THINGS THAT BUG ME .....#1

    OR..TEENSY, INCONSEQUENTIAL HAPPENINGS IN LIFE (THAT SHOULD BE SIMPLY A BLIP ON YOUR RADAR),  BUT NOOOOO....THEY LURK THERE IN YER NOGGIN, AND PERIODICALLY PRESENT THEMSELVES AS ENORMOUS AND PAINFUL EVENTS.

OR...PLEASE.  Can someone PLEASE erase this part of my otherwise empty brain?  
      Do all of us experience this phenomenon?  Please don't tell me I'm the only one.  Some of these events have haunted me.  I'm hoping you have some too...if not, then I'm even more vacuous than I thought.   HERE'S HOW IT GOES...  

     These carefully blocked out monsters pop into your head...oh...maybe a couple of times a year.  You're most likely going about our business in your usual reckless manner, trimming your bangs or sumptin'.  And BOOM.

       It's that irksome memory.  Just as if it were freshly baked yesterday.  Here's one of mine..., so you don't feel so all alone.  

     I don't lie very well.  Never could.  You can get the truth out of me by just looking at me cockeyed,, and i will invariably crumble like the loose cupcake I am.  Once upon a time, I had an acquaintance named Betty.  Betty was one of those "glom" on kind of folks.  We've all got a few.  You'd bravely pitch in there and buck her up when she needed it (which of course was always), and she in turn would suck every living cell out of you.  Is Betty there when YOU need HER?  Oh HELL no.  You could be sinking in QUICKSAND, and Betty would casually stand by with her delicate and useless arm lamely pointed somewhere within your sphere.  "ohhhhh so sorry...just toooo far away. Bye bye now."

     Don't have an inkling where I met her.  No recollection at all.  As far as I know, she may have picked me out of the phone book, pretended to know me, and invited herself over.  Entirely possible.  I would have been to chicken / polite to say "just who the hell ARE you, and why are you in my home?"

     I had gamely suffered the insufferable Betty for a few painful years, when a miracle occurred. Betty moved far away.  Now, the agonizing Betty wasn't anywhere near the Vardzie orbit. NOPE.

     Not so fast there.  You kiddin' me?  Betty took to VISITING.  I wasn't home all that much...being on the road and all..but Betty somehow psychically knew exactly when I'd be in town.  How, how, how?  

      I swear on a stack of Sun Session 45's, she wasn't on any of my mailing lists.  Believe me, I had checked as if my life depended on it.  

     She'd ring up, and ....not ask...but TELL me...she was coming.  The length of her proposed visits were always a nebulous thing.  As luck would have it, I'd be playing close to home.  Yup.

     Here's the general gist of a Betty visit.  Betty would waltz in my front door, move her chubby self onto my couch (the only moving Betty EVER did), and sit.  And sit.  Soon as she took her rightful place as the "queen"  ruling from my long suffering couch, I'd begin to wait on her.  HAND AND FOOT.  Ever see that old movie..."The Man Who Came To Dinner?

     "No Vardz, not in the mood for stir fry tonight...no...I think i'm hankerin' for a little pastrami from Katz's with a side of caviar topped egg, and oh...a nice brandy souffle'.

     Are you doing the dishes in there?  Because if you'd take a moment, I could use another pillow in here...this one is squishing the back of my hairdo.  You know what i just noticed Bardz?  My NAIL broke off.  MY NAIL.  Be a dear and run to the store for some glue on....no no.  Is there a manicurist in this stupid town?  Why don't you look it up for me?  There.  Phone book's waaaay over...I can see it.  Too far to reach.  

    Don't you think it needs vacuuming in here?  My allergies are...has to be that fur-laden cat of  yours.  Could you pu-LEEZ put kitty in your room?  

     Anyway, the manicurist...no more than 50 bucks, i think.  You can make a run to the ATM, ya?

     VARDZIE...I'm going to make every effort now, to rise and crawl to the bathroom.  I hope you can appreciate this herculean undertaking...I don't like to be a burden,  but I'd appreciate it if you could at LEAST wipe my tushy for me."

     Ok, I'm exaggerating....the part with the tushy is not true.  But the rest...the rest of it...I'm telling you, the bad Betty visits weren't too far off.  Don't know bout' you all, but i was raised to bring a little treat when I visit, help with the dishes, take the visitee's to dinner, AND send a thank you note, thank you very much.     NOT our Betty.  No, no...Betty's visits were punctuated by a total lack of any reciprocal movement on her part at all.  After about a year of these Betty disasters, my usual self restraint was plumb worn down. 

     The next call DID come, and as always...Betty in her inexplicable fashion knew EXACTLY when I'd be in town. So i lied.  Yes, i lied.  You HEAR ME?  I LIED.  Wasn't easy to get the words out, but I was pretty darn proud of my glib tone.

     "Betty, I'd love to have you, but I won't be here.  We'll be heading up to...um...Bar Harbor...NO..too far for you.  Be there a few days, and from there to...let's see.  Camden Maine...yeah...too far too, and then...uh, uh....Portland.

      No, afraid not Betty...we'll be staying with Cub and Lady...no room.  It's not a HOTEL Betty, it's their house.  Yes, I KNOW you're no trouble, but it's nice enough they're putting up my whole slobby band. 

      Well, then on to Providence.  Yes Betty...we'll be at Lupo's.  Yes, I can leave your name at the door...(oh dear GOD, don't let her show up, and find out I'm not playing that date)...Well no there won't be room for you to stay over...we're staying in the back of Wes's Ribs.  Yup, that's right.  In the kitchen.  PUT A LITTLE SOUTH IN YOU MOUTH.      Trust me Betty,, you wouldn't like it there.  Say...Oh...I don't know....say James Brown comes in.  

      I reckonn the hardest working man in show business would be MIGHTY HUNGRY Betty. I'm thinkin' they'd have you slathered with sauce and thrown in the pit so fast, your plastic nails would fly off."
 

   Was that the end of THAT? Huh.  Comeuppance was on it's way. The date(s) for Betty's planned visit rolled around, and i was feeling mighty lucky.  Dodged THAT nasty bullet, bet yer bottom dollar.  I sauntered out my front door with a wicked degree of confidence.  Wanna guess who was AT THAT VERY MOMENT evvver so slowly cruising past my house in a car?  Sure. YOU know who it was.

     And there we have it.  One of those surreal and goofy moments that haunt.       

     If i squint real hard, I can still see it in slow motion...like a bad shampoo commercial careening into your face.  Down the stairs I stumble. Betty's car stopping.  Betty's oddly triumphant smile. Me...blabbering nonsense...wanting to be microscopic to escape Betty's fish eye.  
     Moral of this story?

 DON'T LIE.   Don't.    And at all costs NEVER EVER lie to the likes of Betty.  
 SHE'S LOTS SMARTER THAN US.    Yes she IS.