Today is the last day of the week. It better be as far as I’m concerned. After a six-day roller coaster ride full of false starts and insane requests, coupled with stress x 325, I feel a bit of a rant coming on. Sharing …
Nights and Days of the Living Dead: I live in a midrise. Every single fire alarm in every single room of every single residence – as well as all the hallways – had to be checked. This took three days. Yeah, yeah, it’s for safety, I get that. And we were warned to board animals and don earplugs as the sound would be deafening. Understatement. We have all been zombified.
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished: Had some editing work to do for an author. I was instructed to stop when my fee reached a certain figure. This guy is a friend, there was a lot of material to reconfigure, so I did a full edit. I left money on the table but can’t stop myself when words get in the way. Sent him his edit and then received an email requesting no less than five more hours of editing for free. My head said, “Dude, are you frigging kidding me?”. Instead, I told him to put his own suggestions into words and see what he comes up with. Like some $$$$$!
Why You Gotta Be So Rude? Went to a lovely small gathering Friday night. Met a new couple from London; they were fun and interesting. At the end of the evening, we are all at the door, thanking our host and hostess. Mrs. London invited host and hostess to brunch today. She added, “We can take them but it would be more fun, just the four of us.” EXCUSE ME. “Them” included me and another person; we have ears and we were standing right next to her. It would behoove this muppet to grab an etiquette book AND keep her stiff upper – and lower – British lips zipped. Gah!
Off to sip my arsenic cocktail while watching Wolf Hall.
Methinks herding unicorns is about as easy as hunting for a job. As I am currently involved in the latter, I know of what I speak. My Dad, the man who paid for my college education, suggested I apply to be a greeter at Walmart. While I’m sure Walmart greeting is a lovely occupation, I don’t think the blue apron thing is bulletproof and am far too snarky to smile for eight hours. Unless the salary is a $500/hour situation.
My French friend, AJ, wants me to teach conversational English. Bless her heart, she doesn’t know I have been a very bad teacher. I don’t believe instructing her to say “Hell, no!”, “Are you kidding me?”, “Get lost!” and other pleasantries will be of much help. At least she will never be bullied. Could totally teach conversational cursing but don’t think the position exists. If you’d like to take this course, it’s $500/hour.
You may wonder what my skill set includes. This would be laughing, walking my dog, reading, and eating. I know, amazing, right? Seriously, I do have experience in many areas. Just have to find that golden ticket. And I will. Maybe it’s canning cornichons, testing trampolines … the possibilities are endless. My only prerequisite is a salary.
The very best outcome would be to do what I love while helping as many people as possible. Please do not suggest customer service.
Off to jump in my bed and pull covers over my head. Because this is such a productive activity and representative of stong motivation and focus. Gah!
Apparently it’s National Friendship Week. Next week reserved for red noses. But I digress …
My Dad once said, “If you have a handful of true friends, you are lucky.” At the time, I thought he was being negative and ridiculous. Why, I had a million friends (I was young). Turns out, he was right and I was wrong. And, surprisingly, I love when I am proven wrong because I learn from it. And it’s important to me to never stop learning. I am lucky. I do have a handful of true friends, precious gifts I love and treasure.
Friendship is a sticky wicket. A delicate situation. I love my friends. I’m hard to love, so I’m lucky to have any.
And then there are the others … fabulous and not so much –
The Forever Friends – these are the wonderful people I may not see for 10 days, weeks, or years yet we pick up right where we left off – ahh, beautiful!
“I Wanna Talk About Me” Friends – we all have them; as long as they are the subject of all conversation, all is well. Try to get a word in edgewise, like “Oops, I’m bleeding to death” – impossible. Just gotta love them anyway. From a distance.
Let’s Have Lunch Friends – never happening, don’t kid yourself. They are really awesome people but chicken salad sandwiches and iced tea are not anywhere in your future.
Spill Your Guts/I Don’t Know You Friends – they appear at your door, spill their guts about a situation, situation gets fixed. Next time they see you, they look right through you. Pitiful. Don’t answer door next time.
Deep As A Pie Pan Friends – can only talk about parties, travel, clothes, and light fabulousity; requires massive quantities of NoDoz and temporary loss of short-term memory.
So now I’m thinking I really am lucky to have my handful. As for the rest, move along. In the words of my new hero, Mark Manson, “I don’t give a f*&@!”. (You are thinking this started out so nicely … SURPRISE!).
Off to work out snarkiness … maybe
P.S. Many thanks to bestie Austin Ann for intro to writing of Mark Manson
Think I was going to say, “dead”? Nah. I was a bit horrified to find I hadn’t plugged in here for a very long time; not horrified enough to hit the keyboard, obviously. As I try to catch up with my “friends” here, I’ve got to cut to the chase and let my thoughts for the last year go ….
Mantra for this year: I can do better. This has nothing to do with social status and everything to do with my personality flaws. To misquote John Wayne, “If you don’t like something, don’t bitch. Get off your butt and do something about it.” It would be much cooler had I quoted something from Jay Z, but I’ll leave that to my brilliant young friend, Megan Silianoff.
Brilliant young friend mentioned above has written an amazing memoir, 99 Problems But A Baby Ain’t One. Young and memoir don’t usually add up to much, but this one has been over the river and through the woods of shit, remaining sassy and upbeat, emerging victorious on the other side. Her blog is greetingsfromtexas.com. We met at Cheeky Vintage, quite possibly the very best vintage store this side of the moon.
Country Music: have been a hater all my life but have changed my mind this year. Not going so far as to say I can stand any of that twangy crap but as I’ve been listening I realized the songs, whether giddy or sad, are honest. Honest is good and I can understand what the singer is saying. Shit, that sounds like an old bag which I am most certainly not. Shit. Anywho, one song, “I Pray for You” by Jaron and The Long Road to Love, which must have been written after a breakup. It is so mean in a good way – things you’ve most certainly thought but never said out loud. No haters – I didn’t write it.
Professor Dreamy joined the fam last month and we are all happy. He could truly teach men how to love a woman. Joyful, joyful.
Dashing. Laugh as much as possible. The photo below features is my friend, Nga; she needs a razor intervention.
Good grief, I’ve been AWOL and I hate it! My tiny brain is exploding; working on a project that requires my absolute focus. Love the project but am in word bankruptcy as a result. Anywho, my two favorite quotes this week:
“If you step on people in this life, you’re going to come back as a cockroach.”
“Why not upset the apple cart? If you don’t, the apples are going to rot anyway.”
I’m so peaced out, nothing gets under my skin. Except EVERYTHING. I’ll try to keep this brief.
Bad Press = More of the Same: In the olden days (last year), employees of GIANT DELIVERY SERVICES actually brought packages to your door. Numerous news clips over the past few months indicate some employees simply use your address as a target, the package as an arrow. We won’t even talk about the condition of the contents of said package/arrow. One would think GIANT DELIVERY SERVICES would have a chat with their staff, requesting true delivery of packages as opposed to Hail Mary target practice. Not so much. My recent experience:
Car Dealership Service Departments: Maybe it’s just me, but I believe these should be renamed “Car Dealership So What Departments”. Living in a huge city, there are often numerous places to have your car “maintained”. Not mine. One dealership-from-hell. The service department is chock full of truly angry people with a collective offensive linebacker mentality when it comes to service. Slam that customer to the ground asap. Should your car need anything, it’s all your fault, not covered under warranty, and that will be 17 grillion dollars plus tax, tip, title, gratuity, and first dibs on future grandchildren to recover your vehicle. See ya never!
All I needed was an oil change 😦
So Where Do I Get My Car Serviced?: Faced with this question yesterday, I went straight to the Wizard a.k.a. Google. Spent the better part of the day doing my research online. Selected the lucky service garage (keyword “loaner car”), rang them up, made my appointment for today. This morning, I packed some supplies (food, water, phone) and headed out to the garage. Which is in another town. I did have a map but am directionally dyslexic; maps serve me as well as Car Dealership So What Departments. One hour later – complete with 456 twists and turns – I’m there! Wherever that is. Everything is going along perfecto until we get to loaner car. Apparently there are just a few from which to choose. And here it comes …. “Can you drive a stick?”.Yes, of course I can drive a stick but haven’t since I was in my teens. “No”.A little bit of hemming and hawing and a big white thing appears in the driveway. I have no idea what it is but it goes forward and backward automatically. So I’m not really ranting about the new service provider, just the fact that I have to leave town to get my car taken care of. Wackadoodledo.
Car & Pet Wash: Swear on everything, I saw this place on my way back from wherever my car is. I am so taking photos tomorrow to prove it. In the meantime, I am quite confused how this situation works. Do you multitask by attaching dog to hood of car? That’s unacceptable. Does the cat drive the car, with perfume flowing through the air vents? Have you ever heard of this?
My brain blew into a million little pieces because:
Bill from idiotic doctor: Just got a bill from Doogie Howser; he charged me $28 to walk through his office to the lab. Which he doesn’t own. The independent lab bill has been paid. Have always “walked” free. Times may be tough, dude, but you aren’t getting a penny from me. <sticking tongue out at dumb doc>
Liar, liar, magazine on fire: Waiting for another appointment, I thumbed through a recent fashion magazine. One feature focused on how make up can make you look so rested. Then I saw the before/after of the woman in the photos. I knew her. She had everything from the shoulders up “redone” by a plastic surgeon beforethe photo shoot. Of course, the magazine failed to mention that , instead crediting her bright mug to new lipstick and blush. What a bunch of crapola! If you choose to believe it, the make up will cost you $30,000.
Running into old boyfriends: In the past few months, I’ve run into an unreasonable number of one of my friend’s old boyfriends. Better hers than mine, but this is getting ridiculous. Note to friend: run into your own old boyfriends. Thank you.
“So all you are going to do is work the rest of your life?” and “We are worried about you, financially”: Two comments, different friends. Note to friends: Here’s my bank account number; feel free to make large deposits frequently. Then I will be able to sashay about the planet and you won’t worry. Win-win.
Lose weight by watching tv: If you want to lose your appetite, turn on Strange Addictions. I’m sorry these people do what they do. Even if you have a stomach of steel, five minutes into this show will, at the very least, produce some serious gagging and an aversion to snacking between meals. Wretched.
“Your wait will be 18 seconds.”: Groovy! Got this customer service message yesterday when calling about insurance. Change that message! Waited 20 minutes and then instructed to leave a voice message. Yeah, right. Customer service, my ass.
Phone rings. “Hello?”: “What are you doing?” Oh, accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, building a rocket in the kitchen, rotating my tires …. I am answering the damn phone. And I thought it was obvious. Meh!
Enough! Ranting is no way to start the day. Better go check my bank account for large deposits.
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). Howdoes 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” there. Using 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.
I love words. Which means I am a logophile. Have used this as my defense every time I get a message from WWF player calling bs on my submission. Bam! I love words. Sue me.
It could be much worse. Sharing ….
alektorophilia – obsession with roosters or chickens
gynotikolobomassophile – nibbler of women’s earlobes
harpaxophilia – affinity for getting robbed
apodysophilia – “feverish desire to undress”
An apodysophiliac might want to meet a clinophiliac because the clino has a passion for beds. Ok, no more matchmaking.
labeorphily – student and collector of beer bottle labels
pogonophile – beard lover
spermophile – “member of family of seed-loving rodents”; this one is weird. I know a lot of rodents, but they are human and drive cars. Must ask if they eat seeds.
If you are a logophile, there’s a great new iPhone app, Wordy, The Logophile’s Primer. The word for today is ““grindhouse“. I thought it was maybe a mill for grits but no …. a grindhouse is a “low-budget film theater that shows primarily exploitation films”. Nevermind.
Now I’m bored. The word for that is “flighty“.
*Don’t take your kids to a grindhouse to see Mary Poppins. Not gonna happen.