and how, my sober inner editor asks my not so sober anymore self...do one-day-detox and suburban stereotypes jive?
hmmm...my third fantastically perfect pink drink say they a. don't and b. don't have to. so neiner, neiner, neiner.
very mature whit.
if i may step out onto the slippery slope of controversy and lay, no slam my fifth amendment card down on the table with the safety net of carlos mencia, and all those other comedians i love who speak of stereotypes in a way that's acceptable (by the folks who will dare to even watch them) because they speak of every race and religion and creed (?) including themselves which must obviously cancel them/it all out...i will say that jesus, mary and joseph must have hand chosen me on this holiest of holidays known as "labor day" (um, which means we don't work to appreciate the fact that we have a job but those who have to work get time and a half and the ones who don't must just have jobs that suck...?)
because i was the advocate, not only of obsevation, but the patron saint of "smoothing it over for all races in spite of my white-but now summer golden skin."
here is what occurred.
1. upon awakening and escorting my leashed canines to the fecal depository in the rear of the crack apartment complex i encountered a gentleman with skin the color of dark chocolate, teeth as straight and white as any laser whitening billboard and yes, a big gold initial hanging from a chain around his neck. he complimented the beauty and intelligence of my dogs then proceeded to tell me the heartbreaking story of the recent poisoning of his beloved pit bull puppy, a rare, all white male with one "carolina blue" eye (yes, he said that) and one brown one. so horrifying and controversial was this travesty that it was allegedly on the news. he wrapped up said story by showing me multiple photographs of his dead baby on his i-phone. *side note that may or may not be pertinent were the items he had just acquired from harris teeter which consisted of 2 large plastic bottles of hawaiian punch (goes great with vodka i discovered in the not so recent past) a flat of ramen noodles (chicken) and enough t.p. to mummify the entire complex twice. again, just noticing.
2. when the dogs were whining due to lack of food and i dragged my sleepy ass to "pet supplies, plus more" (??!!) and hefted a 40 lb. bag of human-grade food containing oatmeal, lamb and, i swear to god, amino acids...i was sucked into the incredible magnetic force known as wal-mart and zombie-d around looking for things no one ever needs...when i was confronted directly by two cute, almost anime characters, a mother and a daughter who seemed to be having a crisis involving TIDE.
"excuse me..." the mother said ever so politely and for a moment i wondered if i looked like i worked there. was i wearing blue? a vest? were my roots showing or were my jeans pulled up too high? did i mutter phrases like, "didja find everythin' you was lookin' for?"
but i let it go and decided to be of service to these lovely ladies.
i took a deep breath and was there now. mom put two orange plastic bottles of TIDE down on the shelf in the furniture section i had been wandering around in for no apparent reason.
"can you tell me what is TIDE with fabric softener?" she asked, looking me in the eyes so kindly and lovingly i wanted to hug her.
she pointed to the other one and sighed.
her beautiful daughter (16?) took out her earphones and smiled at me. "she wants to know what the difference is." she said.
she went on to talk about her husband wanting something and kept pointing to the two orange bottles and looking at me with increasing desperation.
"well," i began, speaking slowly and loudly to make up for my failure to know even one word of japanese (not counting domo aragoto mr. amato) "this one," i said, pointing to the one that didn't contain fabric softener, "is just laundry detergent." she smiled and bowed.
"and this one," i said, pointing to the other that had a splattering of lilacs and fluffy words with exclamation points touting the softener addition, "has a softener in it." she cocked her head sideways and i imagined her in japan, with all the noise and chaos and crazy weird language and knew i should pay attention because this moment was surreal.
"you know, like those dryer sheets" i said, miming the box and the sheets and looking at the daughter who had re-inserted her earplugs but was smiling at me like i was the queen of the world.
and here, i couldn't help myself..."dryer sheets," i said, "those nasty things you put in the dryer when you're done washing your clothes, the things that smell bad and have lots of CHEMICALS in them..."
they smiled and bowed.
mom pointed to both bottles again.
"so if i put this in this then this is not for this?"
her daughter patted her on the shoulder and i tried again.
"this one," i said, gesturing to the plain one, "is only for doing your laundry."
"this one," i said, pointing to the lilac chemical added one, "is like if you added dryer sheets, you know, to make the clothes softer."
she shook her head vigorously as if she understood.
"if you want to make your husband happy" i said, "you could buy the one with the softener."
daughter went into story about dad not really knowing or caring what was going on domestically after all so i continued.
"but if you want my opinion" (which i assumed they did as we were 20 minutes into a discussion in wal-mart about laundry detergent) "you should get the one WITHOUT so many chemicals."
"i personally hide the dryer sheets that MY husband buys all the time."
she giggled and i wondered if she had a clue as to what i was saying.
"they are bad, they are evil and they give my children rashes on their legs."
at this point i considered for one millisecond telling her about the $7 dryer sheets annointed with essential oils of lavender and gardenia that i splurged on then ripped in half as if they were pure columbian cocaine but she seemed to be having an anxiety attack about the two orange bottles already so i abstained.
i told her again what i thought the difference was, gave her my opinion in the nicest way i could then ended with a compliment on her english skills.
i imagined myself in a wal-mart in japan asking some japanese housewife about some products i didn't recognize with foreign writing on the bottles.
then i wondered if her daughter attended my son's prep school.
3. driving back from half-way to boone to deliver my surrogate son to my friend whose dad is dying and my own babyone is trying to engage me in the "who wants to be a millionaire" boardgame and i'm trying to pretend like i'm present...we see a plethora of cops with their blue lights swirling and we rubber-neck enough to see...a black guy with his shirt off (come on dude!) so i start singing "bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do?" and i wonder what he did, if he lives in my apartment complex, why he would be so stupid as to walk around shirtless doing anything worthy of po-po intervention on labor fucking day...
and just like carlos i end this post, this day, these thoughts with the groovy, un-deniable fact of unity, one-love, that thing that bob marley so aptly wrote about.
let's get together and feel alright
one love
one heart
give thanks and praise to the lord
and we will feel alright
happy labor day
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