Sunday, February 15, 2009

Baaad Day


Happy Valentines ! Hope some hot man told you he loved you and couldn’t live without you. Have you ever have one of those days when it seems like every other person in the world woke up with the goal to totally piss you off? First to start the day, my mom dropped by at lunchtime spreading her sometimes brand of doom and gloom. She was tossing and turning every night because she couldn’t pay her property tax and she had this migraine just wouldn’t go away and her hip was hurting... I knew which direction the conversation was heading, so I distracted her with questions about a stray cat she’d taken in. If I had not, the oh-so-subtle hints that I needed to give her some money would come trickling out. Now I love my mother and when she’s up, she’s great, but my God, when she on one of her my life didn’t pan out as I expected and I wish your father hadn’t died and left me broke and all alone, I just want to jam a twin set of Phillips screwdrivers in my eyeballs and end it all.

I hate, I HATE people upsetting me before I go to work, it sets the tone for the rest of the day. I work with the public, 8 hours of people in my face non-stop demanding stuff and it’s taxing mentally. If I’m upset, I’m not in the proper mood to look you in the eyes and smile sweetly when you ask me to help you find a book when all you know about it is that you heard about it on the talk show when you were driving to work this morning and it’s about love and it was on one of the talk shows. Do you even know how many matches I’d get if I typed “love” into my search engine as a key word? About 8 billion! Do not sigh and act put upon when I tell you I have no idea what book you’re talking about. Unless you have time for me to call up Miss Cleo, just shut the hell up and go away.

Around 10 am, I stopped my Jackson Hewitt to drop my tax papers off. Let me explain something, even though I’ve been living in DC for some time, I always made a point of returning to North Carolina in early February to file my taxes and take a mini-vacation. The people at the local Jackson Hewitt are even related to me and treat me like gold so you can imagine my ire when I stepped into the office to drop my papers off and was greeted with Schronda. I wasn’t greeted at the desk or informed what to do. Schronda was on her cell phone and couldn’t be bothered with some skinny white boy at her counter; she was too busy loudly ripping some girl a new asshole with her best friend. I sat down and counted. Now, I’m a very patient guy. I work in retail and I understand how you can’t always get to the customers really quick. I’m the one that always calms his friends down when they want to strangle the waiter for not bringing them that extra side of honey-mustard to go with their chicken strips, so it takes a lot to rattle my cage. Twenty minutes later and I’m still sitting in the waiting room while Schronda continues this diatribe with her buddy on the phone. I lost it. I go to the counter and refuse to leave until she gets off the phone. Schronda rolls hers eyes at the phone as if apologizing to her friend and says, “I’ll have to call you back.” Damn right, I thought and told her I needed to be taken care that minute because I’d been waiting a long time and I was about to be late for work. I just knew she’d run my tax papers through the shredder after I left. I’d never treat a customer like that. I know it sounds gooey, but I go on the treat people like you’d want to be treated principle. An hour later at work, I’m still pissed off and the roof of my mouth starts itching (not a good sign). No, I don’t have the oral clap or anything gross like that. Whenever I’m getting a cold, the roof of my mouth itches…its sucks but it always lets me know. I wish it hadn’t this time.


It’s dinner time; I’m heading through the local Taco Bell drive-thru. I ordered my # 3 and the pumpkin-colored Miata in front of me moves forward slowly and stops at the window. I see money exchanged and the car starts to pull away but stops suddenly. I have to fight to keep from choking down my vintage 626 since I normally don’t drive a stick. A fat man the size of Fat Albert slowly climbs from the car and starts to pound on the window. It seems they forgot to give him some mild sauce. Mild sauce and mild sauce only he angrily explains cause he has this acid reflux problem and he does all this while munching on a large bag of Funyuns, I kid you not. What would possess a very fat man to drive around town in a pumpkin-colored Mazda Miata in the first place? Wouldn’t that be a more than a little uncomfortable? Wouldn’t he think he looked like a big old fag in a orange car ? I mean, I’m gay and I wouldn’t even drive an orange car. When I pull forward the top pops off my Pepsi as the girl hands it to me. Half the drink goes down my arm and all over the side of my car. The girl looks bewildered when I ask for extra napkins. It was just one of those days so I just started laughing like a maniac, it was just so fucking ridiculous. The gods were truly out to get me today.