I should just live in Costco

The other day I was in Costco (again, because everything happens to me in Costco, for some reason) (I think Costco should really pay me for all the times I've mentioned them on this blog) (well, I'm not materialistic.  I'll settle for their support in my bid for Supreme Dictator of the State of Utah) (or they could give me a gift card.  I'd like that too.)

What?

Anyway, I was in Costco.  I had to go to the pharmacy because my body suffers from a little thing I like to call "complete inability to function and be not-dumb" and I was pretty sure this was the correct Costco, the one where I fill all my prescriptions.  Except no it was not and being me, the only person in the history of the world to forget where her house is after living there for five years, I turned up at the wrong Costco.  BUT NEVER FEAR, said the pharmacy woman after I had waited a mere 30 minutes behind an old lady who kept hacking loudly and apologetically muttering, "Sorry, must be a tickle...I'm not sick...it's a...tickle" to no one in particular, as if all of us in line were keeping our distance based on her coughing and as soon as she explained the reasons behind it we would be like well that's a relief and hug her forever.

So the pharmacy woman was like KAY WE'RE JUST GONNA TRANSFER YOUR MEDICINE and I was like...um...kay.  Because in my mind she was saying that she was going to physically transfer my medicine from the other pharmacy to this one and I was trying to figure out the logistics but as it turns out I was, in fact, at another pharmacy where they also have medication on hand. I had to wait 20 minutes and in that time I basically ran around Costco like a woman possessed because why not, that's why.  I was like, "You can't throw me out, Costco!  I have my mother's membership card with me!  And I've written about you like FOUR TIMES.  And that's just so far!"

25 minutes later I was standing in an aisle seriously considering purchasing a collection of John Wayne movies even though I don't like westerns.  Such is the power of Costco.  Then I remembered that oh!  Yeah!  Prescription.  And I ran over to the pharmacy just in time to watch my pharmacy woman walk out with her lunch and I was like "HI WHAT ABOUT MY MEDS, LADY.  THIS BLOODSTREAM AIN'T GONNA MEDICATE ITSELF" but she just ignored me and went on her break.  So I stood awkwardly, trying very hard to both make eye contact with the other pharmacists and NOT make eye contact with the other pharmacists because I don't know how to handle myself in adult situations.  And so I waited for another 10 minutes.  And that's when I met a man.

He was walking around, muttering with a smile on his face, and every once in a while he would walk up to someone waiting in line and start a loud, apparently hilarious conversation with them.  Then he would walk away, shaking his head and laughing, and resume his muttering and pacing.  Then came the time when he decided to talk to me.  I didn't mind.  I like people.  Years of being socially inept have taught me to just embrace the awkwardness and I'm very good at it.

The man walked up to me.  His hair was sticking up at odd angles.  He was old enough to be my father.  One of his shoes was untied and his shirt was only half tucked in.

Man:  Well hey there!  How ya doin'?
Me:  I'm great, thanks!
Man:  You sure do look great, I'll tell ya that!
Me:  Why thank you!
Man:  My wife left me when I got this.
Me:  When you got...what?
Man:  Alzheimer's.

He stared at me very seriously as I choked on my own tongue.  I literally squeaked and sputtered as my brain ground to a stop and was like "Sorry, you're on your own with this one."  The man stared at me solemnly for about twenty seconds while I tried desperately to regain the function of my mind and say something appropriate.  I have never been rendered so utterly and unexpectedly speechless in my life.  But then everything was suddenly okay as he picked up the conversation, jubilant.

Man:  SO I GOT MYSELF A NEW ONE!
Me:  A...new...huh?
Man:  I got a new wife.  She's from Bulgaria.  Also, she's a rocket scientist.  That's what she does. Welp, bye!

And then I watched him walk away and I didn't know whether to laugh or not, but then I did because honestly?  I don't even have Alzheimer's and I will probably never marry a Bulgarian rocket scientist.  This guy's got me beat.  FOREVER.  Besides, he just seemed like the kind of man who would want me to laugh about it. 

I kind of wondered, then, whether or not I should have called someone.  Should this man be at Costco by himself?  Where's his Bulgarian rocket scientist?  How long until he trips on his untied shoelace?  But then he was gone, having done his job and done it well.

I think I'll just move into Costco.

Apparently I am a crazy person.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know that I'm kind of an idiot who says things like, "I'm not saying you're a zombie.  I'm implying it.  There's a difference." and "I ate like twenty gummy bear vitamins.  Am I going to die?"  and "I had a dream that I was mauled by a baby-hating bear last night. My dream reaction: I have to tweet this if I don't die."  I am clearly not meant for Twitter but since no one has kicked me off yet I assume I'm still in the clear.  Anyway, I found this website that I guess analyzes your old tweets and then tells you what your next tweets will be.  Probably.  It is startlingly accurate, so far:


"Help! He's repressing me! Did you blink too insane even for attack and loathing for survival are?"

"Funny thing about the challenge. Never look up a cerebrospinal fluid leak. Thing I am not: microwave safe."

"Found two more live-able."

"I'm pretty sure I want this job?"

"Actually thus far I am not a flavor of detergent instead of curls."

"Dumb tacks. Officially have a unicorn. Yes! This shopping cart's wheels won't turn right. Me."

"All I ate like a guy in marshmallow. You didn't deserve that."

"The Fellowship of ice cream called Sparkle. I karate chopped that paper."

"Officially have a passion for you to sit down."

"Thing I dropped last night. Oh. Pretend that I want to college, kids."

"I'm still awake. Lolz, I'm implying it. Silence. Don't go to your lap murderer? "

"Sleep placebo: I'll just float around behind you, weeping until you can write or draw."

 "Am now throwing a purple horse named Sweetbottom to share stories about"

"Just stole a guy in the tree. I assure you, I ate like to get somewhat interesting."

And my personal favorites:

"....what is a bunch of curls. It'll fall out to own me. The Sand People are the floor."

"Whoever found my head hurts sooo bad."

"Jimmer, you are the first ten minutes."

"The bottom of my skill set consists of detergent instead of the existence of the Ring."

"Just stole a book shaped present turned out of detergent instead of those free paint cards from WalMart."

"I haven't embraced the wise, kids: DO YOUR HOMEWORK ON TIME."

"1: Why do you want to be alive."

"I'm busily asserting my air."

"Apparently Vegas was a zombie apocalypse. Love this job?"

 "I think I'm sorry, Twitter."


 And the winner is:

"I'm a baby-hating bear vitamin." 


I think the moral of this story is that I should develop real interests.  Either that, or everyone should be following me on Twitter.

I have no words for this.

I wasn't planning on posting today, but...well, you'll see.

Blogger lets me see what people search for in Google when they stumble across my blog.  I was idly checking those stats today.

Really?  Right in between the sexy dream team??

...You guys I have no words.  I can't decide whether this is hilarious or slightly disturbing.  I'm going to go with both.

You guys are just too much.