Are You Kidding Me? Part 200

If I were an angry person, I would already be in prison. As it is, I’ve already pulled out all my hair because of these STUPID questions I can’t answer.

I just moved all my insurance. I just paid for all my insurance. Now, I get a million pages of questions about said insurance which must be answered a year ago:

  • Number of amps in electrical system – The only amps I’ve heard of are on an electric guitar. 
  • Fuses: Yes or No – Yes, I have a fuse and it is getting shorter by the second.
  • Knob & Tube or Aluminum Wiring – I am not wired to give out this information even if I knew what the hell you are talking about.
  • Plumbing system condition – The toilets flush.
  • Open or closed foundation – My home sits on something; have no idea about the emotional state of my foundation.
  • Copy of burglar alarm permit – This one is so easy; in my city, you have to apply, and then they DON’T send you a copy. So you go online and request a copy. Which is impossible to obtain unless you are an accomplished hacker.
  • Aircraft on premises? – Yes, I live in a townhouse and I have a DC-10 in my garage. Doesn’t everyone?

I immediately phoned and emailed my insurance agent for help. HELP! Was tickled pink to receive the following message:

“Hi! This is your insurance agent!

 I will be out of the office until the 12th of Never.

If you need to speak to someone, call your mother. Have a great day!”

Am sure there are many women who know all these answers. I’m not in your club.

Must make choice now: move insurance AGAIN or self-immolation. Leaning toward latter.

Later.

Maybe.

Don’t Want to Know!

Noise makes me nervous. Noisy nonsense makes my hair hurt. In an effort to retain a few strands … here is a list of what I don’t want to know about:

  • Anything that has anything to do with Snooki, The Douchebag Bachelor, and The Real Bitches Housewives of Beverly Hills, Orange County, Pinot Noir, etc.
  • How much political candidates spend on their campaigns. Here’s a novel idea – what if you people led by example?  Announce your office intentions, take the grillions of dollars you use to attempt to get that office and spend it on all sorts of programs that will help your fellow citizens and make this country a better place? Swear you would get more “coverage” than you are paying for, more votes, and you’d sleep better. Just a thought.
  • “Who’s Zoomin’ Who?”- there was a time when I enjoyed hearing all the juicy details about EVERYONE. Sick, I know. Thank God, life changes can happen. If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t sit next to me.
  • Another story about a woman/man overboard. Just this morning, a new report about a woman mysteriously disappearing while on a cruise. With her boyfriend. In a last-ditch (no pun intended, really) effort to patch up relationship. Note to people in relationships spiraling downward: NO VACATIONS. Tragic.
  • The end of the world. When it happens, it happens. Not worth a millisecond of worry. Live Big each and every day you find yourself on this side of the terra firma.

A solar flare is currently headed our way, threatening to wreak temporary havoc on all things electrical.Must shut this puppy off before it goes up in flames. And clear my head.

I wish there was a vacuum cleaner for the brain.

Later.

Bucket List Antithesis

There’s not a bucket big enough to hold all I want to do. But here are a few things I never want to do again:

  • Get stuck in small space with overserved man who has just inhaled a handful of chocolates: Don’t shake your head and wonder how this happened. It did. And the space was immediately filled with overwhelmingly heinous fumage. Would have fainted dead away, but space too small and I’m too polite (ha!). Had no choice but to stop, drop, and roll into a ditch. Still gagging.
  • Eat green peas and/or liver: More gagging. If I am on a desert island and all there is to eat are green peas and/or liver, I take this back. Note to self: no boat rides.
  • Register for “Do Not Call” lists: What a total waste of time. You crafty telemarketers and your “anonymous” and “private caller” handles! And for the managers of all “Do Not Call” lists, YOU’RE FIRED!
  • Reply to comment, “What country are you from because you don’t look like an American.”: Final answer: “I am a conehead. From France. Merde!
  • Work for people who are missing several teeth in the front of their mouths: If you have a “thriving” business, you can afford to go to the dentist and get some chompers. My experience with you tells me your business is anything but thriving because my paycheck bounced AND you don’t have a mirror. Basta!

Off to mind my own business.

What are your “never agains”?

Later.

Crazy Soup: Stir Often

There must be a sign somewhere on my bod that says, “Say anything to me, especially if I don’t know you.” I am a magnet for unsolicited information. My ears are physically diminutive,  but I guess they work really well. And my momma raised me to be polite, so ear plugs and/or stink eyes are not an option. The tales from this week:

—————————————————————————————————————-

  • The first words out of her mouth were, “I don’t like people.” The stranger was talking to me, so I just nodded my head and let her roll.  An hour later – and yes, she talked to me for an hour – I just couldn’t give her a hall pass. She was happy, attractive, socially active, had a big girl job, and was married. She even showed me her serious tattoo-in-progress (not my request, but wth). How does she think she got here? Via at least one person and turkey baster. And she’s married to a person. She works with and for a lot of people. And she said she was so glad to meet me. I’m a people. Sheesh!
  • “I called the lady a “bitch” so the church is kicking me out for not giving money.” This, from a very agitated, sweetly challenged woman pacing the grounds where I walk my dog. I tried to calm her down, telling her it wasn’t much of a church if she gets kicked out for not giving money but it might behoove her not to yell “bitch” thereUsing the word “behoove” distracted her, she ran off to find a dictionary. She was calmer. And I have no idea who the church lady/bitch is.
  • “How was your weekend?”. Feeling snarky, I replied, “Well, got robbed, beaten,  and fell in a hole.” The reply was, “That’s nice.” That happens a lot. Not the rob, beat, fall but the response. Don’t ask someone a question if you don’t want to hear the answer. Really.
  • “These squirrels really like the peanuts I give them”.  This, from my neighbor who has dementia and leaves “styrofoam peanuts” around all the trees in the area. “Yep, they seem to love them but too many might kill them.” The landscapers are forever collecting squirrel carcasses after a styro binge. “Nope, the squirrels like to nap after eating my peanuts”. Nap my ass.

Good grief!

Later.

Nuts, We Are All Nuts

The other day my friend told me that everyone … and I mean everyone … is nuts. If that isn’t a given, I don’t know what is. The most important point here is – be very careful and picky about who you choose as your bowl mates. There are many varieties of nuts. Discernment is a very important tool. So is a garbage can. While on the topic of nuts …..

  • Why, in the name of God, would you write/record a breakup song about a POS who dumped you and call it, “Someone Like You“? I love Adele, I think the melody of the song is the best; what I don’t get it is … if your Significant Other treated you horribly, why would you want someone like that? Haters … don’t need an explanation, this is just an observation. Why not a song that says, “Someone Who Is Nothing Like You In Any Way At All Because You Are The Worst Person Ever“?
  • Don’t ever change!” If you went to high school and had a yearbook, I’ll bet you that’s written somewhere inside. It was just a phrase. Unfortunately, there are people who chose to believe this and haven’t. Changed. Deliver me.
  • My mother is studying the last book of the Bible, Revelations, written by the Apostle John. Last week, she told her Bible Study group that she believed John was taking LSD when he wrote it because Revelations is incomprehensible. She may be onto something but I don’t think they had LSD back then … maybe some mushrooms ….. maybe she’s on LSD.

Must go plan intervention. Or not.

Later.

Stop Being A Mother?

I am a mother.

Mercifully, I still have my own mother in a time when the majority of my friends have lost theirs. My mom and I have most certainly had our differences over the years. Big emphasis on differences. But she’s still my mom, and I know that she has always done the best she could to be a good mother. And no matter what my age, I will always be her child.

Many times, I’ve wanted to yell and scream at her, especially when she tells me what I should and shouldn’t do. But I’ve lived long enough to know that she just wants to help, and what sounds hurtful and critical is not meant that way at all. She wants to be relevant in my life, she wants me to be the best person I can be. So, I must let my interpretations of what I think she is saying fall through my mental sieve, and love her. It’s just the way it works for me. Time and experience, wasted anger and rage, have taught me to be the daughter of the woman who would give her life for me. At the end of the day, it’s all about respect. And the fact that my dad would probably whoop the living hell out of me, even at this late stage of the game, if I treated her with any disrespect.

My two daughters are the two best people I know. We get sideways sometimes. I’ll have an issue with one, and after exhausting the topic and getting nowhere, I’ll talk to the other about what I can do – or not do. Mothers are like that; we want our chicks to thrive in the best possible circumstances. And I’ve made more than my share of mistakes, unwarranted comments and offered advice has been misunderstood as hurtful criticism. This part of the mother job is the hardest. And that is an understatement.

Both of my daughters are adults. They are living adult lives. Yesterday, my youngest daughter and I got into it via text; she lives in another city and is making big decisions about the next few years of her life. I wanted to find out where she was in the decision process. Long story short – it ended badly. My opinions weren’t wanted, and I made it worse by pushing and pushing and pushing. Driving home from work, I felt like my skin was going to fall off, I was boiling inside. She was the one who, as a toddler, would press her face against the window and cry hysterically when I had to leave for work. She was the one who would throw up whenever I left town. But she’s an adult now. I forgot.

I’d invited my eldest daughter over for dinner last night. I was still in a swivet when I got home and the story of the day spilled out. She said, “Mom, you’ve got to let her go.” I’d never thought about it that way, but she’s right. The lessons always come from the most surprising places … and circumstances.

So, no matter what, I will always be here for both of them. For the tearful phone calls, for the requests for advice, to feed them when they are hungry, hug them when they are sad, laugh with them when we are amused, help them whenever necessary. Yes, I have to let them go. Hard but doable. This “freeing” process is going to take much discipline on my part. But I’m going to give it my best. I’m quite clear what letting them go doesn’t mean.

I will never stop being their mother. No matter what. Ever.

Be happy. Your choice.

Later.

How to Stay Alive, So Far

Warning: the photo at end of this includes a word that some might find offensive. So sue me.

I will tell the story of the past 48 hours when later. Maybe. Have just two words for you : BE CAREFUL.

Despite the fact that I’ve always lived in nice places and have behaved myself sometimes, I’ve been a witness in a murder trial, thrown in the back of a car by two men (they were saving me from rapist), and almost shot while having a cocktail. I repeat, my lifestyle isn’t sketchy.

Night before last, a young woman was shot to death in her car. Within walking distance of my home. It is so tragic.

Already in possession of a serious alarm system, locked gates, a butcher knife by my bed, other accoutrement, and a ferocious dog, I’ve been forced to take things one step further. (Ferocious dog has hot spots, vet said to put him in baby t-shirt. I don’t have any baby t-shirts so Ferocious is wearing a smocked dress my eldest wore when she was three months old. Not very off-putting to criminals; dog won’t look at me). So, I have posted the following statement on all doors….

Here’s hoping criminals can read. And that the police find the %$#$ who killed an innocent woman. Very soon.

Pissed. Off to terror management.

Later. Hopefully.