2000-09-29 - 986026511

On the internal soundtrack: "Doo-Wah Diddy Diddy"

Warning: Lots of ranting, whining and cussing ahead.

So, yesterday evening was awful. Everything went wrong. It was all minor, but it was the piling-up of things that made it awful. It went like this:

I got all excited about possibly going to dinner at Kinkead's (my fault; I shouldn't get my hopes up like that). But it turned out we couldn't go.

The landscaping people planted a bunch of bushes in our pocket park. They look very nice. For now. Give them two weeks and half of them will be dying. It's like the dead trees. They plant these 5-10 year old trees and then ignore them, so they die. We have dead trees all over the development. And don't even get me started on those FUCKING SPEED BUMPS they just put in.

I should have thought harder about the annoyingness of planned communities before I bought a house in one. I just have to keep reminding myself that the house is an INVESTMENT, and there are literally thousands of yuppies around here who LOVE the planned community crap. I'm certain of it. Half of them are living here already.

I still wanted to eat out, so I decided pick up some gyoza (dumplings) for me and negimaki (marinated beef rolled around scallions) for Poindexter at the Japanese place. Had to stop at Giant first, to pick up bananas and more fat-free dressing for Mom, because she's out and needs it for her dinner.

So I go to do that, and on the way I'm behind this minivan going 10 mph and coming to a COMPLETE STOP at every speed bump. Not only that, but there are empty parking spaces on the right so you can go AROUND the speed bumps (and still slows you down), but this person chooses to go OVER them instead. Finally after I went around the bumps twice (pulling nearly parallel while they inched over the bumps), they caught on and started doing the same.

Jesus Christ. I hate speed bumps. If you want to slow people down, either NARROW THE STREET (don't make it as wide as a fucking superhighway, which makes drivers less aware of how fast they're going) or put in speed humps, which require a lower speed but not a complete stop. Or humiliate speeders by publishing their make/model/license plate number in the newsletter.

I get to Giant. I get the bananas, then get sidetracked buying sale items and trying to find aisles (I don't usually shop there). I find some special bubbly water for Mom, as a treat for her, stand in line for 15 minutes, get all the way back to the car (on the far opposite side of the lot, where the restaurant is), and realized I FORGOT TO BUY THE GODDAMN DRESSING. Typical me.

So I get the takeout, go to move the car closer to Giant since I am running WAY late here. There is a 10-car line going onto the street so I try to go around the parking lot. I hit a dead end instead. So I have to go the wrong way in the parking lot to get back up to the Giant end. Ugh.

I'm there, and I have trouble because of a tight spot due to a narrow lane and an SUV. I grumble good-naturedly to a guy whose way I'm in, "I'm not doing well today." He says, "That's okay, I parallel park every day and I can't do it to save my life." Hahaha.

So I move about 5 spots down. I walk back up, and the guy starts talking to me. I'm too far away; can't hear. Walk to about 10 feet away, ask him to repeat. He says, "I'm sorry, I was staring because you were right next to my car [not the SUV, the one on the other side]. Or maybe I was just staring." I look flustered, say, "oh, well" and start to walk away. He says, terribly seriously, "You're very pretty." I say thank you very sincerely and keep walking to Giant.

He seemed like a desperate dork, which is the kind of person I attract. Because I'm too nice, I'm told. I wished, at the time, that I had said something a little more to let him know how I appreciated hearing that. I didn't like seeming like a snobby-ass bitch who gets compliments on her prettiness on an hourly basis, but I was in a big hurry.

I get to Giant. Buy the dressing. Treat myself to some Martinelli's Sparkling Cider to cheer myself up. (I don't like alcohol and it doesn't like me, so this is my "champagne".) Stand in line AGAIN. Make it home, thankfully, without incident.

I get there, start relaying my tale, and what do I get? A lecture on how I should not talk to people in parking lots because they're going to attack me and kill me. There's a lot of wackos out there, you know. There's a guy in Florida who attacks rich women in mall parking lots for their diamonds and rolexes.

Ok, so now I am too paranoid to leave the house and am afraid Poindexter is going to die on me. I thought I had moved past this desperate-fear-of-death stage.

To top it all off, I didn't get any sauce from the restaurant to go with my dumplings. I guess they forgot. It's a really good sauce, too. I could have cried. Poindexter gave me some of his sauce from his negimaki. It was definitely better than nothing.

Then, at dinner, we talked about how the government is taxing the shit out of everyone. Did you know that the gas companies make a few pennies off of each gallon of gas, but the government is making 50 cents to a dollar in taxes? It's quite true.

And then that tax money goes to maintain a bureaucracy whose only true purpose is to perpetuate itself. I'd rather the gas companies got the money. They can't MAKE me buy their gas, but you bet your ass the government can MAKE me hand over my money.

On the POSITIVE side:

The bushes look very nice for today, anyway.

The neighbor across the street says he is going to get a petition going to find an alternative to the speed bumps.

Poindexter also let me use his leftover salad dressing from the restaurant, which I love.

We played Pictionary. It was fun. Poindexter was so far ahead of us that we switched to teams, and Papa and I are not losing too badly.

Everyone is just very concerned for my welfare because they love me.

Poindexter loves me a lot and keeps me warm at night.

My parents are coming down today for the weekend. This should be a riot. All four parents. Papa and my dad are two peas in a pod and my mom and Poindexter's mom have known each other since they were little girls. It will be fun. We'll make everyone play Pictionary, and Poindexter and his mom will have to pair up with my dad and my mom, respectively, because my parents are new to Pictionary (that is, they suck) and that will give Poindexter & his mom a fair handicap.

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