So I’m driving around the Kroger parking lot today…looking for a space so I can go in and buy some grub…when out of my passengerside window I see a flash of gray hair.
As many of you know…and probably can totally relate to…since January, Taylor Hicks has become responsible for the surge in America of hypersensitivity to gray heads. Even the briefest of glimpses from the corner of my eye will cause me to whiplash myself as I spin my head to see who is underneath said gray hair. It doesn’t matter if I know Taylor is in another state, performing live on stage, and streaming video is being sent directly to my brain…I still turn to look…’cause…you know…doppleganger….or teleportation…or something.
The point is, I would kick myself to death if I didn’t look and then I heard that gritty soulful drawl yell to me as it drove away behind tinted windows, “You had your chance, Shelley…you fool…I was borrrrnnn by the riiiiverrrrr…”
So today…when I saw that tuft of gray hair shining in the sun…perched on top of a frame that had pones and meaty calves…I had to look.
Of course, it wasn’t Taylor…he’s in Texas (damn you Texans). And it’s a good thing it wasn’t Taylor…because I wouldn’t have stopped staring…and I would have hit the security guard driving around the lot in his little patrol cart. As it was…I just gave him a tiny scare as I almost grazed his cart.
I don’t think he was appeased with my “I’m sorry” smile and wave.
Oh well. I couldn’t worry about his hurt feelings because, of course, I had to get a picture for all y’all.
Not stopping to think that I looked like a total stalker…I rummaged through my purse for the camera (which I started carrying when I began blogging). As I turned up the aisle where the fake Taylor was, I rolled down my passengerside window…not considering that my blaring stereo, playing a tune by The Ditty Bops, would cause the guy to LOOK UP!
But it did.
I quickly threw the camera down and drove past…praying he hadn’t seen what I was up to.
I made the loop around the row and came back up…this time with the stereo turned down. I approached slowly…knowing I only had one last shot at getting the picture.
Yes…his back was to me. I eased up…and just as I snapped the shot…the fan belt on my air-conditioner started squealing like Arnold the Pig on Green Acres.
Before Fake Taylor could turn around…I ditched the camera and turned to face the front…quietly mouthing, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” while fumbling with the a.c. controls with one hand, rolling up the window with the other, and steering with my knees.
I think maybe the women loading their groceries next to Fake Taylor saw me…that would explain why they were pointing and laughing.
Geesh…the things I go through for y’all.