Under My Skin

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:

Thanks, UPS

  • 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?

Is it too early to drink?

Later.

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If It’s Tuesday, I Am Freaky

75 and feeling fine

What freaks you out?

After reading a post about hotels by domermom, I was immediately reminded of things that go ick in the night. Starting with hotels – five-star or no star – hotel rooms freak me out. When I enter one, there are activities I am forced to perform. First, get hanger out of closet and remove bedspread using hanger. Toss anywhere out of view. Not a fan of gizz monsters/leftovers. Unpack socks. Lots of socks. Which come in handy when I need to walk on hotel room floor. There is no way in hell I would put my bare foot down on the carpet. See “leftovers”. Unpack flip-flops – for shower. Flush toilet with foot. I’m freaky that way.

Other Stuff that Gags Me

  • Food troughs, as in all-you-can-eat establishments
  • Sitting in traffic and looking over at the car next to me. The driver is digging for nose gold.
  • My dog trying to cozy up to my minimal chesticles. I didn’t breastfeed my babies; he is freaking me out.
  • Smells: scrambled eggs, wet puppies, ground beef cooking, chicken boiling, cig smoke in cars, b.o., Asiago cheese
  • People scratching their privates in public – get a room
  • Chaos – some people love an environment filled with ringing phones, slamming doors, loud convos – all fine, but not for me
  • Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul (I do this regularly)
  • Intentional disrespect – i.e. ugly scuffle on DWTS last night, Bitches Housewives of Beverly Hills always ganging up on one woman

Enough! Let’s end this on a positive note! Playing Words With Friends the other night, Lady Di used “ergo“; I LOVE that word. Other faves include scathing, magical, lilting, and – when strung together – you have just won 100 billion dollars. Haven’t heard that last one yet. Ergo, I’d best get back to work.

Later.

A Wealthy Perspective

 

My, oh, my. What a difference a day makes. Am burning Wealth today. It most certainly gave me pause when I pulled that word out this morning. Especially since my daughter performed a “lack thereof” intervention on me yesterday. So I’m thinking, “Oh Good Grief! Is this a hammer job or what?”. Because the first thing I thought of when I saw that word was money. Riches. Thank God I had a second thought. Totally unoriginal, but prompting me back into right mindedness (is that a word or two?).

My dear friend, Lady Di, citizen of the world and Hostess Queen, sent Cowgirl and I an invite to gather for a few days next week. THAT, my friends, means 48+ hours of laughter and hijinks with two of my favorite people. There’s not enough money in the world to buy that kind of wonderful. But it is my definition of wealth – deep, rich friendships more valuable than gold. And I am so fortunate to be wealthy that way.

Speaking of the other stuff, money, well I was forced to write a scathing email to my car dealership today. When I say “scathing” I mean fire flew from my fingertips as I typed my words. My dad drives an SUV; I drive a Mini. His trailer hitch had an intimate moment with my back bumper. Crunch. Sent a nicey-nice email to dealership regarding when to bring car in, service need as well as repair, blah blah blah. The next email I received was from a very perky Krista in the collision department informing me that loaner cars were for service only and they had a very good relationship with Who-Cares Rent A Car. How stupid is that? I could have a loaner while my car was being serviced, then rent a car while it is being repaired? Methinks NOT. Hence, scather launched.

I’m sure I’ll be taken to task for it. Last time I wrote a scather, it was to my priests’ assistant. As it turned out, I was misinformed. But it gets worse. She and I ended up in a class together last year. When we all had to introduce ourselves, I was forced to say, “Hello, my name is Izzie and I am the bitch who wrote you the scather.” Thank goodness she was the forgiving kind.

Wealth. Heck yeah, I’m wealthy. When the Visa bill comes in, I shall call them and tell them I have 11 friends. That should more than take care of the bill, non? If not, I shall plead contemporary insanity.

Later.

View from My Sleigh

 

 After multiple years of forcing my children to deliver Christmas presents, this year I did it myself. Because they disappeared just about the time they heard the empty tape dispenser hit the garbage can. And … because I wanted to. First time for everything. I’m not the door-knocking, visiting sort. Just a overage elf, sneaking up to the front door and leaving the goods. Made a few observations while tearing about town.

  • Say everyone living in your house at this moment (i.e. home from college, rehab, prison) has a driver’s license and a car. If there are more than two of you, the outside of your home looks like a garage. The mechanic kind – where you take cars to be fixed. Gives sort of South Bronx veneer to the very nicest of  neighborhoods.
  • Am convinced the recession skipped this area. (Not me, but everyone else). I have not seen as many mansions – serious housing – under construction, ever. I find this very confusing. Maybe some “numbers” type can straighten me out. Wow. Double Wow.
  • I LOVE those giant Christmas bulbs hanging everywhere – makes me feel like I’m on the set of BIG. Happy fun.
  • I noticed some homes that had been decorated to the hilt in prior years are void of any gay apparel. The homeowners are elderly now and I guess it’s too much to for them to festivate. Sniff, sniff. I would have helped them. There’s always next year, I guess.
  • It is unsafe on the streets during the day. Have almost been slaughtered too many times to count. By people who have no business behind the wheel. Some would say that would be me. But some can stick it up their nose. <meant in nicest way>

Better get back to the paper-tape-bow situation. More deliveries to make tomorrow. Please, please, PLEASE have a wonderful holiday. Really. Eat a bunch of food. Drink gallons of …whatever you please. Laugh as hard as possible. Remember the lonely and unloved. Enjoy the best way you can.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! MAY PERFECT PEACE DWELL INSIDE YOUR HEART AND OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR.

XO IZ

*p.s. Don’t be getting the notion I’ve gone all sappy here. Just bought The Snark Handbook and The Snark Handbook, Insult Edition. Brushing up for the new year, I am. *

Later.

 

Junk in My Trunk

What doesn’t kill you … makes you tired. I participated in a 20-booth garage/tag sale last Saturday. Enough said. Notions, facts, and criminal acts follow ….

Preparation

One week home purge. Not a hoarder, should be a snap. Closet #1: filled to the brim with shit belongings. (Could I be a hoarder?) Filter through 800 pounds of baby clothes, shoes that pinch, purses (I wondered where these were), lacrosse sticks and everything in between. Meh!

Would find myself spending way too much time evaluating items. Oh, this is eldest daughter’s first C on a paper. Hoarder, hoarder! Three hours into it, everything went to sale, trash, or Goodwill. A combined 40 hours later, I had my items for the sale. To tag with prices. Another 10 hours and everything was ready to go. Except me. Because I was half-dead with exhaustion. Oh God, do I really want to do this? God: “Yes, you have no $.”

Load’em Up and Move’em Out

At the bright and shiny hour of 5 am, it was time to load the massive amount of sacks and boxes containing my trash/another’s treasure. Whoops. I drive a car that accommodates me and a bottle of water.

 Immediately sent up smoke signals. After promising my Cooking Partner all sorts of “favors” in return for transport, he loaded everything in his truck and we were on our way. (I do not intend to provide any “favors”; it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.)

Madness and Mayhem

My sales associates, Partay and the Tamster, were staging our booth when I arrived. We had the best “stuff”, we had the “best” booth, we were all going to retire on our take. The gates opened and mayhem ensued. Sharing:

  1. My parents, always supportive, arrive to check on the situation. Cooking Partner and Daddy (shut up, he’ll always be my “Daddy”) start talking about fishing. I pipe up and say, “CP caught and ate mackerel last week”. My father laughed till he cried. CP just cried. Holy Mackerel – no one eats that! Then my father got on the “had to walk 100 miles roundtrip in the snow to get to school/couldn’t roller skate on gravel roads” poor stories topping it off with, “We were so poor we didn’t have garbage.” Blah, blah, blah. Cooking Partner took this cue to excuse himself. My dog would be crossing and recrossing his legs, waiting for a restroom break, which CP would provide. Afterwards, he took off to go catch anything but mackerel.
  2. The first customers at these sales are always professionals. They sweep up the good “stuff” so they can sell it themselves. They also pay the “big bucks” ($1) because it is the beginning of the sale.
  3. Time does not pass, period, when involved in this sort of enterprise. I was looking for my car keys when Partay said, “Where do you think you are going?” I said, “Home, it’s over, right?”. Her reply, “NO! It’s 9:15 am!” Gag.
  4. There is a criminal element working these sales. A man distracted the three of us (not difficult to do) while his accomplice made off with some of our best “stuff”. Note to garage sale criminals: you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law when we find you. And we will find you.
  5. After about three hours, it’s crying time. Every single customer approaches us with items clearly tagged $8, $15, etc. and offers $1. At first, our response is “The tag says $8!” But they beat us down, repeating “$1” until all three of our heads explode. “Just take the whole bloody booth … for $1”. We are so over and so out.
  6. Do not bring your dogs to garage sales. Especially if they are puppies who eat garbage while you are yakking. Because they hurl brown foam. Brown foam does not help sales. Thank you very much.
  7. These “happenings” are very good for people watching. Seen: perky pregnant moms scheduled for delivery in three days, man in pajamas, and scores of folks in need of dental attention. Oh, and there’s always the couple who haggle you to death, then make off with a huge haul in their Mercedes. Really.

Once it was over, we had accounting and payout. I made $1 and change. I looked and felt like this:

I’m still in recovery. If you want to have a garage sale, contact Partay and the Tamster. Don’t ask me or I will cut you.

Later.

Gritch and Bitch

 

Hope you weren’t expecting lollipops and rainbows, today, because it’s not gonna happen. This isn’t my favorite day. So maybe a good rant will calm me down.

Professionals Who Suck

I have a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol. Am not fat, don’t eat crap, blah,blah. Had labs drawn at last “lady” appointment. Go straight to GP for medicine. Did I mention I despise my GP? I DESPISE him. I haven’t seen him in four years; he has the bedside manner of a wildebeest. But I had to suck it up and go to him for medicine. And he’s still an asshole. I know, I know, I should change. But I am lazy and I actually enjoy staring him down with complete disdain, refusing to show any reaction to his lamo jokes and only answering questions with “yes” or “no”.

Asshole Dr.: ” So, izziedarling, how long have you had this condition?”

Me: “Yes”.

AD: “What are the symptoms?”.

Me: “No”.

AD: “Did you hear the one about ….?”

Me: “You are not funny. Give me the medicine or I will cut you.”

And he does because he’s such a bad doctor. And I have to go back this week and see if the meds are working. So, you see, I’m getting my snark on.

I was reminded about horrible doctors while reading Loon’s blog about a doctor who tricked his patient into letting him “breastfeed”. People were wondering how the woman could be so stupid, but I can see how it happened. I have a friend who was sick. She was old enough to go to the doctor by herself, but still young enough not to question his diagnosis procedures. She had a touch of the flu; he had her take of all her clothes and hop on one foot.  Wrong. On. Every. Level. But she didn’t know she’d been had until she got the hell out of there.

I had a Spanish professor in college who offered one-on-one tutoring sessions. I was having a hard time in his class so I signed up for tutoring. Little coed that I was, I showed up with all my questions and homework. He proceeded to tell me that my problem with Spanish was sexual (?) and went on to ask me all sorts of highly personal, pornographic questions about my sex life. It took me a few minutes to realize this wasn’t any sort of tutoring session I needed and I said, “adios, asqueroso!”

Stuff I read today that is really stupid

Apparently OnStar is preparing to offer subscribers a new service.  For a few dollars more, you can have OnStar read you your Facebook and text messages while you are driving. Oh, that’s rich, as if people don’t drive bad enough with just the radio on. And really, is there a Facebook or text message that can’t wait until you get where you are going? It’s bad enough that cell phones are all hooked up in the car, how many ways can they come up with for us to accidentally commit suicide and/or murder? And pay for it?

An engaged woman in the state of New York faked having acute amyloid leukemia; she scored everything from a wedding dress to a honeymoon – all donated by kind people. But karma’s a bitch, bitch. Now all she has to show for it is divorce papers. Boo Hoo.

Designer Diane von Furstenberg has reinvented the hospital gown. That is a good thing. Now I hope she will hit up her perfume division with the notion to dispel the distinct odor of hospitals. Win. win. win. win. win.

This morning on MSN.com, there was some idiotic article about mortal sin and which celebrities committed them. Excuse me, raise your hand if you are perfect. No hands? Exactly my point. Who is in charge of editorial content there? Beg, borrow, or steal some brains, please!

Recession Dining Hints

Actually, the following information stands for all the time. David Bakke wrote an article outlining what to avoid when dining out – moneywise.  His list included pasta, soft drinks, wine, pizza, and the “nightly special”. His reasoning? The markup on these items is ridiculous. Just sayin’ (restaurant friends, do not scream at me).

Whew. Am fresh out of snark. For the moment. If  I stay inside much longer, it’s not going to be pretty. Have I told you how awful I am when I’ve got way too much time on my hands? Argggggggggggg………

Later.

Questionable Tuesday

It is Tuesday, isn’t it? If so, this is what I’m thinking:

  • Need to get some steel-toed boots to protect me from myself. Last summer, I smashed my right foot into a chair resulting in fractured toe resulting in $1500 trip to doctor. I was put in an ugly, heavy blue Frankenstein boot/shoe. The nurse said the “uni” shoe was meant for either foot. She was wrong. It was for the left foot. She would not back down, medical care being what it is today. So I clomped around for a month, wearing a left boot on my right foot. Two left feet. Not a good look unless you are getting paid for it (see Best in Show). Yesterday, smash redux. Boot back on. Two left feet, again. Argghhhhhhhhhhhhh.
  • The Oxford English Dictionary gang has deemed the following words as “unsuitable” for inclusion: tanorexia, flashpacking, cankles, prehab, Burquini, clickjacking, faboosh, glamping, and Twetiquette. Rah!
  • Have never observed a press push like that for the movie, Eat, Pray, Love. Never ever. I read the book years ago and initially loved it. Am still delighted for Elizabeth Gilbert – she found her mojo and her man. It would be delightful if every woman/man could do so. This explosion of pubic relations surrounding the movie is quite unnecessary. Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem could throw spit balls at each other for two hours on-screen and the movie would be a hit. Overkill, defined.
  • Today on MSN.com there is a story about cars. It’s titled, “Looking Good at Any Price“. It’s hard to believe that in these days – and especially these times – there is an audience out there who are driven to find “cars that impress”. Shouldn’t the simple fact that your car gets you where you need to go be impressive? Furthermore, who cares?
  • Another winner today: “Why Your Muffin Top May Kill You“. Some of the “research” linked the flab hanging over the top of your jeans to “dementia, heart disease, asthma, and breast cancer”. They failed to mention breathing, sleeping, eating, and driving. Really!

Later.