When A Portal Isn’t A Patio; Patience Is A Four-letter Word

So. The dogs and I have now been back to Texas for three months, and we’re finally settled in. Our little Texas ranch-style abode required little for us to successfully, comfortably live, save and except, for the addition of a cover for the back patio and a new fence, and notice that rather than call it a “portal”, it’s a “patio”. The grammartizations of logistical differences between New Mexico and here to Texas can be important. The cover is to provide protection from the hot Texas sun—not Santa Fe’s cold—and also to provide shelter from the rain so the Squirt isn’t required to get her dainty feet wet when she goes outside to do her business.

“Shove it up your ass, shithead, I’m not getting my feet wet,” she told me the first time it rained after moving in. “You start crapping in the shower and I’ll consider it.”

As a compromise, I’ve let her use the covered front porch as her outhouse. Since I park in back and don’t use the front door for anything else, we’ve had the side benefit of not having any salesmen or religious nuts buggerating me. There’s maybe a dozen various churches surrounding our neighborhood, so my street is prime hunting ground for new parishioners.

And that reminds me of this apartment I rented this one time back to college—the one I got just before Streaker jones and I got the house over on 45th Street. It was half of a one-car garage. Seriously. You’d open the front door that swung into the left wall where a single clothes rod hung to serve as closet. The single bed was immediately on the right. The rest of the space was filled with a modular steel kitchenette featuring sink, two-burner stove, tiny oven and storage space, all-in-one, which sat opposite with a ship’s style head.

The bathroom consisted of a rotted green shower head that sprayed directly down onto the commode, and a too-small drain in the floor that constantly backed up. What makes this story germane to the ramblings herein is the simple fact that this apartment was so narrow I could shit, shower, shave and cook breakfast without ever lifting my ass off the toilet.

Which reminds me. I was over to the Kroger yesterday morning to do some shopping. It was a nice day and the store wasn’t crowded at all. The wide aisles were freshly polished and brightly lit. Since I always start grocery shopping from right-to-left, in this particular store I began in the deli section in right-front with the fresh seafood and meat in the back. I selected my just-baked sandwich roll, some Swiss cheese and a whole chicken in near-record time, buzzing through the area without impediments. As this store is oddly arranged, I had to pass around the wine and beer section at the back of the next three aisles to get to the veggies, which are located at the front of the store, but not back-to-front. Or front-to-back.

I needed some asparagus, tomatoes, lettuce and limes. This store is new to me and I stopped to survey so as to best utilize my time. There were maybe a dozen shoppers in produce and they were all clustered in front of the organic lettuce and asparagus, save—and likewise except—for this one gigantic woman who had obviously read “Kroger” and seen “Walmart”. The woman was maybe 5’6” in height and was absolutely that wide. She had two kids in tow—one in-basket and the other was tethered to the dirty, twisted tail of her “Make America Great Again” tee shirt.

OK, while all I could read from the tee shirt was, “Ma/mer/aGr/in,” as the red cotton fabric folded in-and-out of her folds, mayhaps I jumped the gun as to her political leanings. The four of them—woman, kids and basket—somehow managed to take up the full aisle in front of the citrus on the one side, and the organic cherry tomatoes I buy this time of year on the other.

Because I’m practicing the fine art of Patience for the improvement of my poker game, I stood, silently, awaiting an opening. After five minutes the large woman moved on, without choosing a single thing. I commented silently to myself about that one, and moved behind her for my tomatoes, required to squint my eyes at the smell of moldy arm pits and shitty diapers. After inspecting each of the thirty-one clear plastic tomato pints, I managed to not find one suitable. So, I spent a couple minutes mixing-and-matching from six buckets, and did manage to make myself happy.

Having completed tomato hunting, I turned back towards the lettuce and asparagus only to find the Walmart woman entourage filling that space like too much silicone caulk oozing in blobs and blurbs the way it does when you seal the tile surround on your bathtub. I took a deep breath (from twenty feet away), asked myself if I really needed lettuce and asparagus, decided I did, and then made another decision to shop elsewhere first, then return to produce. There are times when retreat is a viable option.

I headed back through the booze area to find a quite attractive lady setting up a wine tasting. Never one to let an attractive lady go un-shopped, I stopped to see what was up.

“It’s a wine tasting, silly. Like the sign says.”

After sampling a snifter of her six choices, I bought one of each. Some women appreciate a man’s fine taste, and my hopes were that this was one of said. Moving on without a scheduled date, I decided to get some Thai noodles. I found the right aisle, turned my basket into it, and ran smack dab into Walmart Woman’s cart. It was parked cross-wise in front of the Thai noodles, with Fat Ass and Snot Nose filling the remaining aisle space.

When I attempted to get by and my cart lightly tapped hers again, she whirled to face me, and with this incredible sneer, she yelled at me, she almost shouted, “What are you doing? Can’t you see there’s a baby in that basket?”

I started to tell her exactly what I was seeing, instead said, “Sorry, ma’am,” turned and headed back to veggies. I got my remaining vegetables and decided against Thai noodles and chose to have pasta for dinner. Pasta requires the proper pre-cooked tomatoes this off season, so I headed that way for a glass-jarred, two-cups of tomatoes.

As karma would have it in for me, Whale Bitch and the Spawn of Orca were blocking the full width of bottled tomatoes aisle. “Oh for Christ sakes,” I murmured, “does this woman have no concern for other shoppers?” Then I said to the lady, and no, I didn’t quite shout it, “Walmart is down the block, asswipe!”

I’ve never before been asked to leave a Kroger, and luckily it was a temporary ban, so I guess I’m making progress with my patience. My ADD usually takes up all the patience I’ve got.

So, Fuck Walmart and some Walmart Shoppers!

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10 Responses to “When A Portal Isn’t A Patio; Patience Is A Four-letter Word”

  1. bj says:

    yeah … and FUCK KROGER, too! That weird layout that has you confused is the new “like fucken WALMART” layout they’ve instituted here, too. Wine in grocery stores law passed through legislation and was implemented last year. I only shop Kroger once a month, now, and always on a WEDNESDAY so I get my 5% senior discount! It seems to me, Kroger of late is attempting a coup on Wallywerld to inveigle those ever, impeding, ignorant, imbeciles who shop at Walmart inside THEIR store. I get enough grief from the employees at Kroger stores. I’ll not suffer Walmartians, as well! They recently opened a Whole Foods in my zip and it’s a big hit, from what I’m told. That’s a trip for me, and not a convenient one, either. I’ll stop by there one day. Maybe. I’ve heard they’re PROUD of themselves there to Whole Foods. Some say right smug-like about it. I dunno.
    HEY! here’s sumpnuther I’M fixin’ to try out at that new damn Kroger store, and can you do this at yorn? Go online … order a buncha shit … they Shop for it all, LOAD THAT SHIT UP FOR YOU IN CARTS, CHECK IT OUT, AND HAVE IT READY TO LOAD UP IN YOUR CAR. FOR YOU! Alls you do is swipe yer plastic when you get there and drive your happy ass back home! The last time I looked I think the first couple of times there’s no charge for the service. So I’m doing that shit at LEAST twice! heh
    I just left my local TSC site cause I printed out my 15% off coupon! and saw that THEY have the same dealio! Load up your cart, pay for that shit then drive BY and they load it up in your car for you. Maaaan! When they have all those bat drones delivering shit right to your porch? I’mma be REAL antisocial!
    Fuck Walmart
    Fuck Kroger Too. unless they’ll shop for me and load it up too. btw – I have to shop the brand new Kroger because I’m not welcome at the two others nearest me.

  2. Mooner's Cascading Rivulets says:

    Beejers. Some of the shoppers in the aforementioned story WERE two Kroger Personal Shoppers. One lady, one young man pushing special carts and plucking items from displays and shelves. Me, if all I wanted was pre-packaged stuff and I’m in a hurry, I’m using them in a snap.

    However, pick my tomatoes? My asparagus? Fresh chicken or steaks or even my fresh-baked bollio rolls? NFW.

    As for Whole Fooled Me Once, when they first sprouted up back to Austin thirty-something years ago, they were a great store. Communal spirited stoners and ethereal spirits determined to give you great stuff and knowledgeable help. The asshole that runs the place was more interested at that time in the prideful ownership of a good place to shop than his stock price. Too bad greed is such a powerful drug.

    Which reminds me. Is Piggly Wiggly still around? Fuck Walmart, always!

  3. yeah I’ll have to agree with the fucked up layout of Kroger here too! They have stuff in stwange places, I like to never found applesauce one day! … but its hilarious reading about your encounter with this lady and her brood. They’re everywhere I swear! I try to put off my shopping until later in the evening to avoid some of this stuff!

  4. Theodore says:

    Mooner! Theo here! I came by to pour salt in your wounds over Trump winning! I and most of America are looking forward to watchin Trump completely dismantle the Kenyan-Crypto-Islamo-Marxist’s 8 years of pure fail. It will be fun for years to come to find all the ways the 1/2 white pres was stabbing America in the back and bring it fully into the light like he has been doing and make all you Obama taint lickers choke on it! Lovin’ the Dow too! I was bitterly disappointed that Squnt gave up blogging as I wanted to see him on a suicide watch as Trump demolished the withered, old, sick, frail and utterly corrupt corporate snatch Hillary tank because she tricked enough of you retards and herself into believing her own PR machine. WIKI-Leaks was telling you all along but you guys wouldn’t listen…. which of course makes it all the more delicious! But Squnt never had the courage of his convictions, remember the last time he gave up blogging? It was only the Kenyan’s voter fraud win that brought Squnt back. I hope Squnt puts the gun in his mouth when he pulls the trigger that way he’ll be sure not to miss! The most beautiful thing is that you guys clung to Obama like a raccon (coon) holding on to a shiny piece of junk in a trap. You could have let go at any time but you all held on as O desimated the Dem Party…bwahahahaha…too rich! Ok Moonhole I’ll stop by now and then to watch your mental contorsions as you try to comfort yourselves in your inbred libstain evho-chamber as Trump destroys voter fraud, immigration, activist juges, class warfare, race warfare, social engineering, feminization & homosexualization of men and all the other sick, lying dirty tricks u dems use to keep yourselves in power….. bwahahahahah

  5. Mooner's Cascading Rivulets says:

    Bella. I try to make plans for early shopping so as to avoid Walmart Woman and The Snotty Brood, and, likewise, be there when the newest produce is stocked onto the shelves.

    Fuck Walmart!

  6. bj says:

    Yeah, The Pig is still around. just not around here. the closest Pig is in Wood’burr 40 miles from here. They’re still big on The Pig in SC, though. Fuckin’ Walmart has been the death knell for The Pig, The Food Lion and many CeeBee Stores. That’s why Kroger, Meyer and the like are wannabees. The Fuckers. We just had a Sprouts Farmer’s Marketopen up but I’ve not shopped there, yet, but I’m fiddin’ to go into my winter, ‘Meat and Greens’ mode and eat just that. I’m told Sprouts is the Shizz …
    Truth is the cost of what WE eat is outrageous. I need to be down there where One Fly stays ….

  7. Mooner's Cascading Rivulets says:

    Theo. I’ll print you spew this one time in an effort at fairness. But any further racism or other bigoted remarks will be the cause for your permanent removal. I’ll allow you the time for the dust to settle on your boy’s Putingate scandal so you can organize your alternative facts into something intelligible.

    As for response to your drivel above, I can only say that you seem to be a good winner.

    Fuck Walmart and bigots too!

  8. bj says:

    TESTING! One … ONe … THREE! Hey! This’d be a great place for a blog! Rearrange the furniture a bit … sweep up these cigarette butts and beer bottle caps …. yeah. That’s the ticket! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59yrdnOQlYs

    Should I be watching the Poker Shows to hear any news of your whereabouts? I’ve checked the obituaries at both Schmidt and Katy so often they want me to sign up. Maybe you’re finally out in L. A. and around folks with afflictions akin to YORN. That’s all good. And well done to YOU if that’s the way it is.
    Nobody needs the aggravation of tending a blog, anyway. amirite?
    Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur as they say.
    I get it …

  9. Mooner's Cascading Rivulets says:

    Beej. I now have seven started, yet unfucking finished postings for the pages herein. 15,000 unpublished words of anger and hurt. The problem? Each and every one depresses me. I promised myself that I will not publish anything that can’t find at least one rainbow in the scribbled words, therein, and, therefore, I remain somewhat silent.

    Did spend some time out of town up to the NYC working on the poker game, an experience that has paid for itself threefold in the two weeks I’ve returned. Poker coach tells me, he says, “Well Mr. Johnson, if you’d learn to focus you’d be a force to recon with.”

    No fucking shit. If I could focus I’d have ten fewer ex-wives, seven more houses and an actual 401K with an interesting balance sheet, and mayhaps contained herein is the start of a rainbow–you know, that faint shimmering of organized color that occurs when it doesn’t quite rain?

    Anyhoo, your Wednesday trash dumps keep me from buying a gun, a terrible occurrence for an unfocused and quite deranged mind. I ran over a possum on my way home from the casino last night–it came at me from between the wheels of the car in front and freaked out at my approach and did that “Go left–no, go right” dealio. My braking and swerving response times weren’t good enough to spare that kind life and it has weighed on me. Then again, it’s God’s fault as He is responsible for everything.

    I feel better now, and shall endeavor to persevere. Look to these pages for more shit to come.

  10. bj says:

    That’s the spirit! HEY! Remember all those Wallywerld ads last year about how many JOBS they were bringin to ‘Murka? And they’ve been laying off since January? Guess whut?
    Joder a Walmart!
    Relax, Amigo … life is good!

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