Monologue #2

Monologue #2
 
The upside of accepting an invitation to a social gathering far beyond your comfort zone:
You are reminded why you usually keep as far from the mainstream as possible:
 
Barefoot half-dressed children old enough to know better writhing on the floor of a busy restaurant while people evade stepping on them on the way to the buffet lines.
 
Tiny birdlike elderly women repeatedly filling multiple plates with food they nibble but do not eat.
 
Men of all sizes, ages and races bulking up on a never-ending flow of fried chicken, fake mashed potatoes, and ice cream.
 
Women of all sizes, ages and races eating a never-ending flow of pizza, ice cream and soda.
 
Children of all sizes, ages and races playing with enough food to supply all the free lunches for several schools for at least a week.
 
Employees unable to keep up with clearing plates, tables and filling the buffet stations. Even the flatware disappears moments after it appears.
 
The streets and parking lot are filled with whales of vehicles large enough to swallow your car whole–and then some. What is the gas mileage for such creations? Never mind–you really do not want to know at the moment.
 
In addition to all of the above, the promised group conversation is disturbingly disjointed,and disconnected among people who supposedly spend some time reading books for pleasure. “Supposedly” being highly suspect at this point. There is a studious evasion of any discussion of politics, climate change and #NoDAPL Standing Rock—
“Let’s not go there.”
 
“Why the hell not?”
 
“It makes us uncomfortable.”
 
“Besides, what is with those protesters?”
 
“Why can’t they be like everyone else? No, please, please, don’t answer.”
 
[What two words am I thinking but not saying–(or writing now)?]
 
Upon exiting the dysfunctional main stream stress level plummets to acceptable health levels.
 
To do:
Practice polite refusals for future reference until they are part of mental health survival kit and readily available for deployment for evading similar future engagements. After all, It is the ‘season’ when people want to be sooooo sweetly social.
 
BAH! And Hum Bug Too!
 
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Monologue #1

Tonight’s internal monologue.
 
I find myself overusing two words:
orange
fascist
 
Why do I have the feeling I’m going to run these two words into the ground?
 
Oh the reality show aka American politics needs a rating boost.
 
Let’s get an orange to spin the ratings machine.
 
OOOps!
 
Too much reality SHOW.
 
Four wheel drive can not deal with this spin.
 
Too much for the snow tires with chains to handle.
 
Orange Julius for everyone!
 
No, I want an Orange Crush!
–And I want it NOW!
 
Where’s a tanning machine when you need one?
 
Easy, easy there’s enough solar energy for all the mainstream news anchors to get a healthy looking tan. You’ll all be a nice even orange tone in no time at all.
““
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