Touched by a stranger

I’ve had my usual busy Friday. Wound Care in the morning, ordering and receiving my groceries, then off to my community shower at 2:30 pm.

My Wound Care nurse’s name was Devinder, which was slightly surprising as she was as white as I am and did not have even a trace of an East Indian accent.

Mixed race parents, perhaps. Sometimes the randomness of sexual reproduction produces a kid who is entirely one of the races of the parents.

That’s got to lead to some tense conversations.

“I’m telling you, Preet, I’ve been nothing but faithful to you!”
“No! I do not believe you! Some white man has colonized your womb!”

And then, for some reason, they dance.

Grocery ordering and receipt went fine, although I am kicking myself now because I forgot that I am almost out of peanut butter.

So now it’s either admit defeat and order the peanut butter separately and pay another delivery fee and tip, or tough it out with the last bit of peanut butter I have left and then dramatically doing without.

Oh, the humanity.

I still have jam, but jam sandwiches are so boring. Even jam on toast is pretty dull. All that sweetness really needs something to contrast with in order to shine, at least as far as my personal palate is concerned.

And the jam I have is raspberry, which is even more boringer.

I could make cheese toast instead. We have plenty o’ Kraft Singles. Called that because they are looking to mate.. with your sandwich!

Plus they sleep around a lot.

My shower is where the whole touched by a stranger thing happened because my usual guy, Albert, is on vacation right now and so my shower today had to be done by a “casual” worker, whatever THAT means.

So I went into the whole thing in a suspicious mood, although me being me, I didn’t act that way around the poor guy. He was shy and nervous enough.

Which, of course, endeared him to me.

It didn’t start super well. It was his first time at Rosewood so I had to show him to the “spa” room where they do my showers and tell him he would need to go get a nurse to open the door to it for him.

I am impressed by Rosewood Manor. It has a very relaxed, sunny vibe supported by a marvelously soothing decor and all the old folks I see when I am waiting for Albert (or whoever) seem quite happy.

The staff, on the other hand, treat Albert and I like hoboes.

Anyhow, once we got into the “spa” room my guy (he never told me his name) knew what he was doing and everything went fine.

It’s good that I have quite a relaxed attitude about nudity. Heck, I have even lived with nudists and have been one myself.

And we’re quite casual about nudity chez moi. Why not? It’s not like we stare at each other and we’re hardly worried someone might think we’re gay.

Because we are.

I’ve come across the observation that it seems like us elephantine people have less shame of that sort than the average citizen, and I am not sure what would cause that.

I mean, being fat certainly encourages you to emotionally invest in things other than your body. And you have to develop a certain kind of self-confidence just to move around in a world meant for people smaller than you.

It’s really the only sane response to a world that glares at you disapprovingly.

And it’s possible that just being bigger than other people activates a primitive part of our brains that, on a very deep and extremely subconscious level, makes us feel like we must be in charge.

I can totally imagine myself as a fat and decadent king who lounges around nude just to make other people uncomfortable.

Look, I’m not an angel. I can be diabolical AF.

More after the break.


A Nabisco mystery

Fun fact : Nabisco started out as the Nation Biscuit Company, hence the name.

Anyhow, I just had a “reality moment” that I feel compelled to share.

So I ordered three things off of Amazon recently : a one pound sack of Russell Stover(hallowed be his name)’s sugar free chocolates, a big bag of sugar free gummy bears, and a family sized box of Vegetable Thins.

That last one was me just catching up on groceries.

Anyhow, the chocolates arrived the next day, as advertised, and so I had a lovely Xmas Even and Day eating chocolates and feeling like a spoiled grand dame lounging in her opulent salon and eating bonbons.

I would really love to be someone’s pampered pet. I’m just sayin’.

I knew the other two things would not arrive till today at the earliest, so when I got my box of Vegetable Thins, I was quite pleased.

Then I got a phone call saying another package was waiting for me at the front door to the building. Julian was heading out anyhow so he picked it up for me and would bring it to me when he got home.

And that’s where this gets complicated.

Julian got home and handed me a package. Awesome, my gummy bears, I thought.

Then later I am looking around for this package of gummy bears and I can’t find it. And I am puzzled because I clearly remembered Julian handing me the package from Amazon and yet I don’t see it anywhere.

This is where the reality issue begins.

So I am looking all around, no luck. So I decide I might as well put the gigantic box of Vegetable Thins away and check to see if I had put my gummy bears away too.

So imagine my surprise when what did I find in my little storage area in my end table but…. another giant box of Vegetable Thins!

Fut the WUCK???

Luckily, my high performance analytic mind soon figured it out. Somehow, BOTH the packages that arrived today were boxes of Vegetable Thins, even though I only ordered one and they arrived via separate couriers.

Life never runs out of new ways to fuck with my head. Or piss me off. [1]

Anyhow, the gummy bears will arrive Monday. No clue how I ended up with TWO giant boxes of Vegetable Thins. It was definitely two separate orders, though.

Maybe I added them to my cart twice?

Oh well, at least it makes for a good anecdote now.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.



Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)
  1. I just went to Amazon.ca to investigate this mystery and the first thing I see is, “Don’t pay GST/HST on select items” like this is a special sale they got on. But that’s not a sale, that’s the fucking law! We are in a tax holiday, it would be illegal to keep charging GST/HST. And now for our latest gift for you the consumer : bubonic plague free baby clothes! Argh.