something no one tells you about moving in with your female best friend: even if the two of you have absolutely no sexual or romantic inclinations toward one another, you will, periodically, act exactly as though you are married.
case in point, i periodically get text messages that feel rather domestic - "on your way back from the office can you pick up milk and paper towels and i need cigarettes."
what this really means, considering my schedule is later than most normal people's, is that i am now going to end up in a walmart in the middle of the night (we're poor as shit, i ain't got no principles - i need me some cheap ass paper towels and as long as they're cheap enough i hope they never let you fuckers unionize).
walmart in the middle of the night is a desperate, desolate place. it's like the concrete version of the abstract idea of isolation and punishment.seen on a t-shirt at walmart in the middle of the night: "music is the art of thinking . . . with sounds."
it's the ellipses that make that work.
you think, "what? music isn't the art of thinking! i think all the time, that shit ain't music. right now i'm thinking that popcorn is sometimes overrated and sometimes underrated but never appreciated the correct amount. and that ain't music."
but then it hits you after the delay, it comes at you from the side like the attacking velociraptor - thinking with sounds.
and you go, "ohhhhhh."
there's an interesting hooker/angel complex going on at walmart recently. walking by the "young miss" section on my ware to the kitchen supplies (we needed a cutting board. i don't understand why, i just cut things. i told my roommate i could get a piece of scrap wood and thus save a few precious dollars, and she countered with "then the avocados will have splinters in them." there's no joke after that, i just like the phrase), i noticed that the two choices of styles offered to young women at the walmart are fake prep school uniforms, including blazers with fake prep school logos on them, and tiny ripped up union jack tanktops with tiny plaid skirts and pre-worn (p)leather jackets.
i didn't think you'd believe me, so i whipped out that modern marvel artifact of the future - the picture phone.
there's no picture.
imagine this scenario:
your best friend is pregnant, but single. dad's outta the picture. you're an intelligent, single girl, and you've known this girl your whole life, so you think, 'hey, i can move in and give her a hand around the house until the fetus drops out of her.' because you're an intelligent, single, nice girl. it's late in the pregnancy, and the weird cravings hit. your best friend just NEEDS chocolate syrup and hominy - but there's none left in the house. you throw on your pajama pants and victoria secret pink line hoodie and shuffle out, half-asleep, and drive your saturn to the local mom-and-pop grocery store. but it's late, and they're closed.
you have to brave the walmart.
you walk in, realizing that an old woman greeting you is way creepier at 1 in the morning, and face the pungent mcdonalds fry air, the harsh green florescence, the lacquered white tile.
the deli meats next to you seem like they're rotting. you make for the canned goods.
as you turn the corner, you walk into the "young miss" section.
there stands a fat, unshaven hipster in a shirt and tie. he is taking pictures of the young miss clothing with his cell phone and licking his lips lavaciously.
he turns and looks you deep in the eyes.
he can see your soul.
something else about walmart - the displays at the registers while you're waiting in line are really effective.
you actually start to think to yourself "do i own an uno deck? i could probably use one. it would go well with this discount chocolate bar and the economy pack of disposible lighters.
one day we could be sitting around, completely bored, and i'd be like the savior of the night with my surprise uno deck."
