I'm going to rant on grocery shopping for just a moment. Then I'll be fine.
1) Treat the aisles as ROADS. People need to be able to get by while you read labels for dolphin friendly Rice a Roni. It's as if they've never been to a grocery store, ever. Indecisive, meandering shoppers make me, a fairly normal and calm person, want to go postal. (this doesn't include old people because they can't help it. I'm not a complete bitch)
2) Remember in school: We all took turns? We said "Excuse me" "Please" "Thank you".
Just think of this as a big school. Use your manners.
3) I know the racecar shopping carts are cute and the kids like them. But they're the size of three shopping cars taped together. Invariably the mother that's "driving" is completely oblivous to the fact that no one can get around her. See complaint #1
AND usually the kid is awful, rarely they're cute.
3-a) If your child is a screaming banshee, please for the Love of God and All Things Holy: take them home and get mac & cheese later. Seriously.
4) When did the grocery store turn out to be the social arena for old people? Perhaps it's because I shop during the week now but every time I go there's a bunch of old people hanging out, Starbucks in hand, and chatting over the lettuce. And, there's nothing like walking in front of the bench of old men who even though they are old, are probably still having the thoughts of fourteen year old boys.
*deep cleansing breath* Now that I've ranted about it, I'll be better able to cope next time I go. Theoretically.
24 March 2007
Cartoon Bubble
Tonight, we're walking through the mall and past all the funky little kiosks.
We passed the massage kiosk where an older Asian lady is kneading someone's back. I'm thinking to myself "There's no way I'd ever get a massage in the middle of a mall."
Gee, do you think I have trust issues?
This thought just clears the air when the MG mentions AS WE PASS "There's not enough tea in..." embarrassed pause as we continue on... "for me to massage anyone."
I giggle for about five minutes. That was a sitcom moment. Comedy writers: take note.
We passed the massage kiosk where an older Asian lady is kneading someone's back. I'm thinking to myself "There's no way I'd ever get a massage in the middle of a mall."
Gee, do you think I have trust issues?
This thought just clears the air when the MG mentions AS WE PASS "There's not enough tea in..." embarrassed pause as we continue on... "for me to massage anyone."
I giggle for about five minutes. That was a sitcom moment. Comedy writers: take note.
Tough Old Bird
Tonight we had a dinner at a restaurant that the Mad Genius went to as a child. It's a little out of the way greasy spoon. Apparently he was up for a little adventure/nostalgia trip.
The woman who took our order must have been 107 years old, if she was a day. At first she seemed a little grumpy, understandable: she's old and working in a greasy spoon. But then I caught a glimmer of mischief in her eye when I sassed the MG over something. She's a tough old bird. Of course she was.
When another waitress came by, we asked if she was the owner or just worked there. We hoped that she was the owner, to justify our own peace of minds, but nope. She's worked there for 36 years. 36 years! And here she was working at 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday night.
MG asked me if I had cash for a tip and I said that I did in the truck. "Well, you better go get it because *she's* clearing tables. I turned and there's our friend, clearing tables. I hurried out to get my cash before she reached our table.
Alas, I wasn't quick enough and she was cleaning our table and chatting with MG. I casually approached the table, as if I'd just gone potty and not a frantic sprint to go get tip money.
Turns out, she had a stroke one year ago but she's still working. Turns out she was in the hospital last night. "But I'm FINE" she says. Tough old bird.
I slipped the five on the table when she wasn't looking, now wishing it were more. She turned, noticed it and said "Is this for us?" Us? How sweet is that? MG said "No, it's for you." She set it on her cart with the other tips. I told her "Put it in your pocket and go buy something pretty." She snagged that five up like it was on fire.
I hope she buys herself a treat on the way home. (She was haping to be off at nine.)
I'm choosing to think that she works because she likes having something to do not because she has to. That's what I'm choosing to think. I'm choosing to think that she'll buy a treat with that five. I'm hoping that I'm as tough as her when I grow up.
The woman who took our order must have been 107 years old, if she was a day. At first she seemed a little grumpy, understandable: she's old and working in a greasy spoon. But then I caught a glimmer of mischief in her eye when I sassed the MG over something. She's a tough old bird. Of course she was.
When another waitress came by, we asked if she was the owner or just worked there. We hoped that she was the owner, to justify our own peace of minds, but nope. She's worked there for 36 years. 36 years! And here she was working at 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday night.
MG asked me if I had cash for a tip and I said that I did in the truck. "Well, you better go get it because *she's* clearing tables. I turned and there's our friend, clearing tables. I hurried out to get my cash before she reached our table.
Alas, I wasn't quick enough and she was cleaning our table and chatting with MG. I casually approached the table, as if I'd just gone potty and not a frantic sprint to go get tip money.
Turns out, she had a stroke one year ago but she's still working. Turns out she was in the hospital last night. "But I'm FINE" she says. Tough old bird.
I slipped the five on the table when she wasn't looking, now wishing it were more. She turned, noticed it and said "Is this for us?" Us? How sweet is that? MG said "No, it's for you." She set it on her cart with the other tips. I told her "Put it in your pocket and go buy something pretty." She snagged that five up like it was on fire.
I hope she buys herself a treat on the way home. (She was haping to be off at nine.)
I'm choosing to think that she works because she likes having something to do not because she has to. That's what I'm choosing to think. I'm choosing to think that she'll buy a treat with that five. I'm hoping that I'm as tough as her when I grow up.
02 March 2007
Puppy Love
I am not a dog person. This may seem a little strange as I have a dog so let me clarify. I am not the kind of person that carries pictures of my dog. I don't refer to the dog as "our child" or to myself as "mommy."
Much to our dog's dismay, I understand that she is simply A DOG. I'm sure she would have a very plausible argument against that point of view but as she's simply a dog, she won't be consulted for her opinion.
However, it's not to be ignored that she has human qualities. She's a creature of habit. In fact, perhaps, a little OCD.
She goes to bed at 10:00 p.m. whether or not we do. Apparently, she needs her beauty sleep. She will also sleep until about 9:00 a.m. if she is left to her own devices.
The night time ritual that must be observed: Mad Genius announces to no one in particular "Let's go to bed." Said announcement will bring the dog scurrying from wherever she was previously snoozing. Outside she goes to go potty. Often, she considers us as idiots and tries to fool us. She'll walk around the corner where we can't see her and wait until we close the door. Then she scurries back to the door with her nose pointed toward it with an intensity on par with a laser beam.
This game drives the MG crazy but I don't worry about it as she's never had an inside accident.
A treat is given, thus the previous laser beam intensity. She behaves as if this is her daily methadone dose. Then we go to bed. But not before she drinks her water bowl nearly dry because we never, ever, offer her water. Just ignore the huge stainless steel water bowl that is often kicked over by the humans of the house.
Her favorite watering hole seems to be the little outside table that's just her size in our patio area behind the house. Apparently it's doggie Evian.
Right now, she is randomly barking. I think it's just for the joy of barking. There's no visitors, no intruders, no doggie friends visiting. She's just barking. I don't know if she's announcing that she's outside or just making noise. Thank God all the neighbors are a) family and b) gone for the day.
I believe I mentioned previously that she has Terror Alert Levels that must be observed. One of her Alerts awarded the poor dog with a jack to the jaw the other night. Now before you call the Humane Socitey, listen.
The MG is gone for the evening and I am watching "Lady in the Water." I am a huge M Night Shyamalan fan even though he scares the hell out of me. I am entranced into the movie and the dog is sleeping on the floor in the living room. (She's finally learned not to sleep under my recliner when the foot rest is up. Nearly beheaded the damn dog.)
In the movie, the creepy (literally) creature is steathily inching across the screen. The dog chooses this time to nudge my elbow to tell me something important. In reflex, as I'm not a screamer, I jacked her in the jaw with my elbow. She looked at me like "What the hell?" and rebuffed my apologies. I felt bad but I blame M Night. I think the dog was being empathetic and got jacked her her efforts. Poor girl.
As I've been home for nine months, I've learned that I'm truly not a dog person. We've been driving one another crazy for nine months.
She has lost the understanding that she's a dog somehow. Dogs go outside, humans usually stay inside. This seems simple to me yet we keep having the same conversation every single freaking day. Now, before you coo and ahhh and tell me "She just wants to be with you" know that once inside, I am completely ignored unless I have food. If I have food, then we're long-lost buddy ole pals. Otherwise, I am tolerated as the one with the oppsable thumbs that can open doors and give food.
Frankly, I think she's a little relieved that I've returned to work, even if it is only part-time. I think that once she realizes that I've not brought a treat home for her, she is irritated that she has to share *her* house with me again.
I'm not a dog person and apparently, I am only to be tolerated in her world as I have the food.
Much to our dog's dismay, I understand that she is simply A DOG. I'm sure she would have a very plausible argument against that point of view but as she's simply a dog, she won't be consulted for her opinion.
However, it's not to be ignored that she has human qualities. She's a creature of habit. In fact, perhaps, a little OCD.
She goes to bed at 10:00 p.m. whether or not we do. Apparently, she needs her beauty sleep. She will also sleep until about 9:00 a.m. if she is left to her own devices.
The night time ritual that must be observed: Mad Genius announces to no one in particular "Let's go to bed." Said announcement will bring the dog scurrying from wherever she was previously snoozing. Outside she goes to go potty. Often, she considers us as idiots and tries to fool us. She'll walk around the corner where we can't see her and wait until we close the door. Then she scurries back to the door with her nose pointed toward it with an intensity on par with a laser beam.
This game drives the MG crazy but I don't worry about it as she's never had an inside accident.
A treat is given, thus the previous laser beam intensity. She behaves as if this is her daily methadone dose. Then we go to bed. But not before she drinks her water bowl nearly dry because we never, ever, offer her water. Just ignore the huge stainless steel water bowl that is often kicked over by the humans of the house.
Her favorite watering hole seems to be the little outside table that's just her size in our patio area behind the house. Apparently it's doggie Evian.
Right now, she is randomly barking. I think it's just for the joy of barking. There's no visitors, no intruders, no doggie friends visiting. She's just barking. I don't know if she's announcing that she's outside or just making noise. Thank God all the neighbors are a) family and b) gone for the day.
I believe I mentioned previously that she has Terror Alert Levels that must be observed. One of her Alerts awarded the poor dog with a jack to the jaw the other night. Now before you call the Humane Socitey, listen.
The MG is gone for the evening and I am watching "Lady in the Water." I am a huge M Night Shyamalan fan even though he scares the hell out of me. I am entranced into the movie and the dog is sleeping on the floor in the living room. (She's finally learned not to sleep under my recliner when the foot rest is up. Nearly beheaded the damn dog.)
In the movie, the creepy (literally) creature is steathily inching across the screen. The dog chooses this time to nudge my elbow to tell me something important. In reflex, as I'm not a screamer, I jacked her in the jaw with my elbow. She looked at me like "What the hell?" and rebuffed my apologies. I felt bad but I blame M Night. I think the dog was being empathetic and got jacked her her efforts. Poor girl.
As I've been home for nine months, I've learned that I'm truly not a dog person. We've been driving one another crazy for nine months.
She has lost the understanding that she's a dog somehow. Dogs go outside, humans usually stay inside. This seems simple to me yet we keep having the same conversation every single freaking day. Now, before you coo and ahhh and tell me "She just wants to be with you" know that once inside, I am completely ignored unless I have food. If I have food, then we're long-lost buddy ole pals. Otherwise, I am tolerated as the one with the oppsable thumbs that can open doors and give food.
Frankly, I think she's a little relieved that I've returned to work, even if it is only part-time. I think that once she realizes that I've not brought a treat home for her, she is irritated that she has to share *her* house with me again.
I'm not a dog person and apparently, I am only to be tolerated in her world as I have the food.
Sneakers!
I bought new sneakers last weekend. Sketchers are my favorite sneakers and I had a 50% off coupon so it was cause to celebrate in my world.
Well, the difference between working in the adult world and kid world became abundantly clear on Monday, much to my disappointment.
In kid-world, new shoes are to be Celebrated! There are few thing as exciting as new sneakers. They often require a min-fashion show so the wearer can show them off to maximum potential. They are cause for comment all day on the first day of wearing. New sneakers are cool.
So much to my disappointment when no one noticed that I had new sneakers on Monday morning. *sniff*
I think I like kids better than adults. They're pretty cool sneakers too. Oh well, their loss.
My advice: next time you get new shoes, or notice someone has new shoes, comment on them! New shoes are a cause for celebration, dammit.
Well, the difference between working in the adult world and kid world became abundantly clear on Monday, much to my disappointment.
In kid-world, new shoes are to be Celebrated! There are few thing as exciting as new sneakers. They often require a min-fashion show so the wearer can show them off to maximum potential. They are cause for comment all day on the first day of wearing. New sneakers are cool.
So much to my disappointment when no one noticed that I had new sneakers on Monday morning. *sniff*
I think I like kids better than adults. They're pretty cool sneakers too. Oh well, their loss.
My advice: next time you get new shoes, or notice someone has new shoes, comment on them! New shoes are a cause for celebration, dammit.
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