Sunday, November 22, 2009

Weirdo du jour

posted Sat, 18 Dec 2004

As I was walking this morning, a woman stopped me in front of Walgreen’s. She looked perfectly normal – she was clean and well groomed. She asked me if there were a bank nearby that was open.

First, though, she commented on my very white face. “Are you giving yourself a facial while you walk?” she gasped.

I explained it was sunblock – zinc oxide. [I tan very well everywhere except on my face, where the sun gives me huge brown blotches. There is a bleaching agent one can get to diminish the blotches, but my company’s insurance will not cover it. This insurance does, however, cover Viagra. Pretty easy to figure out who made the rules on that one, huh?]

Her question should have been my first clue that she wasn’t quite normal, because most Southerners would rather die than ask what would appear to be a rude personal question. You could be covered with purple buboes, but as long as you treat it as something normal, a Southerner will do the same.

A few years ago, I had a horrible black eye that was the result of slipping and falling in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom. No one, but no one, would say anything to me about it. They would look, flinch, then look away.

The day after it happened, I was at an open house talking to a realtor. We spoke for 15 minutes before I finally took pity on her and said, “I fell.”

“Oh honey,” she said sympathetically as she reached forward and touched my arm. “My ex used to beat me, too.”

Back to the crazy Walgreen’s lady. I answered her bank question – I did not know if it was open, but there was a bank a quarter mile away.

“I need cognitive information that it’s open,” she huffed.

This is where it gets weird. She looked at me, in my zinc-oxide faced, running/walking clothes glory, and told me to read Revelations, that the fornicators will burn in a fiery lake. Did I look like a fornicator? I was not exactly at the height of attractiveness, unless you consider a 41-year-old woman in running tights and a baseball hat the epitome of beauty. But then, what does a fornicator look like?

We’ll save that question for another day. Off to the movies

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