Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Reason 5,047 why I love senile old people

Sometimes after I've had too much to drink and I feel like I need to put my life in perspective, I'll sign up to volunteer for Senior Bingo Night at the local old folks home in my neighborhood. I guess the politically correct term is 'elderly,' but if you've called them old for so long, it's really quite impossible to change. Typically I'll back out last minute and get a stern email from the organization about how I shouldn't have waited until an hour before the event to bail, but once in a blue moon I'll actually follow through and show up. And most often than not, I'll have a delightful little experience. Tonight I sat in between Octavia, a wheelchair bound woman wearing a construction worker orange t shirt, and Joanne, also in a wheelchair and clutching a can of Coke. Octavia was all smiles and compliments while Joanne stared at me, tight lipped and disapproving like. Quite the cranky one, she was. Octavia was fully capable of handling her own bingo board, but Joanne kept falling asleep. And snoring. When she did, I would innocently place the chips on the numbers she had, because if I tried to do it when she was awake, she would push my hand away and glare at me. She woke up at one point and mumbled "you Joanna?" I replied yes. "I'm Joanne." "Well look at that," I said. "We've got some pretty awesome names." (crickets). "You got birds on your dress?" she asked. "Yes," I said. "I got a dress with champagne glasses on it." SWEET MOTHER MARY. I KNEW THERE WOULD EVENTUALLY BE A BONDING MOMENT. "I do like the champagne Joanne, and I am going to want to see this skirt." No response. Great. Back to square one. When it came time for me to leave, her was of saying goodbye was "You go to the beach? You got some tan lines. But you look alright. You look alllllright." Thanks for the self esteem boost, g-ma.

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