Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Bah, Humbug: The Department of Petty Complaints
I'm cranky today (Hey! Big shock! Me, cranky? What a surprise!)and I can't think of anything much to write about, therefore, I will use this soapbox simply to complain - nay, to bitch, to whine, to whinge, to rattle endlessly on about a thousand petty ills - for a moment or so. It's okay, I chronicle tiny complaints so you don't have to. You can thank me later.
So, first off, admire my tacky garden. It's growing more pinwheels than vegetables, isn't it? Yeah. Sigh. Whimper. And now the weeds are coming up like gangbusters but the plants still, for the most part, aren't.
I'm rapidly approaching broke, because I haven't gotten my stimulus check yet, although the government assures me that I'm supposed to get one and a nice hefty one at that, being as how I'm all working poor single mother and stuff. Yeah. Terrific. Pity they can't do anything about the various economic facts that keep me that way but anyway I was supposed to get it on May 16. It's not in my bank account and now all the info I can find just says, hey, sorry about that, you must have had some fees taken out of your refund, therefore, oh person with the last two digits of her social security number extremely high, you'll get it on July 4. JULY 4? Fuck! I guess already spending it was one of those really bad economic decisions, wasn't it? Argh! I have to go buy lottery tickets. Clearly, it's the only hope, and I know that because I'm poor and stuff and the lottery ads and Wal Mart ads are aimed right at little old me. First up against the wall when the revolutioncomes. . .
Yesterday, I picked up my sunglasses and broke one arm off. Damnit. I liked those sunglasses; they made everything look sepia and elegant. I could look down an alley in those sunglasses and feel like I was in a noir 40s film; the quality of afternoon light they provided was enough to make me weep and they didn't even look all that dorky or grab my hair.
Driving from downtown to nearly the end of Charlotte Street during rush hour in the rain is really ghastly. Driving around Asheville in general just keeps on getting worse and yet, are there streetcars? Are there funiculars? Are there mini dirigibles and jetpacks? No, there are not, and this makes me sad and filled with rage. Also, Pack Square Park is apparently never going to be completed; walking around here makes me feel like I've stumbled into some kind of horrible - huh, what adjective to use? Orwellian and Soviet both spring to mind - eternal construction project of the damned. I remember when this was going to take a year - four years ago. And it just keeps on ticking over, endlessly, punctuated by press releases remarking on how there are going to be even fewer parking spaces now! Whoopiee!
I have a small patch of poison ivy on my arm; I hate all my clothes and I have to clean the house.
On the bright side, though, I was listening to WCQS last night, stuck in traffic, when all of a sudden the calm and measured tones of whoever that is in China interviewing people (do you think it's possible NPR created the earthquake just so their planned Chinese visit wouldn't be so stultifyingly boring? No? Well, then, why is it still so boring? Huh?) was interrupted by this buzzing brrring zinging noise. "Hmmm." I thought, "What the hell is that and why does it sound so familiar?" It was a robot from the National Weather Service informing me that there were thunderstorms in southern Jackson County and Greenville. There was also one starting over my head, but it was not noted by the NWS. Then I heard the noise again 15 minutes later and it dawned on me - Daleks! It's an old Dr. Who buzzer, I swear, I swear, and it means that Daleks are imminent. "Far out," was all I could say as I drove down Hendersonville Road in the beating rain. "Bring on the fucking Daleks. Kill, crush and destroy this traffic."