This blog is welcome to anyone and everyone, regardless of race, class, gender, sexual orientation, or political affiliation. Unless you don't like writing short stories or smelling bear. Or if you voted for the other guy. Also, I don't really like it when you leave up the toilet seat, so could you stop doing that? Muchas, muchas gracias.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Oy and vey!

Things have been coming together and splitting apart. I can't say which is the dominant thing. But I long for a normal life full of boredom and free time and mundanity.

First of all, I've been stepping in it a lot lately. I hope it's PMS. Today, for instance, I pulled into the Safeway parking lot. I despise Safeway. It's Safe, and it's the Way. I went there to buy groceries because I had nada in the 'fridge, aside from the leftover Hunan Chicken from a couple of nights ago, which I spent with someone cute.

But I'm taking a vow of healthiness (or so I thought), meaning I wanted something in the refrigeradora with some omega-threes, plus some nonfat, lo-cholesterol, whole-grainy stuff. And I didn't want to drive all the way across town to Trader Joe's, which I sort of love, because why pollute the air with the extra driving?, and anyway, I wanted fresh veggies.

So I pull into Safeway, the first item on my list of to-do's, and I'm accosted by this dude who wants money for food. Which is kind of irritating, especially as he's drinking a canned soda and eating something expensive from a plastic-and-foil bag. I said no, I didn't feel like treating him to dinner, and I slammed my car door shut. These kinds of situations leave me feeling a little guilty and distracted. Which explains why once again, for the second time in so many months, I locked my keys in my car.

Thank the lordy or whatever that my Mattyfriend talked me into getting a cell phone! I called Triple-A, then waited it out in the sun. Soon after, a tow-truck-thing pulled up, and I signaled the driver. After I thanked him for arriving so promptly, he said, "Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about." And I sighed & let him know that I was super-sorry, I thought he was the dude who was going to save me. He said that no, he wasn't, and then he stalked into the store, and there I was, leaning against my dirty car, and there went the perfectly lovely ass of my perfectly lovely jeans with the pretty lace embroidery on the pockets.

So then this guy who originally asked me for money? He pretty much commented on my every move as I checked my rear axel in case I'd been one of those clever people who sticks a magnetic holder there with a spare key inside (I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't, and lo! I hadn't). He offered me some of his pop. Dear god! It was grape!

The tow-truck driver came strutting back out of the store to eat his fried chicken in the parking lot, and he kind of watched me, shrewdly, as did a whole host of other stocky and married-looking men, but nobody approached me, because I'm sure I looked premenstrual and out for blood at this point. As I was.

Then Mr. Fried Chicken decides that he will unlock my car, for free!

At the end of it all, two hours behind schedule and fuming, I have half a salmon and lots of spinach in the 'fridge, plus my freezer is stocked. I've now finished the book I was supposed to have read for the book club I'm meeting on Tuesday. Things are good, I think. . . The universe may not be looking out for me, but maybe I'm supposed to look out for myself at this point and this is all a great big lesson. It'd be so nice, though, to have a moment or two to be something other than an adult.

I often think that I was not meant to endure the hardships that other adults suffer on a daily basis. Believe me, I know my outlook is incredibly childish. But I worry about the tiny details, not the big stuff. If you were to find yourself on The Titanic, know that I would be among those who'd claw my way past you and to the lifeboat, complaining the whole time. And if I failed to save myself, I'd jump off the side. Man, though, I sure admire you noble people out there! Perhaps this is why I've never decided to have children.

An endnote:

Matty says that I live in "the ghetto". I've never agreed with this, though today, in my present state of mind, I noticed a few things. Like, there were pigeons eating cheetos out on the sidewalk in front of my place. These weren't, mind you, a bunch of Cheetos deliberately scattered, but these haphazard orange bits, plus an abandoned bag. All this was happening in front of someone's white fence. On which the owner of the fence (I assume) had spraypainted "NO PARKING".

After all that, I leave you with a picture of some dancin', and some hot buns.


Blogger Karyn said...

You know? It's cyclical, just like the PMS.

One year, I locked my keys in the car SIX TIMES in ONE MONTH. Particularly hateful hormone surges, I say.

Sorry about your lacy pockets though. That sucks.

It'll get better. And for the record, I'd have been clawing my way over other people to get to the lifeboats too. You're in good company.

8:45 AM

Blogger MilkMaid said...

You are so darn cute!!

8:57 AM

Blogger ginab said...


1:53 PM

Blogger ing said...


Oooh, that is hateful!!

Starting... NOW, I'm going to try harder! I'm going to remember things! I'm going to do right! Yes!



Why, thank you!



Speaking of cuteness--

3:02 PM

Blogger ginab said...

Okay, I've told you the story but as the world watches you: I was young, speechless. Snow was falling all around and blowing and icing over my windshield. It was a dark Friday evening, in November/December, and I was readying to leave an attorney's office I was temping for. I wore a skirt and a sweater and some clacky shoes. My car, a 1981 Chevy Malibu, the brute, was warming up while I scraped the windows. I had the heater blowing, the windsheiled wipers whipping, the headlights glaring, and the radio on high. Talk radio. When I was through scraping the windows and my clacky shoes were appropriately snow filled, I tried the door to find I'd locked my keys in the car.

Them were skint days. And I can only say a script from the "Twilight Zone" ensued. (I ended up using a telephone in an old people's home which smelled of gravy and question marks to call a locksmith.)


3:26 PM

Blogger Labbie said...

You mean you got whiter? My God, woman, I bet you reflected enough sunlight to cool the Earth a bit. There, that should make you feel better about the environment. I'm off to drive my SUV.

6:23 PM

Blogger Labbie said...

PS: I liked your buns.

6:23 PM

Blogger ing said...


Ugggh! I was in a sunny parking lot that smelled of garbage, and triple-A will rescue a person for free a certain number of times. So I have nothing to complain about except that the extra two hours of time were kind of precious at the mo. Still, I finished my book. And now we're on to The Selected Stories of Amy Hempel!! Yay!!

I do not have any postage stamps, as far as I can tell. I need stamps!



Those buns aren't mine, and believe it or not, I have a slight tan. Which, I don't really tan, I burn. I blame it on Denmark.

7:47 PM

Blogger matty said...

Ing - I blame a lot on Denmark. I also blame a lot on Texas but I digress.

You are totally cute, sexy and tan!

I miss you! When o when will I see my Ing again!?!?!? Record deals and tour dates await!

I love Gina's story and the house of gravy scent.

Having dinner at the home of a dear friend of B's tomorrow night. I hope I don't do anything stupid like trip and knock all the food off the table as I do my popular housewarming lapdances.

kisses and much love

10:45 PM

Blogger Metalchick said...

Hi ing,
That really sucks! and I thought my day was bad.

I hope you have a better day tomorrow.

Take care.

12:19 AM

Blogger Polyman2 said...

Sounds like a day from hell. But at least the calvery came before you had a total meltdown.
I always misplace my keys and my wallet.

11:21 AM

Blogger Karen Little said...

Those are damn hot buns!

Days like this are indeed ridiculous. I must congratulate you on buying salmon and spinach, though - after that kind of debacle, I would've rewarded myself with chocolate and chips.

10:57 AM

Blogger ginab said...

Looks like you have two beaus dove. Must be the californication that's happening so prevelent like yander ('yander' is where you live from 'here').


2:02 PM

Blogger ing said...


I do not tan. But thanks!

How did that dinner go? Did you manage to stay on your feet? I heard about your lapdances and yes they are popular. A word to the wise: watch out for men who don't want you on your feet -- they'll trip you and then tell you you're clumsy as you fall all over them. It's an old trick.



And I hope the same for you, sweets.



Why oh why, though, does the cavalry wear greasy slacks and devour fried chicken in a Safeway parking lot? Why can't the cavalry look a little more like this?


karen little:

You're so right about the buns; too damn hot!

For some reason, I can never bring myself to buy chocolate. And I really do love spinach. Spinach with olive oil and garlic is as good as chocolate, in my book.

Chips, on the other hand. . . I usually go for wheat thins, but they're not nearly as yummy as potato chips.



How many pictures of yourself do you have, you glamour-gal? And why must you always look so glamorous?

I've done it -- I moved everything down into my apartment, and now I have a big mess. Bookshelves! I need them! I have books and CDs all over the place!

As for californication, well, the west is miiiiighty sweet, baby! When are you going to join me? Isn't it about time you gave in and moved to California? If I can have two boyfriends, you could have four! (And 1/6 -- the way I see it, I get a third of Matty, and "B" gets the other 2/3. So you get half of my third, meaning you get 1/6. Right?)

11:54 PM

Blogger Metalchick said...

I just added you to my list of bloggers!

3:13 AM

Blogger matty said...

dinner was much fun tho I might have pushed the envelope a bit too much when it came to my strip tease but fun was had by all!

am trying to get to your store to see you and B is going to leave some books to sell while we go about the Mission but he is taking quite a while to get thru his collection. so I don't know if we will get there today.

when o when will I see my ing?!?!?

1:51 PM

Blogger Mone said...

We have something like dripple A over here too and I'm sure happy to be a member. I've locked my keys into the car in front of the theater where my girl went to and the phone was in the car too, I could have slapped myself...
But!! by the time the play was over the guy had the car open =)

2:49 PM

Blogger ginab said...

Geez, Bea Bea keeps having snorting fits. LOUD ones. But it seems something is wrong.

Really on Trevor's story, which I reread, I love the transition paragraph where he's waiting to cross the street.


10:44 PM


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home