I Love My Flaming Type-A Personality, Deepening Sarcasm, and Welfare Day

Ok, I’m not ripping on the genuinely needy.  As someone who knows all too well what it’s like to choose between food or scripts and/or worry about having essential services cut off, I feel for those who are just trying to get by.  Even so, I should know better than to go anywhere near a grocery store on the first three or four days of the month.  All I do is end up coming home with half of what I needed to get (should I be lucky enough to find that) and a huge screaming headache.

I know not everyone on public assistance is raping the system.  For those who are, I’m paying for you, and it pisses me off.  It pisses me off even more when you are jamming your grocery cart (full of things I can’t afford) up my ass all the way through Kroger’s- after you have picked the store clean of such necessities as the toilet paper that would have been on sale had it been there, the fat-free cottage cheese, the store-brand longhorn Colby cheese, the Pantene Shampoo for Color-Treated Hair (?) and the Absolutely Zero Monsters, which would also (had they been there) been on sale.  There used to be a day when being on public assistance was considered humiliating. It was a necessary evil for the genuinely needy, that kept one from destitution and starvation.  Public assistance is supposed to be a safety net for those who have no other choice.  Now it’s almost “trendy” to shove your governmentally dependent self-righteous way through the grocery store (right over the poor saps who are paying for your sorry ass) like a bloated feeder hog at slop time.  To this I say, WTF?

Perhaps it’s enjoyable to sit back and relax while other people work their asses off to pay for you.  I would be ashamed to behave in such a way, but maybe I’m the one who’s wrong.  Perhaps I’m the stupid one for not figuring out how to milk the system and pursue my Fanny Feline lifestyle, since I’m too old to breed and I just don’t like the idea of smoking and/or dealing crack. (In Fanny’s defense, she’s a cat, and she does what cats are supposed to do.)

The Fanny Feline Lifestyle- not bad, except I’m not into eating meat by-products and having to lick my own butt.

My one quandary in this: if you’re not working, why in the hell do you need the Absolutely Zero Monsters?  To stay awake whilst doing nothing?  If I didn’t have to stay awake at work, my need for caffeine would be virtually nil.  If I had nothing better to do, I could get myself on the feline sleep schedule really quickly.  I think Fanny sleeps 18 hours a day.  That would be awesome.  I wouldn’t mind being Fanny, except being a cat, she has to eat catfood (which smells nasty enough) and she has to lick her own butt.

I am just glad they weren’t out of bacon.  I don’t generally eat bacon, but I do have to buy it.  Occasionally I might like a few bacon crumbles (the bacon bits in the can are good enough) in potato soup, but that’s as far as it gets. Grease and salt are two things my body doesn’t need much of.   But for Jerry, bacon- full fat, greasy, lardy bacon- is essential to maintain his well-being.  Jerry will eat bacon when he will not eat anything else.  It’s bad enough that he didn’t get his longhorn Colby cheese.  I will buy the store brand for $4.79 for an 8 ounce roll when it’s available, (even though that’s outrageous) but I refuse to pay $6 for 1/2 lb. of cheese, which is what the name brand cheese costs.  Call me cheap, but it’s a different world for those of us out there who have to pay for food with real money.

No high faluting fromage for you, Jerry.  It is, shall we say, trés beaucoup.

I did, however score a sale on American cheese slices before all the First of the Month Zombies scarfed them up. Not the plastic imitation ones, real American cheese made with real cow’s milk.  So, eat your grilled cheese and like it. It might be all you get.

Maybe it shouldn’t piss me off.  Usually I don’t give a rat’s ass about what other people have versus what I have or don’t have.  I don’t care about designer clothes.  I don’t care if I have the latest and greatest cell phone.  In spite of being a motorhead, I drive a Toyota Yaris.  My last performance car was the 2000 Celica which I still regret trading in.  I’ve never been an extravagant person.  Maybe that’s what pisses me off- working my ass off so other people can have what I can’t afford, for free.  I’ve never really aspired to having extravagant things, perhaps with the exceptions that I’ve always wanted to have an indoor pool, and I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise.

I wouldn’t mind finding him in my pool.  If I were to have an indoor pool, I would need a pool boy.

Maybe I should start my own foundation to help me- a sort of Send a Cougar to Camp type concept- help the disadvantaged old bitty who’s tired of getting trampled in the grocery store.  People could feel sorry for me and donate $5, $10, $20 and more to my PayPal account until I get enough money to get that indoor pool and go on my cruise.  Only I’d have to say I was running for President or something outlandish like that.  It worked for John Edwards, didn’t it?  He got a free mistress and paid for his illegitimate child through the gratuities of others.  I think the only major problem with that is I’m too honest and straightforward to get away with it.  No one is going to throw money at a potential presidential candidate who would tell people how it is.  I am not a very good liar.

Yes, there are two Americas.  Either you are the poor sucker who gets mowed down by the feeder hogs in the store on Welfare day, or you are the feeder hog.

Must-See Sights in Fly-Over Country, and Things We’d Rather Not See

Ah, the joy of contrasts.  I absolutely love the show that’s been on Science Channel called An Idiot AbroadFor those not familiar with it, the show features the adventures of Karl Pilkington, as his “friends” Ricky Gervais and Steve Merchant send him to see the Seven Wonders of the World.  I enjoy British humor anyway, but to see this poor guy traipsing about some of the more tourist un-friendly parts of the third world was absolutely priceless.  The Chinese toilet scene was hilarious.  I really have to wonder, without toilet paper, how in the heck do you keep from fudging your undies?  And in lieu of undies- for the sake of argument  (let’s say they all go commando), fudging your drawers?  Even the most crude backwood cracker rednecks wipe.

It makes me wonder what kind of fun an American living in fly-over country could have road tripping with some poor funky looking Brit.  Just imagine taking Karl on a road trip down in the hollers of WV, or on an excursion to a tractor pull, NASCAR race, or even to the Mobile Home Capital of the Midwest- Marengo, OH.  I could show him urban blight,  rural blight, authentic American cracker rednecks complete with full body tattoos and rebel flags on their trucks, weeds growing out of a swimming pool, and the Tetanus Farm, all in the same day.

I bet foreigners watch American TV and movies and think the whole country is like either New York or Los Angeles- that the women all look like Paris Hilton and the dudes all look like Charlie Sheen.  The pic of Charlie Sheen is substantially larger here, because in my humble, heterosexual female opinion, he’s hotter simply because he’s a dude.  I’m here to tell you, sweetheart, that the Left Coasts are absolutely not representative of all things Yankee.  Fly-over country is different.   Much different.  Foreigners seldom see either the Midwest or the South, which are two regions of the country that have a distinctly defiant and bold demeanor, not at all resembling the politically correct and effete atmosphere you experience on the coasts.  It’s a shame no one really bothers to explore the vast expanses of fly-over country.  Do you think we’re boring or we’re lacking freak factor?  Believe me, I can show you lots of freaky stuff, just on the Ohio State campus.

Within 50 miles of Whine Country alone I can think of some prime locations for freak watching:

Walmart in Newark – Discover why there is such a thing as “Size 20 Women’s Underwear,” and also why there are some very squashed, mousy little dudes.  You could fit five or six Paris Hiltons into one leg hole of those “briefs,” believe that. I bought a pair of these to use as a car cover for my Yaris, but they were too big.

Downtown Columbus during “Gay Pride” weekend is quite a spectacle, especially the “Tranny Parade” (“Tranny” as used here, is NOT an automotive term!)

Walmart in Marion on the first day of the month, or whatever day the Welfare checks come out- (steel toed shoes and Febreze recommended.) The fat-chick-on-a-scooter thing always amazed me.  If she were motivated to walk to begin with,  she would never would have gotten fat enough to have needed the scooter, no?

Believe me, if you want a freak show, just open the door and start gawking.  I can think of enough freaky footage right here in Central Ohio to keep foreigners amused for weeks.

I would love to be Karl’s (or some other unfortunate English-speaking foreigner’s) tour guide to the Midwest and the South.  It could be a lot of fun.

All I can suggest is never drink the local water when you travel unless it has been filtered, brewed or boiled.   I get Montezuma’s Revenge drinking pretty much any locality’s unfiltered tap water outside of Franklin County.  If in doubt go for a brewed beverage (tea or coffee) or better yet a prepackaged beverage such as Diet Dr. Pepper or Diet Rockstar.

It’s no crime to be large.  I freely admit, while I have not attained the heft or girth of livestock, I am proportioned like a mutant troll.  I have short meaty arms, big meaty man-hands, and my abdominal area resembles a road map to Atlanta.  Coverage is the key.  When you are large or badly proportioned, proper use of clothing for coverage purposes creates a more tolerable aesthetic.

Cover up your bad self!

I don’t mean “wear a burqa” (unless your religious views dictate so.)  It is good for those of us with less than optimum physiques to refrain from displaying those problem areas.  Ladies with meaty arms should not run about in sleeveless shirts, for instance.

This is a fashion don’t.  And if the pink thing is supposed to be a bra, it’s way too small.  No one wants to see your backfat- not out in the open or all bunched up making muffin mountains in all the wrong places under your shirt.

Here’s an example of a large (not necessarily “fat” but certainly no Calista Flockhart) lady dressing appropriately.  Her meaty arms are generously covered with sleeves.  Her skirt is long enough to conceal any cottage cheese or thunder thighs.  Yet she is not so covered-up she looks like she’s running about in a muu-muu or a burqa.

I like that dress.

I like the idea of foreign tourism in all those places tourists don’t normally go even better.  Come on down and experience the wonders of the G&R Bar, (home of the world’s most awesome fried bologna sandwich) the Ohio State Fair, and the Marion Popcorn Festival (it’s OK, they bring in extra cops.)  Go on to West Virginia and experience white-water rafting, interesting redneck accents, and harrowing drives on mountain Interstates named after (and largely pork-barrel funded by) the late Senator Robert C. Byrd.