Day 112
It's one of those days that starts with the woman your mother thinks is your father's mistress coming over and cleaning the bathroom and ends with you drinking Malibu mixed with a Fresca derivative out of a used McDonald's cup. All said, not a total waste of a day.
This morning while I was munching Count Chocula I mocked how my father says, "Yeah, well." all the damn time. Usually he smiles when he hears me imitate him as though I were his little girl again and marching in with his huge boots on. But today was different, today he was saucy. He started with, "You say it waaaaay to fast. Yeah, well...like that." The how-to-mock-me-properly lesson ended with, "You need to work on your inflection more. You need to sound like you just don't care." Mocking someone isn't as fun when they give you lessons on how to do it. Yeah, well...
So, after the lesson and Chocula my parents' friend showed up. I have known this woman since I was a child (once there was a Kool-aid pitcher in her cupboard that had a live mouse in it). She is a tiny spitfire with red hair. She verbally roughhouses my dad and talks about drinking, a lot. Apparently, my father is hiring her to help clean the junk out of their house. This is something he has done before. When this has happened in the past my mother has shown a ridiculous jealously and suspicion for this activity despite her being friends with the spitfire. I used to think that the jealously was ridiculously hilarious; who would want my racist, lazy father besides my mother. And most of the time she doesn't want him anyway. But, after my father took a shower and put on jeans for the first time in weeks, (usually he wears sweatpants that fall off his ass and act as a museum to what he ate that week) I understood. She is jealous of how he acts toward the spitfire. This makes more sense. Except that when he got out of the shower and dressed he came up to me and said, "Your mother is going to like that I showered and put on clean clothes." Hmm...it's like I am living in a horribly boring cheap soap opera except there are no hot actors taking off their shirts.
Anyway, so the spitfire shows up and bullshits and talks about drinking for a time. She then asks my father, "Where do I start working?" She eyes the living room that is so full of mysterious boxes and expired near beer that there is no longer a pathway in. He says, "You do bathrooms?" She said she did. And before I knew it my parents' old friend was scrubbing their shower and toilet all the while relaying rules to my father, "No smoking around me." "Rule number four don't question me." Between all of these things she is telling me about all the kinds of alcoholic beverages she enjoys and then my father appears. She says to him, "Hey, you could be my designated driver." He responds, "It's like I always say, lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine." What the fuck is that supposed to mean? She said, "What was that?" And he said, "Nothing, I gotta run up town." Commercial break, followed by a to be continued... I think this show may lose it's funding.
After my mother showed up on the scene we went to the big city a few towns over. She went to a doctor appointment that resulted in her saying to me, "And that surgery he's suggesting is not the good kind," and I went got dropped off at the mall. In the mall I went into the Spencer gifts store. I had not been in one of those stores since I was a teenager with fresh piercings. In the back corner of the store I noticed that they had cheap dildos. Just as I pulled one off the rack for inspection this huge store clerk woman snuck up behind me and loudly asked, "You finding everything you need?" I said, "Yeah, thanks." I put the dildo back on the shelf and kept browsing. When I walked past the counter on my way out she called, "You still doing alright?" I left, dildoless.
The rest of the mall trip involved countless other clerks rushing me and asking how I was and if I was looking for anything. I always responded, "I'm fine, thanks." or "Nope, I am just browsing, thanks." Why the fuck am I thanking them for I wondered all day. I am starting to think it's the Canadian influence. Geez, just think if I was back in Canada right now I may get the politeness enough to apologize to these people for not needing anything AND thank them for asking. That is the day I move to New York City and regain my inner asshole.
The mall had a Santa who was later spotted at Applebees telling children that he wasn't Santa that he was just some guy who makes his toys. How confusing that must be for them. I bet he told the other kids the same thing in the mall from his big chair while he was creepily dandling them. I am sure their parents told them that they were going to see Santa and all they get is some lackey that looks just like him. No wonder all those Aryan-looking, bug-eyed mall kids looked so disenchanted and possessed. It's hard enough to lie to everyone that you were good all year and write a Christmas list when you can't even spell but throw Santa imposters and lying parents into the mix and you are creating a destructive human being.
The rest of the evening was me and my mother trying on clothes that were too small for us and milling around Target where I am pretty sure that she stole a voice recorder despite my warnings about how they come down on shoplifters (I should know). After that I ate a bag of cheesy jalapeno puffcorn and downed a McFlurry, whatever I ate a salad for supper.
Until tomorrow, unless I get drunk and have to sleep on a thin used mattress at my friend's house where she doesn't know the internet password. Maybe tomorrow I will eat a Blizzard instead of a McFlurry. I am getting my haircut so who knows maybe I'll be feeling fancy.
-Canadian (U.S.) Castaway
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