Today, I went to the corner store. I drug my feet around and whined and threw myself on the floor like a damned toddler, but after all of that nonsense, I remembered that we don’t have Favor or any of the other 7-11 delivery services yet.
So, after dusting myself off and wiping my tears off my face with the closest hundred dollar bill, I put Tyra on a leash, and Puffin in her straightjacket, and we meandered down to the beverage castle at the next street over. We almost melted in the 3.2 minutes it took to get there because it’s at least 6,200 degrees outside, but that isn’t the issue at hand.
There are always way too many people at the beverage castle. Cars lined up down the street, bicycles, jitterbugs on their little spacecraft hovershits, crazy broads with pit bulls… it’s a regular Barnum and Bailey in this bitch. What it isn’t, though, is wearing a mask.
Not the chic handing people their purchases. Not the chic pretending to stock but really texting. Not any of the 14 jitterbugs trying to buy cigarettes when none of them can be a day over 15. Not the bread guy, the Bud Light man, the butcher, the baker, or the candlestick maker.
Now, I’ll admit, we don’t have the reputation for being gentlemen and scholars down here in the Sunshine State. Florida Man has done some shit that has really made it hard for me to be proud of my beautiful home in The Bay. But, in the move to really just beat the dumb right into those that live near us, we’ve decided to start filing lawsuits because wearing masks is “uncomfortable”. That’s right. Un. Com. Fortable.
Listen, I tended bar in 5” stiletto heels for 12 hours a day. That. is uncomfortable. Popping this little piece of cloth on my face so that I don’t have to engage with the assholes around me? Pssssssshhhhh….no brainer. If there’s any way at all I can get out of talking to my drunk ass neighbor A or drunk ass neighbor B, hand me the sign up sheet because you aren’t writing my information down quickly enough.
Uncomfortable.
Get the fuck out of here.
