Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Dute dute dutta dutta dute dute dutta.....Tonight was a very special episode of "T$'s and Allie's Circus of a Life." It started with a walk to the Trader Joe's down the street. Upon entering the establishment, we were assaulted by a mother who seemed to have five children hanging off of her cart. I do mean hanging. For those of you not familiar with Trader Joe's, it is a very small specialty shop with really narrow aisles. You get involved in a game of bumper carts every time you shop. These kids were uncontrollable. The running. The grabbing. The whining. It turns out that there were actually two moms present, but neither one seemed to feel like parenting at the moment. I actually like children, I really do. These weren't like any children I know. I thought we had ditched them on our way through the checkout, but our line was interminably slow. Something about the ATM portion of the payment terminals being down. I heard it from the guy in the next line, but our checker reacted like it was news to her when the guy in front of us had a problem with his card. Then, T$ tried to use the ATM and still the checker kept mum. I was going to say something, but it was only checkout line hearsay and I don't like to spread rumors. The moms and monkey children screamed past us in another line.
After (finally) leaving the Trader Joe's, we walked up the street to the Sev. This older man was crossing the street in our direction, and he sped up just enough to cut us off and walk just two steps ahead of us the entire way down the block. I usually hate it when someone is hot on my tail, so I wondered why he felt the need to speed across the street to get in front of us. That's when I noticed the bag. It was a bright yellow "Forever 21" shopping bag. I giggled to myself because he was so close and could probably hear me breathing. Just then, T$ shot me a wide-eyed look and shot out a "Dude." I said, "I know." Then, we talked in a sort of code behind him. Secretly, we both assumed he was a child molester.
The Sev was in our sights. I spied some eye candy for T$, but she wasn't biting. We stocked up on cokes, iced tea, and chocolate. Then, from the ice cream isle, there was a loud, "VANESSA!" And this woman goes on this rampage. She's shaming this poor Vanessa into behaving. Her logic is circular. I can't even follow her train of thought. She keeps at it, yelling at poor Vanessa. When I turn around, it looks like a three year old who is the object of this rant. Vanessa's mother is fucking her up as we speak. The guys behind the counter start to talk to each other in another language. I must have rolled my eyes because the cashier and I shared a "she's crazy" glance. T$ said that three year old Vanessa just stood there crying the whole time while her mother yelled at her incomprehensibly.
A little while later, we started back up the hill towards our apartment, when two grown men came out of nowhere speeding towards us on tiny motorized bikes. These weren't scooters. They were mini motorcycles. The wheels were up to my shin, and the seats were a bit lower than that. These big men were hunched over their baby-sized handlebars, and they were coming at us on the sidewalk. I hopped into the grass. They must have been Southern Gentlemen since they did have the courtesy of pulling over to let us pass with our grocery bags.
I'm glad to know that we're not the only crazies on the block.



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