Alone Time Things

Dear Diary …

When you boil it all down … there are only two things in life. “Alone” things. And “not alone” things. That’s it. Whatever you’re doing, it’s either supposed to be with people or without ‘em. And some of the “alone” stuff … yeah you keep that to yourself. We ain’t gonna talk about it, think about it, or even acknowledge that it exists.

But other stuff … man you’re doin’ it wrong.

I’mma tell you flat out … shopping at the grocery store is an “alone” thing. Now look … if you got little boogerball kids with you. They don’t count. As any good parent knows, kids don’t count as people.

Oh … I mean … kids … if you’re listening right now … Uncle Zack just kidding. Mommy and Daddy wuv you so very much and you’re the most important whittle miracle on the planet.

OK … earmuffs right? [WHISPERING] They’re not people!

Anyway … two grown adults have no business being in the grocery store together.

What are you doing?

Do you not realize you’re just … in the way?

And you look ridiculous! Couple of dorks just tooling along with a shopping cart, blocking the path of anything and everything that they come in contact with.

“Oh well we just go to the store as a couple … to spend time together!”

You ain’t ever heard of a restaurant or like a park or something?

Those are couple time activities. The grocery store is a chore. Chores are “alone” things so you can divide and conquer the chores. Like … you standin’ around doing laundry together? Of course not! One person does laundry and the other person vacuums or something. Whatchoo gonna do? Hold hands and vacuum the living room together?

Dorks.

Other things are “with people” things.

If you’re a grown adult … you don’t go to a Disney movie by yourself.

“But I like Disney movies!”

Fine … go volunteer at the Big Brothers Big Sisters or something and take somebody else with you. Ain’t no grown man need to be sitting at “Encanto” all by himself. I’m sure you’re a lovely person, but you’re freaking the rest of us out.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Parking Lot Waltz

The Parking Lot Waltz

Dear Diary …

I don’t mind a little singin’ and dancin’ … granted I can’t even figure out how to properly Floss, but if you can pull it off … more power to ya. That said … there’s a time and a place for singin’ and dancin’ … especially dancin’ … and that place is NOT the parking lot at the grocery store.

And I know what you’re thinking … “Who’s twerking in the parking lot at the grocery store?” First of all … nobody. Second … that one I’d probably be OK with … because what I’m not OK with is the parking lot waltz.

You know the parking lot waltz … even if you don’t think you do.

It’s when you’re trying to drive to a parking space, and the person walking in front of your car in your way is [[music]] … doing a long … slow … diagonal waltz thru the parking lot. Not a care in the world. And clearly not in a hurry to get anywhere.

You JUST saw me one second ago when you walked in front of my car … but now … [[music]] … that car must’ve just disappeared behind me.

Look … I don’t advocate for running anybody over … but somebody like this at least deserves a light tap to remind them that they are on foot and may want to get out of the way of the giant car. I’m just looking for a little hustle, man. Well … that and a straight line. Walk in it.

Moving on Diary …

I understand this is irrational anger … OK … everything in the Anger Diary is irrational anger … so too bad … we’re here now … I hate “mug cake.” That’s right … mug cake! Really I hate any time the kids discover some sort of food and drink concoction online and then start trashing my kitchen with it, but mug cake is the WORST. Because now they basically just dump some flour, sugar, and chocolate into a mug … and onto the counter … and onto the floor. And then heat it up in the microwave to explode everywhere and make a giant mess.

And somehow they think mug cake also defies the laws of snacks and desserts. Two o’clock in the afternoon …

“What are you doing?”

“Making mug cake.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. That’s not a snack. That’s a dessert.”

“Yeah but it’s mug cake.”

Hate you mug cake! And especially hate you afterward because that black, over-microwaved chocolate never wants to come off any of the mugs. And yes … I know the kids should clean it themselves, but they conveniently “forget” every single time.

If I told them, I’ll give you $20 if you remind me at exactly 8:47 two weeks from next Thursday … oh they got that one memorized … but “rinse your dishes” … [charlie brown mumbles]

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.