The dude who walked up to me in senior home ec, completely out of nowhere, glared at me, and then said, “I want a tattoo of the lyrics to Enter Sandman in the shape of an upside down Celtic cross to take up my whole back,” is now responsible for raising a small human being.

This is like two steps up from Juggalo baby funeral.

After lunch today, as I walked towards the button for the elevators one of them dinged with the green up arrow.  The button had not yet been pushed and no one was around.  When I walked into the elevator, the button for my floor had already been pushed.  I did not physically push it.

I either developed elevator telekinesis today or it was ghosts.  Or the elevators were being weird and I was just really lucky that I did not get trapped in there.

My grandma took my brother and I on a two week Florida vacation when I was 20.  Earlier in the summer, she’d gotten a call from a timeshare trial telemarketer and when she heard the words beach side accommodations and free Disney World tickets, she brought the trial.  So off to Florida the three of us went.  All we paid for in terms of places to stay were taxes and, in exchange, my grandma just had to go to a couple of presentations.  In all, it was a pretty good time.  On the drives down and back, we stopped and stayed the night in Tennessee with my parents.  This part of the story was glossed over to people when we returned because my mother was a fugitive at the time. 

On our last day of vacation, we went out to lunch with my parents at  Bob Evan’s before our last eight hours of driving home.  My brother’s Sprite was bad.  It had that thing where the syrup to carbonated water ratio was off and it was just kind of gross so my brother reached for the stack of comment cards in at the end of the table and began filling one out.  He then handed it to my dad to give the waitress when she returned.  He had filled it out with my name and number and just written, “Your Sprite sucks.”  Only he had spelled it, “Ur Spite sux,” because he was fifteen and moderated one or more anime related messageboards at the time and is also just a bad speller.  Grammar and spelling snot that I am, I was not going to let my name be dragged through the mud at some shitty chain restaurant in this manner without my brother facing any sort of repercussions.  So I grabbed one of the other comment cards, filled out my brother’s name and phone number and tried to think of the best possible way to embarrass him.  That’s when I noticed the pulled pork promotion on all of the table’s paper placemats.  The comment card asked what meal you ordered.  I filled in “pulled pork.”  Under “Comments about your meal,” I proceeded to write, “My meal was pretty good but I was under the impression that the pulled pork was a service, not a food.”  Then I handed the comment card across the table to my dad and politely asked that he hand it to the waitress when she returned.  He read the card and promptly sprayed iced tea out of his nose before reading it aloud.  I had to make a jerk off hand motion for my mom and brother to comprehend what I had meant and I was probably pretty lucky that my grandma was sitting between Dustin and me because he turned beet red and threatened to strangle me in my sleep.

My biggest regret about this comment card isn’t that it never made it to the waitress, it’s that I didn’t think to end my comments with, “While my meal was generally pleasant, I guess you could say that it did not have the happy ending that I anticipated.”

I am less excited about the weekend than I am about the fact that I get to leave work early on Monday and go to Ikea.

I would like to give this a try because if I can find more healthy snacks I can feasibly skip my lunch break at work which would equal more money.