Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Sometimes It's Smarter to Just Roll Over and Go Back To Sleep

I'm in the grocery store and I'm walking around picking up the things I need for whatever delicious dinner I will be making, and I'm trying really hard not to be judgmental because I know that Buddha or Charles Darwin or somebody said to be nice to everyone else and that's pretty much the foundation for this wicked new ab routine I have worked out because by developing six-pack abs I'm doing the whole entire world a favor of epic proportions. And if you can't say anything nice than you are my Dad, but also you shouldn't say anything, except in Spanish because that is the hilarious language of irate Latinos and they break off into it and make flouncy hand gestures and the audience just laughs and laughs...and yeah my entire philosophy is based off the I Love Lucy re-run I watched during naptime yesterday, but so what? Like your Marcel Proust or someone else who sounds important and famous but I don't know who they are is sooo much better.

Back to the store. I'm walking up the pickle aisle and it occurs to me that only in America do we have a whole aisle devoted to pickles and WHAT A COUNTRY!! and suddenly I realize I'm doing Yakov Smirnov's comedy bit from the mid-80s, and in Soviet Russia you don't buy pickle, pickle buys YOU! and now it is obvious my brain seriously hates me because any time you're just standing around looking at pickles and thinking about obscure, dated, comedians from Communist Russia that's proof positive that your brain has a secret agenda, and I like to pretend mine was planted by shadowy operatives from deep within the bowels of Millionaire Volcano College, like the Skull and Bones only way scarier. But really I'm probably just being an idiot.

So I'm standing there in this pickle-induced fugue state, not far from where they are giving out samples of some processed pork atrocity that I wouldn't eat even if it was endorsed by an actual talking pig who was all "When they take it off, it TICKLES!" and then he giggles and does a happy little pig jig.  The woman hawking this nightmare is about 65 and as she is asking some hapless passerby if the want to put the most unclean thing ever in their mouth, when she spots a co-worker and says 'Where you goin', girlfriend" and then that needle-scratching-a-record sound effect that they use in the trailers for really bad comedies plays in my head. 

I was going to make a point about how weird it was for old people to use extremely dated expressions that were marginally funny ten years ago in an effort to stay on top of pop culture but really once they speak it, it is officially dead, just like anything else old people touch because they are like the space energy vampires from that terrible movie "Lifeforce", and if you let them hug you for too long, they will turn you to dust so watch out! But then this post began boring the shit out of me. So I'm just going back to bed. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves. 
Seriously. It's naptime. Here's your topic: Old People are not so very different from Zombies.  (*cue laugh track*)



Michelle said...

I feel that America definitely needs an entire aisle for pickles. Kurt, pickles. Think about it. There are many uses for pickles. Again, I am asking you to think about it. In fact, I believe there should be 2 aisles dedicated to just pickles. I have to make that happen.

I always say Where you goin' girlfriend? Even to my boyfriends! And they answer, so there!!

Good night!!!

The Panic Room said...

besides the slow walk, and the moans, and the feeble limbs, and the thin scraggly hair, and the liver spots, and the loose fall off the bone skin, old people are nothing like zombies. Unless Zombies craved apple sauce and prune juice or something instead of nutritious brains. Then, you would be onto something.

Go back to sleep dreamer.

BaltimoreGal said...

Oh my god you just hurt my head.

Mona Lott said...

Good, good. Go back to bed. The old people like it when you take naps. Hey, look at that- so do the Zombies. Huh.

Sleep well, sunshine!

Soda and Candy said...

"some processed pork atrocity that I wouldn't eat even if it was endorsed by an actual talking pig who was all "When they take it off, it TICKLES!" and then he giggles and does a happy little pig jig."

See, this is where you and I are different, because I would TOTALLY eat it under those exact circumstances.

Also, the old people zombies thing reminded me of Bill Nighy in Shaun of the Dead - "It's all right Barbara, I ran it under a cold tap!"

FrankandMary said...

In America we also have whole aisles dedicated to eye creams, diet pills that will make you bleed or need to find the store bathroom IMMEDIATELY & organic kiddie juice paks for kids who will go to school and trade them for Twinkies.

My parents were in there 40s when I was born so I still use some of those dated expressions. Sorry.

I like old people. Even when I was little I had a fondness for those flannel-shirted oldies who'd yell: You rotten F'n kids; stay outta my yard or I'll get the shotgun. ~Mary

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

You don't write post, post writes YOU!!

I'm going to be saying that shit all day, thanks.

You don't say that shit all day, that shit all day says YOU!!


Prosy said...

I know what you mean about the aisle of pickles. At the grocery stores in Cuba, they just have one brand of everything- like one whole aisle of pads, all the same industrial peasant size. No tampons. I'm sure this means nothing to you, but as it made me glad to be an American. Nay, proud.

PS: when you say 'aisle of pickles,' it sounds like 'isle of pickles,' which would be a really cool name for an island. If I had a personal island, that is what I would name it.

Mona Lott said...

OMG! I only JUST realized the real danger of communism! NO FUCKING TAMPONS?!?!?! Surely that place is the Devil's breadbasket!

Ya know, in German a pickle is a zit.

Miss Yvonne said...

There is an old guy at my office that says "What's up, girlfriendddd?" everytime he sees me. He also does that two-snaps-up-in-a-circle thing that they used to do on Living Color. And he's married. To a woman.

Captain Dumbass said...

If I had two more arms I could type and eat my cereal at the same time.

sour said...

@prosy - the isle of pickles. wow. that is somewhere i would love to visit. but not live.

what you talkin' about, willis?

Vic said...

I hate when old people say "My bad!" I actually hate it when anyone says "My bad".

Pickles make you swell up. All part of the zombie master plan.

Anna Russell said...

Old people are like zombies, but you can feed them Werther's Original instead of brains and they'll give you money for it because they think everyone under 50 is a teenager.

The Jules said...

Yo, gnarly post, dude-meister. Gnarly to the max.

Mona Lott said...

I think the zombies got him... Or the old people.

I don't know which is more frightening.

Char said...

I'm so depressed today that even a pickle would not cheer me up...or zombies. yes, it's just that bad

Cynthia said...

Let's just put a whole jar of pickles in the mouth of anyone who uses pop-speak.
As for you, Mr. Kurt-Ster-Rock-Like-Six-Pack-Abs-Whose-Dad-Obviously-Never-Watched-Bambi....(Thumper: "If you can't say nuffin' nice, don't say nuffin' at ALL!)....
Oye Como Va,
Mi Ritmo,
Bueno pa' Gozar,
(Thank you, Carlos Santana, who took his flouncy hand gestures and did something brilliant en la guitarra!)