I bought an old-school Nintendo on eBay the other day, and I want it. Now. Nownownow. I want to call in sick to work one day and play Super Mario Bros 3 all day long.
I need to go update my big erasable wall calendar, but it’s all the way over there and I have to move a table and find a bottle of water to spray and really, that’s a lot of work.
Also online this week, I have preordered The Future Soundtrack for America and the yellow wristband. I meant to order both several weeks ago, but was between paydays and busy packing for my trip around the eastern seaboard, so I’ve just now gotten around to it. I’m an online shopping fool.
I’m really thirsty lately. Like, really really thirsty. As in I start to get a little nervous when I don’t have something to drink nearby at all times. I’m pretty sure I don’t have diabetes, though. I’m just thirsty.
Speaking of getting nervous, I was driving in to work today when this big tractor-trailer went to pass me, and as he was driving by I glanced over to the left lane and saw that he was hauling a GIANT FUCKING ANCHOR or something. I mean, it was seriously huge. With giant dinosaur-sized chains attached to it. And I have this bizarro paranoid issue with big machinery and the like, and I seriously had trouble breathing until the thing was out of sight. It was scary.
And speaking of scary, on Sunday I was at Target picking up Ginny’s birthday present before her birthday lunch, and I was sitting in the car getting it all arranged in the gift bag when someone knocked on my window and scared the everlovin’ crap out of me. I looked over and there was a homeless-lookin’ dude standing there, and for some crazy reason I rolled my window down a notch like he asked.
Why? I don’t know. Sometimes I tend to be more concerned about seeming rude than I am about my personal safety. I have a feeling this is pretty common among young women, and I’m sure Hugo will have plenty to say on the topic when he gets back from his trip to wartorn Colombia. Well, maybe “wartorn” isn’t quite the right word. Maybe it is. I’m getting off track.
So I rolled the window down. And this guy introduced himself, launched into some crapass story about how he traveled down from New Jersey two months ago to make a football jersey for his mother (showing me the MOM tattoo on his arm for maximum effect) and then he did the scariest thing of all.
HE STUCK HIS HAND INTO MY WINDOW TO SHAKE MY HAND.
I seriously had that window open barely enough to fit a hand through, and he squeezed his through and I visibly recoiled from the invasion of personal space and then, like an idiot, I shook his damn hand. Briefly. (See: manners vs. personal safety, above.)
He went on and on, offering to wash my car, to take me out, to do ANYTHING I wanted if I would give him some money for food because he hadn’t eaten in three days and when I said, politely, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you today and I’m late for my sister’s birthday party,” his face completely changed and although he didn’t say much else, his body language became completely threatening. After a second he walked away, and I got the hell out of the parking lot.
You know, I was ready for that stuff in the city. I hated it, but I was prepared for the possibility, and I tried to be smart and not linger in my car or balance my checkbook in there or anything, and I always have my doors locked when in the car, and questionable characters would even sometimes approach my car at stoplights, but I was ready.
I was not ready to be solicited while sitting in my car in the Target parking lot in freakin’ Roanoke, Virginia at noon on a sunny Sunday. And it freaked me out.
When I got to the restaurant and told my parents, my mom insisted on calling the store to tell security, and I was fine with that – I just didn’t want to do it myself because I kind of wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.
But what if he hadn’t walked away? What if he’d had a weapon? And I don’t understand why anyone thinks it’s EVER okay to approach a young woman (or anyone, for that matter) sitting in a parked car. I was only there for a minute. Ick. It was scary.
I want my Nintendo.