Multiple Munchkins!

My good friend Du and I went to a psychic fair at an American Legion Hall yesterday.  We saw a flyer for this a couple of months ago and had been planning on going since.  Neither of us are ride or die psychic believers, but we figured it'd be a good time, a ridiculous day if nothing else.  So, we show up at this American Legion Hall in the middle of nowhere.  It is surprisingly packed, people anxiously sitting around, waiting to hear their futures.  There were eight psychics to choose from and as we were about to sign up, a dude came in and canceled back to back appointments for him and his friend with psychic Dawn.  Du and I felt this to be a sign that we were meant to take their spots. Well, to be honest, we just didn't want to wait that long.  After signing up, we were disappointed to learn that Dawn was the psychic rocking a loose shirt with a giant tarot card on it, as well as a crown.  Great....Maybe Dawn is quirky? We asked a fellow waiter why she choose to go with Dawn.  "The name," she replied very seriously.  Okaaay, so the giant tarot card shirt and crown aren't throwing you off? You like the name?? The lady who chose Dawn based on the name appeared as if she had a heavy burdened heart and need some answers, fast.

Du and I found ourselves getting unexpectedly nervous. What the hell were we nervous for? This isn't even real! It doesn't matter!

I went up first. As soon I sat down, Dawn informed me that she senses a closeness with my grandparents. Ah. Well, I like my grandparents?? Sure, they're cool. I did some shuffling and pulled out some cards and Dawn said some stuff that kind of made sense, but mainly didn't.  I looked skeptical.  I apologized a lot, maybe I'm hard to read for? Why am I apologizing? I asked if I'm supposed to move back to New York. She mentioned some random names like "Evan" and "Kevin" and I was like, well, no. You are wrong. Dawn asked me if I wanted to pull out different cards. I did so, but was nervous again. These cards are so closely placed together and my fingers are fumbling. I'm pulling out multiple cards at once. She said some more stuff, some of it did make sense, but a lot of it didn't add up. Like, I'm getting a new job in a few months and am moving soon, but then again, not. It's all very in 1-3 months, but then again in twenty years. Fantastic. Anyway, I left her table feeling a bit uneasy. Du went up for a similar experience, except, when she sat down, Dawn said she saw snakes, oh but that's not a bad thing....

 I went to order us cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers at this joint are only $2.50! And they're cooked by a sweet grandmotherly type. I wanted to order fries too but I ran out of money (um, yeah, they were $2). I sat down at a table, watching the football game, because today, at this place, you can get your future, eat a burger, and hang out with old men watching the game. It all makes sense, but then again, not at all. Du finally got done and she bought us the fries and we both sat eating and hating on life a little. We decided the burgers were a good choice, but the fries were unnecessary.

Needing a change of pace, we decided to go out into the dreary weather and find a place to get a coffee.  "Heaven on Earth" was playing on the radio and we both felt pretty good about that.  I took off in the opposite direction of the nearest Dunkin Donuts because I was out of sorts and turned around ten minutes later.

Dunkin Donuts was pretty good. Du and I were admittedly quite out of sorts by our looming futures, and had trouble ordering.  We both wanted munchkins, but could not handle figuring out how many.  The lovely man behind the counter sensed our distressed and informed us that he was not going to actually count the amount of munchkins but rather throw them into a bag, if that made us feel better. It did.

Du: Are they even called munchkins any more? Is that acceptable?
Me: Well, I don't like the term doughnut hole. It seems too dirty to me.
Du: But, is munchkins PC now??

Yes, that conversation happened.

We then decided to write down our futures as we want and see them and to not listen to anyone else, basically ever again, only to ourselves. We also decided that the psychic experience was just a reminder not to second guess ourselves and what we already know and want to happen...or something.

Then, "Always Be My Baby" by Mariah Carey came on the radio and we were like, "It's okay! Things are okay!" We also decided that we need to eat way better for the rest of the week or else we will suffer  a premature death thus all futures being nonexistent to us. Oh, and while the pumpkin munchkins are good, nothing really beats the classic-ness of the chocolate doughnut hole.

Lots of boys with tattoos, Grandma!

My cousin Katie and I visited our Gma Ruthy on Sunday.  We rushed over after watching "Seven Psychopaths" (which we both enjoyed because of its twisted humor, though sleeping with some of the images flashing through my head proved troubling), and before the Patriots game. Our Gma is a chatty Cathy who has some old school beliefs and literally drops her jaw to the floor when she is surprised by something aka every two minutes. "Chicken Caesar salad?! What is that???" jaw dropped. Oh ya know, the same thing I've been ordering at a restaurant since I was like eight, just twenty years, no big deal.  So, today Gma decided to bring up Katie's friend from ten years ago, "the one with all of those tattoos".

Gma-"But what is he doing now? He had all of those tattoos! What could he be doing?"
Katie: "He's doing great, has a family, good job. He was really smart ya know, good guy!"
Gma: "But he had tattoos!" JAW IS ON THE FLOOR. How can anyone who has tattoos possibly get a job or have a family she'd like to know. I politely remind her that a few of her grandkids have tattoos and are doing just fine. "I know, I know! But all of those tattoos!"

The clock was ticking marking the near start of the game.

Katie: "Aah, we are having people over so we have to get going soon." This actually is not true but a little white lie that serves everyone's best interest.
Gma: "People over? But, but! Will you feed them??"
Me: "Yeah, we're doing nachos."
Gma: "Nachos??? You guys know how to cook??" Ah, no we only have lived on our own for the last ten years ish. "But, what are you having for dessert?"
Katie: "This is more of a snack thing. Most people will be stuffed after all of the nachos. They're so filling!"
Gma: "But, but, will there be boys there?"
Katie: "Does that really matter?"
Gma: "Yes."
Katie: "But I'm almost thirty. This really can't matter."
Gma: "Of course it matters."
Me: "Well, we are having a lot of boys over, Gma. And they all have tons of tattoos and their ears pierced."
Gma: "Oh. My. God." Jaw is dropped.

We left her jaw dropped on the floor and went to watch the game, just the two of us. We did eat nachos however. They were divine.

I finally got rear ended!

I got rear ended for the first time ever the other day! Yes! I know, getting rear ended probably isn't something that one would get typically stoked about, but I have never had any kind of car incident before and figured it would have to come eventually, may as well get it over with. It is also something that I felt strangely out of the loop about, like how I never got bloody noses in second grade while everyone else was. So, what had happened was, it was a rainy evening, 4pm or so, a Friday. I was in quite the merry mood, having it be the end of the week and all.  That, and because I'm generally a pretty zesty soul.  I'm cruising down Elm Street when I notice a car hugging my derriere. This is a major pet peeve of mine. I mean, the sign reads "objects in mirror are closer than they appear".  That must mean those objects are pretty damn close.  A bus comes to a halt infront of me, dropping a couple of kiddos off. I'm jammin' to my jams, when I peer back into the mirror and see that zippy black car flying at me and BOOM! Thankfully, there was no damage to the car. The problem is that I was in too good of a mood when I was hit.  I should have gotten out of the car and started swearing, or else at least attempt to look pissed. Instead, I was overly friendly, as a twenty-something girl smoking a cigarette jumps out of her vehicle and blames it on the rain.  She was totally tailgating my ass the entire time and though I'm no fool, I was all, "it's all good! how are you doing?! any good weekend plans??". Sometimes it doesn't pay off to be in a good mood! But I've done some stretching and the spine has de-stiffened so no harm, no foul, right??

Two days later, I'm on the highway in CT following my friend to a breakfast joint.  Six deer come onto the highway.  My friend pulls towards them, hoping to scare them back into the woods.  Thankfully, this works. I slowed down behind her. Of course, next to us, crunch! crunch! crunch! Cars are skidding into each other left right.  A few totaled fronts are apparent, but no serious injuries.  I ate a blt for breakfast.  It was delicious.

Do You Know Manny Diaz??

I just had the longest run ever and no, it's not because I'm a complete slowpoke. Slowpoke is considered to be quite the insult to 6 year-olds by the by. I live on this basically deserted street fully equipped with a couple of farms and a professional lumberjack.  I usually can get away with avoiding human contact which is quite pleasant but every once in awhile I ran into a non-animal.  Today it was Alfred, an eighty-something toothless man with a thick Portuguese accent.  I have no probs in stopping for a five minute hey, being completely aware that he'll probably talk to me about crops and bulldozers and people I don't know and ask me my name for the fifteenth time.  This is fine.  Even if the script runs over the allotted five minutes, it's cool.  Today, the convo went on for literally close to an hour. I'm talking SIXTY DAMN MINUTES. He begins by talking to me about Canadian coins.  Canadian coins?! This lasts at least 8 minutes before he gets into the usually topics. And then come a lot of questions like, "Do you know Manny Diaz?" Manny Diaz??? Also, there are probably like a thousand Manny Diaz's around here. Sometimes I am truthful and say no, but then I see the disappointed look on his face, so then lie and pretend I know who the all these Manny's and Lee's and Souza's are.  At one point, he falls into a ditch.  Seriously? Dude is falling into a ditch? How the hell do you stop talking to an 80 something man who is constantly falling? So, I try to walk him back to his house.  Him talking about King James, conservation tactics, Manny, and sheep the entire time.  Me saying "yeah" and "that's cool" and "I'm sorry to hear that".  After this slow-ass walk, he decides to stop and throw his walking stick into the woods.  Despite his lack of movement, the conversation has not yet ended.  He now wants to discuss snakes, people living in the woods and eating wild animals, and then of course, Canadian coins again.  So many times, I attempted the "well, I'm going to run to the end of the street now" and also contemplated just literally running away. Eventually, he thankfully ran out of gas and I was able to run away. And when I say run, I mean RUN. Nice guy, that Alfred.