Thursday, April 20, 2006

more things from the dusty storage closet of my mind

when i lived on base, and also with the pizza delivery job, i drive through the gates alot. since 9/11, security has been increased, and private security has been hired to help check everyone who enters the installation.

one of these guards in particular creeps me out. lanky, porno stache, pocked face. he always seemed way too excited when i would come through the gates. when we were moving from base to the place we're in now, i made frequent trips back and forth to take loads of crap to the house while the kids were at school. so one morning, i got a later start with that. as he checked my id, he actually said, "we were wondering if you were going to be coming through this morning."

dear sweet lord. but still, i thought, it's probably just me. maybe he's just gay, and thinks i'm cute. who knows?

until me and e came through the gate with the u-haul truck. he smiled that yellowed, crooked-toothed smile at me and said he needed me to open the back. when i climbed back into the cab, e says, "that guy is kinda scary."

i said, "yeah, i thought it was me. but he definitely creeps me out. maybe he is just gay and thinks i'm cute?"

e: "no, it's more than that."

yes, exactly, dear reader. it's like he would like to see me naked. in pieces. in black plastic bags.

which brings up my next question: what's with people and a collection of stuffed animals in the back window of their car? i'm not talking about a couple, or people with kids, i'm talking middle-aged, tubby ladies. what, you may ask, the fuck does that have to do with anything? well, i'll tell you, cause that's the kinda guy i am. i bet if we did a study, we'd find that at least 80% of the people with a large collection of stuffed animals in their car have a crawlspace full of bodies. it just has to be. the two have to be connected.

and speaking of middle-aged tubby ladies, what is the deal with no. 2's teachers at school? let me draw you a picture. imagine, if you will (and if you won't, then fuck off), a disheveled, flustered father with dark circles under his eyes, and bed head. he is a tug-of-war rope between a clear-eyed, energetic four-year-old in a hurry to get to class, and a plodding, eyes-on-everything-but-the-road-in-front-of-him three-year-old. now, no. 1's teacher will take him from me, and drag him with her to get the kids off of the school bus, and he digs that. but no. 2's teacher won't even look in my direction as she heads out to gather up anklebites. so i must wait in the empty classroom with no. 2 while she gathers up the other kids. recently, she asked me if i could also pick him up from the classroom at the end of school, as it was too much work for her to bring him out 20 feet to me, apparently. come fucking on, lady, fielding these two kids is like fielding two soccer balls full of hamsters on meth. this is your damn job, i don't say, "hey, you know what, can you meet me half way to pick up your pizza? i got alot of deliveries and it would just be easier if you could meet me in the parking lot of walgreens."

i wonder if she has a collection of stuffed animals in her car?

darth sardonic


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