My Day

Posted: March 29, 2011 by S. Trevor Swenson in Me & Mine
Tags: , ,

Today I woke up early, so I could get a jump start on going back to bed and wasting most of my day.  I re-awakened (Is that even a word? It sounds so . . . George Bush-esque) around 4 p.m., and went to do my weekly grocery shopping.  I moved along the aisles with my rickety granny cart filling it up with my food for the week. Then I luckily found a check-out line with only one person in front of me.  I paid for my groceries and for some reason decided to examine my receipt as I am fast becoming an annoying old lady, and found two items that I was overcharged for.  I sheepishly returned to the check-out girl and pointed out the mistake, and she referred me to the nice lady at Customer Service.  After pointing out the mistake she gave me my $2 back.  I felt $2 richer and much, much lamer.  I remember my grandmother looking over receipts in the supermarket with the intensity of an IRS auditor with OCD.  I used to cringe whenever I was in line behind an old person and they started to look over the receipt.  It usually meant an extra 25 cents for them and an extra half an hour in line for me.

Walking back home with my groceries, I had an epiphany . . . I think that old people delight in annoying younger folks with their antics.  I think it’s all premeditated.  I think when they’re done annoying everyone under 40 that they have come in contact with for that day, they retire to bingo games and nursing homes and laugh at all of us.

I can JUST picture it. “I kept a whole line of people waiting 45 minutes at the check-out line arguing over the price of cottage cheese!”  “Oh, that’s nothing. I drove in the right lane with my left turn signal on for over an hour, you should have heard them honking.”

I got home and gave my moms a ring where she tormented me with Christmas plans in October.  My grandmother; her mother would start making the entire family’s life a yuletide hell in August.  My moms is not quite at the level yet, but god bless her, she’s trying.  My mother best friend; Leslie will be joining us for the holidays this year and my moms felt it was important to ask me not to make any retard or cripple jokes around Leslie as she is a physical therapist and wouldn’t appreciate my unique brand of humor.  I patiently explained to my moms, that I don’t make retard jokes, I merely write about my experiences with the special ones, and people read them and seem to find humor in it.  Then being the dutiful son I am, I promised not to make retard jokes around Leslie.  I had to call back a few minutes later and ask what Leslie’s position was on the blind, deaf and of course the midgets.  Mommy just repeated her ever patient request not to make retard jokes during Christmas and I promised again.

By then it was din-din time so I cooked up a yummy meal making certain that all four food groups were represented.  I left the dishes in the sink hoping my roommate would come home feeling industrious. Then I got ready to meet my friend Steve in Times Square for a film at 9:50.
I arrived early and bought our tickets and then walked around Times Square amusing myself.

First I found a couple having a heated and emotional break up, so I decided to sit next to them and pretend to read a book and amuse myself with their misery.  The girl was crying and kept choking out the same sentence over and over. “I’m (sob) just trying (sob) to be the best (sob) person I can be.”  The guy was looking frustrated with his highly public attempt at a breakup and just kept saying ” I know, I know”.  After they didn’t say anything new 10 minutes later, I mumbled “Bor-ring” at them and walked off to find something more fun.

Times Square is teaming with scores of annoying tourists holding up traffic by taking photos of their friends and family posing in front of mundane stores, NY Cops and what not.  Rather than getting frustrated about this I found that purposefully ruining their photos was much more fun.  I spent half an hour walking into unsuspecting tourists photos while scratching my ass, picking my nose or adjusting my crotch.  Now I will live forever in scads of family albums as “That guy who ruined our picture.”

There were 3 black girls in front of the movies when Steve had arrived.  It seemed they were planning to ruin an entire theater full of people’s cinematic experience with loud urban commentary.  I was thrilled to see they had bought tickets to some movie about a Chihuahua, and not “W” which was what Steve and I were going to.

The movie wasn’t half bad, nor was my day.

Comments
  1. Tallkronan says:

    Where’s the film/TV series/magazine/daily strip? I am going through your texts at much too high a pace and will run out of them in a day. You need to get typing!

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