Now for something silly… and a little bent.

Standard

Open House

If you stand in a corner and put your hands over your face people won’t see you. As soon as you start to peek between your fingers someone will look at you and wonder why you are being so strange. Something that is not expected perplexes most people, they get this weird look on their face, like when someone tells you a joke and you pretend you get it, but really don’t. Shit, why did I have to look? Why couldn’t I have been satisfied with just being here? So, what now? Maybe if I stay like this people will think I’m one of those real life pieces of art. You know the ones you might see at a fancy art gallery. The models strike a pose and may hold it for an hour then change. I could never do that sort of thing. What excuse do they use if they have to pee in the middle of a pose? I have an idea. If I open my fingers wider so my one eye and just my lips show I can tell the guy looking my way to piss off. What would that do? I have no idea but it would be fun to try. Maybe he would think I’m an escaped mental patient and would leave me alone. I could start laughing. If you start laughing for no apparent reason people always think you’re nuts, that’s it! That always works in the movies. Why wouldn’t it work here? Christ, why didn’t I think of that from the start? I will start laughing while slowly taking my hands away from my face. Now if only I can get my legs to start moving and make my way across the room to the closet. Oh sure, lets just turn this into something really memorable. The eccentric wall flower leaves her home in the corner and takes up residence in the nearest closet. This just gets better and better. Sounds like an ad in a twisted real-estate brochure.
It’s working. Don’t look back, that’s the cardinal rule. If you’re going to do something right out there you can never look back, because if you do people will think you’re an idiot and not weird. Being an idiot is not having the brains to know that weird is good. Today I was defiantly borderline. My hope was to make it across the room without anyone stopping me and asking my opinion on the cheese tarts.

I have crappy balance and my underwear won’t let go. My mind was so disjointed it was like a bumper car that never ran out of tokens, it just kept going and going no matter what it bumped into. The room was buzzing, like the inside of a beehive after the queen has given the order to evacuate. I wonder how many of these people are serious, and how many are here just to sample the free food and pocket stale mints? Do people really find this sort of thing entertaining? They must be joking. How could a room full of complete strangers with limp intentions be entertaining?
I was shuffling rather than walking. I figured I might as well go for the complete weird person, tight pantyhose look. Never, never wear pantyhose and a thong at the same time. I scanned the room as I headed for the eats table.
There was this weird whirring sound coming from above. So tell me, who in this lifetime needs to have mirrors on the fan blades? Maybe they use it as a strobe effect when having sex, hey that might be good, file that one away. I almost felt embarrassed as those images made their slide show presentation through my mind.
Could people tell what I was thinking? Not likely, most of them had that stunned, prozac look. And no, we’re not going to get into how I know that.
When you approach someone you don’t know, is it best to appear confident, like you are an informed individual or is it better to let him or her know you’ve chosen to let the birds fly through once in a while?
Look at this guy standing by the punch bowl, a real winner. Holy crap, this guy must be the big cheese, head honcho, fool of the hour, take your pick. The guy is wearing a shit brown, knit suit. He’s wearing one of those labels on his lapel that says, HELLO- MY NAME IS—Sweeny. Huh? Who in their right mind names their kid Sweeny? I thought those name badges went out with the K-Tell garlic press? This was so entertaining, maybe I’ll mingle for a while and sample a few stale bread sticks. The idiot, he didn’t even know why I was laughing as I walked by. The cologne he was wearing had that ever-popular scent of Old Spice and parmesan cheese, that one had to be a big seller. Probably did well at the discount stores displayed right next to irregular condoms and edible rubber.
Oh my look at this one. She must have thought it was a costume party because the outfit she’s wearing it straight out of “The Avengers”, only she doesn’t have the body that Emma Peel did. Her lips, what the hell has she done to her lips? They are so fat and glossy it looks like she cut them out of a magazine and stuck them on her face. This one is a real prize. I’ll bet she’s with that bald little fart standing next to the buffet. He’s been sucking back cocktail weenies like mad. I’ve been watching him for awhile because I had this feeling he may do something phenomenal. Ya right, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Every time he thought someone might be watching he would stop chewing, only on one occasion he should have made sure the food was all the way in his mouth. How could anyone find a person like that attractive? The sides of his jacket were bulging from the plastic cutler and sugar packets he had stuffed into his pockets. Are people born like this or do they go to a school for cultured halfwits? I think his hairdresser should perhaps go for a reality check. Baldy was one of those individuals who didn’t like being bald, but was too cheap to go for a real hair job. You know the ones. They let the little hair they do have grow extra long then sweep it over the head so it looks like they have a full head of hair. These guys are the ones who look like human corn brooms every time the wind picks up. Poor sod, I should tell him he didn’t have to bother with the bobby pins, that’s just over kill.

People didn’t even notice me walking across the room. It’s like I’m not really here, yet I am. Every once in a while someone makes eye contact then looks away. What’s their problem? Maybe most people don’t recognize normal when they see it. Or I could be so weird they don’t find me unusual enough to pay attention to.
I’ll just mingle and pretend to be part of the in crowd. Now I’m really laughing and not faking it. I never imagined I’d be part of such an elite group of misfits.
Circulating the room I began to take a closer look at some of the art hanging on the walls. A black velvet painting of a bullfighter about to get gorged. Now that almost fits in this room. On the opposite wall was a collage, photos of cars. Hmm, different. I thought it had real promise until I looked closer and noticed most of the cars were hearses, each painted a different color. Weird, not even I would paint one of them polka dot. On a corner table was some type of sculpture that seemed to glow. People were standing around it pointing and laughing. On closer inspection it appeared to be some type of Mood Fool. Remember those mood rings all the kids had way back in the seventies? They would wear them to school and try to embarrass each other so the colors would change. Maybe if I saunter over to that thing and start chanting people will form a circle and throw money. Now that idea has potential.
The music was something else. Who ever put this together has real class. Recordings of the Beach Boys, The Irish Rovers, and Abba all on one track. It reminded me of being at my first co-ed party when I was twelve. I had such a fun time watching others dance, I wasn’t aware the record we were listening to had so many scratches it kept tripping back to the same song over and over again.
No one is dancing but a few couples are making an attempt. A tall, slender gentleman is putting the moves on the woman with the lips. He looks like a horny skeleton. She keeps puckering and he keeps groping her ass. I can only imagine the offspring this couple would have, God why did I even have to picture that. Little beanpoles and miniature turtles running around. Strange how some people can look exactly like another species. Well, they look happy enough feeling each other up, I wonder if they’ve made plans for later. Golly gee I was amused with the most vulgar things, one of the points I liked best about myself.

No one has even asked my name. Am I that boring? Surely someone must be wondering who I am and what I’m doing here. I’m afraid to pass a mirror just in case I can’t see myself. Well at least I know people can see me, it would be far worse if no one looked at me at all, that would be death. Inside every one of us is the need to be popular, whether we admit it or not, even if it’s just for a second. Now and then I do have brief moments of awareness, all this praise I was showering on myself was making me soggy, and cheap deodorant wasn’t helping.

Let’s see; from a distance all of this looked appealing, now up close it looked like a fast food restaurant collided with a Ukrainian wedding. Miniature cabbage rolls sharing space with deep-fried cheese balls. The table looks like a culinary nightmare. I haven’t seen any chalk outlines on the floor so that’s a good sign. There must be something on this table that hasn’t been frozen, fried, or rolled in stale breadcrumbs. They should have warning labels on some of this stuff. Like this, what the hell is this? Looks like it could be that spinach dip everyone makes for baby showers and funerals. Its way too stringy, maybe they used artificial spinach. Christ, it looks like puke in a bun. Don’t people have any imagination? Now, this is really special. A bowl full of miniature pickled eggs; right next to TexMex bean dip. What’s the theory in that? Give them gas so bad they never leave the bathroom? That could explain the stack of business cards next to the Tums dispenser. I was just leaving the food table when I noticed a card with the name of the catering company.

Bubba’s Banquet Bonanza
We Specialize In Everything
“There aint nothin we can’t do”.
(Senior Rates Available)

I put about a half dozen cards in my pocket, one of them I’d give to the local television station when ratings needed a boost, the others I’d send to The Food Network. Surely they could use a good laugh some days. I felt like I was part of a bizarre experiment in human behavior.

People were heading in the direction of the patio so I decided to follow and hope for a sideshow.
This was going to be good. The house we were in had a built in computerized vacuum system, state of the art by the sounds of it. The guy giving the demo handed out glossy colored pamphlets to further emphasize this was no ordinary vacuum. “The beauty of this system folks is that the EnerJize cleans with total efficiency”. Quite the salesman; There were about eight of us standing around waiting for him to do something miraculous with this cleaning wonder. He brought us out on the patio to demonstrate, because it also sucked up garden dirt. Huh? Uh yes, the ultimate test. There was a potted plant on a small table near him. As he was turning to show us a brochure he accidentally on purpose knocked it over.
“Oh shoot, you just never know when you’ll need one of these babies. My wife loves this thing. Not a day goes by when she doesn’t thank me for being a vacuum salesman”. Good grief what a putz.
Everything was going along fine until he accidently touched the blow button. Anyone within a five-foot radius was pelted with soggy dirt and earthworms. One of the women standing close by looked like she was going in for leach therapy. She began to freak out when a couple of the worms figured her ears looked like good hiding places. The salesman was absolutely horrified. He quickly turned the vacuum off and apologized profusely. Maybe the owners of the house should have auditioned this guy first. I couldn’t believe my luck, all this entertainment for free.
I wandered back inside and began feeling bored again. Some how the idea of the closet didn’t appeal to me anymore it would be even more boring in there.
There seemed to be other mini demos going on in different areas of the house. This was apparently a smart house. Everything computerized with many hi-tech conveniences.
I thought watching something in the kitchen might be fun; it had to be better than watching the dirt blower.
Walking into the kitchen was almost like being in one of those carnival attractions with the mirrors. Everything was so shiny it almost made me dizzy. I was a bit disappointed no one was in here but decided to poke around on my own.
Things were unnaturally clean. Maybe there was another kitchen where the family actually cooked. Freaks; how can people live like this? If the kitchen looked like this it almost made me shudder to take a look at the laundry room. I began scanning the counters for some sign of life when something caught my eye. It was a remote, for what? The appliances? Weird. This was too good to be true. I figured it was my duty to play with it and experiment. I couldn’t quite get the point of having a remote to turn things on, oh well, here goes. I touched a small button labeled water and the water in the sink began running. Cool. Another button turned a radio on. Playful thoughts of pressing all the buttons at once crossed my mind but I decided to forget that when I spied the master control panel.
Oh my this was going to be fun. By the looks of it everything in the house could be accessed from here. I traced my fingertips down the panel looking for something of interest. Most of it was the typical, lock front door, adjust temperature, this sort of thing. I figure if I had to be subjected to bean dip and The Irish Rovers all in one day I had the right to play around a bit. Zapper, ok, this one might do something stimulating. I had no idea what zapper really meant but pressed it any way. Nothing happened, bummer. I continued scanning the control panel when I heard shrieking coming from another part of the house. I doubt it was something I had done so ignored it. Hmm, more yelling, lets try one more then perhaps run like hell. I found one that said fumes and let it rip. Almost instantaneously a putrid odor began filling the room. Oh wonderful, things were off to a rip roaring start. I grabbed a dishtowel, held it over my nose and ran for the open door. Other people were running down the hallway, some were wincing with pain. What happened to them?
We must have looked like bugs running from a carcass. Most of us spilled out onto the driveway, some still covering their face while others seemed to have a sore hand. Good grief. The guy in the tacky brown suit looked shell-shocked and began explaining and apologizing for what had happened.
Apparently there had been a malfunction with the alarm system. The intruder alert function had been activated sending an electrical charge to all door handles. It also dispersed noxious fumes through out the entire house. What a moron, who would have done such a thing? I tried to look as mystified and pissed off as the others and made my way down the driveway.
Maybe next time I went out for a walk I’d try a house that didn’t look quite so sophisticated.

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One response »

  1. Pingback: Now for something silly… and a little bent. | Marilyn Davies

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