Two very awesome things happened to me today.
First, I woke up this morning and saw this blog comment, which was left on a 2011 post about the Westmoreland County Fair:
Yes! You guys have no idea how excited I am about this! A carny hasn’t paid that much attention to me since 2010 (because Henry made me fat).
“I can’t wait for that meeting,” Henry typed on Facebook, which is basically the new Post-It Note communication tactic of the millenium.
Neither can I! I want to have my picture taken with him.
The biggest shock to my friend Bill when he saw this was the fact that carnys know how to use the Internet. I think some of them might have dial-up. I’m not sure.
Anyway, I have received my share of blog backlash in my time (I know you’re totally shocked that my sweet and innocent way with words and opinions could anger ANYONE), but this one actually made me so excited to the point that I was gloating about it.
“Only you would be excited that someone called you a dick fuck,” Debbie said today at work.
“But it’s WHO called me a dick fuck!” I explained, doubled over in laughter all over again.
Peewee (who Henry is convinced is not actually a peewee) must not have continued on to Part Two: Carnies, the Sentinels of Death Traps, because I haven’t heard back from him today.
It might just take him a long time to read though.
(Why do I have a feeling he’s going to be waiting for me in August with a wrench?)
Then, the Motorboating Guy was on the trolley again today, and he was really tired. I know this because, after every yawn, he would let out an orgasmic “aye yi yi” and moan, “Boy, I am really TIRED today!” He eventually fell asleep, but then I worried I would have to make physical contact with him in case he was still sleeping when our stop approached.
Luckily, I didn’t have to save anyone’s day. (Thank god. I’m a pretty under-achieving savior.)
I saw Motorboating Guy last week on the trolley, too, and that was definitely when something switched inside me. Instead of being totally paralyzed with fear around him, I started to feel that thing that normal humans call empathy. Noticing another passenger on her cell phone, he began making calls on his cell phone, too, and then leaving really vague messages. “Hi.” [Long pause.] “I have no heard back from you in a long time.” [Long pause, looks at phone.] “Um, OK. Hi. That’s all. Bye.” [Leaves phone to ear for another 5 seconds, looks at phone, hangs up.]
I was convinced that he didn’t really call anyone, and it made me wonder if he has any friends. I started to think about inviting him to have Easter dinner with us at the Chinese restaurant, but then worried that he would expect us to pay for him too and my charity only extends so far depending on when you catch me.
One more note: Henry texted me a little while ago and said that Chooch walked over to him crying because some song made him feel sad. “He’s just like you,” Henry added at the end. I was so excited! My heart swelled a whole bunch and a million different songs started running through my head. Maybe it was The Cure or Emarosa, Eisley or PHIL COLLINS.
No. It was some motherfucking Minecraft song.
I get to leave a half hour early tonight because my boss REALLY likes St. Patrick’s Day and said so.