The Pew

I got to church late today. Not too late, but late enough to feel like I was interrupting.

I sat down in the empty back seat at first, but then I noticed the glaring plastic sign affixed to the top of the pew back- RESERVED FOR USHERS. Damn.

So I scouted out and found a nice place in a row with only one woman in it. She looked youngish, about my age. Blonde, slim, wearing high heels, yet her presence was oddly non-threatening. I sat and opened up my red book, then decided it was futile to try singing what everyone else was singing. And I'm not one to peek at the book of the stranger next to me to see what page we're on. Creeptown.

I'm sitting, minding my own business and thinking about how later I'll force myself to work out, when along an even TARDIER couple sits next to me. Now, the pew I'm in sort of juts out unevenly- the back of the seat in front stops, and the bench I'm sitting on keeps going.

My mind is racing. Should I scoot over? Should I wait until it's time for kneeling? I wonder if they know how distracting and uncomfortable they're making me.

I steal a glance. It's an Asian-looking woman and I can't really see the guy. But instantly, I feel less uncomfortable. Then I started thinking about how racist I really am, and I'm in church. And then I think about my other sins. Hoo boy, can of worms, open in my head!

I decide I will just sit tight where I am until it's kneel time, then I'll scooch over and let them in.

Just then, they get up and find another seat on the side of the church. WHEW, I sigh inside my head with relief.

Then I think of how much brain energy I just wasted. And I hate myself very much. But just for a split second, because then I catch part of Church, and they said Jesus loves me. Yay!

McCafe Nonfat Latte

It was the first time in recent memory I have cried from my experience at McDonalds.

I had just finished a rousing afternoon of shopping 'til I dropping, and I thought some type of caffeine would just about hit the spot. Diet soda was practically running through my veins, so I thought I'd give my poor aspartame-soaked intestines a break by reaching for a dark, flavorful McCafe latte. The day had been pleasantly warm, so getting it on ice was just logical and summer-y.

Driving through the labyrinth that is any strip mall type property in Olathe, I pulled into one of two drive thru lanes. Ha. There are two cars in that lane and none in this lane. Sucker, I thought to myself, re: the poor red Ford Taurus behind the car in the first lane. Karma would soon reward me with a little run in with the curb.

I ordered a Nonfat Iced Latte. I didn't pay attention to the order screen because I had done this, oh, probably 10 times or so before, so I had no reason to suspect things would go horribly wrong. I pulled up, handed the Kind Window Man my large bill (rollin' in the Jacksons, my friend) so I could get change in smaller bills in case the Bee Eff and I decided to go out to eat later and I needed cash for a tip. Because naturally, like any liberated, independent woman, I pay for the tip when I manipulate the man to pick up the rest of a meal tab.

$17 dollars in hand, I pulled forward once more, time for Second Window Lady to hand me my smooth, refreshing prize.

I waited.

And waited.

Darn, this is take an inordinately long time.

Then, Second Window Lady appeared and said something in Spanglish to me and gestured that I should drive forward and wait, because it would be a while longer before I would get my order.

Hm. Well, that's fine I suppose. I really have nowhere to be until 8:15 (cupcakin' time. look it up in urban dictionary).

So I waited some more, annoyed that I was wasting gas idling. Should I shut off the car? What if I shut it off and 3 seconds later they come out with my drink? I decided to leave the car on, content that at least I got to listen to one of my favorite songs from the Footloose soundtrack, Kenny Loggins' "I'm Free (Heaven Helps the Man)," blasting from the outdoor speakers. This McDonalds had a touch of the 80s fever, just like me. Very nice.

It seemed like forever until Second Window Lady came out and handed me this drink, which did not look anything like my dear old Nonfat Iced Latte. It was darker in color, and had the Devil's whipped cream on top. I hesitated, before asking her if that was my drink. She said it was, I reluctantly took it.... but then I decided I just couldn't be adding extra calories that wouldn't even taste good to me. "I didn't want this whipped cream on top, do you mind?" says I. She nodded. Nods are generally an indicator of understanding, except when they are not. She disappeared back into the window, and I was left to listen to more forgotten 80s radio gems.

She came back out not too long after, with a drink that had none of the offending whipped cream, but I'm sure had a bunch of spit. That's fine. I've long since resigned myself to the fact that because I am a fast food consumer, I am a consumer of strangers' saliva also.

I thanked Second Window Lady, still skeptical, and plunged my hard straw into the wet, awaiting cap hole.

Was that sugar? Too early to tell...

Yep, definitely sugar.



TO BE CONTINUED

My chipped nail

I was getting all set to write an awwwwwesome post about this chipped hangy thing I have on my left index finger. It was going to be some serious ranting hilarious rage! But upon further inspection, it is no longer there. Must have fallen off. Oh well. Carry on.

In case you were wondering, I don't think it was technically a hangnail because that's the term I think we apply to bits of skin/cuticle coming off around the nail. This malady concerned the nail itself. Though given enough time, soil, and sunlight, it would have grown to be very painful. Possibly ruining my hand model aspirations.

Foods I would like to see become reality

I'm on a kick where I like making lists about foods. This time, my imagination soars.

-bacon margaritas

-brisket cupcakes

-shrimp tacos (the taco shell is made out of pressed shrimp meat)

-shrimp popcorn (NOT popcorn shrimp)

-shrimp Chex Mix

-i haven't had shrimp in a while because my boyfriend thinks he's allergic

-Almond Joy Hot Pockets (and don't tell me i could just fry some almond joys, it wouldn't have the same convenience and mouth-burning potential)

-Lucky Charms pie

Why I like instant oatmeal

-I'm a fan of anything you can eat out of a mug

-It's bland

-It can be mixed with almost anything

-It's hot and ready whenever you need it. Am I right ladies??

-Only 100 calories per packet? Hello Eating-My-Emotions City. population me!

-It's got occasional chunks if you fail to stir correctly. Surprises at every turn!

-It's scalding at times

-It can be made so many different ways... at least 2

-It will never leave you

Look at this movie I made

Behold!

Holy Bajingus

This blog is old. Time to make it new again! Stay tuned.