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.

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.

Freaking Ridiculous

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 before the 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.

Cockeyed optimist, I am!

Later.

Here’s to You, and You, and You

Just getting it off my chesticles:

  • To 32-year-old civil rights lawyer with really long hair: love your job, long hair is cool, dancing at event is fun but anything else, NO CAN DO! Not a fan of Harold and Maude situations. Give Demi Moore a jingle when she gets to feeling better. Caio!
  • To woman who asks me my name despite the fact we’ve met 346 times: none of your business, obviously. Get off the meds, you’ve lost whatever mind you had.
  • To the waiter from hell on his first night: bless your heart. You got a 20% tip because we felt sorry for you. Please, in the name of all diners, seek a new occupation. Art school? Banjo player in Vegas? Anything BUT waiting tables.  Thank you.
  • To the woman who thinks she knows it all: oh no you don’t! Go to the hardware store, buy some duct tape and put it over your mouth. Then go to the compassion store and clear the shelves. Haven’t the faintest where you can get a conscience, but wouldn’t be a bad idea to look into that, either.
  • To my dog: yes, I love you to the moon and back. I take better care of you than I do myself.  But you must stop creeping around eating God knows what in the middle of the night. Waking up to the sound of gagging does not put a festive spin on the day. Thank you.
  • To the woman who used to tidy up my house and empty my liquor cabinet: all is forgiven, it is a heinous job. I would get drunk, too, but alas … you drank me dry. Nevermind.
  • To all the nice friends we ran into at the “no one goes there” restaurant: that was not me in the baseball cap. Evil twin. Swear.
  • To Amazon, Kindle, Nook and other businesses selling/delivering books to iPad, etc.: stop blaming “the publishers” for the inflated book prices. You could do something about this if you wanted to, but you know how lazy we are. Stop It. While the product is convenient, it is usually riddled with weirdo spaces and funky words. STOP IT. Note to self: get up and go to the bookstore. Stop the madness. You should be ashamed of yourself. I am. Over.
  • To the Food Channel: I became an addict a few days after 9/11 … because your spot was all happiness and recipes and a total escape. Please lose “Fat Chef”. No disrespect meant to the plight of the obese but sad doesn’t look good on you. Make a deal with Lifetime or Bravo. Thank you.

Enough ranting.

Off to find my happy pants!

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.