Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Why isn't this common knowledge?

Why is it that some people feel the need to chat in the bathroom? To me, it’s a place where you go to do your business and get out. Pee, wash hands, get out. Now, if you’re waiting in line for an open stall I can see why you’d chat a bit. Nothing else to do. But I hate it when people talk to me when I’m brushing my teeth. It’s like the stupid dentist who expects me to hold a conversation while he’s got various tools hanging out of my mouth. Don’t bother being polite and chit-chatting with me. It annoys me. I dislike chit-chat already, but having to do it in the bathroom takes the dislike to a whole new level.

I hate it even more when they start chatting with me through the stall. Hello! I’m concentrating in here! I’m doing something I’d much rather be doing at home, so please mind your own business and STFU! If you want to be friendly, do it in the hallway. The bathroom is an echoing, inhospitable, inappropriate place for conversation. Why isn’t this common knowledge?

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The Underwear Post

First and foremost, the most important aspect of underwear is its comfort. If it isn’t comfortable, I will not like it. If during the course of the day I am aware of its presence, then those panties are not as comfortable as they should be. The two deciding factors are:

• Must not crawl into spaces where they don’t belong. Thongs are the worst offenders. They are constantly up in my business and attempting to floss an area that was never meant to be flossed. If I have to pull it out more than once during the day, they will end up at the bottom of my underwear drawer (um, after I wash them of course, don’t be gross).
• Must not leave marks. So many panties are made so that the waistband has this really thick seam that likes to dig into my skin, leaving red marks. I found Jockey to be some of the worst ones. They have thick seams everywhere and I have to wear them inside out in order to be comfortable. But once they’re inside out, they’re actually very comfortable.

Once the comfort is all settled, I tend to prefer panties with color or patterns. White bores me. To me, no one ever sees your underwear in public (or at least they shouldn’t) so I can wear whatever wild print I feel like. Blue leopard spots, stripes, camoflage, multi-colored giraffe squares. One of my favorites was this lime green pair with a large happy face on the butt. I can be as funky as I want down there and still appear like a normal person on the outside. Why do you suppose that is?

On the few occasions when I’m wearing thin and/or pale pants or shorts, I have to make a conscious effort wear one of the boring panties. I’ve looked in the mirror a few times and noticed, “Oh, um, I’m not supposed to see that.” Showing your bra through your shirt is a fashion statement, showing your underwear through your pants is not. At least I don’t think so, but what do I know? I’m fashion impaired. It shouldn’t be if it is!

Monday, May 15, 2006

It's a good Monday

I didn’t work today. No no, not playing hooky (this time). No falsely calling in sick (this time). It was actually a planned day off. So what did I do? Oh you know, the usual loafing… watched a couple of Tivo’ed shows, did some laundry, washed dishes, vacuumed, watched a movie… It was basically an extension of the weekend, which is what we intended. It’s so nice to have an extra day to catch up on everything. Every weekend should be three days, not two!

Oh and you know the amazing thing? I cleaned both bathrooms without being asked! Yeah I know, toilets and all, I rock! Makes my obsessive attachment to my computer almost forgiveable.

Hey do you watch the Sopranos? I hear it’s a great show. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never watched it, nor do I care to. Gangster movies and shows just aren’t my thing. Which means you’ll never read about it here. How selfish of me. Oh well, if you want to read what someone else thinks about that show, Billy Boy can oblige you. He’s a good fellow. No really, he is. Quit arguing with me and go visit him dammit!

Sunday, May 14, 2006

When ergonomics meets economics

We were at a Cingular store this afternoon when my sweety nudged me and pointed to one of the computers behind the counter. Did you know that Brillo also made wrist rests for your mouse? Yeah me neither. Here, have a look:

My phone takes smudgy pictures, but this here is what Diane would call a fine piece of “country” ergonomic equipment. Only we’re in a big city. Not just in a big city, in a shop that sells the latest in cell phone technology. Electronic gadgets. And they have this proudly displayed at their checkout counter? I mean seriously, it even had the green scrubbing surface on the bottom! I guess you can ease tension in your wrists and scrub those pots clean.

Bike Story #2

My other memorable bike accident involved a lot more ouchiness. My sister and I were riding our bikes to the library. The little road we normally took had a bit of construction going on, and there was this large tube or hose laying across the entire road. My sister got to it first, got off her bike, lifted it over the tube, then got back on to continue riding. I, on the other hand, assessed this tube and decided I could roll right over it. I had a bigger bike, so it should be no problem, right?

Wrong. Maybe if it had been a mountain bike it would’ve made it. When I got to it, the ten-speed’s thin front wheel twisted sideways and stopped moving. My body, of course, kept on with the forward motion and I sailed right off the bike. I broke my fall with my left hand, saving the rest of me from any serious scrapes. But man, the heel of my left hand was torn up and bloody. I don’t remember if I cried or not because there was a lot of pain going on right then.

The construction workers saw what happened and I guess felt bad because two of them helped me up and walked me to the back of the truck. They had one of those water coolers strapped to the back with a spigot on it. One guy rinsed the dirt off my hand while the other went to fetch some band-aids. That water was cold. They had to put two or three bandages on before the wound was covered up. What a mess, but they were very nice. We walked our bikes back home afterwards.

To this day I can still see the dark spot where a large grain of sand was embedded for a long time while it was healing. But thanks to my cement bones, nothing was broken despite landing hand-first onto the pavement!

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Bike Story #1

In the comments of the previous post, Diane mentioned riding her bike into a van. I can totally picture it, heehee! Sorry, but it’s funny. It was a parked van, right? This reminds me of my own bike mishap. Two actually. Once I was riding my bike to the store. I was riding in the street, right next to the sidewalk. I turn my head to look behind me, at some car I think, I can’t remember why. I also can’t remember why I took so long because BAM! I somehow never saw the lady in front of me. Why wasn’t she on the sidewalk where she belonged? I don’t know. All I know is I was on the floor with my legs tangled around my bike and she was on the floor too, struggling to get up. Obviously she wasn’t happy. I apologized and asked if she was all right, but she never answered. I don’t think she spoke English.  She just picked up her bags and kept right on walking. I hopped back on my bike and continued on to the store with only a few scratches. Thankfully I’ve never run over anyone with my car!

I think I’ll save my other bike crashing story for tomorrow.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Mucky-muck

Occasionally when I’m sitting here trying to think of something to write about, I have nothing but brain farts. Times like these I look to others for inspiration. T’s story of flipping over her bike and crying all the way home with no shoes on reminded me of a childhood story of my own.

I was in first grade and the school bus had just let me out at my stop. The neighborhood we lived in still had dirt roads and it had rained recently, so there were some mud holes here and there. As I was walking I came upon this really large expanse of icky mud. On either side of it was wild grass that was taller than me. I was scared of that tall grass. Who knows what’s in there?

So I scanned the muck for a solid place to step. There had to be one somewhere. After careful consideration, I gingerly stepped onto a spot. It seemed okay, so I put my full weight on it. *SQUISH* My foot sunk right in. Oh shit. (I didn’t think really “oh shit” at the time, I was too young to know such words, but had I known then I would have uttered, “OH SHIT!!")

I tried to pull my foot out, but it was so stuck. Didn’t move an inch. I was convinced I was sinking in quicksand and started to cry. I pulled and pulled, but the mud wouldn’t let go. I started to call for my mom. “MOMMY!” but there was no one around to hear me. I was on a dirt road in the middle of a freaking field.

After a bit more tugging and crying, the voice of reason finally crept into my little brain. It told me to unbuckle my sandal. So I did. My foot came right out then. Afterwards I reached down and angrily yanked the shoe out of the muck. Fucking mud. (Again I didn’t actually think that at the time. I didn’t learn such words until… uh… sixth grade or something.) I started trudging home still sniffling, crying, dirty socks and a sandal in one hand.

My mom was so confused when I got home.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Birds, flowers and other springy things

As they say, spring is in the air, and so are lots and lots of birds. Everywhere you look they’re flying around, chirping, singing, crapping on my car. The poor thing was already filthy, but now I’m gaining a collection of white bird splatters on it as well. Gross. Must visit car wash soon.

As promised, I have photos of our garden! Heh, isn’t it great how one person (my sweety) does all the work tending, weeding and watering the garden, and both residents get to take credit for it? Yes, our lovely garden…

Don’t you feel at peace with the world now? Like totally zen? Then I think you should go visit this week’s renter. Billy Boy is forever waging war against global stupidity and could use a little zen himself. Head over there and say hi. He’d enjoy the company.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Thinking about flowers

I’ve heard of edible flowers and have seen some used on cakes and stuff. But I didn’t know that some people throw them into salads and soups and other dishes. There are actually recipes for flower salads and even carrot cake with thyme flowers. Mmmmm carrot cake, I’d try that one. Might not be bad.

One thing I read was giving tips on how to use flowers. It said to “carefully expel any wildlife by giving them a good shake or a wipe with kitchen paper - only rinse if absolutely necessary”. Excuse me, wildlife? Things have undoubtedly been crawling all over it. I am not just going to shake it off and throw the flower into my food. “Only rinse if absolutely necessary”? No way, I am drowning those things under heavy spray before it goes anywhere near my food. I mean, flowers were designed to attract all sorts of bugs!

Why cook with flowers anyway? Don’t they taste weird? Wouldn’t it be like eating an air freshner? I’ve never acquired a taste for fancy gourmet food. Wouldn’t it be much better to send flowers instead? Or grow them, even better.

Speaking of growing flowers, my sweety has done wonders with our garden. So many different colors, shapes and textures. I should take a picture and post it. I’m not a big garden person, but there’s something about an abundance of life growing so happily in your yard that just invokes a sense of joy.

Why none of my friends are divas

I got a call yesterday…

Diva: I saw your ad listed in Craigslist, is it still available?
Me: Yes, it is, would you like to come see it?
Diva: Yes, how about today?
Me: Sure, I have one guy coming at 5:30 and another one at 6. How about 5pm, will that work for you?
Diva: No.
Me: Okaaaay… what time will work best for you?
Diva: I get off at 4, so how about 4:15?
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t get home until 5.
Diva: How about tomorrow at 4:15?
Me: How about never?

Okay, I never actually said that last line, but I wanted to. What irks me is that she wasn’t willing to inconvenience herself a little. So maybe she doesn’t live nearby. Tough. Some people are driving an hour to get here, and they still ask if that will work for me. Not her. It’s all about what’s most convenient for her. Acting like a diva may work for her in some arenas, but this ain’t one of ‘em.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Order has been restored

I met with my sweety for lunch today. I was a little worried, but optimistic since she seemed happy that I had suggested it in the first place. It seems I was depressed and worried needlessly. Apparently she had forgiven me before I had even woken up this morning. She said, “Each day is a new day to start fresh.” (Did I mention how much I love this woman??)

I believe that whole-heartedly (and not just because I messed up). Grudges are pointless and, over the long term, poisonous. We all make mistakes. The silly ones should never be carried over into the next day. There’s just no need. Life is too short.

Now that my life is back in order, I wonder what Bitchet is up to? Aren’t you curious too? Aww come on, I know you are. There’s something about drowning musicians over there. No wait, drowning magicians. Morticians? Mathematicians? One of those. Go find out for yourself.

Undo

How do things go from being so good and perfect, to “Oh shit I fucked it up again”? In a gut reaction I did something that in hindsight was quite stupid and unnecessary. It was unintentionally hurtful. And now I’m in the dog house again.

Life needs to have an Undo feature. Stupid things keep getting into my brain and falling out of my mouth or out into my actions, and the end results are always disastrous. Everything was going so good, so wonderfully. I was in heaven. Why do we hurt the ones we love? It’s never intentional. What I actually meant came out all wrong and my original meaning doesn’t matter anymore because the harm is already done. No amount of apologizing can erase the damage. No explanation can adjust things to the way you wanted things to go.

Undo. I need an Undo button. I need to backtrack, back to those perfect moments prior to my bouts of stupidity. Back to that moment when I had a choice. Approach it with a clear head this time, make the right decisions and word choices, communicate what you really meant.

Communication is so key, every councellor will tell you this, to saving a relationship. But communicating the wrong thing, however unintentional, will often set you back. So all I can do is wait for the storm to blow over. An Undo button would be so much better.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Don't you love it when...

You know when you’re washing dishes and then an arm snakes around your waist and pulls you tight, then another arm circles around the other side and cups one breast… and at the same time you feel the warmth of a body pressed intimately close against your back… you know what I’m talking about? I LOVE it when that happens!!

Lucky for me it was someone I knew.

I'm grumpy :-P

Isn’t it annoying how, when you’re not in the best of moods because you really wanted to take Monday off from work, the traffic lights seem to conspire against you? They were mocking me today. On my way to work, it seemed nearly every freaking light was red. True I didn’t really want to go to work today, but I still have to get there. It seemed like the tiniest little intersections decided to turn red just as I got there. I’d look around and sometimes there would be a single little pedestrian crossing the street. Ooh that makes me grumble.

If I’m driving I have little patience for pedestrians. Yes I know they need to cross the street, but they should wait until I pass them. No, they should! Go ahead and stop traffic to cross the street if you must, but just wait until I’ve gone through the light, then stop traffic. I mean, isn’t it common courtesy to stop for me? Aren’t I important? Okay maybe not, but at least on Mondays cut me some slack, y’know?

Worse yet are when the light turns red and there are no cars in the crossing street! WTF? That has to be a conspiracy against me. I’m sure the gas companies are behind it. Evil bastards.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

I'm not done yet

Yesterday we were at a bridal shower. These I can stand. It’s the baby showers I hate. But whatever shower I get dragged to, nothing makes me complacent and agreeable more quickly than feeding me. Give me a good meal and/or a yummy dessert and I’ll plaster on that smile and actually enjoy myself.

So we were at the meal portion of the shower and everyone’s talking and laughing really loudly. It was a pretty good group. The waiters started coming around and taking empty plates away. I was nearly finished when a waittress asked if we were done. I said, “Not yet” while the friend next to me said she was finished.  So the lady takes her plate away and then reaches for mine. Hey!

“I’m not done yet,” I tell her. I think my voice got drowned in the noise because she lifted my plate up. I grabbed it and held fast. She must not have been looking because she actually tugged twice before figuring out that I wasn’t letting go. “I"m not done yet!” I repeated more loudly.

“Oh!” she said, “I"m sorry about that.” She moved on to the next plate.

Everyone around me was laughing. At me. I looked down at my plate. There were only two bites left, maybe three. The plate was nearly clean and I wouldn’t give it up. I started laughing too, how much of a pig must I look like?? Playing tug of war over a few scraps. I wanted to finish dammit! And finish I did. I didn’t waste a thing. My mom would be so proud.

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