We are the Olive Garden

And the dangers of buying shower gel online

My mom and I love to eat at the Olive Garden. We always have. These days we meet at a giant shopping complex in a town called Collegeville, about an hour from me and maybe a half hour from her, and eat at the Olive Garden. You can get a good meal and the experience of eating out for a very low price. For those of us who don’t have much money, this is a great thing. We always tip very well, in cash. The servers work hard. They are working class folks who need the money too.

Many people look down on the Olive Garden. Of course it isn’t Italian the way that South Philly family owned restaurants are Italian. We don’t think it is. We enjoy the food as is, and my mom often takes advantage of their “get another entree to take home for $6” deal to have another meal or two. Their entrees are so big that we can often make two meals out of them.

So many people take going out to eat for granted. When people drop $100 on dinner, I can’t help but quickly calculate how many days or weeks of groceries I could have gotten with that, or what percentage could have been Loviefluffy’s medication for a month (just over half) or what bill I would have to not pay to do that. When my mom and I go to the Olive Garden, we spend $30 - $35. And I bet we have an even better time because we do not take being able to do that for granted.

I was scrolling Facebook yesterday and saw many of my friends lamenting that voters had “put their pocketbooks before my human rights.”

What about the human right to buy food and medicine?

In a collection of memes that some would find offensive and others would find hilarious, Celia over at Jotting In Purple shared one that says, “The DNC learns that women buy groceries more often than they get abortions.”

Do I think that Trump and company will do a better job of helping us put food on our tables? I doubt it. But I am tired of watching liberals who don’t have to care about the price of eggs, who go out to expensive dinners without worrying about it, who get expensive takeout lunches every day, point fingers at people who don’t have that kind of luxury. So people should feel guilty for voting in a way that they think will help them better provide for their families? That’s a luxury belief if I ever heard one.

If I were a Republican strategist, which I assure you I am not (one thing both parties have in common is that they certainly are not asking for my advice) I would screenshot all this social media and save it for the run up to 2026 and 2028. Remind working class swing voters in states like Pennsylvania where I live how much liberals despise them. Here’s an example that I saw yesterday on Facebook:

But the problem is, they are racist and misogynist. I’m sorry, but if you think it’s OK to vote for a man who stole children and babies from their parents at the border and got away with it because their skin is brown, said terrible things about people of color, whose followers have said terrible things about people of color, then, like it or not, you are racist. If your pocketbook is more important to you than the lives and safety of people of color, then you are racist. If you are OK with voting for a man who has said about and done the things to women that he has done and said, you’re misogynistic on some level, regardless of your gender. I’m done trying to understand these people. They don’t care whether I live or die. They don’t care about my human rights. I, in return, don’t give a fuck about any of them anymore. I’m done with trying to understand them, I’m done with trying to talk to them, I’m done with reason. Sign me up for the revolution.

Some of you will be pleased to know that I did not write, “You mean like January 6? Attempting to violently overturn a democratic election?”

Some of you wish I had written that. I see you. :)

Again I send out my pointless plea into the universe: Someone stop liberals from saying these things in public! Are they trying to guarantee that the right stays in power? Have your meltdown privately over a glass of your favorite wine. It’s like if your organizing committee in a union campaign went rogue and started putting out flyers calling people who opposed the union blank-kissing-blanks. They may think that, but to win, they need to not say it!

I suspect that I have way more sympathy with swing voters who voted based on the economy than many of my liberal friends because I have spent a lot of time talking with the people who voted for Trump and because I’ve spent a lot of my life worried about how to pay the bills. I know how it feels. I also know how it feels to have my concerns about being able to pay my bills or buy food ignored or dismissed. It’s not a good look for those who wish to win elections.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with shower gel.

In a story of simple pleasures gone terribly wrong…

I love shower gels. I love the cheap ones at the dollar store, and every once in awhile when I have some money I get the more expensive ones, but never the super expensive ones. Shower gel starts my day right and ends my day in peace.

In a year when I was making quite good money, I decided that I wanted fall-scented shower gel. Something like burnt cinnamon pumpkin marshmallow orange or whatever it was from Bath and Body Works years ago. I was working at a remote job where I was tied to my computer all the time, so I decided to order the shower gel online.

It came. I smelled it. It smelled exactly like a Cracker Barrel. That cinnamon broom smell. Exactly.

Since I hate to waste things, I used it. I proceeded to spend over a month smelling like a Cracker Barrel. Fortunately as I was working from home no one but my cat was subjected to this on a day to day basis.

I started to crave Cracker Barrel. I love Cracker Barrel and I feel no shame!

So my mom and I went to Cracker Barrel. They actually have quite a few healthy choices on the menu. We had a lovely time. I smelled just in the right place.

I do not wish to spend a season smelling like a cinnamon broom again, but I’d love to find a place where I felt in place. I am such an alien here in the keffiyeh wearing anarchist land. I do not smell right here. There must be somewhere I belong.