Sunday, December 29, 2013

Vroom, vroom

In case any of my readers doubt that I am actually 82 year-old trapped in a 28 year-old's body this post will convince you that it is true.

My view of cars is quite different than most peoples.  To the general public a car is a way to transport your body from one location to another with relative efficiency and comfort.  To me a car is a speeding fuselage of death, screaming down a glorified footpath dodging any number of unmovable obstacles in the effort to be the first person in line at the next stop light.  Everyday that I am on the road I am shocked and thankful to make it to my destination alive.  How can anyone survive with so many mechanical beast roaming the streets?

What scares me even more than these killing machines are the grim-reapers behind the wheel.  Why do people feel like driving is a competition? I MUST GET TO TARGET BEFORE ALL OF YOU!!!!!!
 Really?  Congratulations, you got to the store a whole 45 seconds before anyone else in our line of traffic.  You must be so proud.  If you try really hard maybe you can beat the old lady with the walker to the express checkout lane.  Get over yourself. The only time it is acceptable to speed like a maniac is if you are on your way to the ER or you are a pregnant lady who has to pee.  If you don't fit into one of those categories then I'm sorry you are just going to have to respect other people.  Trust me you aren't that important. Which also means that no, you don't have to answer that text message this very instance.  If you were that important you would have a driver and be sitting in the back seat of a fancy car with both hands free to text/take pics/update status.  But you're not.  You are just some regular joe who has to drive yourself around because you can't afford to pay anyone to do it.  So to compensate for your unimportance you pretend that everyone in your social media circle needs to know exactly what you're doing  right now.  Sadly what you are doing is endangering the lives of countless other idiots who also are trying to pretend that they too are important.  Also you're not foolin' anyone with those hubcaps.

And don't even get me started with teenagers being allowed to drive.........

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Clap on, Clap off

Anyone who knows me knows how I love lists.  Lists are everywhere in my house and at my cubical.  They are on sticky notes, white boards, old napkins, receipts, my hand, my phone........ I make lists of anything and everything that pops into my ridiculous and cluttered brain.  Today I am going to share with you a list of things that make me feel old.

1. Kids that I babysat are now getting married.  Nothin' like reality smacking me in the face.

2. Songs I listened to growing up are now on the classic rock station.

3. Boy Bands are considered "old school".

4. Technology frustrates me.  Seriously I don't get apps, what is the point?  Though I will say I do like texting, but I think it's causing arthritis in my thumbs.

5. Everything in my body hurts.

6. I have a set bedtime and it's before midnight.

7. Cellulite.

8. I worry about the light bill going up.

9. Not only am I on several different medications but it's hard for me to remember which ones I have already taken for the day.

10. Now days I opt for staying in rather than going out.

11. Everything gives me indigestion.

12. I complain about how kids dress these days and have no respect or sense of responsibility. 

13. I don't "get" hipsters.

14. Consuming caffeine after 4pm will keep me up all night. 

15. I read Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Narnia, and Ender's Game before they were movies.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Oh Sh**!

I'm back.  Well at least for one post.  What, you ask, could be so inspiring as to cause me to break my 14 months of silence? Poop. That's right fices.  It's gross and socially unacceptable to talk about but I must.  For all of you who have had close-calls, embarrassing moments, and/or have been stuck on a bus for 8 hours in the middle of the Costa Rican jungle this one's for you.

My story begins with the typical but unpleasant task of taking a drug test.  Now I'm sure most of us have taken drug tests before for various reasons but this one, for me, was because I was starting a new job.  After wasting a considerable amount of time driving around I finally found the actual location of where I was supposed to take the test. By the time I made my way into the building I was definitely ready to relieve myself.  I was also pretty sure that whatever type of cup they gave me was not going to be big enough.  I found a seat in the waiting room and....well...waited. And waited. And waited. My only form of distraction was trying to guess who in the room did or did not have angle bracelets on.  Finally my name was called and I stood up and made my way to the bathroom.  It was only after standing that I realize by this point not only did I have to pee like a race horse but I also had to go #2.  I didn't think much of it, after all I was already on my way to the potty.  Before getting comfortable I liberally applied several layers of toilet tissue to the seat.  My bottom had no sooner touch the crown of the toilet when my body, to it's extensive relief, let go of everything.  And I really do mean everything.  It was almost unnatural the amount of wast that exited my being. While I was still reeling from the shock of what my body had just done I heard a knock at the door.

"Ma'am", the nurse called to me.
"Yes?" I answered ashamed of what I had just transpired.
"Ma'am I forgot to tell you don't flush the toilet when you are done.  By law we have to check it before you leave."

Dear God in heaven what have I done?  A rush of panic raced through my recently emptied body.  Check? CHECK? She is going to SEE MY POO???  I don't know how long I stayed in there, but I'm pretty sure it was too long.  Between the panic and the fumes my head was swimming.  My only option was to run for it.  I frantically washed my hands and went over my escape plan in my head.  I was pretty sure I just needed to hook a right, bust through the double doors, turn left and then race to the parking lot.  I would be gone before the poor nurse even knew what hit her.  There was only one glitch - my purse.  I had to leave it at the nurses station.  For a moment I contemplated leaving it behind but it had my car keys. Crap! "Ok." I though, "I'll just snatch it really fast and then proceed with the plan.  If anything goes awry I'll blame someone with an ankle bracelet." I took a deep breath...oh, oh bad mistake the fumes. With ape like reflexes I swung the door open, snatched my purse, and flew down the hallway.  As I was running I heard the poor nurse gag.