Dental Grip, Disney, and Dessert
What is one of the weirdest questions I've ever been asked while walking my dog?
"You need some Vapo-Rub or Poli Grip?"
Seriously, Thursday morning some sunburned guy in a red shirt in his 40s, total meth trash, was walking past me then stopped to ask me if I needed vapo rub and denture glue. I laughed and said,
"Uh, no."
I walked further, and after about ten feet, my inner monkey hissed at him. There was something just too bloody suspicious about him. Why did he have those things, they are for someone seriously older than him? I started having visions of beat up little old ladies, home invasions, or car theft. I saw him ask a guy getting out of his car the same question.
"I'm trying to get $2 for the bus," he added.
Ugh! Crackheads chiseling away for a hit just kill me. I used to feel bad for people. Now, I can hear the weasely wheedling in their voice, and it makes me want to scream at them to quit being useless. Not very Buddhist of me, but until you've dealt with a ton of them you don't realize how selfish they are, how resentfully useless they are. They don't want help or opportunity, they want a free ride so they can lay around and whine.
When I got back, Scott washed dishes and then we left for Disney. Thursdays are great stealth days to get on a bunch of rides. The weather was gorgeous. We cruised up to Star Tours then bopped on over to Astro Blasters, I totally kicked Scott's ass on the score, but I only got level 3, which I think is total bullshit, they really need to re-vamp the scoring. He said his blaster was broken and I turned the car around to where he couldn't fire properly at targets. I pointed out the joystick was in the middle of the car and he was more than bloody welcome to steer but he didn't bother, He'd rather suffer and bitch. Men. What a bunch of marroons.
Then we scaled space mountain. The line was 30 minutes long. I almost fell asleep standing up. It was a warm day, and crowd had a boring hum to all the conversations. I eavesdropped around, but there was nothing worth paying attention to. People's body language was either all hair flippy flirty, posturing boyish, or eyes nailed to their iphone texting at high speed. Took me years to realize that people are texting the people next to them having total bitch fests. When you're teen is rolling they're eyes and texting in front of you while you are talking to them, they are trash talking about you to someone nearby. Guarantee it!
I kept leaning on Scott, and taking mini-naps. But the ride itself, peeled my eyebrows back. I love the turbo speed of the ride.
Then we hit Small World, because no trip is complete without that 50s acid trip! Scott says the backdrops and characters have always been those pastel sherbert colors. It's like the same designers that do dental offices decided to do a whirlwind tour of the world with plastic dolls. I think it's so bloody funny, they are all the same doll, they just change the skin color and hair type, but boy or girl it's the same face! If this ride is to be believed, everyone in the world has the same puffy cabbage patch face. The ride is total kitsch but that is what makes it awesome!
We went to Downtown Disney for a late lunch at the UVA bar. It's an outside bar patio thing you can smoke at with chi-chi little bar snacks. I must have been low iron because I was craving serious meat. I wanted a burger and fries. Scott gave in. I felt bad because we started the day with fruit, and a nice salad together. Scott had gone on a rant how he wanted to eat to feel better, like eat healthy. I KNOW! I had to pick my bottom jaw off the ground. He is ready to eat healthy! Of course, I want to go on a crap food binge now that he wants to be healthy. LOL
I order the Berlin Burger(ground pork, fried onion strings, bacon, whole grain mustard, and craploads of sauerkraut on an onion bum) with fries and a beer. Yeah, it was fucking guuuuuud! Scott got the UVA burger with a fried egg on top. He always says everything is better with a fried egg on top. That turned out to be a messy idea. We were a mess, but we had fun. We asked to be seated away from everyone else, so the smoking didn't bother anyone. Actually, I asked. Scott could care less if we're outside. Total ethical bone of contention between us. I maintain that since he has never quit smoking, he doesn't realize the overpowering reek of it, like I did when I quit those too brief years 5 years ago. Smells like charred monkey ass, just gross. He maintains that we are outside, therefore everyone else can fuck off.
I've always said Scott is my unexpressed anger in human form. I chide him, but usually I'm hiding a snort of laughter. If Scott could list his status in real life it would be: WTFIWWY (What THE Fuck is Wrong with YOU!?) Stupidity astounds him (I should clarify here: obvious stupidity governed by the Galaxy known as Scott, and whose laws are logical enough that any damn fool knows better than to do something so bloody stupid as...) You get my meaning:)
So, Scott is smoking his post prandial smoke, enjoying the sunshine, and eyeballing me sipping my beer. This drives me nuts. He hates people looking at him when he eats. I habitually ask, "How is it?" usually when he is chewing his first bite. He just glares at me.
Now, he is ready to go, and he is staring at my beer to make me drink it faster. I think to myself, 'suffer. I'm drinking this damn beer.' A couple starts doing the perfect table dance with the hostess. She is trying to seat six, of which only two where there. They choose the circular table right beside us. Scott rolled his eyes and looked at me. I stared at him then stared at them. My gaze bounced back and forth seeing who would break first. The husband jumped up and told the hostess he was switching tables. Scott's face twitches, a lip corner is lifted in a gentle smirk. It isn't a big reaction but it is his equivaltent of spinning his 6 shooter and holstering it. Move on, that's right slink off and leave me to my repast. He is so like a lion, even though he is a Scorpio.
I pay. We leave. Mom has asked for alien charms for her braid. We stop by the confectionary because I've had a wicked craving for jelly beans, since those horrid little ginger German boys surrounded me in Fruit Roll up fumes while we waited in line behind them at Disney. I am definitely unskilled in the whole jelly bean bag loading skill. The first one I grabbed flowed like corn from silo. I dropped the handle jumped back and loudly exclaimed, "Fuck!"
NOT the thing to do in a Disney Candy Store. I think you get in less trouble for licking things than uttering the infamous effer! Just kidding. Nobody even blinked. Apparently, they've seen documentaries on rednecks and how we tend to screech when discovering new technology like mass candy dispensing.
So, a shit ton of sours, crapload of cherries, smattering of toasted marshmallow and buttered popcorn, and a sprinkle of Dr Pepper. (I was getting the whole dispensing thing down. Grog don't jerk lever. Grog ease lever back gently until proper amount trickles in candy bag. MmmmCandy) I figured they charged by the pound, and I was dreading the famous Disney mark-up. Ladies and Gentlemen, I bought (out my own stupid pride and refusal to ask where I could pour some back in) $12.38 worth of Jelly Belly beans. But Scott was so happy Friday night when he had cherry jelly beans to gnaw on while he played MLB I couldn't feel much guilt over it.
We trotted back through the park and went to the haunted mansion then front row splashy seats at the Pirates of the Carribean ride. I have something horrible to admit. I hate the Jack Sparrow additions. Part of the charm of that ride was the bulbous medieval looking characters. They look like Pinnochio cartoons. Johnny Depp stands out like a cat's asshole. And what is the sense of having four of him? Are we supposed to forget we just bloody saw him? Sorry. That shit bugs me. In my head I see some advert intern going "If one is good four will be four times as great!"
Said the man with no soul.
It's all the crotch grabbing, posturing, and sheer money grubbing that gets to me sometime. Yeah, I know everything is a business, but sometimes dignity is nice. Fuck dignity, sometimes not having flash in the pan marketing rubbed in your face like glitter covered stripper titties is nice. Just classic Disney. Thank you. Just like classic Pooh, you know it when you see it.
Indiana Jones was a 45 minute wait, so we bailed. We scooted back to the parking lot. On the way home, Scott grinned at me and said,
"Let's get frozen yogurt."
The man is brilliant.
We found Yogurtland on the way home. Black sesame vanilla was a bit weird, but the Peach one was to die for!! We got home and curled up in front of the bedroom TV. I can't remember what we watched, but the cuddling was nice. Piff lay between us doing his s-shaped belly up thing. I love his little belly button. It's a bare patch of skin right at the apex of his undercarriage. It's too shallow to be an outie or an innie. Its' just a circular ripple that I occasionally touch and whisper,
"Whose little belly button is this? Whose sweet little belly is this?"
Whereupon Schultz will wag his tail exactly three times. Pronouncing that yes that is his sweet little belly button, but he is to sleepy from chilling upside down watching TV that he can't move to express his joy. He can only manage three half hearted wags.
Scott usually joins in and shakes Piff back and forth until Pif vaults from the bed and runs in a circle around the house a few times before settling back in between us.We do that about every 30 min until bedtime. The cat watches, disgusted by being jostled by shenanigans. He glared at me from the edge of my pillows where he was wedged between my pillows and bedside lamp. If he takes off at high speed, he has knocked over the lamp and dragged it over anything I have on my nightstand, often knocking over a full glass of water too.
LOL I love my boys.
"You need some Vapo-Rub or Poli Grip?"
Seriously, Thursday morning some sunburned guy in a red shirt in his 40s, total meth trash, was walking past me then stopped to ask me if I needed vapo rub and denture glue. I laughed and said,
"Uh, no."
I walked further, and after about ten feet, my inner monkey hissed at him. There was something just too bloody suspicious about him. Why did he have those things, they are for someone seriously older than him? I started having visions of beat up little old ladies, home invasions, or car theft. I saw him ask a guy getting out of his car the same question.
"I'm trying to get $2 for the bus," he added.
Ugh! Crackheads chiseling away for a hit just kill me. I used to feel bad for people. Now, I can hear the weasely wheedling in their voice, and it makes me want to scream at them to quit being useless. Not very Buddhist of me, but until you've dealt with a ton of them you don't realize how selfish they are, how resentfully useless they are. They don't want help or opportunity, they want a free ride so they can lay around and whine.
When I got back, Scott washed dishes and then we left for Disney. Thursdays are great stealth days to get on a bunch of rides. The weather was gorgeous. We cruised up to Star Tours then bopped on over to Astro Blasters, I totally kicked Scott's ass on the score, but I only got level 3, which I think is total bullshit, they really need to re-vamp the scoring. He said his blaster was broken and I turned the car around to where he couldn't fire properly at targets. I pointed out the joystick was in the middle of the car and he was more than bloody welcome to steer but he didn't bother, He'd rather suffer and bitch. Men. What a bunch of marroons.
Then we scaled space mountain. The line was 30 minutes long. I almost fell asleep standing up. It was a warm day, and crowd had a boring hum to all the conversations. I eavesdropped around, but there was nothing worth paying attention to. People's body language was either all hair flippy flirty, posturing boyish, or eyes nailed to their iphone texting at high speed. Took me years to realize that people are texting the people next to them having total bitch fests. When you're teen is rolling they're eyes and texting in front of you while you are talking to them, they are trash talking about you to someone nearby. Guarantee it!
I kept leaning on Scott, and taking mini-naps. But the ride itself, peeled my eyebrows back. I love the turbo speed of the ride.
Then we hit Small World, because no trip is complete without that 50s acid trip! Scott says the backdrops and characters have always been those pastel sherbert colors. It's like the same designers that do dental offices decided to do a whirlwind tour of the world with plastic dolls. I think it's so bloody funny, they are all the same doll, they just change the skin color and hair type, but boy or girl it's the same face! If this ride is to be believed, everyone in the world has the same puffy cabbage patch face. The ride is total kitsch but that is what makes it awesome!
We went to Downtown Disney for a late lunch at the UVA bar. It's an outside bar patio thing you can smoke at with chi-chi little bar snacks. I must have been low iron because I was craving serious meat. I wanted a burger and fries. Scott gave in. I felt bad because we started the day with fruit, and a nice salad together. Scott had gone on a rant how he wanted to eat to feel better, like eat healthy. I KNOW! I had to pick my bottom jaw off the ground. He is ready to eat healthy! Of course, I want to go on a crap food binge now that he wants to be healthy. LOL
I order the Berlin Burger(ground pork, fried onion strings, bacon, whole grain mustard, and craploads of sauerkraut on an onion bum) with fries and a beer. Yeah, it was fucking guuuuuud! Scott got the UVA burger with a fried egg on top. He always says everything is better with a fried egg on top. That turned out to be a messy idea. We were a mess, but we had fun. We asked to be seated away from everyone else, so the smoking didn't bother anyone. Actually, I asked. Scott could care less if we're outside. Total ethical bone of contention between us. I maintain that since he has never quit smoking, he doesn't realize the overpowering reek of it, like I did when I quit those too brief years 5 years ago. Smells like charred monkey ass, just gross. He maintains that we are outside, therefore everyone else can fuck off.
I've always said Scott is my unexpressed anger in human form. I chide him, but usually I'm hiding a snort of laughter. If Scott could list his status in real life it would be: WTFIWWY (What THE Fuck is Wrong with YOU!?) Stupidity astounds him (I should clarify here: obvious stupidity governed by the Galaxy known as Scott, and whose laws are logical enough that any damn fool knows better than to do something so bloody stupid as...) You get my meaning:)
So, Scott is smoking his post prandial smoke, enjoying the sunshine, and eyeballing me sipping my beer. This drives me nuts. He hates people looking at him when he eats. I habitually ask, "How is it?" usually when he is chewing his first bite. He just glares at me.
Now, he is ready to go, and he is staring at my beer to make me drink it faster. I think to myself, 'suffer. I'm drinking this damn beer.' A couple starts doing the perfect table dance with the hostess. She is trying to seat six, of which only two where there. They choose the circular table right beside us. Scott rolled his eyes and looked at me. I stared at him then stared at them. My gaze bounced back and forth seeing who would break first. The husband jumped up and told the hostess he was switching tables. Scott's face twitches, a lip corner is lifted in a gentle smirk. It isn't a big reaction but it is his equivaltent of spinning his 6 shooter and holstering it. Move on, that's right slink off and leave me to my repast. He is so like a lion, even though he is a Scorpio.
I pay. We leave. Mom has asked for alien charms for her braid. We stop by the confectionary because I've had a wicked craving for jelly beans, since those horrid little ginger German boys surrounded me in Fruit Roll up fumes while we waited in line behind them at Disney. I am definitely unskilled in the whole jelly bean bag loading skill. The first one I grabbed flowed like corn from silo. I dropped the handle jumped back and loudly exclaimed, "Fuck!"
NOT the thing to do in a Disney Candy Store. I think you get in less trouble for licking things than uttering the infamous effer! Just kidding. Nobody even blinked. Apparently, they've seen documentaries on rednecks and how we tend to screech when discovering new technology like mass candy dispensing.
So, a shit ton of sours, crapload of cherries, smattering of toasted marshmallow and buttered popcorn, and a sprinkle of Dr Pepper. (I was getting the whole dispensing thing down. Grog don't jerk lever. Grog ease lever back gently until proper amount trickles in candy bag. MmmmCandy) I figured they charged by the pound, and I was dreading the famous Disney mark-up. Ladies and Gentlemen, I bought (out my own stupid pride and refusal to ask where I could pour some back in) $12.38 worth of Jelly Belly beans. But Scott was so happy Friday night when he had cherry jelly beans to gnaw on while he played MLB I couldn't feel much guilt over it.
We trotted back through the park and went to the haunted mansion then front row splashy seats at the Pirates of the Carribean ride. I have something horrible to admit. I hate the Jack Sparrow additions. Part of the charm of that ride was the bulbous medieval looking characters. They look like Pinnochio cartoons. Johnny Depp stands out like a cat's asshole. And what is the sense of having four of him? Are we supposed to forget we just bloody saw him? Sorry. That shit bugs me. In my head I see some advert intern going "If one is good four will be four times as great!"
Said the man with no soul.
It's all the crotch grabbing, posturing, and sheer money grubbing that gets to me sometime. Yeah, I know everything is a business, but sometimes dignity is nice. Fuck dignity, sometimes not having flash in the pan marketing rubbed in your face like glitter covered stripper titties is nice. Just classic Disney. Thank you. Just like classic Pooh, you know it when you see it.
Indiana Jones was a 45 minute wait, so we bailed. We scooted back to the parking lot. On the way home, Scott grinned at me and said,
"Let's get frozen yogurt."
The man is brilliant.
We found Yogurtland on the way home. Black sesame vanilla was a bit weird, but the Peach one was to die for!! We got home and curled up in front of the bedroom TV. I can't remember what we watched, but the cuddling was nice. Piff lay between us doing his s-shaped belly up thing. I love his little belly button. It's a bare patch of skin right at the apex of his undercarriage. It's too shallow to be an outie or an innie. Its' just a circular ripple that I occasionally touch and whisper,
"Whose little belly button is this? Whose sweet little belly is this?"
Whereupon Schultz will wag his tail exactly three times. Pronouncing that yes that is his sweet little belly button, but he is to sleepy from chilling upside down watching TV that he can't move to express his joy. He can only manage three half hearted wags.
Scott usually joins in and shakes Piff back and forth until Pif vaults from the bed and runs in a circle around the house a few times before settling back in between us.We do that about every 30 min until bedtime. The cat watches, disgusted by being jostled by shenanigans. He glared at me from the edge of my pillows where he was wedged between my pillows and bedside lamp. If he takes off at high speed, he has knocked over the lamp and dragged it over anything I have on my nightstand, often knocking over a full glass of water too.
LOL I love my boys.
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