Road trips teach us things about stuff. Mostly about our travel companions and ourselves. The following list is only the shit I learned about myself on a recent trip to New Orleans with six other people:
1.) I smoke more than all of my friends put together.
2.) Sitting next to me in a car must be like sitting next to a five year old. It seems that everyone but me was perfectly capable of sitting still, while I alternated sitting upside down with my head on the center counsel and my ass on the seat, and sleeping on the floor of the backseat.
3.) I am blissfully aware of...everything. Tension? What tension? So and so is mad at so and so who is... Alright! Whose ready to hit the bar?
4.) I am far more comfortable sleeping on the kitchen floor than crawling into beds filled with sleeping people.
5.) I can and will hold my shit for up to five days to avoid doing so in the only bathroom shared by seven people.
6.) Do not under any circumstances tell Drunk Krissy not to walk across broken glass barefoot. I do what I want! Why the fuck do my feet hurt so bad?
7.) I seem to be incredibly selfish. By that I mean that it doesn't occur to me to ask anyone if they'd like to do something with me, I tend to just do it. Which is not to say I wouldn't welcome company... I just don't think to ask.
We really are assholes.
13 March 2014
People have quirks, weird, random shit that makes no sense to anyone. For example, my husband is not allowed to fold towels. This is because God clearly intended for towels to be folded into neat, tri-fold rectangles. Of course the towels still dry when they are folded into squares, but it's just fucking wrong, so he's not allowed to fold the towels.
Unbeknownst to most of us until sometime during my high school career, my father's quirks include the bagging of groceries. I don't know the details, exactly, other than God also has clear this-is-how-you-bag-the-damn-grapes-for-fuck's-sake guidelines.
Apparently, my mother was as unaware of these strict guidelines as the rest of the world. On a shopping trip with my father one day we were all made aware of this particular quirk.
My daddy is a sheet metal worker, and occasionally during the winters of my childhood he was laid off when work was slow. During these times we grocery shopped at Aldi's. (My brother still refers to every other grocery store as the "real food" stores.) Aldi's is cheap and you have to bag your own groceries after you check out.
So there my parents were, standing at the long counter where customers bag their shit. My mother was simply trying to help and possibly wondering what the Hell was wrong with my father as he told her the clearly written holy rules of grocery bagging.
I can imagine the conversation:
No. You can't put the grapes in the bag with the bananas. They'll start breeding and shit. Toilet paper does not belong in the paper bags for the love of God woman...
Actually, I have no clue what the conversation sounded like, except every time my mom bagged something, my father would take it out and redo it. Another man who was also bagging his own not-real food was enthralled by the shenanigans and stared blatantly while tossing shit all willy-nilly into his own bags.
In his frustration with my mother's obvious grocery etiquette ignorance, my father finally released a giant sigh and said, "Dammit Chris. Would you just stand there and look pretty!"
As you can imagine, this drew a shocked and angry glare from the eavesdropping co-bagger guy. I'm sure the guy was thinking something like that dude shouldn't talk to his wife that way. How disrespectful. His glare said something like, I should hit that guy.
My mom, rather than beating my father bloody with a frozen box of almost-chicken, simply clasped her hands behind her back and swayed a bit.
|Photo via Vectors|
On an unrelated note, googling "sweet" "cartoon girl" "hands behind back" results in highly disturbing and inappropriate images that are anything but innocent and sweet.
And said, "Aww. Bubby, you think I'm pretty," in that sweet, innocent voice you're imaging right now.
Which of course, drew a snort, and actual snort of laughter from the glaring co-bagger.
There is no point to this story, other than the obvious. My parents are awesome.