It’s a rap about God. But wait! Hammer pants…
Archive for April, 2011
Approaching the dumpster adjacent to the parking lot, I had to step over what looked like the remnant of someone’s failed dinner of fried, seasoned zucchini spears and a shit-ton of Reese’s peanut butter cup wrappers. It’s always nice to be reminded that there are people out there much, much lamer than I am.
The other day I mentioned to some friends that my dog has been farting a lot. I suppose you get to a point where you know people well enough that most casual conversation can be surpassed, and you can discuss topics that are really important, like dog farts.
Zoey has been stinking me out of rooms since the day I took her home. Her gas could clear a banquet hall on a good day (well, a bad one, actually). But lately they seem more frequent, and I’m probably less forgiving than I used to be.
Someone suggested I give her Beano, and linked me a discussion forum with people who had tried this and had nothing but good things to say.
But I know this is going to happen:
I walk into QFC, flustered, needing to pick up a couple of things, and wanting to pick up a couple more. It’s Saturday afternoon, so I haven’t bothered to get dressed. I’m wearing a long open coat over my adidas pants and t-shirt bearing an internet meme. Obviously, my hair looks however it did when I rolled out of bed and my face is free of makeup.
I grab some bananas, some apples… I should get some bread… Are any of the good candy bars on sale? Ooooh, Ben & Jerry’s! What else…
“Oh yeah, Zoey needs Beano.”
Just as I grab a bottle from the shelf and make my way to the self check-out lines, I am standing face-to-face with a guy from the neighborhood who I used to date. He is accompanied by a petite, slender girl, and they are buying cheese, crackers, and wine, the all-too-familiar Saturday Night Special.
We’ve already made eye contact; I can’t avoid them. There’s a line at the check-out, and they’re headed this way. I’m trapped.
“Hi, Kat. It’s been awhile! How are you?”
“Uhhhh. Good.” (But it should go without saying because I look GREAT, right?)
“Just doing some shopping, huh?”
“Well, this is Keiko Wondersexy. She’s a black belt in karate, speaks 8 languages, and won the Nobel Peace Prize last year.”
(By this point, I’m shaking. I already get slightly weirded out when I run into people I know and like. It’s hard to know what to say to someone when you see them unexpectedly, but you have to acknowledge the person or they’ll think you’re mean or crazy. I can’t make up an excuse and get out of there because I have a basket full of stuff, including a bottle of Beano that I think has grown 10 times in size since I pulled it off the shelf.)
“Well, it was nice seeing you. Keiko and I have to go home and get through the last 10 pages of the Kama Sutra before the sold-out farewell tour of the band everyone loves. I hope you feel better.” He glances at the Beano, then back at me, and takes Keiko to an open check-out lane. She finds a 100-dollar bill on the ground while he pays for their groceries. Someone near me yells, “ARE THESE YOUR TAMPONS?” (they aren’t), causing them to look over at me one last time, full of pity, before exiting the store under their very own ray of golden sunshine.
And then I go home and feed some Beano to my dog.