Nothing Ado About Anything

Or how life is rather boring and I'm loving it!

No, really. I love it when my life hits these boring spots. They're all too brief moments of respite in my altogether overly melodramatic life. As I was telling a friend last night (Yes, you, JT), for me life is truly stranger than fiction. I draw all kinds of ridiculous drama. Most of it is amusing and, therefor, enjoyable. Some of it can be stressful. It also doesn't help that I draw all kinds of psychos and freaks, both good and bad. I rather enjoy the good ones, wish there were less of the bad ones.

An example of the bad? Oh, yes, I have several but I'll retell the most amusing one. A few of you have already heard this one and can skip it.

I call this: The Meat Man or Psychos You Can Meet in Supermarkets

I was about 14 or so. Every summer we'd go to the shore and rent a cottage for a week. We still do our annual trip to the shore, but now it's a different shore and we stay at a motel. We'd run to the local supermarket and pick up supplies for our week-long vacation.

Oh, I should mention the cast of characters on this trip. First, we have my parents, of course. Then there's my cousin. An only child also, we were pretty much raised as brother and sister since his mother was my father's twin. He always went on vacations with us. And, last but never least, moi.

Ok, so we're at the local supermarket down at the shore. My father and cousin wander off somewhere as they are wont to do and my mom and I are traipsing down the aisles picking out goodies. We head on over to the meat section. My father likes his steak. I park the cart diagonally against the meat display case. It's secured against the little rubber bumper they run along those things. This is important. Remember this detail. The cart is wedged in at an angle and not easily moved. I'm in that little corner/angle idly looking at the steak, my mother is nearer the opening of our little angle picking up various packages of pre-wrapped steak.

This young man walks up to the display case. He's about 20 or so or he looked to be to me. Attractive, normal looking. We all smile and nod at each other then go back to our inspection of meat. I'm kinda checking out the guy 'cause hell I'm 14 and what 14 year old isn't gonna check out a kinda cute guy, right?

Out of the blue, he suddenly lunges at the pre-wrapped steak he's holding. He begins gnawing at it. I think I may have even heard a snarl. My jaw drops. You don't expect this sort of thing at your local supermarket. My mom looks horrified. Ok, horrified doesn't even explain it. She looked like she was about to pee herself she was so scared. She starts shoving me away from the bad man, since he's on her other side, but the cart is wedged in tightly against the rubber bumper so she's only squishing me.

During this brou-ha-ha, the man-- who I'm still watching-- calmly sets down the steak-- shredded wrapper and all-- and walks away. He has some streaks of blood on his face from the meat. My mom's still flipping out. The situation was so...bizarre that I did the one thing I could think of. I laughed my ass off.

We scurry away and eventually find my father and cousin. They, of course, don't believe a damn word of the story. Maybe because at this point my mom and I were both laughing so hard we could barely get out the story, but I swear it's true! Very strange, but completely true. Every so often when something really weird happens to us, my mom and I will turn to each other nod and say "Remember the meat man?"

This happens often enough that, well, I've begun to wonder what kind of vibes I'm sending out there. Do I have some kind of invisible sign stuck to my back that only weirdos can read? So you see why I enjoy my periods of boredom. I need to prepare for the next psychotic attack.