siannan

1.

So J. runs out of diabetic testing strips. We head to CVS because I need more sunscreen because I go through that shit like it was, I dunno, oxygen, and also because I like playing with makeup samples. Sidenote: wtf is with all this mineral makeup shit? A woman can't even find good liquid foundation anymore, especially for my vitiliginous pallor. But I digress.

J. is off in aisle whatever trying on the old lady reading glasses (don't ask, I didn't). I'm near the front. The automatic doors swing open and oh my fucking god.

In clambers this guy. He's around 70, wearing a wifebeater undershirt and jeans, no shoes, and is CAKED WITH MUD from head to toe. We're talking like he was in the front row at the monster truck rally and climbed over the railing to make sweet love to Awesome Kong muddiness. He looks around, blinks, and gestures haphazardly towards the shuttered pharmacy department. Soil flies everywhere. I'm glad I'm not too close to get castoff spatter.

"IZZA PHARMACY CLOSED?"

The teenies working the cash registers don't know what to make of the situation. "Um...huh?"

"IZZAID IZZA PHARMACY CLOSED?"

"Umm...yeah...it'll be open 8:30 tomorrow morning."

"OKAY, DA PHARMACY CLOSED? OKAY! BYE BYE!" and he stomps out. Giant CLODS of dirt fall off him and accent his muddy bare footprints. I look down at my hand to find that I have mangled the sample tube of Burt's Bees whatever that I was playing with. I replace it on the shelf and wonder what deity J. annoyed that he had to miss this. The teenies get out the carpet sweeper.

2.

Out in the parking lot this guy swings through with a huge SUV. With three, count em, three LCD teevees on in the back seat, an LCD in the steering wheel, and ONE MOUNTED ON THE REAR BUMPER OVER THE LICENSE PLATE. As J. and I stand there agape at this screaming excess, the guy flips on his galactic subwoofers and some booty-rap like Ying Yang Twins starts krump-thumpin out over the lot. This shocks me back into Auntieness and I scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP" whereupon a car full of kids that I didn't notice earlier (because honestly, who the hell would when you have a 5-LCD experience careening around you) crack up. One of them tells me that he knows the guy behind the wheel and that he has stolen all that shit from other people. I say "Good, now that its all in one place the terrorists only have to use one bomb, and who the fuck puts a TV on their bumper, I don't want to be stuck on the L.I.E. behind this asshole being forced to watch Tyra-fucking-Banks or whatever while he thinks he's crazysexycool, fuck fuck fuck" and the kids are totally tripping on my rant.

I wasn't going to bother posting this but I owe