Tuesday, August 07, 2007

these are my people...

Necessity required that I swing by GhettoGas on my way to work this morning and lo and behold, the condemned, dilapidated shop continued to provide more blog fodder than I know what to do with. The place was packed with an array of hobos, school children and neglectful parents who think it's a good idea to take their toddlers and accompanying tricycles into GhettoGas.
Yeah, you heard me. Tricycles.
Worse, the kid on the trike parked himself IN the front door, prohibiting anyone from entering or exiting. I was the bitch that needed to enter. And I was the bitch who looked bitchier and bitchier everytime I said, "Excuse me."
My voice began all kid-talky, high-pitched, oh-god-don't-hate-me. But after like, 7 "Excuse me's", I was over it.
I finally stepped over the child who remained not oblivious, but uncaring, an approached the cashier with my $20. At GhettoGas, I refuse to insert my credit card at the pump, wisely deeming it too risky. I got in line behind 4 middle school kids, all of whom were purchasing an array of dusty candy and none of whom could complete their transaction for various reasons. One kid didn't have enough money. Another kid rethought his Skittles and went back for something better. A third kid couldn't make up her mind about what kind of Red Bull/Rockstar she wanted. It literally took them 10 minutes to make their way tricycle, still guarding the door as if a look-out for some impending crime.
The hobos, needless to say, just stood around eating their chimichangas from 1973. I guess it was too windy to hang out on their usual crates outside.
I finally made my way back to Pump #8 where my $20 waited to be turned into gas. A woman in an Audi station wagon had pulled in behind me, and as I pumped my gas she gave me a knowing look.
Oh hell no.
Don't comisserate with me, yuppie. You could get me shanked...


Anonymous said...

The shocking story here is that the "third kid" had a dilemma as to whether to pick Red Bull or Rockstar.

Any self respecting caffeine junkie knows that Rockstar is the way to go.

God save our youth. I guess the terrorists have won.

Red Bull my azz!!!!

Anonymous said...

Those Tricycles are DANGEROUS!! I swear I once saw a whole bunch of them on California Street or was it Lombard ...you know the one with lots of turns and there were these innocent bystanders screaming for the people on those tricycles and it was such an act of horror there was Red Bull everywhere and those kids couldn't even fit on the small tricycles they couldn't STEER...it was something to see

***this comment is not to be taken seriously if you have a problem with oversized kids on tricycles get yourself a redbull and vodka and go back to the 1990's ***

Jess Drake said...

Hell yeah, Rockstar all the way!

Sorry Beth, I didn't have much of a teenage life. I occasionally have immature outbursts where I say things like "hell yeah!" or "hella" or "oh mah gah" even though I'm a grown woman.

Annnyyywaaayyyy, I always love hearing about your *incredibly* good, but cynically disguised times at the gas station. Makes me appreciate this blog even more.

Anonymous said...

Hilarious as usual. Beth, any thoughts on Rock of Love? I think I caught some V.D. from simply watching it.

Anonymous said...

Forget Bret and the skank pack. I'm waiting for the Mayor of Love. See, this is where all the she-crazies and Spots. Anyway, we all say things like, 'I just love chubby supervisors with an axe to grind' or something with a Scientology theme or maybe declare that legislation should be passed on wine-making. This way Spots is sure to receive a tube of Frederic Fekkai styling gel (just like Flav's clock)...I can see it now...Gavin will look into Spots eyes and utter the words she has longed to hear: "Will you style my hair?" Then they'll live happily ever after...

A true crazy! :o)