I’m going to be all over the place with this entry. So forgive me and try to keep up. I went to Sweettbay the other day as per usual. I was supposed to get mom doughnuts. Had I known that going to the deli would be like entering the 5th level of hell, I would have bypassed that area and went for the already boxed variety. I have a hard enough time picking things up that are for lack of a better word, squooshy. (Jelly, custard or cream filled.) But you add frosting to the mix? That’s a messy disaster waiting to happen. So I have to use those stupid waxy paper things to pick them up. Well, they get squooshed and there goes the frosting. Add in a public bathroom floor and a box that won’t cooperate by holding its shape? And it’s just over. It makes me feel so small. Like I am incapable of accomplishing the simplest freaking task. Well I knew it was over. But I still had to pay for them. So I tell the cashier what’s in my bag but not to take it out. She charges me for a half dozen and my tuna and drink. I leave. There’s trash cans with the swinging door tops embedded to the walkway with concrete situated outside the automatic doors. I could have just discarded them there and should have. I could have called home and explained but neither likely scenario appealed to me. Either no one would have picked up and I would have ended up leaving a frantic, rambling panic filled message, (It was getting dark at which point my ass has a big red x branded to it.) or mom would have actually answered and told me to explain, ask for help and get a new batch.
And let’s just say I was done handling that situation. So I bring them home, explain and mom throws them out herself. Two days before that the screw and bolt I’m using on my crutch cuff came loose. These crutch cuffs were poorly sautered and snapped. First we used plastic ties, but they snapped too. So mom used some screws and bolts she kept from other equipment. You know how you build stuff and there’s extra parts? Yeah that. It works ok but needs to be checked and tightened. Well when I left the phucker was clicking, which is always a bad sign. I remember thinking I should of packed my tool kit. (tape and some leather raw hide shoe laces.) It works well enough to get me home where mom can use torque and pliers at her leisure. So I end up walking up to the check out with my shaft in one hand and my cuff still on my wrist. It’s happened enough over the last year. Just not there, that way. I can usually rig it in the afore mentioned bathroom or out on the bench. There’s and indoor sitting area with vending machines outside the 1st set of doors. But I did not have my kit. So they sent me to the customer service area which is behind and around the corner of the last check out line. So I waited until all costumers had been dealt with, and pulled out my screw and bolt, which I thankfully caught. Now here’s where it gets fun! They put it in backwards and taped it wrong with the thinnest masking tape I’ve ever seen. So I spent like the next three hours getting what I came for and I thing I did not. I could not find the cranberry juice or tape. I sometimes drink the juice to combat my digestion. I do not recommend it unless you’re absolutely desperate, which I was. Because holy crap is it sour! I have always had issues with my digestion, stemming from being severely premature. I have never had what is considered normal bowel movements. But sometimes the constipation becomes intolerable and I was at my breaking point. You have to use different foods and drinks because I thing does not always work. Glucerna gives my a headache behind my eye. So that’s out. Sry D. Graham crackers work sometimes. So do prune juice or plum smart. But not always. Green veggies or fruit work, but are slow. So is yoghurt and fiber pills Cereal or other products with extra fiber added. Last resorts are suppositories or pills (oh god, no. ) or black coffee straight or with kero syrup and creamer or whipped cream in it. Pancake syrup works too. So I go up to check out and the stupid tape I finally found (duct tape is up to 7 bucks. Ridiculous!) a stronger, thicker masking tape, will not scan. So cashier lady puts the number for the bar code in manually. I retreat to my beloved bench with my backpack. One of the managers who helped reattach my cuff (sort of) put my bag beside me because she knows what’s up having seen me under better conditions.
She asks if I’m ok. I placate her. She leaves. I unzip the furthest compartment of my bag and retrieve one bottle of juice and the tape. I set the bag aside, still open. I open the bottle and drink it. I sit it on the bench, upright and empty. I grab the offending crutch and get to work with my tape. The manager comes back out and notices what I’m doing. I explain that I’m reinforcing her the job she already did because I have a long walk home. I thank her. She leaves again. When I’m satisfied my shaft is stable enough, I get up. The juice bottle rolls off underneath the bench, almost out of reach. A customer comes out, ready to leave. She freaks slightly, I shoo her away. I get the bottle and throw it away and finally leave the damned parking lot as the sun sets. So when I went to get the doughnuts, I had my tool kit. Something still happened. I leave with my sewer doughnuts and encounter the same dude I saw on the way there. He looked like Tyson Beckford, {super model, black and oriental background.) only shorter. I’ve always had a thing for black and bald/oriwntal/latin men. And lately, for whatever reason, they notice me without much effort on my part. He was just walking along with his ear buds in, listening to his Ipod. He smiled at me. I smiled back. It made me think of Senior year in high school, which while fun, (because it was the last 1.) was also angst ridden and confusing. I was in love with my best friends. Rene’ (a guy, Latin) and Jessica (a girl, white.) It sucked because I was painfully aware of 2 things. They regarded me as a casual acquaintance. And neither one of them liked me like that. Yesterday all that dude did was walk by and everything came flooding back. It got me thinking. I’m not attracted to white men. And maybe I’m bisexual. Or just mostly gay. But then again, the idea of sleeping with men terrifies me. But not the idea of a woman. So I don’t really know. I liked it better when I wasn't confused.
