Sunday Todd pulled the beast out and took me for a ride. I’m talking about the MUSTANG, you depraved miscreants.
The sun was bright and the green of spring radiant. We drove to a nearby town on the water where a popular restaurant was open for takeout, and there were at least a dozen people milling about. Without masks on. This, the day after Governor Hogan declared universal masking in the state. We hung a right (she said “hung”) and continued through the historic, albeit somewhat depressed, little town.
A couple was walking on the sidewalk. Two men were moving a freezer chest very precariously over the porch stairs. A woman was standing alone on the roof outside a second story window.
Todd shifted gears and pushed the car as the landscape grew more green and forested. I was busy in my look-something-shiny way – pointing out crumbling stone walls and ancient homes the woods were lazily reclaiming. We passed the VFW, its sign stated – “Time’s up Hogan. Open up.”
Then the park.
People. Clusters of them. Ignoring social distancing. Not wearing masks.
I should not be surprised. Opac has told me with frustration and a choice word or two nearly every day about friends meeting up here, gathering there. A student from the high school was killed in a single-car accident last week and a makeshift memorial went up at the crash site and, like anyone who can’t resist craning their necks toward morbid scenes, the young’uns were gathering there. Yesterday was the funeral. A bunch of them were gathering in the parking lot, since they can’t go inside.
Hours later – a text from one of his more un-woke friends asking if anyone wanted to meet up at the grocery store parking lot. I wanted to grab the phone and text the little shithead myself. Bitch-slapping him is also high on my bucket list of satisfying activities.
And while we’re on the subject of shitheads, I went to the grocery store last night. The directional arrows appear to be gone in the produce section, which was somewhat of a relief. However, the one-way aisles still apply. BUT. People were ignoring this.
There’s a BIG FUCKING RED ARROW at the foot of each aisle so it’s not like you can’t NOT KNOW. I stared at these people. One time was one thing. But when I turned the next aisle, going the right way, there they were again, coming toward me. My blood started boiling. I mean, BOILING. I needed to get out of there before I started a fistfight.
I got everything on my list and spent another $150. “Everything on my list” did not include toilet paper or tissues, because I’m not that self-destructive. I used self-checkout and noted the same attendant from a previous night, wearing a mask and a face shield. I’m not sure why a face shield is necessary unless one is expecting to be spit on which, at this point in quarantine, I wouldn’t put past the angry hoards that can’t get their TP.
I was going to ask her on my way out just how many people ask her about toilet paper. Then this woman behind me asked her rather loudly when there will be toilet paper because she can’t get none every time she comes here. Question answered.
I passed the security guy – because they have posted a security guard at the new “exit only” because clearly we live in a community where people either can’t read or don’t give a shit. A SECURITY GUARD.
I’m on the edge, people. Feeling stabby and I’m staying off of Facebook because I can’t drink during the day, especially since Silverfox is still posting about you-know-who and picking fights. I think we need parental controls for our parents. Clearly Gen X is the only generation holding their shit together. Well, except for those cretins out there protesting.
And now that I’ve expired 300 words just on the grocery store shitshow, I’d like to announce that the word of the day (no lie – it’s on dictionary.com) is ….taradiddle. It’s been around since the end of the 1700s and it means “a small lie, a fib.” Not what I expected but fine. Today is also Big Word Day and National Library Worker Appreciation Day.
It is also another day that is an anniversary of one of the worst days in music history, and that’s all I’m going to say about that. Except, please don’t text me about the Grammy Salute that’s on tonight. Ya’ll should know by now I DO NOT listen to anyone else doing that music. (And for the love of purple, don’t ever mention tribute artists.)
On a happier note, my beautiful, kind, sassy mother-in-law is 25 today! I wish I could send her some of those magnificent petit fours the Queen got today for her birthday.
Opac counted the TP last night. We have 11 rolls, including 4 in rotation (pun intended).
Today’s weather brought to you by my lower back: rain showers with isolated thunderstorms.
There is no t-shirt today. It’s polo shirt day!
Magneto is a real thing, not just an evil mutant. It’s this thing on your lawn mower that helps to power it. No shit. I learned something new today.
Cheech and Chong say “man” 295 times in Up In Smoke.
The price of gas here is $1.85 a gallon. My senior year in high school – $0.90. It was over $4 in 2008.
The Toilet Paper Shortage of 1974! From this New York Times article: a rumor ignited “a phenomenon that saw millions of Americans strip every roll of bathroom tissue from thousands of grocery shelves. It was a shortage full of humor, misunderstanding and fear. It was a shortage involving government officials, a TV personality (Johnny Carson), a well‐meaning Wisconsin Congressman, eager reporters, industrial executives and ordinary consumers.”
The longest word in the English language: pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. A lung disease caused by inhaling silica particles from a volcano.
Todd and I “became friends” on Facebook ten years ago today.