Anxiety, Culture

The Geritol Gang

folgrWhile at the place where much of my life unfolds, Safeway, I learned something interesting about Hawaii youth. Don’t worry this has nothing to do with boy’s peeing. The cashier told me that I had just missed all the excitement. He went on to explain that a bunch of kids ran out of the store in an attempted robbery. I wasn’t impressed. He shared with me the cell phone pic of the kids being apprehended in the parking lot. Still not impressed.

However, he then enlarged one of the pics detailing the booty that these juvenile delinquents stole and I was shocked…at the lameness.  For immediate barbecue and consumption they stole meat. They also stole alcohol in order to sell to liquor shops. OK, fine, this is getting a bit interesting. In addition to the meat and booze, they steal Folgers Coffee and Tide Pods. What the fuck? Who steals laundry detergent and coffee? My brain can’t even wrap itself around the pods, but the guy on-line behind me chimed in and said, “Yep, Tide is a big seller out there. People want the Tide.” The coffee makes the least amount of sense to me because we are in Hawaii where Kona coffee is the big draw. Maybe that’s just for tourists and the locals prefer Folgers?

PATROn the two-minute drive home, I realized the items I would have stolen as a young teenager would be vastly different from the items I would steal as I approach 50-years-of age. The younger me would have stolen panty hose, because if I lived on the mainland and worked in New York City, this would have made perfect sense. I would have stolen several pairs of tweezers, because I have thick eyebrows and a uni-brow is never in style. Makeup…a shitload of costly make up. Us females are basically paying for the packaging of this stuff anyway. Mine as well steal a bit to make up for the difference.

LEGGS

As an old coot, I would steal batteries for my….use your imagination. Maxi-pads for my Aunt Flow. Tylenol for both my Aunt Flow and the headaches that usually accompany the phone calls made to family. Tweezers because a uni-brow is still not in style and as my memory deteriorates I lose them constantly. Ear plugs for my ears which get more sensitive yearly to the sounds of outdoor life which annoy me; kids playing basketball, dogs barking non-stop, sirens of any sort and my least favorite sound of all time – people schlepping their plastic garbage bins up and down their driveways. Our driveways are only a few feet in length. What are these people doing with their garbage? I swear it sounds as if they are square dancing with those damn garbage pins.

When my ‘want to steal’ list includes Tylenol and maxi-pads and no longer contains make up and panty hose, it might be time to admit I’m old as dirt.

 

 

 

 

 

Anxiety, Depression

Fashion While in Eternity

hell2I would like to say that I’m a very spiritual person, but I’m not. Neither am I someone who needs empirical proof that things exist beyond my ability to see them. I’m just of the belief that I don’t have the time or desire to wonder where my soul will go after death because my current body and mind have so their own issues to deal with.

Likewise, I don’t have the inclination to speculate whether a loaf of bread falling off the shelf means one of my dogs is trying to contact me from the rainbow bridge. Life after death was a common theme in the 1980’s on Oprah Winfrey, Phil Donahue, and Montel Williams. Stories of individuals traveling towards a bright light and then seeing themselves from above became commonplace. Those who have died often say they are free from the physical illnesses they were plagued with here on earth. However, there is one aspect of the hereafter that I do think about and not shockingly, it’s really stupid.

hell4How come no one ever mentions what age they are restored to during this excursion to the bright light? More importantly what are the deceased wearing upon their arrival? Not to look a gift- God in the mouth, but depending on how I looked at the age that I’m restored to, it might not be that much fun. Think of all the awkward stages we have in a lifetime. For me there was the flat chested, gap tooth era, and the uni-brow, mosquito bite boobs era.

These are just descriptions of what I physically looked like, but how I dressed was even more offensive. What if I’m restored to 80’s gear with neon leg warmers and lingerie worn as outerwear? What if I’m restored to the grunge period with a flannel plaid shirt tied around my waist? I could definitely get stressed with the thought that my outfit could be seasonal. In other words if I was restored to a Halloween I could be dressed as a slutty schoolgirl and have to spend eternity wearing a garter belt under a short tartan skirt. If its Christmas time I could get stuck in an ugly sweater.

We can all assume that the temperature of hell is on the hot side, but what about heaven? Whats the deal there? I get light-headed if it’s too hot and I’ve been known to shake uncontrollably if it’s too cold. Will there be stores up or down there if I need a a bathing suit or a sweater? What if people pass away while in the hospital would this mean that heaven is filled with hundreds of thousands of people wearing blue gowns with their asses hanging out? What happens if your lucky enough to find two great loves of your life? Where is ones loyalty supposed to be?

Is it wrong to want to know how to best prepare myself for after life? I will spend more time there than I will anywhere else and just maybe this time around I would like to fit in.