Tonight, Evil

beach day painting
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

After work this evening I'm going to the Mall Wart. Yeah, I know. I know they're evil and all that good shit, but there are times when I can't stand going to like a bazillion different stores. Okay, I also know that I'm going to have to go to at least one more store because the Mart of Ultimate Evil never has all the stuff I want anyway (hello, Electrolux bags for those of us with vintage vacuums?) but fuck it. They have cheap polyester black ski masks, which are vitally important not only to young M's carefully cultivated terrorist image but also, apparently, to Django's digestive system, since he eats them as fast as young M leaves them on the couch, which is to say, frequently. Anyway, here is my annotated Gigandor Mart list for your entertainment and also so I can interpret it myself, since it was originally written in faded purple magic marker and then it got wet, rendering it pleasingly watercolory (not unlike my beach day drawing, at right! Looky thar!) but kind of illegible:
paper towels - because they were, naturally, all used up over the weekend, not that anyone cleaned up anything spilled and lots, believe me, was spilled. Perhaps they were eaten.

dish soap - god knows why. It's not like anyone uses it but me.

Vac clean bags - see above. My vacuum sucks anyway, or, rather, it does not. Suck, that is. It makes vacuum-y noises and sometimes I get to spend an hour or so tossing a lipstick or a lighter through it's lengthy hose in a vaguely futile attempt to get it to work better, but still, really suck it does not. Alas.

ricotta chz, spinach, garlic, lasag noodles - all self explanatory. I'm going to try lasagne in the crock pot even though I pretty much hate the crock pot now, since everything I make in it is sort of flavorless and mushy.

ski mask, see above. hot choc, that's another young M suggestion. butter, bread, j. Huh. J? Didn't know you could get those at Wal-Mart. beer - well, of course.

trash bags 2 sizes - they also used up the trash bags without actually throwing any trash away. I'm starting to think there are weird very neat and clean trolls living in my walls and stealing all the cleaning stuff or something.

9 volt batteries and/or smoke detector. "Why is the smoke detector over here under the dining room table, young M?" "Uh, I don't know." "What do you mean you don't know? The smoke detector isn't usually under the table." (this last delivered in something dangerously approaching a screech) "God, Mom! Oh, yeah, okay, it went off so A took it down." "Why did it go off?" "I don't know, it just went off. Maybe it was the fire." Pause a beat. Note to self - it isn't helpful to go off the deep end at this point. He means in the fireplace, right? RIGHT? Huh. Probably best not to even ask. Yes. Yes, that would be best. "Well, is it still working?" "How would I know?" Answer - no, apparently not. God damn it.

spray bottle, lg. jar - to make yet another terrarium and keep it wet. And, to spray my new freaky little air plants which my mom gave me. They don't need dirt! They look alien! I haven't the faintest idea how to tell if they're alive or dead! Therefore, I intend to occasionally spray them with water and see if they twitch! Yeah!

crn. . no. . up, en. . . sm - hmmmm. That's apparently where the water hit hardest and I have not a clue what it says.Hey, I bet that first one is cream of mushroom soup, needed, of course, for all the white trash cooking which we so adore. The wall trolls have also decimated the canned stuff in the pantry, or maybe that was young M's ghostly friend who occasionally lives in the garage. Ha ha, you think I jest! I only wish.

I have to add MORE stuff to this too. Bah. Stuff like kibble and shampoo and oh, god, I don't know. Whatever the hell we can eat for dinner for the next four nights without going through complete misery, which is unlikely, because I'm in one of my brief and occasional Good Parent "Okay, I will sit here and do your goddamn algebra homework with you every night" modes and so misery, which goes nicely hand in hand with algebra, I'll have you know, is a la mode at our house in the evenings. That, combined with a visit to Wal Mart, which always puts me into a strange kind of fluorescent light fugue state, should make our home a joyous place this evening. Thank the gods I'm buying beer and a J. Wait, that was apple juice? Fuck that.