Monday, November 19, 2012

unwashed masses

It's time to play a little game I'm going to call: "How many times will I need to go to the store before Thanksgiving because I forgot something?"

I've got a list as long as my arm and I'm heading to the grocery store today for all of my Thanksgiving accoutrements. The meal has been planned carefully, and my list has been quadruple-checked. Still, it never fails that I will miss something. And I will probably not realize it until I'm elbows-deep in some recipe, and will then need to run to Safeway at 1 a.m. for cream cheese and some greasy teenager will sidle up to me in the parking lot and ask to use my cell phone and I'll be like I WILL KILL YOU. This happened recently, is why I'm saying that.

The plan is always: Make The Holidays My Bitch, but mostly what ends up happening is I become the holidays' bitch. It's inevitable. Perhaps I should embrace it and just run, laughing maniacally through the malls. I could wear fair isle sweaters and tell strangers to have a wonderful Christmas. If I weren't a hermit who hates everyone. "You hate everyone. That's kind of your thing," my husband says, fondly. He is, of course, my polar opposite. Loves everyone. I just say, "Yes. It kind of is my thing." Mainly I just hate strangers who get in my way while I'm looking for canned pumpkin and bags of cranberries, and I really hate the cashier who shouts at me DID YOU FIND EVERYTHING YOU'RE LOOKING FOR even though I should probably have more patience with her because she might have some kind of mental disorder that causes her to act like an asshole and shout at people.

I knew this girl who was very zen and said to me she assumed that everyone who was driving erratically was desperately trying to get to the hospital. That was very generous of her. Because the fact is most people are driving like dicks because they're dicks. Which has nothing to do with the asshole cashier.

This is really just procrastination at this point. I've got to go out there soon. There's a turkey with my name on it behind the butcher counter. GO FORTH AND PROSPER. Make Thanksgiving your bitch, my friends. 






7 comments:

  1. I don't think you should have coffee until after the holidays. You kinda scare me.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The REALLY scary part is I haven't had any caffeine in MONTHS.

      Delete
  2. YES. I share your judg(e)y attitude. I'm a nurse and give my patients the benefit of the doubt that they are as sick/needy/in pain as they say they are. But part of me still wants to set them on fire.

    Don't be like me last Thanksgiving and assume that the egg carton in the fridge is magically full of like, 12 of them.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I could never be a nurse. That egg thing is totally something I would do.

      Delete
  3. i'm not bitter or anything, but it's me who has to go up to safeway (recently changed its name to woolworths in oz!)whenever the wife forgets something.

    ...and a greasy teenager approached you in the car park at 1 am and asked to use your cell phone? - is that true? did you let him/her?


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. In fairness, I often send my husband to the store, too.

      Yes, a greasy teen did ask to use my cell phone and no I did not let him. He didn't even have a good reason. He was just like: Can I use your phone to call someone? I was like: No. All men/boys-who-look-like-men need to know it is never ok to approach a woman in a dark parking lot unless someone is dying and needs a ride to the hospital. Otherwise I assume the worst.

      Delete
  4. We hosted Thanksgiving last year. Which is how I learned I have no interest in hosting a legitimate turkey-eating Thanksgiving again. This year, we'll be hosting a post-holiday get together on the weekend. The menu: Mexican food.

    ReplyDelete