Saturday

Okay, cue the music.

There’s a serious post in the works, but because I think it’s a post that might grow legs, it will appear at Occasional Songs. Check for it there later if you like.

Today, then, a few observations:

A late night with Mr. Glenlivet haunts you the next day. It’s not a hangover exactly, but it does impart a certain delicate quality. Thank God my husband leaves me curled in the car dozing under Betsey Johnson sunglasses as he stops at the dry cleaner, the hardware store, the pet food place. Those kinds of mindless-but-essential errands are bad enough when you feel strong.

A pink donut with sprinkles can be a beautiful thing. My friend says Kelinda writes: “If people can read tea leaves why doesn’t someone start reading sprinkles? That would be more fun than boring old tea and you could eat your reading later.”

What kind of people risk life and limb to cut in front of you at the car wash? Old white men in Cadillac Escalades and yuppie housewives in black Honda minivans. Honey, it may be a black Honda, but it’s still a minivan. Honestly, both of them floored it to get in front of us.

Maybe these are the same kind of people who fail to flush public toilets? I mean, what’s that about? They can’t touch the handle?  Really, what kind of adult woman walks away leaving a giant corn-filled turd there to confront the next patron? Do they do that at home too?

I can’t tell you how much fun it is to lean out the window of a 70,000 dollar sedan and shout expletives at a group of Lyndon LaRouche supporters. I wouldn’t have bothered except for the giant photo of Obama as Hitler really annoyed me. It’s an insult to those that suffered at Hitler’s hands and it is an unconscionable way to portray the seated President of the United States. Regardless of what you think about the man.

It was deeply satisfying to say awful things to that group of dumpy white men. Certainly as good or better than mediocre sex. I walked around for quite a while grinning about it. My son wanted me to buy him a paintball gun so that he could show his displeasure that way– but I didn’t want to cross the line from Freedom of Expression to assault.

Saturday is the only day they have tamales at the Mexican grocery store. We forgot to stop in.

Even after thirty years, Diner is still an exquisite ensemble piece, and a little gem of a film.  “You know what word I’m not comfortable with? Nuance. It’s not a real word. Like gesture. Gesture’s a real word. With gesture you know where you stand. But nuance? I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Sometimes tunafish sandwiches on toast make the perfect dinner. Even if you had been planning New York strip earlier.

Don’t flatter yourself when people ask you for advice. It’s still all about them.

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2 thoughts on “Saturday

  1. giant corn-filled turds! kudos to you for laying it all right out there. well done! I like the use of the verb “confront” as well.

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