Written @ 8:18 p.m. on 2007-07-26
Amish Macaroni Salad
Ok.
I'm listening to some flamenco music from the XPN website. Its death metal songs, played in an acoustic spanish guitar style. RAWK! I'm really in love with latin music lately.
I'm eating day old lasangna. I always buy it because B. likes it, and then he never eats it. I eat it.
I'm wearing my silky turquois pajama pants, with the black flowers printed on them. And my hot pink and black Critical Acclaim Tattoo tee-shirt. Black gummy bracelets and black nailpolish. I'm so hot.
I'm trying to relax.
When did it become such an EFFORT to relax?
Grocery shopping with BoSo's 13 year old, mohawked nephew today was a riot. I love this kid. He has been staying at BoSo's to help out, and because, you know, BoSo has GOT to be the coolest uncle in the world. BoSo has Grand Theft Auto, two tarantulas, unlimited junk food, tattoo magazines, all sorts of medieval weapons and a harley. What more could a boy want?
So, there is BoSo, in the little rascal scooter. You know the electric kind they have at the grocery store for senior citizens? Yeah, how much trouble can me,the girls, BoSo and the Nephew get into with one of THOSE???
See, BoSo heard that there is a switch on the bottom that you can push, and it goes FASTER. When the machines are left in the parking lot, the shop boys flip this switch and the governor goes off, and it can speed back to the store. K? Only, this switch is located on the BOTTOM of the cart, so that crazy racing old folks don't get ahold of it.
So, there we are in the carrots and the celery, and BoSo is trying to tip the cart to the side, while still in it, with his busted leg hanging out the side, and nephew is crawling underneath the scooter trying to get the switch.
The girls are laughing hysterically, and I am trying to act like a normal shopper, not even noticing the shenanigans of my compadres.
They can't find the switch, or nephew realizes he is in serious danger of getting his head smooshed by a very large tattooed man in a scooter, so they resort to bumper cars. And figure eights. And backwards shimmies.
The girls are in love with the nephew. They are shouting,"Push us! Push us!" so Nephew takes them and off they go charging through the store while I assist BoSo with buying 25 things from the deli section. Amish Macaroni Salad. Ham. Cheese. Pork Barbaque. All sorts of Dutch entrails. The middle aged Black lady behind the counter did not know WHAT to make of us. She was clearly frightened.
So, being the maniac that he is, BoSo is egging the children on to do bad things, then whenever an adult is earshot, scolding them. "I am SO sorry, ma'am. Nephew! My goodness! You must watch what you are doing! I really am so sorry ma'am..." As soon as the poor woman's back is turned, he's ramming Nephews cart with his scooter again.
Good times. Good times.
Other than that, I'm really feeling horribly run down and stressed, thanks for asking.