Hey, two in a row... A trip to Wal-Mart...

Now don't get too excited now. I'm just feeling a little bit of a groove here..

Sorry for yesterday's post. It was a downer, I know. Not at all what I want to put here. I don't normally allow myself to be like that, but man, the flu sucks ass. That really didn't help. So, that's out of the way, please accept my apologies.

Now... What made me feel better? Erin waking up and seeing Daddy's face above her, checking to see if he can get an extra half-hour sleep in the morning. She wakes up smiling and laughing. Best damn drug out there... Can't be in a bad mood after that...

I had to work today, so that means Erin spent the day at Grand-mama's house. After work, I went to a place where I don't normally go, but a good place to get your mind away from everything and... in a selfish way, makes me feel better about myself - Wal-Mart.

A rural Wal-Mart is just the place for you when you are down. How can you feel bad about your life when you see a 400-pound woman in a moo-moo trying to control seven rugrats under the age of four in one shopping cart? How can you feel blue when you see enough weirdos who talk to the mannequins and play with their hair - on their feet - in the middle of the store?

If you think I'm exaggerating (no, really, Rob? You, exaggerate?), I'm not. This happened on Monday afternoon. And, hey, I'm an asshole. I'm accepting that in myself and it is damn hard for me not to turn away and laugh hysterically. Yes, karma is a bitch, but she's a fair cop.

Kris takes her clients in there sometimes to kill time, so I know that there are some mentally ill and disturbed people in Wal-Mart. It is just easier to spot them in a rural Wal-Mart than in an urban one. More people, more chances to blend in, even if you are just slightly off-center...

And before anyone starts in on why I shouldn't shop at Wal-Mart, I don't. No, really. I just walk around casually, look at the XBox, XBox 360 and PS2 games that I won't be getting anymore in favor of baby toys and goodies and I do what I do best - I watch people. That hasn't changed. My attitude toward them has, but not the habit of.

When your work schedule keeps you from watching most prime-time television and you are beginning to wonder if the creators of The Sopranos are losing their minds (a fucking Dallas-JR-esque dream episode?), you need to get your entertainment somewhere. I get it by watching people. And I need to do that more often. It'll get me out of the house more and there will be times that I'll have Erin with me.

No, I won't be teaching her any of my bad habits (that'll come later in the form of Monty Python's Flying Circus, sports, Star Wars and other personality querks that are beginning to show in the Burns brothers, according to Kris and my sister-in-law) while on these trips, but I do want her to watch people. Watch their body language, their stance, the way they hold their heads up, their facial expressions as they walk around or interact with people. Take in the small stuff, the ones that tell the most stories when no one wants that story told.

For instance, the 400-pound woman had the look of determination, because most of those seven rugrats weren't hers. I could tell which ones. They were very nicely in the main basket (possible boy-girl twins, around 2-2 1/2 years old), up front and looking in wonder at the cousins and neighbors (my guess) being very loud and obnoxious around them.

And, the person who was playing with the hair on their feet looked confused, disoriented and downright out-of-place. The only thing in the world that was holding her attention was the very small hairs that are on your feet and toes. Her mother got her up nicely, almost lovingly, really. They were near the pharmacy, so I'm hoping and praying that the mother or older caregiver was picking up the feet woman's meds. If not, then why not and how did this episode get here?

Hey, I'm an asshole. I know that. I need to snap myself out of a lot of lazy fucking habits and tendencies. But you can't deny that I'm an observant asshole.

Maybe there's some meds for me to cure me of my asshole-ness... Nah... How boring would that be?

(c) R. Burns

RADIO EDIT: Glad to see that baseball is back. Saw a great World Baseball Classic final tonight with Japan and Cuba. Ichiro continues to be my favorite player, especially since I can't claim that left fielder anymore without getting a lecture on steroids. And, I'm glad to read that there are two Giants out there who play hard and have fun out in the field. That's a small thing that'll get me to the games this week.

Second radio edit: Went to a tax preparer for mine and Kris' taxes last week. With as many forms there are with ours and my general distain for numbers and frustrations with money, it is easier to have it done this way. Then again, after this guy did my taxes and was printing them out, asked me if I knew his grandson, a former Hoquiam High swimmer. The name rang a bell, but nothing more. Well, the guy and the swimmer's mom started a 20-minute rant about how everyone was jealous of him, didn't like him (the grand dad) to be at the practices and how - here's the kicker - the paper completely ignored him. He then said that it was the paper's job to make people famous and his grandson would have been in this case. Also, that would have helped with scholarships and such. And what stunk about this: I couldn't leave. He had the papers in his hands the whole time and was waving them like a madman throughout the story. I'm going to invest in a tax computer program for the 2006 tax season. I've had enough with the ambushes...