Best Buy Guy BaBye

My stepdad, sister, and I all chipped in to buy my mom a new computer as a Mother’s Day/birthday gift. I was charged with the mission of collecting the money and buying said computer. I tried to order it online and pick it up at the store (as I love to do), but the online warehouse was sold out of that particular model so I had to call the store…Best Buy.

Where do they get their employees? Do they search the country looking for the most socially challenged person they can find and give them a job? I think so.

I called the store this morning to see if they still had the desktop package that was featured at a very nice price online. The guy sounded like Shaggy and kept repeating what I said but as a question. Fucking annoying. He finds what I need though and puts in on hold for me. I am very grateful and tell Shaggy so.

I’m happy.

I go to the store after work to pick up the package and go up to the first blue shirt I see in the computer section and explain that I called that morning and they have put aside a desktop package for me. I tell him my name and what make the computer is.

Blank stare.

Blinking.

Blank stare.

I repeat that I called that morning, had a package set aside for me, blah blah blah…

Blank stare.

Blinking.

Pushing glasses up on nose.

Blinking.

He finally speaks and says, “May I ask what you’re going to be using the computer for?”

I say no.

Blinking.

Blank stare.

I ask if I should go ask someone else to help me. He quickly says no and tells me that I’m going to have to buy more memory for the computer because Vista needs a lot of memory to work. I tell him that I’m here to buy a computer package I put on hold. Nothing else.

Blank stare.

More blinking.

Rolls eyes.

Who the fuck does he think he’s rolling his eyes at, I think.

I tell him that I know he has to suggest these accessories, but I’m not going to buy them so please just go get the package.

He laughs and says that I need a security package because Vista is really insecure.

What’s so funny?

I tell him that I got it all worked out and he looks me up and down and has the nerve to ask, “You don’t look like you know what you’re doing.”

My turn to have a blank stare.

I recover from his bullshit and ask for a manager. The manager comes up and I say that I just want to pick up the computer package I put on hold this morning and THAT’S IT. I continue to explain that I don’t need to be told that I need to buy additional items for a brand new computer and that if I feel the need to purchase more memory or a security system, I will choose to do so when it suits me.

Blank stare guy says, “I tried to tell her that we know more than her….”

I interrupt and say to the manager cause I’m done with Mr. Blank Stare, “Do you want me to buy this computer here or Circuit City or Radioshack, what?”

The manager gets the computer. He upgrades the shitty printer that usually comes with the package to a Canon photo printer to make up for the frustration. I thank him. I pay. I load the package into my car. All in about 10 minutes.

I was in the store a total of 45 minutes. Time wasted=35 minutes with Blank Stare.

I like Best Buy. I usually buy my electronics there. But, I will never buy another computer in the store. I will order it online and pick the shit up so that I don’t have to deal with the ‘salespeople’. I don’t even know if they’re on commission or not, but damn.

Anyhow, that’s my story. I hope my mom likes this computer. It’s very nice and her current one is ancient. Any ideas on how I should wrap something like this? Or should we get the system up and running, and put a bow on top of it? We want it to be a huge surprise.

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Why do I even bother going out when the wine tastes just as good at home?

I went out last Friday with my friend Tim, his younger sister, and a bunch of her friends. We went to a bar I would normally avoid, but Tim and I wanted a good laugh so we didn’t mind. Besides, we both wanted to see if my new haircut added to or diminished my fierceness. His words, not mine.

Oh, didn’t I tell you. No? That’s right, now I remember….I was taking a vacation from blogging. Well, I chopped my hair off. It’s now chin length and I love it. It’s so blissfully easy to fix my hair in the morning, I’m thinking of never having long hair again. And no, you’re not seeing a picture just yet because I need to lose a few pounds. I don’t know what happened to me this winter but I’m not happy at all. Tim has assured me that it’s hardly noticable, but I feel heavier and it’s bothering me. So, you’ll see my new hair when I feel attractive again.

Anyhow, back to the story. Since Tim thinks I’m as fierce as I’ve ever been, I get all dolled up to go to the cheesy bar. The bar had a very small dancefloor and a DJ with the biggest afro I’ve ever seen on a white person in this century. As I ordered my first drink, the song “In da club” starts up and everyone is screaming and all of the hos…erm I mean women…run onto the dancefloor like it’s the only song they’ve ever learned to dance to. I gulped my first glass of wine and then gulped the second right away. By the time I was sipping the third glass, I was feeling extremely loose.

We were sitting near the dancefloor so we had a nice show to watch. Tim and I were laughing our asses off. We see this guy staring at us. He starts hopping over to me and thrusting his pelvis at the same time. I laughed so hard in my wine that I got some up my nose. He then started making these strange movements. I thought he was doing the butt, very badly.

Tim and I turned back to the bar laughing. About 10 minutes went by and I’m being tapped on the shoulder by a woman who looked like this flatchested Elvira looking chick. I hear Tim guffawing next to me and I’m trying to keep a straight face. She tells me that her friend thinks I’m pretty and I’m amazed. No, not that her friend thinks I’m pretty, but that she has friends that have agreed to come out in public with her looking like she did. She had a beehive.

I was fascinated with her beehive. As she was telling me all about her friend, I got an overwhelming urge to test the strength of her beehive. It looked like it had a lot of structural support, but I needed to be sure. I wondered if she rolled a kneehigh stocking in there or maybe a bit of styrofoam. I needed to be sure. I lifted my hand to poke her beehive just when she turned her face back to me and I froze, finger in the air two inches from her head. She looked at me like I’m the weird one while Tim is now laughing so hard he’s choking. If there’s anyone on this earth who knows me, it’s Tim. He knew I was going to poke her in the head.

The woman tells me she’s going to get her friend and runs across the dancefloor. I wonder out loud to Tim if the friend is also in costume. Tim is now incapable of sitting up straight because of the laugh cramps in his stomach. The chick comes back and guess who her friend is? Yep. That idiot that was doing the butt with no real skills. He tells me his name is Charles and the following conversation takes place:

Me: “Oh, you were doing the butt earlier.”
Guy: “No I wasn’t. I was doing the krunk.”
Me: “Huh?”
Guy: “You know, I was krunk dancing.”
Me: “Are you gay?”
Guy: “No way. Why would you think that?”
Me: “I have exquisite gaydar. And I don’t know too many straight white men dressed for yacht sailing krunking at a club.”
Guy: “I have style, like Justin Timberlake.”
Me: “So gay. You mean to tell me you’ve never sucked a dick? I get the vibe that you have.”
Guy: “Yeah, I’ve sucked a few dicks in my life. But I’m not gay.”
Me: “Listen Chuck, you’re gay.”
Guy: “I’ve never taken anything up the butthole. I’m not gay.”
Me: “Really, Chuck. You just said butthole. And dude, you’ve sucked a dick. You’re gay.”
Guy: “Whatever bitch.”

So, they walk away and I’m in desperate need of another drink when Tim says, “He totally has taken it up the ass. He looks like the kind of fucker who would lick his own shit off of a guy’s dick.”

And then it happened……

I fell off of the stool and was on the floor laughing my fucking tits off.

Tim helped me up and out of nowhere the bouncer appears and tells us we would have to leave. Apparently, I was flagged. Tim’s sister wanted to stay, so the two of us came back to my house and drank ourselves silly with Tim dancing like Chuck every once in the while. I’m calling him ‘Krunk in the Trunk’ and he was calling me ‘Flagged hag’.

Alas, Tim left the next morning to meet up with his gorgeous boyfriend and I covered my head with my pillow and wished I had a gorgeous man to nurse my hangover.

Bastards.

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This is my life…..classic Debbie moment

Last night, I came home to find my apartment a mess. I live alone and I’m a clean freak, as all of you already know. The only other living thing in my apartment is Stella Marie and I doubt she can do this much damage.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to know what the mess was? Here’s what I saw….

I have radiator heat and every one of my radiator covers was removed. I have a small living room so in order to remove the radiator cover in there, you’d have to move my couch which is exactly what they did. I had a lamp on the radiator cover in the living room too. That was thrown on my couch. All of the other stuff was thrown on the floor.

That was just the living room.

I go into the bathroom, same mess. Oh, and they tipped over my trashcan so there were tissues and Q-tips all over the place (which I will blame on Stella Marie).

I go into the kitchen, same mess. Oh, and they shut the door to the closet which houses Stella’s litter box.

Can you feel me getting pissed?

I go into my office, same mess. Oh, and they pushed everything that was on my desk (all in neat and practical piles) over to one side of my desk. Some of the stuff fell on the floor.

At this point I’m ready to fuck someone up. I am really big on privacy and having someone rummaging around in my apartment was more upsetting than I can describe. It looks like someone was doing work in there. I start cussing my landlord out in my head. I know she didn’t leave a message on my cell or work number. I check my landline answering machine (yeah, I still have one of those and always will) and she leaves a message that there was an emergency with the heat and to let her know if the place wasn’t put back right.

Did I mention that my thermostat was set to 75 degrees!!!!!!!!!! I normally leave it at 63 because I get the heat from the apartment downstairs which is perfect. I was sweating my balls off, it was that hot. I get on the phone and call her. I tell her how pissed I am. How everything was thrown all over the place. How the sofa wasn’t even put back. How they shut the door so that my cat couldn’t get to her litter. I then tell her that she’s taking $25 off March’s rent for compensation for the fucking thermostat being set so high. She apologized profusely. I calm down.

I’m exhausted at this point. I’m worried about my sister. I’m getting ass-raped at work (that’s a ‘figure of speech’ for the people who take me literally all of the time) and I’m not sleeping that well. I didn’t need to come home to this shit.

And then, I go into my bedroom.

Yes, I find the same mess in there but my eyes immediately go to what’s sitting on top of my bookshelf. You see, my bedroom bookshelf sits right next to the radiator and houses all of my sex books. But, the books aren’t what gets my attention. Oh no, I don’t care if someone sees those. Sitting on top of my bookshelf, just where I left them, was my dildo and vibrator. I had cleaned them on Sunday night and left them there to dry.

I can’t even tell you how hard I giggled. Because that is a prime example of the way my life goes. Of course, they would be sitting out on the day my landlord and maintenance man are rummaging through my shit. Of course.

I hope you all enjoyed a little slice of my life.

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Grrrrrrr, I’m fierce UPDATED!!!!

HAAAAAAAAAAA! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA! HAHAHA!

Who’s a silly nilly?

Me. I’m in a goofy mood. I felt like I hadn’t laughed in ages. And then the dam broke…I got the giggles.

First off, here are some pictures of my birthday prizes.


My mom and stepdad got me the Tori Amos box set I’ve been wanting.


Something I’ve been wanting to read.


This has many recipes for my foxy mixer. I’ll be a baking fool.


The now infamous “I lost one” earrings.


A book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time.


Earrings from my gay boyfriend, Tim.

I want to thank those of you who sent me gifts. You have no idea how much I appreciate these treasures. You all are too generous. To the people who sent me cards, thank you so much. They meant so much. I love you all.

Now onto other things…..

I’m kind of pissed off at my sister. Let me rephrase that, I’m livid with my sister. Her retarded doctor told her that she could go home on Friday for a week if she promised to do nothing but lay in bed. Instead of being smart and opting to stay in the hospital, she’s going home. To her asshole annoying demanding husband, her 7 year old stepson, her 80 pound dog…..I swear she always has the need to be a hero. I don’t believe that she will stay in bed. She has no sense. She won’t listen to my mother. My sister is behaving like an asshole.

I had the following conversation with the little girl, Ashley, I read to every Wednesday:

Ashley: “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
Me: “I don’t know. What’s wrong with them?”
Ashley: “They’re yellow.”
Me: “Oh, well that’s my eye color. It’s called hazel and sometimes my eyes are green and sometimes my eyes are gold.”
Ashley: “They look like evil eyes. The devil has those eyes.”
Me: “Well, I’m not the devil or evil.”
Ashley: “Are you sure? They are really yellow.”
Me: “Do you like me, Ashley?”
Ashley: “Yes, you’re nice.”
Me: “Would an evil person be nice?”
Ashley: “No, I don’t think so.”
Me: “Shall we read now?”

First time in my life someone has said my eyes looked evil. I know I have weird colored eyes. I know that I wear dark eye makeup that sets the color off. I know that depending on my mood they can look very light, almost clear….so I suppose a 7 year old my think they look evil.

What do you all think? Evil?

My eye looks red and irritated in that picture. I suppose an extreme closeup with a bad camera can do that to a gorgeous eye like mine.

In others news, I have to bite it and join a gym. I like exercising outdoors and since the weather has turned colder and it’s still getting dark early…..I’m finding it difficult to go outside. And I’ve tried to do some of the workouts on Fit TV, but I hate them. So, I have to get to the gym. Because I’m not getting younger and I need to save it before it goes to shit. I like to eat too much to diet.

Want to hear a story from the last time I was at the gym? Okay, I’ll tell you. I was running on the treadmill and there was a guy running next me. He had those short runner’s shorts on. Anyhow, I’m jogging along when I hear him fart. LOUD. And then he yells, “Oh no” and hurries off of the treadmill towards the men’s locker rooms leaving a trail of watery poo behind him. I swear on all that I love that this is the truth. I halted the treadmill and after getting over my disgust, the giggles started and well….didn’t stop. I had to sit down on the treadmill because my stomach hurt. The woman who worked the desk made the guy clean up his own shit, which made me laugh even harder. I, then, had to run to the bathroom because I was laughing so hard I almost peed myself. Luckily, I made it.

Maybe the gym will be fun. Lots of potential stories and hijinks.

What else can I talk about? Let’s stay with the poo theme, if there is one, and talk about how I chased Stella Marie around my apartment the other night with a pair of scissors and a baby wipe because she had a big turd hanging from her tail. She wouldn’t stay still and kept fighting me when I tried to cut it out. I ended up pinning her down and holding the end of the poo with the baby wipe and, with ninja speed, cut the poo out. It wasn’t easy and I got some poo on my hands, but I got the poo off of her tail. Yay me!

More? You want more? Oh, I’ll give you more. Ready. Here I go.

Sike.

I’ve got nothing.

Oh wait. Hang on.

I forgot to tell you all something. I saw the Pilot out on a date. Yeah. That wasn’t supposed to hurt. Aren’t emotions weird? I don’t want him, but I didn’t want to see him with someone else. Especially when I don’t have anybody. It made me sad and pissy.

I need to get laid, ya think?

Okay, I’m really finished now. See y’all later.

THURSDAY MORNING UPDATE: Guess what? I’ve having a rough morning. My panties keep falling down. I just now had to stick my hand down my pants and pull them up. I don’t recall have this kind of problem with these panties before, but this is annoying. Oh, do you want to know what my outfit is today? Okay. I’m wearing an ill-fitting heavy black sweater with two shirts under it, baggy pants, and a pair of jeweled slippers that I keep under my desk. Wanna see the slippers? Here they are.


Are they in style? No. Are they pretty? Nope. Do they match my outfit? Not a chance. Do I give a shit? No way. They’re comfortable.

Alright, that’s enough from me. Back to work I go. Fuck yeah!

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You down with O.P.P.? No, not me.

Last night was a hoot. By hoot, I mean that I spent the night sober watching middle aged white people grinding against each other to songs like “O.P.P.” and then ended the night by sticking my finger down my own throat to throw up. Yeah, it was oh so awesome. It was a subtle reminder of why I enjoy spending New Year’s Eve in my jammies drinking tea on my own fucking couch listening to my own favorite songs.

I got to my friend’s house at 6 and we went out to dinner. After dinner, we all went back to his house to drink and eat some more. Let me explain first that these people weren’t really great friends of mine. They’re more like acquaintances. My friend from NYC talked me into going, as they are more her and her boyfriend’s friends. Anyhow, we’re at this guy Hugh’s house and they offer me some of their homemade wine, moonshine. I take a sip and it’s quite smooth so I have a glass. As I’m exhaling after each sip I can smell/taste the alcohol on my breath. Very strong shit. So, I have another glass of the moonshine….erm wine….and I start to feel like it’s stuck in my throat. Like I couldn’t digest it or something. I stop drinking and we get ready to go to the fire hall where there’s a DJ and more food.

We had tables reserved right in the front of the hall, next on the dance floor, and directly in front of the speakers. The music started and I realized that I would be deaf by the end of the night. After listening to a shitload of oldies, which I love, they started playing country music. I know that there are many people who love country music, but I’m not one of them. So, I spent the better part of an hour watching people line dance. I still felt like my stomach wasn’t right. I was trying to drink cranberry and vodka but it wasn’t making it any better. The DJ started playing modern music and I got up and started dancing. I was wearing 3 inch pointed toe knee high boots. I knew when I started dancing my feet were going to be punished, hard. I didn’t care. I fucking brought sexy back with Justin. I shook it like a Polaroid picture, just like I was told. Fuck, I even did the butt. After all of this, my feet were burning. I sat down to give them a break and that’s when it happened.

O.P.P. happened.

I looked up and I saw the grinding. I’m not sure if any of you has been to South Jersey, but it’s a special place where the late 80’s are still alive and where the mullet still has a home. Think Jerry Springer without southern accents. Stretch pants, long shirts, white sneakers, white slouch socks, and long braids. It’s the place fashion forgot. A place where Road House is considered a great movie. I doubt anybody, except me and my friend, knew who Stacy and Clinton were. I actually saw a permed mullet on a man. And it seemed like all of these people found mates. During the slow songs, I was wondering why it was that I was sitting alone at the table drinking water while these specimens of grace and culture each had a partner. Yes, it made me bitter.

I did get asked to dance twice, but I declined as I was pretty sure they both were the missing link. If that sounds horrible, then I’m horrible. I like what I like. I don’t want someone I have no interest in sweating on me and holding me. Sorry.

By the time midnight came, I felt like I had the worse case of indigestion ever known to mankind. My friend told me to move around and maybe I’d feel better, so back on the dance floor I went. I ended up goofing off with my friend, doing cheesy dances like the running man and the percolator. I sat down for the electric slide, because I don’t support that shit. Fuck the macarena too. I know that the song titles are proper nouns to be capitalized, but I’m demoting that shit. Sue me if it offends you.

Finally, it was time to go home. I got home around 2:30 AM. Took a shower to get the glitter and sweat off of me (I hate going to bed dirty) and watched TV until 4 AM. Woke up at 5:30 because I felt horrible. That’s when I made the difficult decision to put my finger down my throat. I felt better after puking. Brushed my teeth and finally had a restful sleep.

Today, felt weird without the Mummer’s Parade. It’s a Philadelphia tradition and if you’re from the tri-state area, you know the Mummer’s. It’s a huge tradition here.

Found out by my neighbor that my car was egged on Saturday night, but I didn’t notice because the rain yesterday afternoon washed it away. I’m troubled by this, as it’s the second time this weekend that something has happened to my car. Saturday morning I was looking out my window and saw a bunch of debris in the street next to my car. I went outside and saw that someone scraped their passenger side mirror against my car and hit my driver side mirror. My mirror is chipped and they lost their mirror. That was the debris on the street, their mirror. If something else happens I think I’m calling the police.

That’s all I really have to report. I’m not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. I’m going to be crazy busy, so if I’m scarce I apologize now. I will be doing a triple stroke this Friday. I missed the last two weeks and so I’m incorporating them in to Friday’s stroke.

I liked saying triple stroke. Had a little chuckle.

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At my sister’s in Lancaster

Nothing extraordinary happened on my way to 30^th St. Station or at the station. But as soon as I boarded the train, I heard a piercing scream followed by a man’s voice yelling, “Get the hell up.” I walk down the aisle to get a seat and I see the man yanking a woman’s arm to get her to stand up. I’m shocked by this and then I see that the woman is mentally challenged. She continues to scream that she doesn’t want to leave the train and the man keeps yanking her arm. I’m more than a little disturbed by this. Why does he keep yanking her arm? He’s not being gentle at all. Finally, one of the conductors (I supposed that’s what he’s called) comes up and tells the man to stop manhandling the woman. He yells, “But she’s my daughter.” Thankfully, the conductor didn’t care what the man said and spoke to the woman gently about how this was her stop and isn’t she excited to see Philadelphia. The woman got right up and left the train.

Of course, I sit in a seat behind one that is broken. How do you know it’s broken, you ask? Because the woman sitting in the seat reclined the fucker and almost broke my kneecaps causing me to yelp. I’m now sitting on the aisle seat, which I hate, while she reclining in the seat next to me…from the seat in front of me. I wouldn’t have to move an inch to blow on her so that she’d feel it. There are no empty rows left or I’d move. I’m stuck here. This is typical Debbie luck.

I’m going to shut my eyes for a little bit. I’ll be back.

I’m back. My sister and her husband picked me up at the train station. We went to a buffet place for dinner called Cactus Willies. I’m weird about buffet’s, but they were buying and I was really hungry. The food was okay. There were two types of people there—obese and Amish. Yup, you read that right. I said Amish. At a buffet place called Cactus Willies.

After dinner, we went to see my nephew Rylee at his karate class. It looked like so much fun that I’m signing up for karate in the new year. I think that I was made for karate but didn’t realize until now. Yeah, I’m gonna be fierce deadly. Ninjas will cower at the sight of me. You know it.

After the whole dinner/karate thing, we went to my sister’s house. I noticed something smelled really bad. My sister started explaining how they spray poo on the crops and that’s what the smell is. So, listen people…..not only does this spray smell like the earth is dying, but I think I’m allergic to it. The further we get out into the country, the more I start feeling itchy and swollen. And that’s how I am right now. I’ve taken so much allergy medicine in the past two days that I feel drunk.

I tried to get on the internet, but couldn’t. I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t able to get on the internet for two whole days. It was torture and I’m a bit ashamed to admit that.

Yesterday, I spent the day cleaning my sisters house and wrapping her presents. We then went to the pet store and I have decided I want a fish, so I think I’ll pick one up next week (I know I’m a mess, deal with it). I then went shopping with my brother-in-law. He needed to pick up one last gift for my sister. We then went to dinner at a fabulous Mexican place. Oh, the food was divine. And that’s where the fun began.

My sister complains about everything. I mean everything. And my brother-in-law just eggs her on. I was in hell. All they did the rest of the evening was bicker. I hate that. My sister’s friend, Hope, came over and we were talking girl stuff. My brother-in-law went out to the bar, so we had a sort of peaceful evening.

Then my sister goes to the bathroom and comes out crying. She says he needs to call her doctor. My stomach starts to hurt. She has complete placenta previa and this condition is extremely dangerous for her and the baby. The doctor tells her to take it easy and go to the hospital if it gets worse. Well, about a half hour later she goes to the bathroom and comes out with the toilet paper she wiped herself with and it was bright red. We immediately call her husband and we all go to the hospital. It turns out to be a bit of spotting, but she’s now on the strictest bedrest or she’s going to be admitted to the hospital until she’s ready to give birth. She won’t listen.

My sister is one of those people who just don’t listen. She’s been up and down stairs, bending down, cleaning, doing all kinds of stuff she’s not supposed to be doing. I yelled at her and her husband last night. I called my mother and she yelled at my sister. If something happened to her, I don’t know how any of us would cope. I’m so worried about her.

This morning was nothing to talk about. The train rides home were shitty. The subway smelled like vomit, which is always appealing.

I’ll be catching up on everyone’s blogs tonight and cooking.

Yay!!!! I’m home.

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Protected: But I somehow someway keep coming with funkyass shit like every single day….

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A fire, sleep, bad cover bands, and the man with the shrunken head

I woke up yesterday morning at 6AM to call in a vacation day. As I was in my office waiting for my boss’s voicemail to pick up when I saw some smoke floating past the window. I moved closer and looked for the source of the smoke, I saw that the mulch and a pine tree was smoldering and burning. I put on shoes, find my cell phone, and run outside. I get the hose and dial 911. Um, I’ve never put out a fire like this before, but I didn’t want the flames to get out of control. I see a police officer walking down the driveway. He asked me how the fire started and I told him I didn’t know. I said that I feared that Mullet neighbor may have flicked his cigarette in there and the mulch caught. The fire department gets there with 2 trucks and they come down to see the damage. At this point most of the fire is out, except I was afraid to put the hose into the tree to get the roots. The fire fighters came and put the rest of the fire out. Some of the neighbors were standing with curiosity. After, I thanked everyone and went upstairs to pass out.

I spent the day on the couch, watching the first season of House. I never watched the show before and well, it’s now going to one of my shows. I only watch a handful of television shows regularly, so I’ll add this one to the list.

Around 5 my friend called me and talked me into going to an outdoor concert with her. I’ve been to this kind of outdoor concert before. It’s at a community center in my hometown. We got there and found my mother and her friends having a good time. Suddenly this child is screaming my name and running towards me…it’s my niece. We talked for a bit. She was dancing to the music and when they called all of the children down to the stage, she forgot about me and took off. I love that child. I got a beer and my friend and I hung out with my mom’s crew since they had a table. The band was an oldies cover band (extremley boring), so all of the old people were in their happy places. It was halfway through the first set that I saw him.

He was the weirdest fucking man I have ever seen. He was dressed like a security guard, except we knew he wasn’t one. He kept walking up and down the main aisle staring at people’s belonging’s and children. Oh, and did I mention that he looked like he had a shrunken head. His eyes were all caved into his head. He was freaking me out. As he made his second pass to stare at everyone, I got out my camera phone and took his picture. He didn’t notice that I took that picture because he was too busy staring at the children at the table next to us. My friend told one of the police officer’s there and they started keeping an eye on him. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen anyone so creepy. After the break in sets, I didn’t see the creep anymore. I hope I never do again.

I got home last night and tried to read, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Until later.

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Protected: Smack that ass.–UPDATE!

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