I found myself in quite the undesirable position of having an overwhelming urge to hit something yet not having anything around I could get away with hitting.
There was a large pile of things that got me to this point, the surface issue being that my parents had dragged me along shopping with them to Kohls, which, actually, wasn't that big of a deal, because we had finished with sufficient time for me to go home to try to meet up with some people and hit up the always-crappy but why the hell not since it's there - Bloomfield Harvest Fest. Yes Matt, if you're reading this, your Hebron Harvest Fest wins out over my Bloomfield Harvest Fest; its bigger, runs longer and there are actual hicks (not to mention people that you know and talk to.)
However, I was wrong in my assumption that I would get home in time. My dad had decided to take an early turn off the highway to visit the next Kohls, yes, just for the hell of it, making me sit around and watch the time go from 4:45PM to 5:30PM; the Harvest Fest ended at 6, or so it said online anyway. And this is why, I decided, we need a better public transportation system for the entire state of New Jersey. Buses and Trains don't cut it by themselves, I should be able to walk down the street and get to a subway station that I can take within walking distance to my house, or at least to another train that will take me within walking distance of my house.
I have to insert a disclaimer here: I recognize that there was a whole lesson about not burning people on the internet/be careful about what you put on the internet lesson to be learned from the past few weeks, but for some reason I feel its okay to vent out about this particular issue on this blog. Then again, thinking I would never see nor hear from people my blog may affect ever again was what ultimately got me in trouble last time, so maybe I should use some code.
Now the reason for my great desire to get to my town's harvest fest is for the almost-simple reason that I wanted two things: cotton candy and a funnel cake A.K.A. greasy sugary death. Of course, the desire for these things, which are best shared with friends, stems from the need to be distracted from the woes of being unemployed and nagged constantly by my parents, as well as finding out that someone is seeing some prissy little fucker from our rival collegiate academy to the west. Oddly enough, the discovery of the last one has been bothering me only on and off for the past day or so and I wish it would either stay for a while or go away entirely because otherwise it's just being unnecessarily annoying. Additionally, part of me wonders if my being upset over said last issue is just me being unreasonable, but whatever, I digress.
After 30 minutes of waiting outside the second Kohls (I refused to go in) I call my parents to ask them if they're done yet. The answer was "I don't know where your father is, I'm over by hand bags, let me go find him. About ten minutes later they walk out of the store, empty handed. At that point what races through my mind is something like this:
"Are you kidding me? You insist on wasting time at a second Kohls and come out empty handed? Please, if you're gonna waste time by coming to a store to look at things to could have looked at 40 minutes ago at the identical first store we were at, then please at least buy something."
We manage to get home at 5:40 and I battle with myself as to whether or not I want to try to get there in time for the last 5 minutes to pass. Initially I decide "no" but as I get to my room and get ready to sit grumpily in front of my computer, I decide "fuck that, I'm not going to resign to sitting around and grumpily blogging about how much my life sucks, I'm at least going to go out and walk around.
So I get outside, yelling "I'm going for a walk" as I leave (my dad asks "are you coming back for dinner?" I respond "probably" he says "alright, call") and head down the street. Across the street from George's house I decide to give him a call to see what's up and if he wants to join, he's sitting around relaxing and answers "no, I was there yesterday..." and so I head over to where the Harvest Fest is alone.
The Bloomfield Harvest Fest, like many things Bloomfield, is wack. The festival extends one street in the center of town from the high school to a T-intersection with "Bloomfield Ave." Much to my surprise, most of the festival was still up and running. Several booths and food vendors were packing up, but everything else was still there, including the annoying high school brats that think they're "oh-so-ghetto" that I typically roll my eyes at. I text Joyce telling her about the festival still being on, but I don't expect a response, (seeing as to how my earlier text requesting deliverance from my suburban department store hell via 12 gauge shotgun or hollow point bullet seemed to have been ignored) nor do I get one.
I wander from end to end and then make my way over to a stand located on the town's green somewhere in the center of the hubbub of the festival and get what I was looking for: a bag of cotton candy; $5.00 for a small that could easily have passed for an extra large in New York. I then started to feel a little sick after eating it all by myself within a 10 minute time span.
At least I got what I went there for.
I guess it worked, because I can't bring myself to care anymore.