“How I Spent My Independence Day” or “America is a Melting Pot of Crazy”

Had a wonderful day yesterday with my “squeeze” JB…went shopping! Had a great time cutting up and I continued my quest to talk to EVERYONE I meet. JB is learning that this is the norm and just watches all the magic happen. Let’s review my interactions of yesterday…

We begin our adventure at “Hobby Lobby” (I’ve previously written about this Superstore of Crafting in  “Krava by Kiki”). As I approached the check-out counter, I could see that I was NOT the only one “checking out”. There was a pretty teen with an extremely disinterested face lounging behind the register. As anyone that shops at Hobby Lobby knows, it is rare to find no less than 500 people in line to pay for their glue guns, fuzzy boas, watermelon-shaped salt and pepper shakers, or lizard fabric–and usually only 1 (one) register open. However it was the 4th of July and it is forbidden in the Bill of Rights to craft on the 4th (but I AM a rebel!). Sooooo…Miss Teen America was sssllllooooowwwwlllly sauntering up to the register and hating me for making her move. I gave her my sunniest smile (yes, I DO smile when I’m not thrashing to metal music) and asked her if she was having fun? She scowled her most distasteful smirk and did a perfect “eye roll” (Oh no, she didunt!!!!).

Now I may be mistaken, but I think I heard her hiss under her breath “No, you stupid old bitch shut the fuck up”–but maybe that was only my imagination…or perhaps it was the voices in both of our heads communicating as hers spun around. So I say to Pippi Snotstocking “Well, darlin’…WE are the high point of your day…then it goes rapidly downhill from there”. OMG, was that an ACTUAL smile that cracked across her smug countenance? So Ms. Thang proceeds to cackle and tell me how she doesn’t get off of work until six and needs to find a fireworks display and how bored she is–and then cheerily rung up all my items commented happily on each and every purchase while engaging me in witty conversation. My work was done there…so we were on to “Home Depot”…

So now we are at Home Depot and it is again, time to pay for our crap. And as we approached the one (1) register open, our eagle-eyes note there are 2 (two) young men flanking this obviously very secured point of departure. One was in cammo shorts befitting a Neighborhood Watch Captain and I felt very patriotic just BEING in his trigger-happy presence. The store was basically empty–again, it is verboten to paint, repair, or screw ANYTHING on our country’s Independence Day. So JB and I approach the register after a quick “frisking” by the security detail wanna-be and I greet this “young gun”.

I soon discovered he talked just like Sly Stallone and had the IQ of a fruit fly. But I don’t discriminate, as I am “of the people”–just like our Forefathers. I learn that Soldier Sly actually cannot pronounce the letter “t” and says “da” instead of “the”, and “dere” instead of “there”–poor afflicted little dissident. He authoritively rings up our items and informs me that he is a sad G.I. because he can’t “Party in the USA”– he has to report to his second job at UPS and how tired he is and how he doesn’t get enough sleep…which probably accounts for his “Lazy T Syndrome”, me thinks. Lots of information received from the Slyster. I guess I have one of those faces that people tell EVERYTHING to, which is good, for I have a column to write and need some fodder in order to properly make fun of people, places and things. But anyhoo, we leave and I think, but am not sure, that I heard Sly whimper a bit and say the word “Adrian”. No time to muse–we still had an appointment with Wally World.

And it was in WalMart that I got my “bonus features”…a “two-fer”, if you will. And this is what happened…

JB and I were walking down an aisle and an “associate” approached/accosted us and began to gush how “cool” we looked and how “awesome” we were and how “good” we went together (like a GarAnimals outfit–but that is a Sears reference and I’ll save that adventure for another time). I was wondering “Since when do they turn the Greeters loose in the store?” But this perky person was a bit maniacal in her delivery and I now know how Brad and Angelina feel when THEY go to WalMart. We politely removed her limbs that were wrapped around our bodies, patted her on the head, gave her a lock of my hair (JB is bald, but would have surrendered his own, if he could) and moved FAR away from “crazy eyes”. After selecting our treasures, we made our way to the last “checkout” of the day.

A woman who looked strangely like a Gecko (leathery skin from the AZ sun and BIG glasses) was at the register with two young men that looked like were right out of my old stompin’ grounds in South Chicago. And they were VERY HAPPY (if you get my drift). They were “attempting” to pay for their purchases and were in the final stages of counting out their coins (I think they knocked over a piggy bank–gangstas that they were–so FULL of ‘street cred’). Again, my “dream sequence” began to kick in, and I hummed a muzak version of “Gangster’s Paradise”–knowing there was probably a broken piggy bank lying face down in a gutter somewhere. Anyway…

After careful counting of coin, the big pimpers that they were, it was determined that Slack Dogg had enough to pay for his chicken strips and he was STOKED! He was VERY EXCITED about this windfall. Of course, I congratulated him on his good fortune and pointed out that at the first Fourth of July, George Washington also feasted on chicken strips. And then it happened-Slack Dogg threw back his head and HOWLED–like a wolf!!! I don’t make this shit up, people. Needless to say, my eyes were like pinwheels. So I say “OK, dude, you had me until you HOWLED–simmer down.” The substance-soaked object of my deflection viewed this as approval, fer shizzle, while our lizard-like check-out hostess blinked twice, flicked her tongue, and stared blear-eyed with contemptuous disapproval. The howler’s accomplice, P Doodie, laughed like a hyena hopped up on hemp–and then, Slack Dogg “closed” with the mutha of all sign-offs. I expected a “gang sign” of some sort, but instead “funk soul brother” made the “power to the people” fist and shouted “Illuminati!” And then he exited Wally World with his trusty trippin’ sidekick probably to suck up some gin and juice miniatures in his Chevy Cobalt with his mind on his money–or should I say…remaining coin?

Oh, and needless to say, lizard-lady told me all about her evening plans with neighbors and how she was going to dispense her fire arm only once this year…after all, her dog was scared of loud noises and urinates when startled.

And so it was, JB and I departed the WalMart–resolved from this day forward to end all casual convos with a howl and a scream of “Illuminati” while brandishing a raised fist as an additional flourish. Hey, it trumps the “two snaps up and head revolution” that my favorite drag queens taught me on Bourbon Street. And as I’m always about marketing as a Public Relations gal, I could be “on to” something here. Remember where you were when you saw the first big smiley face with the logo “Have a nice day?” I think the Raised Fist/Illuminati branding is just as catchy–next to the image of a howling wolf, that is, for greater visual appeal.

As my mother the parrot always said “First impressions are important!” (thus, the donning of clean attractive undergarments EVERY day in case you get hit by a car or bus), but LAST impressions are equally so.

Hope you had a fabulous Fourth of July and made lots of new friends–I know I did.

ILLUMINATI, y’all!

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