My Christmas was very good this year, despite the lack of an iPod under the proverbial tree. I suppose Santa thought I was ‘socks and underwear’ good, but not ‘iPod’ good. That’s why I hate Santa. Well, that and he beat my grandmother when they were married, but mostly it’s the iPod thing.
During the holiday times there are many things that help create memories. The smell of a Christmas tree, the smile on a child’s face when they receive the gift they wanted, and shoppers in a rush to get the perfect Christmas gift. This season I was blessed with an even greater holiday visual and one I won’t soon forget despite my best efforts.
Let me preface this story by saying that for some reason the gods have deemed me worthy of weirdness. This doesn’t mean I am a weird individual, but rather that I am somehow destined to see weird things. Most of these things are viewed while I am at Wal-Mart. I usually shop at Target but the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen at a Target is when a white trash family first enters and acts as though they have stepped into the Taj-Mahal of savings. “Why I ain’t never seen so many bright lights and everything is red and the floors is clean and people’s kids are wearing more than diapers. This is better than I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams! Yee-haw!” Wal-Mart offers more social bang for you entertainment dollar. Sure you might get stabbed by a racist meth-head but at least you’ll have a good story to tell all your friends.
That having been said.
I made the mistake of going into Wal-Mart the day before Christmas Eve. I was on my way to a party and had to buy some wrapping paper for the gift exchange. I spent $7.50 at the liquor store and managed to get a cheap vodka gift set and a St. Ides 40. It was a cheap gift exchange, in case I forgot to tell you, so I wasn’t all that concerned with presentation or lack of class involved but as I didn’t have any wrapping paper, I headed off to Wal-Mart.
I walked into the white trash jungle that is Wal-Mart and made my way back to the wrapping paper section. It was wall to wall people. Or ‘wal’ to ‘wal’ depending on what you find funny. I was almost to the wrapping paper when a woman was making her way right for me with her thirty-five year old daughter in tow, making it impossible for me to pass. The mom had on her best Christmas sweatpants, which were green. I’m pretty sure it was an unintentional fashion statement, but one she made regardless. She also had on a classy Elmo t-shirt, which I’m pretty sure shouldn’t be worn by anyone over the age of six.
Her daughter was wearing almost the same exact outfit only the pants were a different holiday color. Actually they changed colors. See, the younger woman, who was at least thirty-five was mentally handi-capable or whatever term is safe for me to use without seeming like an insensitive jerk. This woman was apparently super excited about a Barbie doll. This was evident by her screaming, “That’s the Barbie I want! Yep! That’s the Barbie I want!”. To which her mother just yelled back “C’mon! I know.” It was at this point that the younger woman stopped in the middle of the aisle, let out a yell, clenched her fists and went ahead and just peed right there. Right in the middle of the Wal-Mart. Right in the middle of all the holiday Christmas shoppers. The best thing about this is that aside from one other person in the store, I was the only one to see this happen. The other guy, who noticed this happen had what I imagine to be the same look I had on my face which was one of repulsed confusion. Everyone else was oblivious to the peeing lady because they were too busy doing whatever it is people do that makes them oblivious to two hundred and fifty pound screaming, peeing, adults. When she was done she just walked off repeating the same mantra about the desired Barbie.
Merry Christmas one and all.
Moving on.
This morning I woke up at five a.m. to workout and then decided I didn’t want to so I went to IHOP instead. That’s like skipping an AA meeting to go to a bar. I went to IHOP and was seated at a booth that was pretty close to what I ended up finding out later on were a couple of roadies for the rock band whose name rhymes with fender. I don’t want to use their real name for fear of getting my face smashed by the hard rock stylings of Oklahoma’s own version of Nickelback. Wait. That’s not fair to Nickelback and I hate Nickelback. Ok. The band I’m talking about rhymes with the word ‘fender’ and is rock’s own Color Me Badd. There. That ought to save face and they’re both from the same state!
I was sitting there eating a crummy breakfast because I like abusing myself internally, when, through generous amounts of eavesdropping, heard some tales of what it was like to be a roadie. These two guys, who were both over forty, were complaining about the quality of the tour buses and the lack of discretion one of the band member’s uses when choosing ‘partners’. So far, pretty standard rock n’ roll, life on the road, type of fare. Then one of them said, “Man I read the latest rider they sent out and it says that he wants ten Sharpies. Five silver and five black. Man! F*&% that! If he wants me to do that then he can give up his cappuccinos! I ain’t doin’ it!” which made me kind of laugh to myself because I’m pretty sure these guys were card carrying members of the ‘Surly Bastard’ society.
As I was getting ready to leave, with the knowledge that apparently today’s rock n’ roll decisions boil down to Sharpies or Starbucks, I was witness to one of the most clichéd rock n’ roll moments I have ever seen or heard. The roadies’ waitress, was asked by one of them what time she got off. She informed them and what follows is verbatim.
“So, we’re working with the band (sounds like fender).”
“Oh my god! I love them!”
“Well you should come over and meet the guys.”
“Oh I love them! My boy friend sang me one of their songs on our anniversary!”
“Well if you come over, you can meet them and maybe he’ll sing the song to you himself.”
“Oh my god sure!”
“You can’t tell your boyfriend though.”
“Oh I won’t!”
It was at that point I had to leave because I was on cliché overload. I thought about how proud those roadies’ parents must be that they are in their forties swapping stories about drunken times, fickle rock stars and promiscuous women who are apparently fans of crappy music and minor celebrity. I thought about the poor schmuck who sang a crappy song to that girl at a karaoke bar and how she’ll more than likely catch something from a rock star that people will forget about in a year. Nothing like the thought of a naïve waitress making that trip to Planned Parenthood in a few months because of a horrible bus related indiscretion. Rock n’ roll isn’t dead, it’s apparently just manipulative and stupid. Well, I base that on ‘sounds like fender’ so I’m probably wrong.
Rock on OKC. Rock on.
RIGHT NOW
SONG – Give Me Shelter by The Rolling Stones - I know that I should have known better, but I have never really listened to the Rolling Stones that much. I’m more of a Beatles guy. Better late than never I started listening to their Forty Licks album yesterday and heard Give Me Shelter. That is by far one of the best rock songs of all time. Also an understatement? IHOP sucks.
MOVIE – A Christmas Story – A cuz I forgot to mention it earlier.
- Joel David
www.myspace.com/joeldavidd
www.chkona.com