Kids at a creepy/rockabilly/steampunk car show.
Went to the Creeprod Car Show yesterday in Lawrenceville, which was spearheaded by the brain trust that is Trundle Manor. Pete and Seri came with us, so we had a combined set of three boys under the age of 7, and this event was decidedly not kid friendly so I don’t know what I was thinking. All three of them got screamed at by some fat slob when they came within a foot of his car; for someone who was so protective of it, he sure was REALLY FUCKING FAR AWAY, drinking his brewski and slurring Yinzer-slang with his buddies clear on the other side of the fence.
This happened kind of early on, and it made me mentally check out.
Gayle had a booth there, right across from a guy selling lamps made out of animal bones and right next to our old neighbor, 1950s HOMEMAKER OMG I FORGOT ABOUT THAT BITCH. (*She is mentioned at the end of the post I linked to.) Now I know what she was sewing all those times I was washing dishes and saw her from the kitchen window sitting behind a sewing machine: really stupid 1950s HOMEMAKER aprons.
I took refuge under Gayle’s tent and talked to her for awhile and got to meet her fiance, Jeff, who was very nice. At least they didn’t yell at the kids.
Henry’s Blue Collar Gang sign? I have no idea. I think he was actually counting nickels with which to buy a soda pop. And Pete? He was quietly bartering with the Parenting Overlords to just take the rest of his will to live and be done with it.
Ugh. God only knows.
Really, what stands out the most to me when I think about yesterday was when Chooch was petting someone’s dog and said to the owner, “My mommy had a cat, her name was Speck, and she used to give my mommy high fives.”
Broke my goddamn heart. It was all I could do not to burst into tears right there on the street, mere feet away from a dancing rockabilly crackhead.
Chooch was actually kind of moderately good, until he became obsessed with being thirsty. God, isn’t it enough I grew the kid? Now I have to replenish his fluids too? Parenting is so hard.
Post-car show Wendy’s with a trio of monsters. I’m not a big fast food person (just a regular big person), but I had an oatmeal raisin bar thing that was just delightful.
Yesterday was just plain weird, and not in the good, typical Erin-way.