2005-01-19
What's in Your Drawers? Junk Food? Hating Old People?
My tri-level desk drawers, you know, the ones off to the side of your major working space? The ones that you usually fill with usless crap, like your pay-stubs, stamps, toothbrush, and industry toys?
I have finally managed to make each level a Junk Food Area.
The top drawer is kind of a trick. I keep some chocolates in there but they're really shitty chocolates. They are in the top drawer, like I said, to kind of throw people off. I keep my toothbrush and some paste, ketchup packets, and my Sallie Mae coupon booklet. It's kind of a drawer that I use to fool people by having it be so jammed up and messy, people are all like, "Whoo hoo! Jack-pot!!!! We found The Junk Drawer!!"
Little do they know that I've got a multi-level junk system, if you will.
And I know you will.
Get this: Drawer Number 2 has Slim Fast in the fornt and behind the Slim Fast? Cheetos. For lunch-time emergencies.
Drawer Number Three may be my greatest accomplishment of junkitude - I keep Pop Tarts in there. Not 1 flavor.
Not 2 flavors.
I have THREE flavors of surgary breakfast goodness.
And no, I never get tired of a Pop Tart in the morning.
Wait, rewind Sarah. YOu said something about good chocolate, or at least you implied it at the beginning of this essay. Where is it?
Well, the good stuff is off-limits, buddy. I keep it on my person and I'm sorry but you'll have to chase me out of the building, wait for me to unlock my bike and properly secure my helmet, and then try to catch me before I can get to my house and slam the door and lock it.
Asshole.
Don't make me outrun you on my bike. It would be so demoralizing for you.
Speaking of Things That Happen On My Bike, I almost die every single day. Stupid Tucson is full of Blue Hairs this time of year and they should NOT be behind the wheel of a fucking Buick Skylark.
Dude.
There are two major intersections that are really close to my office and that I cannot avoid if I want to get home in any decent amount of time. At either one, but usually not both, I almost get hit by some old lady who's driving and who's OBLIVIOUS to anything that is not in a moving vehicle.
Namely, me.
Every, single time, they are making right turns during a red or right after a light turns green and they run the V-8 engine right as I am starting my very legal crossing of the street.
Or they pull out of a parking lot like it's Senior Day at Wal-Mart and they have to get there before it closes. Dudes, Wal-Mart is open 24 hours.
Anyway, when I almost get mowed down, I flip them the bird and stuff but hell - if they didn't see me waiting for the light to turn green, they didn't see my fat middle finger extended all of the 2.5 inches that it extends.
I've taken to being a Very Obnoxious Pedestrian. I stand in the intersection, off the sidewalk and stare down the cars. I point to signs that are supposedly directing traffic in an orderly and legal fashion. I raise both my arms in a gesture to say, "Damn hell fools! Learn to drive, morons!" I give cute and shy waves to those drivers who do extend me curtesy and who do Share the Road.
The truth is, at least in my book, is that the old folks don't give a fuck about me. They are in Tucson for the last or nearly last winter of their lives and if they die having injured or killed one cyclist or pedestrian in their time, well hell, that dead person was probably doing something wrong anyway. The serious sense of entitlement from these people kills me. When I'm not fist-shaking mad about it, I have to laugh. These assholes think they own this town. They don't live here in August and yet they think they can cut me off in parking lots and honk at me when they go around me?
They are wrong.
Call it having no respect, call it being a fucking twit, or whatever you want to call it. This is my home all the time. I'm uncomfortable, I'm working, I'm having relationships, I'm lonely and all that shit just like the old people. The difference is that I live here all the time and I am not going to go around them or make special allowances because they are geriatric. Live here full-time? Fine. If you suffer through summer like the rest of us, then you can cut me off, Pops.
Most of them?
Not full-time and can be advised that I am not making your life easier simply because you think you earned it. I think I earned the right to ride my bike home from work without facing death and I know I've earned the right to not let you cut me off when I'm in line at Wal-Mart.
I need discounts, too jackhole.
arizonasarah at 1:00 p.m.