I just glanced at the time on my laptop and it occurred to me for the first time to wonder – to wonder, as opposed to somersaulting, I suppose? - what happened on July 8, 1990 exactly 56 seconds after 12:34 pm , which would make the time & date 12:34:56 7/8/90.
A quick perusal online shows that…pretty much nothing happened that day? It was 6 days before my 18th birthday and less than a month after I graduated high school, and…I don’t really recall anything of note happening? Maybe my three-shift career at Food Lion had come and gone by then?
Plastic bags are a far cry from the old days, when if you had more than two bags you had to get the bag boy to wheel the shit out to your car for you. I bagged groceries at Food Lion for about 3 days one summer and it was fucking miserable. Whenever I had been in line before, it always seemed like the baggers were having a good time. Standing there yammering with each other, clowning around, whatever - leaving work and heading down to the river to make out with girls and toast baby egg rolls. So I start bagging and this turns out to be the summer that everybody in town decides to buy all the food on planet Earth. At my register. I swear to Christ, nobody ever bought $5, $10, $20 worth of food; everybody seemed to be bringing their paychecks straight to the Food Lion, loading up as much shit as possible onto a bulldozer and then bringing it to me to fucking bag. Christ. And my favorite were the motherfuckers who would insist on rummaging through all the bags as I’m standing there. Because yeah, at some point in the 3 feet separating the two of us I pulled some sleight-of-hand trick and am now the proud owner of your fucking Scramblers. Congrats Deputy Dawg, you fucking nailed me.
Such an exciting TIME, but not an exciting time, indeed. 🤔🧐
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