TOM, Crazy Black Tranzies, and Memorial Day.

I sudddenly like mayonaise. This fact freaks me out, because for 25 years..I hated mayonaise with my every fiber.
I couldn't touch potato salad. Or macaroni salad. I keep calling them the same thing.

I have this sudden obsession with macaroni salad. (amish macaroni salad) Prior to this obsession was my Cole Slaw obsession which, for 25 years and 6 months of my 26 years of life..I refused to eat also.

What do these changes mean?
Is the apocolypse near?

Earlier tonight, I grabbed my tub-o-macaroni salad, set it on the computer desk, and began playing euchre online. I had a bite or two or 16, put the lid on and returned to my game.
Flash forward Lost style to 15 minutes later (and two exhilarating euchre losses. 10-3, and 10-0) and my arm accidently hits this tub-o-macaroni salad. (which will from here out be refered to as TOM)
The rest seemed like one of those instances that occur when something traumatic happens to someone and they black out and cant recall all the details.
Only...I didn't black out, and the details are etched in my mind.

Macaroni Salad everywhere. On the desk, on the legs of the desk. The wheel of the desk. The wall. The cable wires. The desk chair. The carpet. Oh the sweet innocent carpet.

They don't make lids like they used to, I'll tell ya that.
So I sat there...scooping it up into my palm, shoveling back inside the tub. For a brief second I thought. "hmm...is any of this salvage-able??!?"
You know theres a problem when you cant decide if you're more sad that you have to clean it up, or if your more sad that this means there is no more TOM.

While writing this far....bugs have flown and landed on my face twice. I just glanced up, and theres a mini army of gnats craling all over our ceiling right above me. This is more tragicness in what now seems a night full of it.

I realized the other day that I'm getting old. If only for the simple fact that I've deemed it too much work to bend down to close the crisper in the refridgerator...so instead I push it closed with my foot.

Another sign...during sex..If the words "um..we need to switch positions because my knee is giving out" are uttered...you are old. Or severely out of shape.

Last week, while at work and drinking, I looked around and seen there were about 16 people in my bar. 2 of which (including me) were white. And none of which, had cocktails. So, I got on the microphone, and said "This...is a bar. To be here...you're supposed to be drinking...So...again I say...You need to buy a drink to be in here". I turned and noticed one of them, dressed in drag, giving me a dirty look.
So I said over the microphone "that means all 37 of you who arent drinking...Come to up to the bar, and order a drink now...or..get...the fuck...out."

The Wesley Snipes lookin tranzy mess, didn't like this. She approached the bar telling me how rude I am. So..over the microphone I said " wasnt being rude...but i can be....order a drink or get the fuck out..bitch".
His/Her reply was "dont call me a bitch, bitch" So I said "okay...get the fuck out....hoe"
Things continued, until she hit one customer with a beer bottle, another one just got punched unexpectingly in the face causing mass amounts of bleeding. Then, before leaving (and grabbing a pool cue and trying to hit me) warned me that she was gonna get her "boys" to take care of me.
The very next night, one of the "boys" that was with the hoe was in, and not drinking...and my security guard refused to kick him out because he didnt want to "cause problems like you did last night...lets wait and see what happens".

So...I have written proof. If I die at the hands of 337 black street tranzies and their "boys"......someone inform the po-po that the culprit is a tranzy who looks like Wesley Snipes.

Before I wrap this up, I want to end on a serious note.
Today (yesterday) is (was) Memorial Day. I gather the concept is to remember those that aren't around to see or touch or laugh or whatever.
The idea is to give a day to them. And to keep in mind the things they did, the ways the changed you. The times they inspired you. Or, just to take tiem to acknowledge that there are people you've loved that can't be here anymore. I'm not really a huge celebratory type on days like this.
But, after spending the last hour or so writing (but not finishing) a letter to my dad, I got all nostalgic. I had wanted to visit the cemetary where my grandmother is buried, but I didn't get around to it.
I don't wanna give her just some small portion at the end of some stupid blog.
But. She was important to me. I remember her, though less.
I am, if anything....extremely grateful to her. If she hadn't been there for me on numerous occasions..I fear where I'd be in my life.
I often focus on the areas that I'm unhappy with, but I want to thank her for the goodness she brought me. The morals she taught me. And the love she gave me.

She inspires me more than any one person or thing.

One day...I hope I'm someone that mirrors the good things in her.