Things Driving Me Crazy Today

Tuesdays: That one day of the week when everything seems dismal, dreary and depressing. It’s also the day I can easily think of many things driving me crazy today:

  • When I have a cartload of groceries and the cashier insists on putting each item in it’s own bag. So I leave with 50 items and 50 bags. Maybe they have a bag quota.

(Each bag contains 1 Twix bar or 1 bag o’ Cheetos or 1 box of cereal, etc. And, yes, I do recycle.)

  • Microwaves. How come, with all our technology, no one has created a microwave that can shut quietly, program without annoying beeping and have a “quiet” alarm when the food is done? Makes it very hard to sneak a burrito at 3 a.m.
  • Those “warm air” hand dryers in restrooms. I end up wiping my hands on my pants anyway.

(I wish.)

  • The HUGE man who thought it was a good idea to sit in front of my small granddaughter at the movie theater. Even with her booster chair she couldn’t see, so we ended up rearranging everyone.
  • Indoor pools that use too much chlorine. Aaarrrrgggghhh! My eyes!

(Either too much chlorine or too many Twilight trailers.)

  • Drivers who cross the solid white lines!!!! Idiots! There’s a reason you’re not supposed to change lanes in those areas. It’s a DANGER to other drivers. Namely me! Read up on the road rules.
  • Calories.

The TRUE Cost of Having Children

The Department of Agriculture recently announced it takes $250,000 to raise a child through high school. Why the Dept. of Agriculture? Because children are similar to vegetables.

I think this estimate is severely low. Having raised four daughters, here are some expenses I don’t think the researchers took into account:

  • Home repairs including, but not limited to, repainting the wall that your 4-year-old “decorated” with nail polish. Or that Slurpee stain in the carpet that will NEVER, EVER come out–no matter how many times you pay a professional carpet cleaner.

(Scrub all you want. Even a nuclear holocaust won’t get rid of this stain.)

  • Every blankety-blankety-blank Happy Meal toy, cereal prize or other worthless trinket that fast-food restaurants/Disney dangle in front of children. This also includes temper-tantrum averting treats at the mall and impulse buys in the grocery store line that they won’t SHUT UP about.
  • School clothes–but not just clothes, the right kind of clothes. The expensive stuff that will only be worn once. This also includes the dozens of shoes you buy, not because your child grew out of them, but because she suddenly doesn’t like the way they feel, or she’ll “forget” one at her friend’s house, or they don’t match ANYTHING she owns.

(“But mo-om. None of these shoes match my skinny jeans.”)

  • Gas for driving them to and from school, work, their friend’s house, the mall, etc.
  • Face products, at least for daughters. If you don’t buy them their own face soap, moisturizer, etc.–yours will suddenly go missing. Strangely enough your daughter will “have no idea where your face mask is.”
  • Yards of fabric to make your teenage daughter a homemade princess costume for Halloween, only to screw it up and have to buy one anyway at the last minute–for twice the cost.
  • Every other Halloween costume. Plus accessories. And fake teeth. And fake blood.

(This Halloween costume costs $3,139. Then you still have to buy candy.)

  • The price of being “Santa’s Helper” during the holiday season. In December, I set up a direct deposit so my paycheck went directly to Toys R Us.
  • Birthday parties that MUST include the cool Disney princess du jour, gift bags for 20 little girls, an elaborate cake that no one will eat and tiaras.

I could go on (and on and on) but you get the idea. So if you’re in the process of child-rearing, save your cash. You’re gonna need it.

Top 5 Reasons to Stop Watching NBC’s Version of the Olympics

I know, I know, greatest athletes, heartbreaking stories. I get it.

Every two years, NBC saturates the airwaves with backstories and teasers while the Olympic Games take place in the background. Enough already. Let us just watch the events without your commentators’ blathering inaneness.

(Ernie’s facepalm for the Games.)

Here are 5 Reasons to Stop Watching the Olympics on NBC:

#1–Coverage is a joke. Did you see USA gymnast John Orozco doing his thang on the rings during the men’s all-round? Neither did anyone else. How about coverage of anyone other than the “stars” of the Games? Nope.  Unless you’re a medal contender, you don’t get air time on NBC.

#2–Stating the obvious.   “I think that fall might cost him some points.” “World Record time! That’s gotta be the fastest she’s ever gone!!” “Stepping out-of-bounds will lower her score.” “I’ll bet he’s disappointed in that performance.” Hint: Mute button.

(When a Jedi Master gets frustrated, that’s pretty bad.)

#3–Human interest stories. I appreciate how hard the athletes work. I really do. I worked with Olympic athletes for four years and was SO impressed with their level of sacrifice and dedication. But even THEY got tired of hearing their backstories set to violins with crying kittens and sad-looking panda bears. Can we have a little less manipulation in the media? Oh, I forgot. That’s what MEDIA stands for: Manipulating Every Decent Idealistic American.

#4–Editing for Americans. Does NBC think we can’t appreciate athletes from other nations? Are we that horrible? (Don’t answer that.) Did you see the special tribute during the opening ceremonies dedicated to the victims of the 2005 terrorist bombing in London? No?  That’s because NBC preempted that portion of the ceremony to show a Ryan Seacrest interview with Michael Phelps. Thank heavens we have NBC watching out for us because we know the Olympics are an American-only event.

(Really, NBC? Even Jean-Luc Picard gives you a facepalm.)

#5–Super Slow-Mo replay.   How many times can we watch a gymnast fall off the beam? Too many. Especially when  slow-motion cameras move frame by frame by frame by frame so it takes 20 minutes to watch a 2-second flub. Or the slow-motion victory where Michael Phelps reaches for the wall in insane slow-mo. His fingers move millimeter by millimeter toward the finish line. Stop playing with your toys, NBC.

NBC, I understand you spent $1.18 billion for the rights to drive the American public insane for two weeks, but please. Show us the events without commentators talking down to the audience and without the dumbing down of competitions because you think the American people are illiterate boors.

Driver’s License Division from the Black Lagoon

(Mike Thaler hasn’t written “DLD from the Black Lagoon”–but he should.)

My driver’s license expired. I had to go to the Driver’s License Division to get it renewed.

But I’d heard terrible stories about the DLD: The lines are so long I’d lose feeling in my legs; the workers are cannibals; the back room is used for torturing people with incorrect documentation; if you fail your eye test, you go on the driving range and run in front of the teenagers getting their licenses.

(Why didn’t I bring my glasses???)

But I had to get it done. I’m a law-abiding citizen.

So I gathered up all the papers I had in my home and headed out. I created a “renewal defense” as I drove toward my destination, practicing my astonished expression using the following phrases:

“But I didn’t know I needed to bring that information.”

“The eye chart looks blurry because I’ve spent the morning squinting.”

“I can’t believe that’s my driving record you’re looking at.”

“Of course that’s how much I weigh!!!!”

As I pulled into the parking lot, my breath became shallow. A woman walked out of the building crying.  A discouraged young man sifted through the ashtray, looking for a smokeable cigarette butt.  “Oh, no. They’ve beaten everyone down,” I thought.

I walked into the building, where flourescent lights flickered ominously, and filled out the application. Then I went to stand in line.

But there was no line. I spoke with a friendly woman who took my picture and checked my application. (She must be the one giving you a false sense of security before they lock you in a room and ask you how far you should park from the fire hydrant.)

I was given a number and told to take a seat. “Here it comes,” I thought. “The two-hour wait.”

Luckily, I had my book, several magazines, Twinkies, Cheetos and a pillow. But I hadn’t read two pages when my number was called. Trying not to look surprised (or guilty), I headed toward the renewal counter, ready to counter any argument if they asked for a blood or urine sample. But no. A pleasant young man took my information, checked my eyes, charged me $25 and sent me on my way.

What?! Nothing to roll my eyes at in frustration? No ridiculous rule I hadn’t obeyed?

I hesitantly walked toward the exit, waiting for security to drag me into the basement for the real renewal process. Once I was safely in my car, I realized I hadn’t breathed for 5 minutes. I filled my lungs, started my car and drove home, new license in my wallet.

We often lambast government entities for being inefficient timesuckers, but this time, they actually got it right. Sincere thanks.

(Happy, happy!)

Top 5 Ways to Make Money With Your Sweet Writing Skills

Yes, I know your heart’s desire is to write the next best-selling young adult fantasy trilogy that involves a love triangle between a goblin, a unicorn and a pair of comfy slippers but, not to dash your dreams into a glacier of cold reality, it’s probably not gonna happen.

(Are they assuming you’re writing for young adult dummies? I’m good with that.)

But you have great writing skills! Why not put them to good use? Here are some ways to incorporate writing skills into every day jobs–and make money! Win-win!

#1–Become a food server.  You always assume your waitress is writing your order on her little memo pad, but she might be jotting down your irritating characteristics as the basis for the villain in her next novel. As a food server, you can spend all day writing. Who cares if you never get the orders right?

#2–Write parking tickets. Add some creativity to the boring old parking ticket. You could write out the offense is several genres, such as–Shakespearean: “Thou hast parketh too near the hydrant of fire.” Agatha Christie: “Illegal parking is terribly revealing. Try and vary your methods as you will, your tastes, your habits, your attitude of mind, and your soul is revealed by your actions.”

#3–Create copy for cereal boxes.  Kids read this stuff, so it better be clever. Kids don’t go for bulls***–just give it to ’em straight. “This box contains processed circular grain-flavored shapes that may, or may not, contain dozens of unidentifiable chemicals and preservatives. It’s most likely this box of cereal will lead to your death in the years to come. Free toy inside!!!”

(How many years have you spent reading cereal boxes?)

#4–Write homework essays for the neighbor kids. This is a great way to make a quick buck–assuming your clients get a weekly allowance. No one wants to write about Melville or Dickens–but, for a small fee, you can create flawless essays about symbolism, social satire and funny character names.

#5– Write ads for Craigslist. In order to sell your product on the internet, it needs to have a catchy headline, so use your creative writing skills to capture the attention of the general public. “Strippers needed for baby shower!” “This NuvaWave appliance will CHANGE YOUR LIFE!!” “Moderately stained mattress can be yours today!” “Overdue library books–cheap!”

(With your finely tuned writing skills, you could sell this mattress to Martha Stewart.)

Top 5 Ways To Celebrate Freedom

Interestingly enough, February 1 is National Freedom Day (Lincoln abolished slavery) while July 4 is National Independence Day (America abolished Great Britain).

(Hopefully, your Independence Day won’t include a devastating alien invasion.)

As U.S. citizens, we celebrate freedom by eating vast amounts of barbecue, lighting things on fire and waving at beauty queens during a parade. So, even after thousands of years of evolution, our society still tends to focus on food, fire and women. Great progress there, folks.

Here are 5 great ways to celebrate freedom this week:

#1–Read a book. As Americans, we’re free to read anything we’d like without censoring. (Unless you live in Davis County, Utah, and want to read “In Our Mothers’ House.” It’s a picture book about a child being raised by two mothers that was banned from Davis County schools.)

(For mercy’s sake! Don’t read this story about a loving family to your children!!)

#2–Act Like An Idiot. Americans are infamous for being boorish, obnoxious, outspoken, rude and stupid. For many people, The Fourth is July is celebrated by 1) Getting drunk, 2) Shooting off illegal fireworks, 3) Catching the dry field across the street on fire, and 4) Burning the neighbor’s house down.

#3–Watch TMZ or listen to Rush Limbaugh. Unlike many places across the world, the U.S. lets its citizens watch anything they damn well please. But, instead of educational, cultural or informative programs, the majority of people tend to lean toward reality TV, gossip-mongering hate-filled talk shows or porn. Thanks, freedom.

(What’s not to like?!)

#4–Debate the recent Supreme Court rulings. You don’t have to agree (hence the word “debate”) but at least be informed. Part of the wonderfulness of this country is our right to agree to disagree. Unless you’re FOX news or CNN. Then you are just disagreeable. (Don’t agree? That’s okay!)

#5–Thank a Vet. Seriously, folks. Whether it’s your grandpa that served in WWII, your uncle who fought in the Gulf War or your neighbor who just returned from Afghanistan, give them a hug (not the surprise kind where you jump out of the hall closet) and say, “thanks.”

(Thank you.)

Enjoy the freedom to vote, protest, send our daughters to school, choose our own spouse or religion.

And, finally, be safe during The Fourth of July by avoiding warm potato salad, pyromaniac brothers with a penchant for “improving” the fireworks they just purchased, and children running with sparklers. What a freakin’ dangerous holiday.

Things Driving Me Crazy Today

On Tuesdays, things seem to perturb me much more quickly. No reason. Just Tuesday.

Here’s my latest list of head-banging-against-the-wall-of-life situations:

  • Trying to save gas by not running the AC in the car, only to arrive at my business meeting with my silk shirt stuck to my back.

(Literally.)

  • People who call and leave loooooooong, meandering, pointless voice messages, restating their question/comment/complaint over and over and over and over and over. AAAAARRRRGGGGHHH!!!
  • Dealing with health insurance companies. (“We know you’re paying overpriced premiums, but we don’t cover that procedure.”)
  • My psychopath neighbor mowing his lawn at 6 a.m.
  • My psychopath neighbor who starts up his diesel-engine truck at 5:30 a.m. and lets it idle for 20 minutes.
  • Drivers who come to a COMPLETE STOP when making a right hand turn.
  • The idea that car headlights need big fake eyelashes. (Do you have to buy car mascara?)
  • People who talk into their iPhones like they’re eating a piece of pizza. How did this start? Who can we blame?

Things My Dad Taught Me

While my mom taught me how to read, write and cheat at Skip-Bo, my dad also contributed to my up-bringing–whether he wants to admit it or not.

Here are some important things my dad taught me:

How to make Lumpy Dick (Real name. I swear): One of dad’s favorite snacks. Mix flour, boiling water, milk. Eat. (Same recipe for paste. Same flavor, too.)

(All this needs is chocolate, sugar, walnuts, oatmeal, coconut and cinnamon.)

How to solder circuit boards: Just in case this whole writing thing doesn’t work out.

How to catch Santa Claus: Each Christmas, dad would convince us he’d set the perfect trap for Santa, saying, “So then we can take ALL his toys!” We’d stay up all night, fretting, knowing that Santa could be maimed or even killed. Thank heavens, Santa escaped every year, leaving my dad a stocking full of coal.

How to enjoy reading Sci-Fi: Whether it was mutant elephants from space or Amazon women abducted by aliens, my dad would pay me a penny-a-page to read his favorite science fiction novels. Not only did I learn a LOT about alien/human sex, I earned quite a bit o’ money. (BONUS: It made my mom mad because she didn’t think my dad’s books were appropriate. She was right.)

(Most of dad’s books had women in various states of undressedness. Makes for interesting reading when you’re in 5th grade.)

How to love pyrotechnics: My first “fireworks” were the black snake tablets my dad brought me home. He showed me how to stack the entire box of snakes and light them on fire. It was awesome watching the ash snakes slither out of the sidewalk. We moved on to firecrackers (illegal), Roman candles (illegal at the time) and his heavy, miniature cannon that blew out my eardrums. I still love fireworks.

Dad let me watch B horror movies, drink Coke (another thing my mom wouldn’t let me do), stay outside until it was dark and go to work with him, where I’m sure I drove him crazy.

(With his great-granddaughter. A whole new generation to corrupt!!!)

Happy Belated Father’s Day, Dad!

Top 5 Reasons To Become A Hermit

After dealing with the public for decades, I’m putting myself in time out. Forever. My husband thinks I might have a social disorder called Absolutely Sick of Dealing With People Who Piss Me Off. (Or ASODWPWPMO for short.)

(In Time Out with Ringo until we can behave properly. Might be a while.)

Hermiting (as it’s called by cool people) brings to mind a wild man/woman living in the Appalachian mountains, drinking moonshine, skinning raccoons for clothing and stealing apple pies from kitchen windows. Where do I sign up?

I’ve made a list of pros and cons of becoming a hermit, but since I couldn’t think of any cons, I thought I’d share my pro list:

1. Never worrying about fashion trends. Is color blocking the new style? Is yellow the new black? No need to care since I’m living in a cave wearing pajama bottoms and a comfy T-shirt for the rest of my life. BONUS: There’s no need for good grooming habits. I can let my beard/moustache grow and never shave my legs again!

2. Cool living locations. I have SO many places to choose from. I could camp out in a treehouse, a forest cave, an abandoned cabin, a movie star’s guest house or the trunk of my car. Possibilities are endless.

(Pantry or hermitage? Win-win.)

3. I’d get a cool reputation for being a fruitcake. Remember those crazy ladies in your neighborhood that were witches? That could be me! If people get too close to my lair, I can pop out, waving my saggy triceps, swearing in Ukrainian and biting the heads off Snickers bars.

4. No Training Required. Most careers take years of schooling, internships or licensing. Not hermiting! Just pack your favorite pillow, a stack of books, boxes of Wheat Thins and Hershey’s, and you’re good to go.

5. Reading with no interruptions. Have you ever been within 5 pages of finishing a great book when a 1) significant other, 2) child, 3) family dog or 4) co-worker stops by to talk? Can’t they see I’ve only got 5 pages left?!?!?! If they were a caring human (or dog), they would give me 10 minutes to bask in the glow of a finished novel. But, no. Everyone stops to chat, despite the mental daggers being thrown in their direction. But, as a hermit, I will finish EVERY book with no interruptions.

One thing I don’t understand: if men decide to wander off by themselves in the woods, it’s called “hunting.” When women do it, it’s called “irrational.” Not fair.

Fifty Shades of Beige

The popularity of the pornographically-erotic book Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James indicates a high level of sexual frustration in women. The book follows the dark relationship between Ana and the hilariously-named Christian, with the expected amount of raw sex.

(His skirt looks a little too flowy to be a kilt.)

Bodice-rippers are not new to female literature. Fabio-esque male models have graced the pages of many a tantalizing book, usually grasping a well-cleavaged woman in a tattered green, velvet dress. Titles like Hearts in Heat or Blood Pumpin’ are full of throbbing pulses and heaving bosoms.

(This is why you shouldn’t play with Super Glue.)

If men are wondering how they compare to these sweaty sex-novel heroes, take a glance at the list below and see if your technique could use some fine tuning. (In the interest of full-disclosure, my husband is not guilty of MOST of these offenses.)

1. Foreplay does not consist of watching Sports Center and grabbing our boobs during commercials.

2. We have other body parts for you to fondle besides the aforementioned boobage.

3. If I’m snoring, it doesn’t mean I’m playing hard-to-get, it means I’m freakin’ SLEEPING! Touch me and die.

4. Just because men can be turned on by a toothpaste commercial doesn’t mean we’re ready to go once your belt hits the floor.

5. It’s NOT cool to mention how soft our bellies are, how you like the way our cellulite gleams in the moonlight or how you enjoy the feeling of leg stubble.

6. If we make the effort to dress in sexy lingerie, don’t make comments about a) beached whales, b) the full moon or c) how it looked so much different in the catalog.

7. Can you say “manscaping?”

8. Just because you read about it on the Internet does not mean it’s physically possible.

Adherence to the above “suggestions” could perhaps ensure a more compliant, and loving, partner.

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