These Are The Days of Our Lives

18 Dec

First off and most importantly, let me start this blog post by saying “I’m sorry for not writing more often” to the four people who I know read this blog on a daily basis… Hi Mom.

I could try to bore you with the traditional excuses of “Oh life has been so busy I’m so important to everyone I’m in such high demand I can’t possibly find the time to write because I’m so important doing important things hum hum mc hummerson” speech… but I won’t. Life has been busy, sure, but I’m not super important. I’m just poor and trying to work enough hours to pay my bills so my sister can stop feeling like a single mom. I’d also like to be able to afford a loaf of bread, orange juice, and shampoo all in one trip.

Secondly, I’d like to take this moment to let everyone know, going into this post, that I have literally no idea where it is going to go. The “title” section is completely blank. I don’t know what I’m writing. I’m kind of just making myself write something so that I can dig my way out of this dry spell ditch. I miss writing.

I guess I’ll try to fill you in with what’s been going on in my life. I guess. I don’t know. I hate writing without a purpose. I feel so lost. Like, I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing. It makes me feel like a naked, drunk, recently divorced woman who just lost her job to a much younger, more attractive and financially and emotionally successful woman, stumbling down the street while taking shots of tequila and chasing them with Samoas while wearing a shirt that says “Hip Hop Master” with a picture of Thumper the rabbit or something. I don’t know what any of that meant.

Anyway. So I made this new friend, and she’s a witch. It’s pretty cool because she’s a real witch. She wears the robes, takes care of the owls, sells the wands, the works. She tells me stories about the muggles who she deals with, and it’s pretty funny. Take today, for example. She told me that all she wanted to do was have a nice, quiet lunch to herself and then return to work. Sadly, that did not happen. Upon her arrival back into Hogsmeade, she was attacked by muggles.

ENTER FOREIGN MUGGLE.

Foreign Muggle: Lady!
Witch: …Yes?
Foreign Muggle: ‘Arry Potter?!?
Witch:
Foreign Muggle: ‘Arry POTTER!?!?!
Witch: Um… Harry Potter?
Foreign Muggle: (Nods enthusiastically)
Witch: Well, you are currently in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Foreign Muggle: (Nods even more enthusiastically at the words “Harry Potter.”)
Witch: The only place you can see Harry himself is inside the castle.
Foreign Muggle: (Confused) Cast-le?
Witch: Hogwarts. …Yes. Just, go up this path, you literally. Cannot miss it.
Foreign Muggle: ‘Arry Potter!
EXIT FOREIGN MUGGLE.

ENTER INDIAN MUGGLES.

Father Muggle: Yes! Ma’am! YOU THERE!
Witch: Hello!
Father Muggle: I AM LOOKING FOR HAMBURGERS OR PIZZA.
Witch: You… are?
Father Muggle: WHERE CAN WE FIND PIZZA OR HAMBURGERS!?
Witch: Well, the only food available in the wizarding world is at the Three Broomsticks. I’m not sure of their exact menu, but you can find it outside of the restaurant or ask that wizard right there.
Indian Muggles:
Witch: … Oooor, you could… make your way to Jurassic Park? There is a pizza and hamburger place that way? Just, go up the path towards the castle, and-

ABRUPT EXIT OF ALL INDIAN MUGGLES TO THE THREE BROOMSTICKS.

Witch: Um, okay…
(Witch attempts to return to work, when suddenly-)

ENTER AFRICAN AMERICAN MUGGLE MAN.

African American Muggle Man: WASH ROOMS! WHERE ARE THE WASH ROOMS!!?!?!
Witch: (Slightly stunned at his use of the term “wash rooms.”) Right behind me.
African American Muggle Man: OH!! Oh, THANK YOU! THANK you so MUCH!!!!!

EXIT AFRICAN AMERICAN MUGGLE MAN TO THE “WASH ROOMS.”

(The Witch tries, at this point, to walk faster, but then-)

ENTER JADED MOTHER MUGGLE.

Jaded Mother Muggle: EXCUSE ME!
Witch: Hello there!
Jaded Mother Muggle: Yeah whatever. Where is the exit?
Witch: (Looking ten feet away.) The exit is right over there, between those two giant stone pillars and the archway.
Jaded Mother Muggle: Come ON, guys!

EXIT JADED MUGGLE FAMILY.

(Witch proceeds to try to get back to work by hiding her face with her hand, almost as if covering her face will deter some of the endless questions. Where is her invisibility cloak when she needs it!? She finally gets about two feet away from the door to her destination, when suddenly-)

Disintegrating Old Man: YOU THERE!!! EXCUSE ME!!!
Witch: (Painfully turning around with a smile.) Yes?
Disintegrating Old Man: WELL now, who are YOU supposed to be!? (Animatedly waving over his reluctant muggle family of much younger muggles) GUYS! Guys come over here! Look at this!!! There’s a girl here, and she’s… well, she’s… WHO are you supposed to be?
Witch: Well… I’m a witch.
Disintegrating Old Man: ARE you?
Witch: Yes.
Disintegrating Old Man: REEEally? You don’t seem like a witch. You’re too SWEET! PAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAAH!!!!
Witch: …Do you want a picture with me?
Disintegrating Old Man: JACOB! JACOB GET OVER HERE AND LETS TAKE A PICTURE WITH THE NICE WITCH!

ENTER JACOB THE EMBARRASSED 8 YEAR OLD MUGGLE.

Disintegrating Old Man: (Grabbing the witch around her waist.) C’mere, sweetie! (JACOB THE EMBARRASSED 8 YEAR OLD MUGGLE can audibly be heard groaning in mortification.)

The witch told me it was like a movie, these crazy people just attacking her while she attempted to cross a 7 foot path. Literally, one right after the other EXCUSE ME, YOU THERE, MA’AM! before she even knew what hit her. But she says it’s all worth it, because she loves her job in Hogsmeade. She loves helping kids find the perfect wand. She loves helping little girls adopt their new owls.  Even if it only pays her 8 muggle dollars an hour. She can deal with that.

So, other than making friends with an actual witch, my life has been pretty boring. I went out with some friends the other night to some swanky wine bar in downtown Orlando. That was really fun, until a tipsy 46 year old motorcycle driver told attempted to buy me a drink after insulting me for 5 minutes about my drink choice. It went a little like this:

Motorcycle Creep: What are you girls drinking tonight?!?!?!
Me: Well, I’m trying to decide.
Motorcycle Creep: On what?
Me: Wine, or my drink of choice.
Motorcycle Creep: (Accusatory) Which is?
Me: … Um. Whiskey. Whiskey and sprite.
Motorcycle Creep: Whiskey… and SPRITE?
Me: Yeah. I really like it.
Motorcycle Creep: (Lets out an exhale that basically says, “Wow, what a dumb young b*tch”)
Me: What?
Motorcycle Creep: We gotta get you a nice big shot of some really GOOD whiskey.
Me: I don’t want a shot.
Motorcycle Creep: Sure you do.
Me: No. Actually, I don’t. I want to enjoy a drink.
Motorcycle Creep: (Exhales again.) Sure. Okay. HEY! Bartender! Get this girl a shot!
Me: No! No, don’t, I don’t want one. Thank you. Just a whiskey and sprite.
Motorcycle Creep: (Exhales) Whiskey and sprite…
(Bartender delivers the whiskey and sprite and holds out his hand to take my card. I hand it to him before Motorcycle Creep can protest. There is another exhale of frustration when Motorcycle Creep realizes he will not be paying for my drink, nor will he be escorting me home.)
Motorcycle Creep: (Under his breath) Whatever.
Me: Excuse me?
Motorcycle Creep: (acting like he’s yelling over the music) What did you say?
Me: Did you just say something?
Motorcycle Creep: Sorry, you’ll have to speak up. I lost my hearing in this ear after a motorcycle accident.
Me: Oh. Wow. I’m… I’m so sorry about that.
Motorcycle Creep: No you’re not.
Me: … What?
Motorcycle Creep: You’re not really sorry.
Me: Yeeeeah I’m gonna go. Nice meeting you.
Motorcycle Creep: Was it?
Me: What?
Motorcycle Creep: Was it REALLY nice to meet me?
Me: Well… do you want me to be honest?
Motorcycle Creep: What?
Me: DO YOU WANT ME TO BE HONEST?
Motorcycle Creep: Sure.
Me: You’re really abrasive. It’s like, I don’t know… you’re trying to get to know me while insulting me and challenging everything I say. You’re a very closed off person and it’s unnerving. You can’t expect people to let their guard down with you if your guard is constantly up.
Motorcycle Creep: (Scowl fades. Eyes soften.)
Me: Well… I, uh… I hope you find what you’re looking for after much self-growth and understanding.

And that was that.

So, back to what I should call this blog post… Here are a few options:
1. I am still poor, I met a real witch, and I once got hit on at a bar.
2. These are the days of our lives.

…Yeah I’m not even going to go on. That’s the title.

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