I am in my forties but basically I am an awkward teenager brailleing the universe. Not sure how you spell that. And today it felt like satan crawled out of someone’s armpit and came after me with a pitchfork.
There is a man who comes onto the bus I KNOW is a pedophile. My radar goes KERCHING. And it was so bad I pretended I had an emergency and ran off. The driver, a nice man, was like, “you are not going to Dasbumfuckville?” and I just said, “nope” and ran off like my pants were on fire. They were, but just metaphorically, I guess. Anyway, this town, although not my hometown, is still full of the same awful, “insecure assholes”, as someone else termed it. Oh so poetically. There is a subtext of humiliation and aggression as CT ppl like to think they are New Yorkers. My grandmother was from Brooklyn, folks. Let me tell you something: you ain’t New Yorkers. Not even close.
But, they all act like tough guys, gals, and like they are Rocky Balboa. Alarming. First idiot woman in deli — too cool to actually speak to me and take my order, just looked at me- triggered me as did her friend, who was staring at me. People here will just STARE. Nevermind it’s primal fuckery, rude, and primitive. They act like they own you. Bitch, come own me, and we’ll see how good your liver looks pinned to your ears, eh?? I hate it. I am gentle at heart but after a lifetime spent climbing upwards I can be quite mouthy if provoked. Anyway, she made my sandwich and I somehow got out of that damn store unscathed, although the bagger smirked at me when I forgot to remove my card. Everyone here is like that – always too cool for school, the kind of pricks who stop speaking when you pass them then resume their convo once you are past. It makes me actually long for the South, where ppl are also, um, special but at least not as arrogant as these dickwads. Anyway, I went over to the library and a man asked me if I was waiting in line to check out my books. No, doofus, I’m waiting in line to get my skis waxed. I told him rather tensely myself that I was going to get change for the coffee. It’s guaranteed if you are socially anxious and just want to disappear everyone and their goddamned mother wants to talk to you. I felt a bit guilty but I wasn’t able to put on my pollyana hat today.
I somehow managed to sit and eat and then called a warmline, where an asshole named Jimmy answered. Jimmy has a weird, hangdog, passive aggressive voice that triggers my bells, and sanctimoniously informed me that the warmline wasn’t a substitute for therapy. Well, duh, Matilda. He was what my adopted son calls, charmingly, a douchebag — haha! My vagina is great, thanks for asking. Anyway, I’ve talked to Jimmy before, and I told him he was being a jerk and then called back to complain, as I was in the mood to not take anyone’s crap lying down. Kevin , who is a legit angel, was very warm hearted – hence the term warmline? – and helped me out. Kevin, you live in San Francisco, so very likely you enjoy batting for the home team, but I wanted to say I fell in love with you. Which means you are gay.
Anyway, I then “enjoyed” a brief sojourn to buy some tops at the local thrift store, all run by rich women who need something to do, I guess. I opted out of the five dollar capris pants, as my hairy white legs are the stuff of nightmares. Shapely yes, hair free, no. Think old man on boardwalk in Florida. I made the mistake of telling the chatty chicks working there I had hated math – one is a former math teacher – and then had a super awkward tag team convo. I call those the weird type where you are one person being stared down by two bitches who have solidarity whilst you are the customer . It’s an awkward, subtle power dynamic and I don’t do well with undercurrents. I’m also paranoid , but hey, we all needy a hobby. So the woman asked me where I went to High School and acted like I should be SO HAPPY I WENT THERE. I went to the kind of John Hughes fuckfest, super rich, snotty ass, suburban CT high school that made me cry damn near every day. This is the day I move, no? Yes, anywhere but here. So I just told her I was shy and the teachers were aggressive. I bet you were too, darlin’!
So, escape from witch mountain (kerchoo; no mommy issues here!) and off to sit in the church library basement. I put on my new tops there, I got a neon pink one (hahahaha), and a yellow one. The woman was trying to sell me on another one, but I was too triggered to go try shit on. I do like the neon pink top, although it is indeed barbie like, oh my mama (waves to mama). I had no clue it was so neon until I was outside. So I just grabbed my shit and fled. So somehow I managed to sit for awhile and just have a bit of quiet, although a janitor was bumbling around. I also cried but hey, why care, world?
I finally got home after yet another asshole asked me if the bus had come although I had clearly arrived when he was standing there. Inexplicably he called the macho driver “Mate” although had no discernible accent. Huh. Just another weirdo in CT!
I’m at home now, trying to chill, clean, and be OK. HA!
ADDENDUM: Health food store owners are evil. Who knew? Discrimination? Superiority complexes? Nah, not in CT!!!!