Leaving the alarm in a position where it is disabled from buzzing, vibrating or giving off a deep-sea sonar sound that would make any submarine sailor stalk to attention is...one of my favorite things! Saturday was no different.
I flicked through the local channels in an attempt to capture a glimpse of what kind of weather might be thrashing in to our region, I then fast-forwarded my finger action to get me into the 1,000 range for HD, ATT style, to check in on the HG network. I like House Hunters and redecorating ditties, but the whole work out in the yard with boots and gloves and chiggars - appeals to me only a little less than food poisoning. The next established Saturday morning habit, snow or no snow, is to see if I can beat the McDonalds breakfast ending deadline.
Seriously, you can drive up, hear the crazy little male talking pole say, "Welcome to McDonalds. You can enjoy a nice, hot bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon raisons and berries on it...served all day long. I will take your order as soon as you are ready." The pause is sometimes uncomfortable for me...is it for you? And then comes the FEMALE voice, speaking above a1 and usually through her adnoids, "May I help you?" They're quite efficient from there and I get my standard bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit when i'm in I'LL-DO-WHAT-I-WANT mode; yogurt, oatmeal (both without the nuts and berries . . . blech) when I'm in my DO-WHAT-I-OUGHTA mode, or double order of bacon and double order of round eggs when I'm in my BETTER-LEAVE-OUT-OUT-CARBS-AND-DOWNLOAD-JUST-ON-PROTEINS-TODAY mental case zone. Well, that Saturday the decision was the latter....until that nasally little voice chirped, "We are no longer serving breakfast." ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? From the time he asks to help me to the moment I give my order, they change from breakfast to lunch menus and I have to return to...square one.
Deciding to eat my fish sandwich WITHOUT MAYO OR TARTAR SAUCE - and....fries (that was a whisper word), I backed my sweet little red 230SLK two-seater into the furthest-most parking space, right next to an already parked and vacated BMW 7 series, and pulled out my Kindle - reading the lastest download from Dr. Laura Schlessinger's most recent book: Surviving A Shark Attack On Land! I figured everyone probably needed to jetison through this self-help book! :0 So I was while I tanked up on less-than-healthy food.
And while I was...around came this appearing-to-be innocent red truck with miniscule writing in a font only a queen and her magnifying glass could read magnetted to the door - peppering large, hard, chunks of black, white and clear salt! It was spewing forth it's stuff from it's tail section all over my car! It was peppering out of it hard enough, it sounded like a hail storm and I was relatively certain I was going to lose a headlight or get some serious paint chip damage. I watched him go by - sandblasting (with salt) all the other cars in the lot - BMW included - and I'm thinking . . . I'm not too happy about this. Hopefully he has completed his aggravating chore. But no. The next time he skirted around the restaurant, he was a full car width closer to me - slingin salt that sounded like a meteor rock storm against my car! I just about got out and shook a finger or two, but figured the salt would sting much like if someone were chucking salt at me from a salt thrower on the back of a pick up truck in a McDonalds parking lot!
Instead, I backed up into a different stall as he circulated yet a third time! I watched him swing right into the place where I'd been parking, backed up, went forward, then back again - dumping his load nice and snuggly into that corner I'd just vacated. I came to the conclusion he was just pushing it closer and closer on every round to rush me out of there rather than just tap his horn, roll down his window while I did the same, and maybe just kindly say, "I'd like to cover that area where you are parked. If you wouldn't mind slipping over here to the east, then I can get in and get out right away." Yup THAT would be a considerate thing to do. I do so wish I'd written down the name being advertised on the door of the truck so I could warn readers: ANYTIME YOU SEE SO N SO'S SNOW SERVICE - SCRAM!
While dodging the salt lick shards, my friend Pauline calls to invite me to a movie latter in the afternoon. I get excited about that, but am in my new parking stall at McDonalds, still have my lunch instead of breakfast menu item in my hand, diet coke in the tray and I decide I have plenty of time to sit in the semi-sunshine and catch up on my Kindle collection. Let me cypher for a second.... I'm thinking they stop serving breakfast at 10:30 and I just barely made it there by the hair of my chinny chin chin (but that's another story) and I get absorbed in this book. Before I know it - it's nearly time to meet her at the theater! I AM dressed, but much like a bridge dweller minus a sign, my teeth aren't brushed, my hair is exactly what it looked like when I woke up, and I don't have one iota of make up on a face that needs more than one iota of attention on make up. So...what's a mother to do?
WALGREENS to the rescue!!! I head toward the theater on 7 hiway, whipping into the Walgreens there on the corner - unsure of what I would be returning to the car with - but excited that new things were going to be mine quite within the next few minutes. I love new make up.
Out I came - with $40-some dollars less in my debit account, but an excitingly full bag heavy with new products! I'm so excited by this.
I decide the first thing I need to do is brush my teeth - but that's not something I was interested in doing right there beneath the video surveilance cameras - ya know? So, in respect to the security people who must review the hours of video - the customers exiting or entering the building and the pharmacy drive throughers, I pulled in next to the Planet Aid box. You know, the yellow rectangle that takes things to others on the planet who need them more than we? It's out of the line of traffic, it's away from the building, the surveillance camera isn't filming and I'm out of the way enough to brush my teeth. I mean really, you can't get any further from the building without changing parking lots. The snow was piled high by the scrapers so I was hidden in there pretty securely - certain I wouldn't gross anyone out while I brushed my bucks. I'd kept my McDonalds cup to turn it into a spit cup, I already had a bottled water rolling around on the floor for rinse, and I'd just purchased a travel size tube of Scope induced paste and a $.99 soft bristle baby brush. Yessireee - I'm gonna gitter dun!
Just as I get my mouth all full of what I learn is FOAMING paste, the brush and giving my tongue a good once over; white foaming Crest was seeping out of the corners of my mouth like a rabid dog - NOT KIDDING! I can handle this - just quick get the bottled Ozarka, swish a little and......A single lady in a black Pontiac Sport pulls in right beside me! Let me say that to you again....A single lady in a black Pontiac Sport pulls in right beside me! There is an ENTIRE, UNUSED, SNOW-CLEARED, CLOSE-TO-THE-DOOR PARKING LOT SURROUNDING ME and she chooses this SPOT TO PARK! REALLY? Why not choose one ON EITHER THE EAST AND NORTH SIDE OF THE STORE? Oh no.... she yanks the old black Betty right beside me!! ARE YOU KIDDING? She turned off the motor, she looks over, nods and gives me a lil one-finger acknowledgement, I nod with the foamy toothpast seeping (and burning) out of my mouth, brush still in there burning like lit cinnamon oil mixed with jalapeno juice - and now - I have to dispose of this mouthful of disgust with someone watching me! And she WAS watching. I first convince myself, it's her fault she parked clear out here in the no-mans-land portion of the parking lot so if she gets grossed out watching me rinse and spit into the cup, then drain it onto the street - then too bad, so sad for her. But then, she opened up a sandwich bag from what appeared to be Backyard Burgers, takes a big lucious bite of a burger, tucking a spicy fry right in after it and I didn't have the heart to spew into my Mickey Dee's cup.
Finally, I figured if I leaned my back to the drivers-side door, faced as southerly as possible, worked up the rinse without a backwash that had the visual potential to gag a maggot, and then spit into my cup - I was home free. And...I rather needed to be home free pretty quick - the stuff was burning my mouth and this whole sneaky-but-no-longer-sneak ordeaol wasn't getting funny.
Just about the time I lifted the bottle of Ozarka to my foaming and now en fuego lips, ANOTHER CAR PULLS UP - must've been a combination four-wheel-drive and ego because THIS DUDE takes it up and over like he's doing a commercial for RAM TOUGH! Nobody should've been able to get in there between me, the planet aid box and the 8 foot pile of snow - thank you snow plow - oh but he did and then I decide - must I wait until he climbs the snow mountain, makes his trips to deliver his planet some aid or just go ahead and rinse and spit. Clearly, I'm running out of time to meet my friend at the movies - better just swish, spit and hide...so that's what I did. After shoving my head under the dash, pretending I was trying to find something under the floor mat, I got the mickey d's cup nice and full, opened my door and shared the contents with the asphault beside my little jitney, then started on the application of my new make up. I didn't really care if anyone saw me put on make up - that's what we do - but we don't usually brush our teeth in a parking lot with Ozarka water, a mcdonalds cup, scope-induced Crest, a Sponge Bob Square Pants soft bristle brush and a very observant audience.
The remaider of the day was fun. Really enjoyed the movie HOW DID YOU KNOW with Jack Nickelson, Owen Wilson and Reese Witherspoon. I would say mostly a chick flick - but cute and though R, not offensive except in one short scene when Jack loses his verbal temper. I would see it again if anyone's interested - I'll traipse along with ya!
All is good now...except for the MiMi look I get when I use the teal eye shadow I chose in my buying frenzy that Saturday. To wear it or not is the question. I think.... I....... don't know.
So sorry, but Planet Aid does not give your clothing donations to those in need. Instead, the clothes are sold to various used clothing dealers, including a for-profit one they are associated with...this company earns at least $600,000 per year just on brokerage fees from Planet Aid. And there are 4 other non-profit groups an 3 other for-profit companies who also collect clothes via the same method. The people behind these groups call themselves the Teachers Group...5 leaders of this group are wanted on fraud charges in Denmark. The top guy, Amdi Pedersen, once lived in a multi-million dollar condo on the exclusive Fisher Island in Miami...so much for your donations going to "those in need." Well, I see I'm boring you to tears...but please type in "Planet Aid fraud" to any search engine and you'll see what I'm talking about. And please, don't give your clothing to this cult, give to local charities instead.
Posted by: Kris in Kansas | February 22, 2011 at 05:12 PM