Didn’t we just survive Tuesday one week ago? It’s back already?
There are only two ways to keep it together on Tuesday: 1) Go back to bed, or 2) hear me whine about what’s driving me crazy today.
- Standing in line at Café Rio, silently practicing my order.
- When the dishwasher breaks and I think, that’s okay, washing dishes by hand is therapeutic. But two days later I’m just throwing plates and shit away because I hate washing dishes.
- 3 a.m.
- When my zipper comes unzipped at the bottom.
(You had one thing to do, zipper.)
- Running up the basement stairs so the monsters don’t get me. Still.
- Repeating a favorite song so many times that I start hating it.
- Not having time for a much-needed mental breakdown.
- Trying to pry apart an English muffin without smashing half of it. You couldn’t cut this thing all the way through?
(Damn, English sense of humor.)
- Knowing that explaining something really slowly to stupid people doesn’t make them understand it any better.
- Wishing the bottle of body wash would run out so I can use a new fragrance.
- Having music shame. Definition: Rocking out to Iggy Azalea at the gym. When someone asks what I’m listening to, I say Adele.
- Never finding my name on the personalized Coke bottles.
(I’m always just the friend.)
- Not knowing if I pulled a chest muscle, or if I’m experiencing heart failure.
- Never being quite sure what to do with my hands if someone’s talking to me while I’m standing up.
There. Now you can go back to bed!
I hope you crack your shins on the coffee table of life.
Here are the things driving me crazy today:
- Feeling like an uneducated redneck at the farmer’s market. Do vendors take classes in snobbishness?
- Trying on swimming suits. Tip to merchants: light dressing rooms with candles–not flickering fluorescent bulbs.
- Getting stuck in a swimming suit and standing in the horribly lit cubicle with my arms extended overhead with no way to remove the bathing suit top from my body.
- Hockey. Thank God the season is over–at least for a few weeks.
- Basketball. Thank God the season is over–at least for a few weeks.
- World Cup Soccer. Well, almost.
(When is the Quidditch World Cup?)
- Diets that suggest you cut out EVERYTHING except whey protein, almond milk, blueberries and eggs.
- Cutting out EVERYTHING except whey protein, almond milk, blueberries and eggs.
- Making a(n) hilarious, witty comment, and realizing (because people are looking at you weird) that you just said one of the Top 10 stupidest things of all time.
- Driving in the rain, and having no idea where the lines are in the road.
- When road crews re-paint the lines in the freeway, three feet away from the original lines–so now there dashed lines everywhere and you have no idea where to drive.
- Make-up companies messing around with mascara wands.
(Just waiting for Tom Sawyer to paint my eyelashes.)
- People who break beer bottles at parks, leaving shards of glass for dogs and kids to step on. These glass litterbugs should be punched in the liver.
- When I realize I’m humming along to my iPod at the gym.
- Grass growing in my flower beds.
- You think you’re alone in a public bathroom, and start talking to yourself. The lady who walks out of the far stall avoids looking directly at you as she washes her hands, and quickly leaves the restroom. Not that I did that. Nope.
Maybe next Tuesday will be great!!
From coaching my daughters’ softball teams to watching the SF Giants win the series, baseball is a way to kick back and relax. Well, except the coaching part. That’s just nuts.
(Idyllic, right? Except for all the people.)
But, as with everything else . . . people ruin s***. The hubbie and I thought we’d catch a Bees game, hoping to watch major leaguer Josh Hamilton who has been rehabbing in the great city of Salt Lake. We bought tickets, then sat back to watch the game on a beautiful spring evening.
IMMEDIATELY, people began ruining s***. Here are the things driving me crazy at the ball game:
- The man in front of me. He was eating a hot dog. Only not just any hot dog. This hot dog was smothered in so much crap, that it dripped onto his beard, shirt, lap and many of the surrounding spectators. I was mesmerized. I couldn’t look away as he shoved the disgusting ball game delicacy into his pie hole. Plus, I could hear him chewing.
- No 10-run rule. The first inning lasted FOREVER, because the Bees don’t do defense.
(Please, have another home run, visiting team.)
- People in general. We were situated in our uncomfortable seats, when the lady four seats down had to get up and buy beer. So we all stood up to let her through. Then she had to climb back to her seat. More standing. And then go get more beer, which meant more standing. Add the fact she was drunker and slushier each time she stumbled by us. It was like Catholic mass: standing, sitting, standing, sitting (and praying for the Bees to do something).
- Kids at the ball game. A baseball game is no place for children. Once they finish their chicken fingers (the top of the first inning) they whine, beg, fight, beg, whine and fight for the remainder of the game.
(Yes, we know you’re bored. We get it. Shut up.)
- The mother of these children. If you take your kids to a ball game and expect them to sit still for three hours, you are insane. DO NOT yell at your kids for being bored. DO NOT yell at your kids for begging repeatedly for cotton candy, soda, popcorn, ice cream, etc. You knew what to expect when you brought the rugrats.
- The man in front of me, part 2. Once Hot Dog man finished hunching over his ballpark repast, he sat up straight, and I realized he was just a little shorter than Godzilla. We were sitting behind home plate, so I couldn’t see the pitcher, the batter, second base or center field. So I grabbed some paper and started writing a blog.
- Food. The only time I eat a hot dog is when I’m in a ball park or being tortured at girl’s camp. But shelling out $20 for 2 hot dogs, 2 drinks and bags of chips seemed a leeeetle steep. Plus, the line was so long we missed an entire inning while the ADHD serving staff tried to fill orders.
- Josh Hamilton. The professional outfielder has been sidelined due to an injury, but he hurt his thumb Thursday night–and didn’t even play on Saturday. He returns to the Angels this week.
All that for nothing.
Ah, Tuesday. That day between Monday and Wednesday that is as obnoxious as a 2-year-old with a megaphone. Besides having to get out of bed this morning, here are several other things driving me crazy today:
- Slobbering toothpaste onto my workout clothes. I’ve only been brushing my teeth for four decades. You’d think I’d figure it out.
- The end of pomegranate season. NO!!!*
- Eating TWO healthy meals in a row, and not losing any weight.
- Logging off the computer, and then remembering what I was supposed to look up.
- Having to flush the toilet more than once, and trying to flush it “quietly” the second time.
- People with a positive outlook.
- My favorite mascara being discontinued.
- Disappointing novels.
- That feeling you get right when you finish your fourth Twinkie and think, “I should have had an apple.”
- People who want me to smile at the camera.
(I am smiling.)
- Not being independently wealthy.
- TV shows with “seasons” only 10 episodes long. That’s not a “season,” it’s a “mini-series.”
- Forgetting to buy Girl Scout cookies.
- Realizing it’s April Fool’s Day halfway through the day, and thinking of a really funny blog that will have to wait until next year.
*I will gladly fork out $15 for the last pomegranate.
I tend to get lotsa, lotsa press releases sent to me, inviting me to everything from the AUTORAMA to the free pap smear clinic. (I declined both offers.) I get good media releases–and some really, really bad releases. If you send me a release, here are some good ways to make me hate you:
- Press releases WRITTEN IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. I am lazy. If I can’t copy/paste–this gets fed to my parakeet. (Euphemism for trashed. I made it up. Do you think it will catch on?)
(Chill out, PETA. It’s a photo.)
- Press releases without the time, date or location of an event. Maybe it’s a scavenger hunt and I’ll get clues in subsequent media releases. Or maybe I ignore you.
- Press releases with incomplete info. Don’t make me a) find a website, b) look up contact info, c) proofread your copy. Include everything (spelled correctly) in your release. Remember? I’m lazy.
- Don’t use exclamation points!! Not everyone is as excited about this blood drive as you are!!!! All !!!! will be deleted immediately!!!! And I will add one more pin to my PR voodoo doll!!!!!!!!
- Don’t send me quotes with no attribution. Am I supposed to guess who made this statement? If I have to guess, it will look like this, “Our staff is super, duper excited to sponsor this pie-eating contest,” said White House Correspondent Count von Count.
(You totally just laughed like the Count.)
- Don’t assume spell check caught all your errors. I’ve been notified about too many pubic hearings. That’s disturbing.
- Please use apostrophe’s correctly. Its damn irritating when its done in an erroneous’ manner. You’re copy looks bad. And your getting on my nerves.
- Check all URLs before sending the release. Many, many times the URL is incorrect, and then I have to look it up. Or I don’t. And . . . . ignore.
- Don’t use the word “literally.” It literally makes me want to hurt you.
I understand people make mistakes. I screw up on a regular basis. But please, please consider my laziness and ineptitude when contacting me about your next colon awareness 5K.
Since Jan. 1, I’ve had colds, laryngitis, a sore throat, a short-lived case of the flu and a sinus infection. I’m tired of whining, and everyone in my family is sick of hearing me whine. Besides, everyone in Utah has a cold because It’s WINTER. Plus the smoggy inversion allows particles of radioactive pollution to filter down to the lower lobes of the lungs, causing all kinds of respiratory problems. I might as well take up smoking.
January was a blur of cold medicine, Kleenex, phlegm and doctor visits. Here is what drives me crazy about being sick:
- Blowing my nose. I have tissues all over my home like I’m offering a soft-paper sacrifice to the cold/flu gods.
- My face is so swollen from my sinus infection, I look like a jack-0′-lantern with hair.
(You thought this was a pumpkin. Nope, it’s me watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.)
- Give me either a runny nose or congested sinus cavities–NOT BOTH!
- Hearing myself whine. I sound like a nasally, moaning middle-aged woman who sucks helium in her spare time.
- The crunchy eye boogers that stick to my eyelashes when I’m sleeping.
- Congestion has me talking like a cartoon character.
(“Coldth make me tho mad.”
- Nothing tastes good. So I eat more, trying to remember how good it feels to taste chocolate.
- Trying all the crazy cold remedies–that don’t work. Umckaloabo Root Extract? Hot Black Currant Juice? Slices of onions in my socks? Nope. But my feet smell like onion rings. That I can’t taste.
Now that it’s February, I’m hoping Mr. Cold/Flu/Pink-Eye leaves us alone. We’ve done our time.
Maybe I need to cut back on the caffeine, but I seem more irritable than usual. Could be a lack of sleep. Could be low levels of sugar (probably not). Could be Tuesday. Could be the cold. Could be too many things driving me crazy, such as:
- Taking off a sweaty sports bra. I basically have to dislocate my shoulders to get the damn thing over my head.
- Magazines with a special “flipped” section, so half of the magazine is upside-down. It’s stupid. Not special.
- Puncture weeds that find their way into my carpet–and the soles of my bare feet.
(They look like devil heads–and they hurt like hell when you step on them.)
- Stabbing my eyeball with a mascara wand.
- Biting into the frozen center of a “cooked” microwave meal.
- The insane line at Texas Roadhouse–and their stupid “call ahead” ploy that never gets you in sooner.
- The people who dropped off a couch and entertainment center on the corner next to our house. In the snow.
- Dirty, gray, concrete-style snow leftover from December’s first snowfall.
- The sound made by a fork as it scrapes against a plate. Ewwwwwwwwww.
- Blowing my nose 1,000 times a day.
- The Fitbit my husband bought me for Christmas. Now, at 10 p.m., I find myself running laps through the house, trying to get my damn 10,000 daily steps in.
(Fitbit: The T-Rex of exercise equipment.)
- People so enthusiastic, energetic, dynamic, tireless, bouncy and unrelenting that you need to punch them behind the knees to make them stop moving.
- The price of Girl Scout Cookies.
That’s all. Please resume your Tuesday.