Monday, April 6, 2009

A slice of hell

This morning I woke up with a raging headache. It was like a really bad hangover. The swollen brain feeling, hurts all over, someone shoot me now sort of headache.

As I made my way to the kitchen I had this thought of please don't let there be dishes in the sink. [BTW, I'm once again stuck saying sink instead of dishes so every time I try to type or say 'dishes in the sink' I say, 'sinks in the dish' and when I ask for a plate I say sink. Rather frustrating.] The idea of there possibly being anything in the sink was almost enough to send me back to bed.

Instead I found a roommate cooking sausage which sent me straight to the bathroom to worship at the porcelain shrine.

That was the start of my day.

Eventually my headache did let up some. I even go to where I could keep food down, didn't have to keep my arms clamped around my head, and could even bear company.

About this time my girlfriend returned from visiting her mom with two neices and one nephew in tow. The oldest being seven years old. I don't know if it was my mental state produced by the headache and wallowing in depression the last few days, or the fact that the oldest is stubborn and stupid, the middle just stupid, and the youngest just stubborn, but at one point I actually said, "My god, it's a wonder more people don't beat their children." Except thanks to me being paraphasic it came out something more along the lines of "God thinks more people should eat children."

One of the kiddies will not be looking forward to going to church Easter Sunday. Not the youngest. She's kind of twisted and started telling me about zombies eating people's brains while they're still alive. They are usually dead by the time the zombies finish so she said.

After my girlfriend hauled off the kids and went to work I had the place to myself for two hours. Eventually another roommate came home and we decided to go to the grocery store. On our list was bacon. The quest to get bacon annoyed me almost as much as the seven year old who smacked when she ate. There were four people standing in front of the bacon. All together apparently, none of them actually looking at the bacon. I stood there several minutes watching them just standing there talking and finally went to catch up with my roommate Mark. We went up and down a few aisles and those people were still there. A few more aisles and I saw them leaving, so we head that way with our cart, but we can't get there because those four people stopped to talk to a few other people, effectively blocking both routes around one of those long coolers they always have stuck between the meats and frozen foods. They just stood there. Doing nothing. Some weren't even talking. Just standing there. At last we got by them, but it was too late. Some other people were camped out in front of the bacon, just standing there. Possibly talking. I don't know. We went to the other end of the store and back and those people were still there.

What is wrong with people that they just stand in front of the bacon? Is there something fascinating there that I'm missing? Is that the spot to stand?

I finally went over to them and said, "Excuse me. I need to get some bacon." And you know what happened? If you guessed nothing, then you're correct. They ignored me. Well guess what? I'm over 6'7". I've got a long reach. I got our bacon and also tossed a few other things into their cart. I wound up doing that to the other people too. All the bacon hogs. When they got to check out I wonder if they noticed all the little cans of brains in milk gravy, the bean-o and maalox, the feminine deodorant spray, pacifiers, cat snacks, pearl onions, and whatever else I could pick up and toss into their carts, or did they not discover it until they got home?

They're lucky I did slip small items into their pockets then yell "shoplifter" as they left the store. Not that I've ever done that to anyone. *cough*

The good thing about me feeling like crap all day and getting crankier by the minute, was it finally motivated me to write a post for featuring a particularly unpleasant character of mine. I keep having to double check it for random words and repetitive phrases that I'm usually able to pick out before or right after I publish it [thank goodness for the edit feature] and his language isn't quite as colorful as usual [I get help on that from my best friend who's got a mouth on her], but was glad I got it done anyway.

Now if you don't mind my girlfriend just called to say she's off work and headed home so whatever kind of hell I've had today it'll all be better when it's just her and me. [the three other roommates are tucked in their beds already.]


Pan Historia said...

Your grocery store experience spooked me, man.

It sounds like the infection is starting. I would get in some supplies. Particularly with that psychic sounding comment from the little child about zombies and brains...

Scarecrow said...

That same little girl told me how she has crazy dreams full of monsters and zombies and dead people. And out it in the woods PB asked if we smelled something dead and the little one said, "Maybe it's a dead guy." PB should ask her sister what exactly they're letting those kids watch.

We're all going to turn into zombies.