03 October 2009

A Comedy of Errors

It all began with the bacon on the sandwich. Actually, maybe it started with waking up on my friend's couch wearing his guitar-print PJ pants, changing back into the prior day's clothes, and hitting the semi-questionable bodega/deli next door. With two minutes to go before they stopped serving breakfast, I starvingly/gleefully ordered an egg and cheese sandwich. "Two eggs?" asked Deli Guy. "Two eggs." said I. I turned around to chat with my friend who'd also spent the night (she got Chinese takeout container print boxers to sleep in), so it was she who caught Deli Guy putting bacon on my sandwich. As he handed the heavy feeling sandwich to me (see, the sandwiches with meat always feel really heavy. That's usually what tips me off to check before taking a bite) my pal was like whoa wait a second here, that has BACON on it.

Me to Deli Guy: "Does this have bacon on it?"
Deli Guy to me (glare. glare.): "Yes."
Me: "I did not ask for bacon."
Deli Guy: (glare.)
Me: "You know what? I don't need a sandwich."

But you know what, really? Then I went and got an egg and cheese sandwich at the new Dunkin Donuts. I spoke very clearly so as to not get accidental sausage.

That's not even the half of it though. I had to shop for ingredients for three items I was planning on bringing to a party that evening, AND decorations for said party, AND pots and soil for some herb plants I picked up at the green market. You know that game where there's a bar at the bottom that you move from side to side to bounce a ball? The dot matrix video game version of table tennis, for one? That was kind of like me, a little. I was the ball, pinging here, then there, then back over here, oh then back over there, look now it's back over to the first place! This place doesn't have that thing, that place doesn't have this thing, sorry lady cash only, credit card machine down, that banged up planter is the last one, oops forgot I needed oil for the cake, crap I still have to go to the liquor store.

After all the shopping was done, all the dishes prepared, I got all cleaned and prettied up in my Dirty Dancing dress, loaded my arms with bags full o' goodies, and set out on the short walking journey to the party, cup of sangria somehow magically in hand. And then I realized I had NO hands to hold down my dress in the wild wind. Probably not a few people got a peek at some pink polka dot panties.

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