Day of the Living 'Tards

Some days I feel like I am living in an alternate world; a world where the retarded are free to roam the earth and influence the quality of life of those around them.

It started when I asked a man how much fuel was in the forklift and he responded, “Uhhhh, about half a quarter tank.” I think that a carpenter should be better than that with fractions.

Such was my introduction to what I began calling the “Day of The Living Tards”.

When I tried to leave Santa Fe, the main street was closed by animal services for some undisclosed critter crisis and no alternate route was given. I wandered for over 30 minutes to make my escape from this already confusing town. While I was wandering, I learned that the people of Santa Fe love to make right hand turns from the left hand lane. This seems to be some cultural thing that I have never noticed before. I am anxious to not see this again.

The lovely and talented Mrs. Troll wanted me to hang with her for an exciting night of bingo. Seeing as how I am an ungrateful bastard of a forgetful husband, I went and did not complain. (Much) This decision led to even more ‘tard interaction.

We wanted to grab a bite before bingo and I wanted to sit down and escape the steel cage of transportation for a while. We ended up sitting near one of those adult sized ‘tards with slack, vacant faces and the awareness level of a loaf of bread. Her mother was riding herd on her and a post toddler that was OBCESSED with ordering food. Between the two of them, the other customers suffered with false orders from a toddler and stolen meals from the older sibling while the mother unit neglected an infant in a carrier. The vacant one would pick up trays intended for other people and for some reason most people don’t have the stones to tell a ‘tard that they are doing something annoying.

At bingo I realized that even the intellectually challenged can play this game. Many of the bingo calls were people that could not even read the cards that they were dabbing with such intense concentration. This is bingo, not rocket science.

A fashion natural disaster was the norm for this group. I remember one woman that had to be over six feet tall, dressed in high water pajama bottoms, a cast off t-shirt that advertised her pendulous breasts, flip flops and grey socks that were meant to be white.

There was a herd of ungrateful bastards there as well, entertaining me with public displays of affection and yearning for the other guy’s girl. Why do teenage boys want the empty headed girl with large breasts and no personality?

OOPS! Please treat that as a rhetorical question.

What in the hell was I thinking? I hope I am not becoming one of THEM……

I hope it is not catching……..oh my…….

Written a couple of weeks ago.

What do you do when you have two step kids that are graduating from High School in the same week and are planning on moving out ‘real soon now’?

Celebrate !!

I am typing this in a rather well worn hotel room in Roswell NM. (Home to aliens and Texas wannabe’s that are more than willing to give you bad service while trying to pry the dollars from your hands.)

One of the Step Trolls is graduating high school here today. I am somewhat proud of the ungrateful bastard that has given me so much to bitch about for the last four years. A deep well of complaints is drying up. Now I will have to find other things to complain about.

This will be one of the best days of his life. On the down side, now he has to deal with the ‘R’ word.

That word being, of course, ‘R’esponsibility.

(I find it interesting that when I brought up the ‘R’ word at a family dinner last night that the brother thought I was referring to ‘r’ent.)

I have one thing to say to all high school graduates everywhere;

“Welcome to the future! We’re glad you made it.”

I can remember how stupid I was at that age. Why someone did not take me out and shoot me for being insufferable is beyond me. If I knew then what I know now, I would have held my head in a bucket until I soaked up some sense.

Hindsight is always 20/20.

Perhaps in my next life when I come back as a rich, good looking, tall, smart, and well hung guy I will not be as insufferable as I was this time.

Not likely.

Outlet

I had come to believe that there comes a time in every man’s life where he should take a stand.

I did, and the fruit vendor was very unhappy with me and called the police.

The police did not think that my taking a stand was a good idea and proved that it was not a good idea by throwing my ass in jail.

Life is full of learning experiences, I guess.

So. Guess why I have not been posting. I will give you three choices.

1- I was in jail for stupidly stealing a fruit stand.

2- I was kidnapped by the space aliens that are holding Elvis’s Brain hostage.

3-God told me to become addicted to gay internet porn, and my sexual organs are raw from constantly touching myself.

Which one did you pick?

You are wrong.

I have not had my computer and am stubborn about not using my work computer for releasing my own personal venom. Not that it would really matter. I was staying in “The Place that Has No Internet” and certainly do not have time at work to blather about anything. My idea of a break at work is to get to sit down for a few minutes before rushing off to further demonstrate my baby-sitting abilities.

So there you have it. I would apologize, but with an estimated readership of three, I don’t think it is really necessary.

But it is good to have an outlet again….

Sigh