Food Bankrupt

Among my greatest vices is gluttony. Though I’m a picky eater, I will eat what I do like to excess. Pray, remember this as I confess what a piece of scum I am.

Last Monday, aware that I had 17 dollars between me and the end of the month, my hands got a little too sticky at the food bank I go to. I took two packs of turkey cold cuts (first bad) and I tried to take two pizzas, seeing as no one else had grabbed it, which made the curator of the edibles go off on me. “We’re supposed to share. If you need something else, get some fruit outside.”

So yes, I was totally in the wrong, but my pride keeps saying, she shouldn’t go off on me because there was plenty of food for everyone. Needless to say, i feel much chastened, and horribly embarrassed. I almost wish to eschew going for a long time, but I would like more food than what I have on hand. If I don’t go, it’s turkey sandwiches and ramen noodles until Friday, which are very edible,  but, they have such good fare there. I will just be humble and wait until everyone has cleared out of the section, so hopefully I will not get too much.

The food comes from area stores, and the food bank started mainly for homeless people, but they let people from my therapist’s office go. Truthfully, I don’t think any of the people are actively homeless, but what do I know? Not all homeless people look like Lloyd from Black Jesus.  I think, however, all of them are from worse circumstances than my  situation. I overheard one woman say to another, “I’d take these apples if my oven was working.” So yes, I suck. As long as I have something to eat, and more importantly, my cats have something to eat, I’m straight. But I do crave all those desserts and delicacies that they have, so I will swallow my pride. Ugh, I sometimes act like I grew up in a barn. Sorry, Mom. 

Image from Google Play

 

 

Blogoversary the 7th

Still here. Though not prolific,  I’ve been at this for 7 years now. God willing, I will keep at this blog until incapacity or death takes me out. I was 33 when I started, and will be 40 in December. I sometimes read back on my old posts. Lisa, circa 2010, was such a different person from Lisa 2017. In some ways, I truly feel my writing reached its apex in the first two years here (while my mom was still around, my biggest supporter). I sometimes find myself writing stuff worthy of Lisa 2011, but it is what it is. Had you told me during the course of this novel , that my mom would croak, I’d end up living with a drag queen and a pathological liar, end up in a mental  hospital, live in a nursing home for a couple of months, and finally come to living alone in an apartment complex I had lived in when I was 8 years-old… Well, I’d have been horrified to say the least. If you had told me that Donald Trump would be president one day, I’d have believed you were the greatest bullshitter.

I still feel as though I stand on the precipice of disaster at all times, especially now, with Trump and Paul Ryan trying to butcher the dangling safety net. I owe my apartment, medicine,  and healthcare to Medicaid. While I doubt Trump’s “fix” to Obamacare will pass, it’s terrifying to think of block grants. What if taking care of people on disability becomes superfluous? What if one day I’m blogging homeless?

  Here’s to a new blog year that happens to not be catastrophic. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Crap Satire and Thoughts at 3am

Is it just  me, or have we devolved in the past couple of months into something akin to our Neanderthal forebears? Has the noble WASP strayed too far from his isolated cluster and caught the bee virus? Whether we are Casper ghost pale,  a  delicate pearl  pink,  or a subtle tangerine hue, white people are devolving.  Our Trailer Park Titanic, which spurred on our glorious exalted orange 70 year-old Adolf  Adonis, has sprung a leak and is sinking faster than you can whistle ‘Dixie.’

Personally, I blame that black guy. Oh, it was all fun and games until all those Mexican Muslims infiltrated our electoral college and universities and got him  elected. Eight years of Kumbaya, Kenya, and free phones, it was time for change. We fashioned a golden calf from a golden man and commenced to worship him, chanting our mantra, “Make America Great Again!” America is great, now, but something is missing. That black guy was nice. This guy, his magnificence is too bright, an amber wave of grain knocking against our collective blue eyes. I can’t see anymore.

 

The above was a vain attempt at satire. Seriously though, my fellow white Americans, what the freaking hell? Is this hell? Maybe in an alternate universe, this is the liberal version of the Left Behind series. Our messiah left us for Hawaii and only David Bowie, Prince, and Carrie Fisher got raptured.  Guess who is the Anti-Christ?

My family hails from Appalachia. They are a homogenous group (inbred?), Republican all the way back to Lincoln, and had they known my mom and I were democrats, that was a disownable offense. My grandparents knew, but what can you do? Just don’t let my second cousins find out! It was bad enough knowing that my otherwise gentle grandfather would rather be “a knot on a dog’s dick than be a democrat.” Since I’m already disowned because of my mom not keeping in contact with them, my second cousins do not know whether I’m alive or dead. Good riddance, they said in ever such a kind way after Mom died, not rude, just evasive (it’s the southern way). Do they ever think of me? Like when members of their family croak? Oh wonder what happened to Pat’s mentally deficient daughter?

Anyway, I had a point to this last part. Because being abandoned even by people who barely know you sucks, that is why I don’t unfriend people on Facebook for different points of view, microaggressions, macroaggressions,  racist remarks, homophobic, Islamophobic ,phobicphobic remarks. I think what does it feel like to be tossed away even online? What if you’re my second cousin fallen off the turnip truck and you just don’t know any better?

 

Image from photosforclass.com