Friday, September 26, 2008

The 37 year old Virgin (language, sorry relatives)

(This is taken from a couple of posts I made on CafeMom, and it happened about a week ago, so I'm sorry if it's written a little weird.)

I just got a lady's life story. She came by to ask about a power chair we're trying to sell. She was a little chatty. I found out that she's 60 and her daughter is 20. She was 37 when she lost her virginity because she was waiting for her white knight and by that time she figured he wasn't coming. But it wasn't like she was screwing around or anything.

She was saying that she and her daughter were going to go shopping for some expecting moms they knew and I told her that I knew 8 pregnant women and I was going to say that I couldn't shop for any of them (cept Smash) cause they weren't that far enough along to know what they're having, and she cuts me off and starts talking about when she lost her virginity! WTF? I just met this lady and I know her age, where she worked for 35 years, all about her knee problems, that she had gastric bypass to prove she couldn't lose weight, that her brother died from a gastric bypass and that her friend's granddaughter (whom I graduated with) now chews tobacco.

Whoa, lady. Slow down.

Then, a couple of days later....

We agreed that they would come pick it up yesterday. Well, I wasn't going to sit on my butt all day so I did some stuff and figured they'd call before coming. They did, but didn't think about the fact that my answering machine took the call meant that I'm not home... The message said that they're on their way. Well, duh, shit heads, I'm not home. Anyway, they called about twenty minutes before I got home, so I thought they may still show up. But they never did. I finally get a call saying, in a roundabout way, that she came by and was too tired to come back. Okay, so we agree on 10:30 to 11 tomorrow (today)

At about two o'clock I hear a voice at my side window. "Hello?! ANYONE HOME?!" What the fuck. I go check it out and there's a guy in my neighbor's yard leaning over the fence, yelling into my window. "You the lady with the electric chair?" Electric chair. That's what they've been calling it.

So it's the buyer's son. They drove to the back of the house because the chair is in the garage and instead of, oh, I don't know, going to the front door, or maybe going into my yard, and knocking on the back door, he decides to go into my neighbor's fenced in yard and yell into my window. What the fuck.

So I heard a little more about the lady's colostomy bag (she told me about it in a previous phone call, and her surgery on Wednesday and her broken arm. Poor lady. Then the matter of getting the chair home comes up. Well, she wants to just ride it home. I'm guessing at least ten blocks. Her son, bless him, says that's a bad idea, at least til she gets used to it. So we have to wait for him to call all of his friends with trucks to get someone to take it to their house. That was another fifteen minutes.

I'm so glad this is over. I'm really glad Tyler was home, so we could stand together and make disparaging remarks under our breath.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, the son was at least fifty, grossly overweight and wearing a Snoop Dogg "Doggfather" shirt.

I want to live where the normal people live.


Lord Lansdowne said...

Thank you for the hilarious story. Nice to see you're writing! Missing your rants and raves :-)

Kendra & Tobin Kirk said...