Monday, October 08, 2007

Insert Bangles Song Title Here...

OK, it wasn't exactly manic. Today was one of those days where I almost wished I were employed just so I could talk with someone other than my upstairs neighbor, especially since that conversation is rich in profanity and held through the ceiling as I shout up at him to stop freaking line dancing or whatever he's doing at 3 a.m. Sigh. I am a cardigan and a cake away from being Miss Havisham.

During yesterday's outing to Harris Teeter, I discovered that Kashi now makes a cereal called Cinnamon Harvest, the only offering in their entire product line that doesn't taste like soil and hippie tears. It's not only good, it's delicious, which is why I ate almost half of the box this morning. As I was shoveling in the last cinnamon-drenched nugget of bowl three, I read the nutrition information and learned that in the course of eight minutes, I had consumed approximately 340% of my daily fiber allowance. Hooray!

After sitting in the bathroom long enough for my calves to go numb, it was time to run some errands. First stop, the bank, which was of course closed for Columbus Day. As was the post office. In keeping with the spirit of the holiday, though, I considered just breaking in and taking several books of stamps, leaving behind a Spanish flag and a smallpox blanket.

The next stop was Walgreens. where I stood in line at the pharmacy behind the most attractive man I've ever seen in real life. He was all James Denton-y, with well-tended stubble and no visible scars or open sores. (At this point, my standards have dropped quite a bit. I used to have "able to walk unassisted" on the list until I saw the man in the electric wheelchair on the corner of Northwest Boulevard and realized that he probably couldn't fend off my advances. Or get out of my car.) Anyway, I was contemplating my opening line, praying he wasn't picking up his Valtrex prescription, and beaming because I didn't have any stains on my shirt when (OMG OMG) he turned around to look at me. We locked eyes. I smiled. He smiled back and just when I opened my mouth to say something delightful, his eyes drifted toward the products in my basket, his face fell, and he turned back around, all in one seamless motion. Of course. No one gets hot at the sight of a slightly desperate-looking woman carrying around a basket full of toilet paper, Immodium, and an earwax removal kit.

I wanted to tap his shoulder and point out that I was waiting to pick up my BIRTH CONTROL because I was capable of HAVING INTERCOURSE with ANOTHER PERSON but the damage was done. Goddamn you, Cinnamon Harvest.

James Denton got his meds and walked away, pretending to be intrigued by the enema display so he didn't have to look in the direction of the runny, waxy misfit behind him. My insurance had changed since my last prescription and by "changed", I mean I finally have some. Not the good kind, of course. It's not one of the major companies. It's more mid-major. Basically, I'm ensured by the equivalent of Winthrop University. And apparently Winthrop doesn't like birth control...they consider it an "elective prescription" so I got to hand over $48 for the privilege of pretending that I'm going to have sex in the next 28 days. It seems like my insurance company is celebrating Columbus Day too.

When I started to protest, using my sad face and pitiful "but that's so expensive because I lost my job" story, the pharmacist smugly told me that there were "more affordable forms of contraception", which prompted the fossilized old bat behind me to say "Like abstinence". I wanted to say "Or your personality?", but then realized that my own personality isn't really serving as an aphrodisiac either. Oh well. At least my bones aren't brittle.

Probably because I ate three bowls of cereal.

5 comments:

Nate said...

The old woman actually SAID that? WOW. I'm in shock.

I think I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue. I think I'd have whipped around and said something about, "just because yours is so old it'd be like fucking a grilled-cheese sandwich doesn't mean the rest of us can't have a little fun."

But then again, old ladies frighten me.

J-Money said...

My initial retort involved locusts and dust but, unfortunately, stayed in my head. I'm trying so hard for good karma, but if after another week or so it doesn't work, I swear I'm going to drive to Arbor Acres and cram something in the tailpipe of her Rascal scooter.

Which would probably be the first time since the Van Buren administration since anything was even near her tailpipe.

Moonbeam McQueen said...

J-Money,
You're funny.

There- I got my poetry writing out of the way for today. I'm bookmarking this site- hilarious!

Anonymous said...

hey now.. don't be hating on grilled cheese sammiches. Especially when I am eating one while reading your post.

damn. I feel so dirty now. And in need to a bottle of listerine to get the taste outta mah mouff.

meow.

CLARE. said...

Tell me that's a joke about the old lady behind the counter.

SRSLY though, the next time you go to the lady doctor (or the regular doctor), speak up! Tell them your script is expensive! Tell them you want samples! Tell them you know all about the sample closet, so cough up some packets of the anti-baby pills, Stethoscope!