Frank Lister has something odd stirring up inside of him. On a couple of occasions now I have resorted to violence (okay, not so much violence in practice but violence in thoughts). Yesterday in a fit of rage, I yelled out of my window at an older gentlemen, probably in his early 50’s, driving his little SUV, right into my parking space at WHOLE FOODS. I had patiently waited for little old lady station wagon and her disgruntled husband to so carefully back out of the spot to allow me to stroll right in. As I waited, I see little SU f’in V creeping up. I edged forward, he edged forward. We took our swords out, ready to do battle. I made incoherent hand gestures, scolding him like my 3rd grade school teacher or my Mom from the piano when I would act up in church (mom=school teacher, church organist, pastor’s wife. Dad= Pastor (now angry non clergy worker-we have more in common than I think). Yeah, Mom would wave that bony finger in between chords of “Lord, you are all I need” (sexual relationship with Jesus?, Oh yeah, I’m going to hell.) I stuck my bony finger out of the front of my windshield (literally I put it through the windshield. Okay, that’s what I imagined I did. But man, I was like fucking ZEUS cracking a lightening bolt through the windshield of my Toyota Tercel (1994 I might add). He fired back at me with his own series of non-sensical hand motions (looking like he had gotten a case of his own spiritual remembrances). Then, out of the sky a Samaritan came to my rescue to keep me from ramming my front end through his passengers’ side door. I heard a little voice call out, “You can have my spot.” As I watched him slide into the spot (like he was having drunk sloppy sex with it), I felt my anger boil up again. When the Samaritan offered me his spot, I felt the rage go away. I got what I wanted which was to be rewarded for politely waiting in the parking lot to procure a place to tie up my horse. That’s all a shopper wants. A place to tie up his horse. But when I saw that SUV go into my spot in the sun, I wanted to scream. So that’s what I did, I rolled down my window and waited for someone to make eye contact with me. “you gonna say something lady? You gonna point your bony finger at me? I don’t think so.” Then the old man came from behind his car. I couldn’t help myself. I slide my head out of the window and started speaking gibberish. Non-sense. Here I am with an empty spot now in front of me, blocking traffic arguing with an old man about a parking space. Finally I proclaimed a truce and the man and myself shook hands. I pulled in my spot (not the one I wanted I might add but a spot nonetheless) and cried some invisible tears of embarrassment. Wasn’t embarrassed because an old man yelled at me or made me feel bullied (see family history) but because that was not the type of person that I wanted to be when I thought about growing up when I was 12. I did not want to be a bitter angry 35 year old who argued about parking spots. I didn’t want to be the guy that punched Art Show in the face last week.
I don't have the energy to go into that whole shit right now. I know I know. You can't just show back up and not give any type of new info. But you know what? That is what is going to happen. So here is the review:
1. Still blood on the wall (have 5 suspects now)
2. I suck at magic and get kicked in the balls every saturday afternoon
3. I have 2 friends now ( used to hate ted but now I like him- i'll explain this soon)
4. wrestlemania is tomorrow
5. I have lost control
see, you didn;t miss much.
coming attractions:
Bryce Patterson (or Peterson, I am not sure which)
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