I’m off sugar.
Again.
Okay, I’m practically off sugar… at least, the bad kind. You know, the white stuff, and I’m not talking about cocaine either, even though the two are very similar, except one makes you thin and one makes you fat.
Right now, the only sugar I’m eating is from dried fruit. Still sugar, but not the evil kind, and I don’t eat as much of it because it’s nowhere near as fun or as tasty.
But seeing as how it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, I need to use the evil kind of sugar for my cranberries ‘cause Lord knows they need it. I’d be interested to know who the first person was that discovered the cranberry, what that person thought after he or she tasted that very first one, and how the cranberry has persevered to this very day.
Anyway, since I’m off sugar, I’m not keeping any in the house – too tempting – but I needed some for my recipe and I didn’t want to buy a whole package since I only need a little bit, so I decided to hit up my neighbor. You know, the ‘ol “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” thing. I didn’t even need a whole cup, only about a third of a cup.
Well they say timing is everything because just as I was going to knock on her door, I saw her walking up the path toward me, which was a good thing because just the second before that, I remembered she doesn’t answer her door whenever I knock. It’s not because she’s older and hard of hearing, or because she doesn’t like me either. It’s because she drinks. You know, nips the bottle, whets her whistle, chugga-luggas, whacks back a pint, etc.
She’s a drunkard, in other words.
C’mon, that’s not being mean, I’m stating a fact. Look, I don’t blame her. Hell, if I was in my eighties, didn’t have a man, and lived with an overweight dog dressed in a sweater as my companion, I would drink, too.
There’s nothing wrong with being single, living with two cats and being a tiny bit chubby either. My therapist told me I should tell myself this when harshly judging others, just to remain fair and balanced. I don’t practice it that often though because it’s fucking annoying.
Anyway, as she approached I asked whether she had any sugar (which was a dumb question because any eighty year old lonely drunkard definitely has sugar in her cabinet) to which she replied that she did (what’d I say?) and so I asked if I could borrow half a cup. You see how I used the word “borrow” even though I have no intention of returning it? Because that’s how it’s done. You never use the phrase “Will you give me a cup of sugar?” It comes across too needy. You want to come across as in control, and even giving, by using the word “borrow” due to the connotation that you intend to return it, even though you both know that’s never gonna happen.
Of course she said yes, but it bothered me the way she said it; she did not sound overly exuberant about it. I mean, if you’re gonna give something to someone you should make it a pleasant exchange, like you’re happy to do it. Otherwise, it’s uncomfortable and that’s not really fair… to me. I’m already having to put myself out there by asking you, you should be diplomatic.
Well, I got my sugar, even though she made it weird.
But then, the unthinkable occurred. As I went into my kitchen to put away the measly quarter cup of sugar (I should’ve asked for a cup), I overheard her going to the other neighbor’s door and giving him a pie.
Yeah
A pie
A whole goddamn pie, not a slice, not a half a pie… a whole goddamn pie!!
No, you don’t understand, the neighbor is GAY!
Literally gay. He plays the piano and sings off key and has a cat. That spells G A Y.
He doesn’t deserve the pie. Not because he’s gay, because he’s awful at playing the piano and singing. If you’re gonna be gay, you need to be good at those two things. Hello, Broadway?!!
And I’m thinking “What the hell, lady? Why didn’t you give me the goddamn pie?! I was just in your face talking to you, and you go ahead and decide to give the gay neighbor the pie and not me? I was right there! Forget about the fact that just several months ago I brought you a big, fat slice of a delicious chocolate cake. Apparently you don’t remember that.”
I thought it was the season of Thanksgiving but apparently, for some people, it’s “Thanks, I’m giving this to the gay neighbor instead”.