Holy Clusterfuck Batman!

I decided to do a little last minute running around to get ready for my first low key New Year's Eve since I began my drinking career (I won't share with you when that period in my life began, I wouldn't want my parents to be looked down upon by others that prefer to keep their kids in the "no fun zone".

Traffic pulling into Pittsford Wegmans was ridiculous, I'm talking it looked as if there were a train wreck ahead. People were beeping as if they were cab drivers in NYC. There was lots of middle fingers waving in the air and an elderly couple even stopped their Buick in the middle of the intersection, I'm assuming the driver was either confused with all the commotion or having a TIA.

I'd just like to stop the story to mention how much I hate those carts that have the attachment on the front that look like a car, so that kids can be entertained while Mommy and Daddy grocery shop. LEAVE YOUR KID AT HOME! And I don't care if you don't have a sitter, I would much rather prefer you leave your kid in the car than push them around in one of those obnoxious carts, I promise I won't call Child Protective Services, it can be our little secret, my attempt to make the world a much happier place, or at least the act of grocery shopping.

The store was filled with people racing to pick up last minute items for the evening, I shit you not, people were running, in a Supermarket Sweep type fashion. I witnessed multiple cart attacks, where the person behind you hits you in the Achilles tendon area of your leg. Only those with cankles can survive one of those!

But my all time favorite moments at Wegmans today are as follows:
1. The little red headed boy that was dipping his pointer finger in the scalloped potatoes on the fresh food bar, licking it, and then doing it all over again. He may have only been six years old or so, but he was evil and kind of resembled Chuckie.

2. At the checkout, there was an Asian family ahead of me and the cashier was trying to ring up her items but got stumped on one. After many attempts to figure out what it was he was holding without having to ask and look like a complete asshole, he finally said "what's this". The woman replied "Gingah". He pretended like he knew what that meant, and a few seconds later said "Wait, What's this"? "Gingah". I had to throw in the towel and say "It's ginger from the produce section." I wasn't trying to be a bitch, I just wanted to get the show on the road. Trying to make small talk with grocery bagger Josh I say "You must hate your life right now" (I meant to say "you must hate your JOB right now"). But that didn't matter to prepubescent Josh, he replied "Yeah".

3. After checkout, I ran into the bathroom to blow my nose and boy was that a mistake, I would have been better off wiping it on my sleeve. The stench was awful, almost gag worthy. People were TEARING UP the Ladies Room. I wish I had left my groceries outside and risked them being stolen or mistaken for re-shops, because now I feel like my focaccia bread is contaminated.

4. As I re-entered the world of beeping car horns and potential car accidents I loaded up my groceries and realized that the chili I got for my lunch had dumped inside the plastic grocery bag it was in. At that point I was so fed up and starving I decided to say fuck it and ate the soup straight out of the plastic bag with a spoon.

And then I pulled out of my parking spot and heard a thud...

You Know You're At The Hilton Carnival When...

Once a year, at the end of July, comes the event that I dread, the event that townies anticipate will be the best time of their life, better than the day they got married or the birth of their first child... The Hilton Carnival.

The carnival officially starts on Wednesday and ends on Saturday, but the hype for the event starts long before. Lawn chairs line the streets five days prior to the kick off of the Fireman's Parade, which usually consists of an array of fire trucks from all of the neighboring towns. If you're lucky, you'll get to see the color guard march down Main Street in their spandex leotard, the majority of them being smack dab in the middle of the gawky stage in life when most girls should be wearing a bra but are embarrassed to ask mom to buy them one, they haven't quite shed that baby fat and family fails to mention to them that eyebrow waxing is mandatory and thick, unruly eyebrows that resemble that of Eugene Levy from the American Pie movies are never attractive... EVER. I think of them as dance class/cheerleading rejects.

The bar in town is deserted, because all the alcoholic regulars have relocated to the beer tent for the week, I'm pretty sure some of them sleep there. The beer tent, known as the Hilton Zoo, is essentially our high school reunion. It's the one time each year when girls and their baby daddies come out of the woodwork to put on the happy family face. I swear the Village of Hilton is secretly a baby factory. When you run into someone you haven't seen since the previous year's carnival, most likely they'll share that they have had yet another child, and one in the oven. For those that have not seen me in the two years since I've been married will ask "what have you been up to"? When I share that I'm married and living in the city they interrupt with "Who'd ya marry". Rule of thumb is that those from Hilton MUST marry one another, I think it's written in the Village Code Book at the Town Hall. I obviously am not a rule follower; you could call me a rebel. I live in the "big bad city" 20 minutes away, married a man from another zip code and did not have a child out of wedlock. I should be shunned.

TO BE CONTINUED...