsy, splat! - 2010-05-22
April sours bring May flowers? - 2010-05-01
when finding a head in the recycling bin is the highlight of your month - 2010-03-28
fifty two chances to be awesome...ok maybe - 2010-02-20
its sorta like "Grease" except there's no musical numbers and I'm really old - 2010-02-05


Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty