#20: A visit from Stacey

 blogathon 2010
Jul 312010
 

In this picture, please find that Stacey is smiling while Alisha frantically checks her phone for the time to make sure I’m not fucking up the agenda.

When I came downstairs on the morn’ of my birthday, I caught a glimpse of a large box perched on the dining room table. I gasped! “For me?!” I said aloud, resting my lovely hand upon my birthday bosom.

It was just the light box, which I forgot to put away the night before.

My heart fell. My stomach sank. My fist plunged through a wall.

But a little while ago, Stacey came to visit!  With he, she brought a birthday present for me! A gift card for Best Buy so I can buy all the things that were in Henry’s invisible box of imaginary birthday presents for me!

Then Stacey got to leave to go to work, and I watched as Alisha’s eyes followed morosely. You’re stuck here, my friend.

So that was something nice that happened today (along with Evonne’s visit as well!), amidst all the technical difficulties, high blood pressure and incessant hair-chewing.

My ‘approaches’ are not generally full of grace

 chooch
Jun 122008
 

Today, Chooch and I went to lunch with Janna and my brother Corey. We walked several blocks to Tom’s Diner, which was fine until the way back when Chooch was too tired to walk so I had to carry him in 179 degree weather and he stunk of sweat and curdled milk. Anyway, at Tom’s, he made a fist and held it out to everyone who walked past, and said, "Punch. Punch." Most people ignored him, but a fat old man wearing a big mother-whompin’ ring made a fist on his way out of the diner and shouted, "Gimme some knuckle, kid" and Chooch had this expression of "Fucking finally!" 

Chooch and I both had grilled cheese and fries, but he was more interested in stealing potato chips and pickles from Janna’s plate.

A woman came in with approximately 18 children (fine, four) and as soon as they sat down behind us, a really old should-be-fucking-dead-by-now man hobbled over with a hunched back and passed out saftey suckers to each one. "I just really love kids," he exclaimed to their mom, and then he went back to his table.

Now, this lewd display of favortism went down behind my back, so I sat there and funneled my disgusted sighs and angry scowls at Janna and Corey. "So what, Chooch doesn’t qualify? Why didn’t that elderly douche balloon give my son a fucking poison treat?" I swear to God it made me so angry that I could feel my adrenaline rushing, blood crashing like cymbals in my ears, and I wanted to approach him in the worst way. Me, approaching an octogenarian over a sucker. And then what? Cause a scene over candy that would wind up dirt-encrusted and dropped on the floor after three licks? I have a really ridiculously skewed sense of entitlement.