Wednesday, August 10, 2022

And BINGO wasn't lame-o

My daughter is part of a student group that volunteers with several local organizations. This has given her a chance to showcase her skills and talents, such as dressing in the Clifford the Big Red Dog mascot costume in 95 degree heat, and being a buddy at a 'Night to Shine' event. Preparation for this event required getting instruction on what to do if your buddy keeps running away from you or wants to keep going back to the buffet. (I suggested that in lieu of attending the info session, she could just ask me to recap every date I had in college...)

The first time she dressed as Clifford was during a community day at a local community center. I arrived early to pick her up so I could see her in action. As I walked in, I saw Clifford heading toward an ambulance surrounded by EMTs, then climbing inside to sit on a stretcher. As I tried to elbow my way closer to get a better view of Clifford's sneakers to determine if this was, in fact, my child, I said, panicked, to the EMTs, "I think I'm Clifford's mom - is she alright?" 

Turns out, she was heading into the ambulance for a photo op with the EMTs. EMTs who wondered how I was unsure whether I had given birth to this thing.

A-OK!

Clifford the influencer.

A couple of years prior to this, she and a friend also had a memorable stint at the local assisted living community running the weekly Bingo game. 

Seemed like a sweet way to pass a couple of hours and as the two girls who volunteered were only 14, I got to be the designated "adult supervision." (stop laughing)

Turns out, Bingo can bring out the worst in assisted living residents, and while she and her friend were leading the Bingo game, they were treated to the following:

  • Arguments stemming from perceived Bingo slights (who got the best cards/table/seat) followed by accusations of cheating
  • Loud complaints about whether one woman should be able to participate because she was hard of hearing and kept calling "Bingo!" when she did not actually have it, because she could not hear the numbers being announced
  • Lots of whining about the available prizes for winners, which included deodorant, snack bags of chips, fun-sized candy bars, shaving cream, and travel-sized tissue packs. And to be fair - for an assisted living facility that costs roughly a zillion dollars a year, you'd think the merch would be a little better
After mediating running the Bingo game, the girls determined they must do this particular activity again.

Months later, when they had the opportunity to do so, they learned that management had apparently tired of the 'feedback' and upped the game on the prize cart (well, at least the prize cart display - it was still a bunch of crap-ola).

You've lived longer than most of your contemporaries -
please celebrate by wearing these novelty socks on
a slippery wood floor 

There was no improvement on the perceived slights or complaints.

Randomly calling "Bingo!",
Brutalism

Saturday, August 06, 2022

Vengeance is (Not) Mine

Note: In coming up with this blog post title, I googled the origin of the phrase and learned it is from the Bible - specifically, Deuteronomy (which before I knew better, I once spelled "Duderonomy" to the delight of my friend, who was like, "I'm stoked to read the Bible, bro").

Still not sure why I was referencing a book of the Bible in an email to a friend (or an email to anyone, for that matter), but as most of my 20s were a blur, it kinda tracks. Amen.

I digress.

Last night's stormy weather meant outdoor activities were a no-go, so I suggested to my fam that we go to an actual theater to watch a movie. They agreed, so I purchased tickets online for the film, "Vengeance," and was delighted to see we were three of only 10 people who had reserved seats for the show. This was good news both because COVID is still very real, and primarily because I'm a misanthrope. 

We got to the theater about ten minutes early and settled into our seats. There was one man directly behind us and a couple of others scattered throughout the theater and we happily chatted in anticipation of seeing a movie together in God-knows-how-long. (Another religion reference - Deut!)

A few moments later, a man came into the theater by himself, briefly sat in the seat on the floor closest to the exit (in hotels, this would be the equivalent of the "murder room" at the end of the hall closest to the stairway that provides quick egress), then set a large black bag down on the floor and exited the theater.

My vigilant daughter noted this seemed a little off, and suggested we leave the theater and see if this guy was at concessions or in the restroom. He was in neither place, so Mr. Brutalism talked to a manager, who assured him he had seen the man enter and had looked through the bag before permitting him to take it into the theater. We re-entered the theater and the bag man came in about ten minutes later and sat in his murder seat, noisily munching the popcorn he had procured - from a concession stand on a different floor, presumably.

Immediate threat aside, we enjoyed previews and the beginning of the movie, which started strong with its interesting premise and solid cast, and let it transport us, as movies do. This lasted 15 minutes until the gentleman directly behind us began snoring loudly. 

Moments later, a couple entered the theater and sat one row and about three seats behind us (a "knight's move" away, if you will). My daughter nudged me and pointed to where they were sitting and I saw what was horrifying her - their disgusting bare feet (or as she referred to it, "them dawgs") stretched out over the seat in front of them. 

Elsewhere in the theater, we heard hacking and coughing.  

Which means that out of ten people in the theater, a solid 50% were boors - an unreasonably high boor percentage, if you ask me.

Nostalgic for quarantine,

Brutalism