Obtuse Observations and Other Oddities

It was one of those weekends. You know the type – The kind of weekend during which, through your travels, you observe all kinds of odd things/happenings/people/fashion sense/ bodily functions. Combined, these events make about as much sense as the color seven, or Justin Bieber's existence. (Curse you, YouTube! Curse you to HEL… *ahem*) Yet… there they are. Happening and stuff. All around you. Why? How? Perhaps you have the answers. Perhaps you're the culprit (in which case I am going to take video of you and post it to the Internet. Yeah, that's right, YouTube, payback's a b*tch.)

So what are these things, you didn't really ask but I am pretending that you asked because if you didn't ask this would be a really short blog post? Well I'll tell you! (Hey! Where are you going? You just sit your butt right down, mister. Or missy. I don't care who you are! Park it. You're reading this.)

1. Elderly Man Fashion. I use the term fashion loosely here. Perhaps a more appropriate title would be Elderly Man Attire. Polyester pants or "dad jeans" with black socks, and chunky white sneakers. Usually accompanied by some sort of plaid, button down shirt and eyeglasses that look like they were ripped from the face of a circa 1968 physics professor and then mailed to his second generation offspring, not to be opened until the year 2013. Is there some kind of biological marker that is triggered when you reach a certain age? I'm pretty sure these guys didn't dress like that as younger men. What happens? Do they just wake up some day and say "I need some clunky, stark white New Balance sneakers! And I need them NOW!!!!" Are they really that comfortable? Wait, never mind. I don't want to know. Crap. I wonder if that's how it starts! No, I will not. And if I do, please put me in a home with a view of the water.

2. Intersection Beepers. Really, people, are you in that big of a hurry? Because on the rare occasion I don't hit the gas as soon as the light turns green and you beep at me, I still a) make it to the next light well ahead of you; and 2) after you pull up next to me at the next light and give me a dirty look for not having gone fast enough at the last night, blow you off the line when that light turns green. I think you just like to beep at people because it makes you feel important. You're also probably the same person that lets out the audible *SIGH* in the grocery store if someone is blocking your way with a cart to voice your displeasure at having suffered an atrocious delay in purchasing the low fat Greek yogurt that you are only buying because you ran into Gloria from your yoga class and she buys it and you have to buy what she buys. So really, it's all Gloria's fault, right?

3. Dawdling Coffee Purchasers. You know the kind. They get to the counter at the same Dunkin Donuts or Tim Horton's that they go to ON A REGULAR BASIS, stand there, and proceed to do the following: "Ummmm, I'll have a coffee, uh, medium, I guess… um, cream, no, skim milk, and sugar… wait can I change that to a large? What kind of donuts do you have?" These situations are when I truly, from the bottom of my soul, wish that assault was legal so I could witness what would happen next. Picture this: " Hey Asshat! It's the same coffee and the same donuts that are here every time you come in here! Make up your mind before you get to the counter! You're holding me up from beeping at people at intersections!!" *SMACK* Really, people. get your sh*t together.

[Note: Every single one of you reading this is now wishing that you could either 1) do that; or b) watch that happen. You don't even have to admit. I know it's true.]

4. Crocs. Seriously, we've been over this, people. Crocs are never appropriate ever anywhere anytime. Especially, and [insert homage to Dave Barry here] I swear I am not making this up, at a formal wedding. Yes, folks, driving down the road yesterday I saw a throng of guests exiting a church after a morning of nuptials, and there was a guest, I kid you not, wearing slacks, a sport coat, and blue, rubber crocks. And it was man. *smacking head* You, sir, should turn your arse right around, march right back into that church and into the confessional:

Croc-Head: "Father, forgive me, for I have sinned against humanity. I wore crocs to church. To a wedding."

Priest: "I condemn thee to Hades!!"

Croc-Head: "Thank you father, I… wait, what???"

Priest: "Seriously, son. Crocs are bad enough to begin with. Enjoy eternal damnation."

5. Nosy Not Mind-y Your Own Beeswaxy Driver People. (It's a real term. Just shoosh.) Not once, but twice in the last several weeks I have been either scolded or otherwise chided for my vehicular musicality. The first instance was an older woman in her jag convertible chastising me for playing my music too loudly. At 2:00 in the afternoon. On a Saturday. Ok, Beatrice. First, turn your hearing aid down. Second, (and this is exactly what I did), if you pull that crap with me my immediate response will be to stare at you while you flap your gums, not say a word, and reach over to turn the music up further whilst I continue my stare. Then I will continue driving while you continue to blah blah blah…

The second incident was less annoying, but still mind-your-own-business-y-ish. While jamming away to the Zac Brown band, for all the world to see, I was giggled at by a pair of teenage girls. I smiled politely, to which one felt the need to reply verbally and say "You know we can see you, right?" To which I responded, with a grin, "You know I don't give a sh*t, right?" Clearly they didn't expect that response and had no witty comeback. I winked, belted out the next line of the song and, upon the light turning green, proceeded to drive while they sat dumbfounded and got beeped at. I bet it was the old bat in the jag. I bet her husband wears NB's and yells at the neighborhood kids to stay off their lawn, too.

So what is the moral of today's story? Applesauce.

(He's off his meds again.)

You be quiet. I am not. If you actually read this stuff you'll understand applesauce.

(Crap! I have to read more of this stuff?)

Well you don't have to, but if you don't, you won't understand a good portion of the rest of it. And tiny little ninja gnomes will come into your bedroom at night and poke you with their tiny little swords. And mark my words… those little f*ckers are sharp. And annoying. Stupid ninja gnomes.

(I… *sigh* Fine, I'll go read it.)

Good. Because there will be a quiz later.

(WHAT???)

Heh heh. Just kidding.

(*smacks head*)

Applesauce accomplished.

© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.