Hey, Here’s a Tip

When approaching an entrance or exit that has double doors, you should always go through the one of your right. It is extremely rude and annoying to stand there, waiting for someone to come through a door so you can go the other way, when there is another, perfectly serviceable door right there, which in fact, is the door you should be using. Why? BECAUSE IN AMERICA, WE WALK ON THE RIGHT.

Also wanted to note that my comment notification thing seems to be on the fritz again, so I was shocked to see I had several comments for which I had not received emails. I’m sure it’ll be fixed soon, so I’ll try to make sure I reply to your lovely comments soon.

And Another Thing…

I missed the Golden Globes last night because I was out to dinner. That sucks. That’s my favorite awards show. Dammit.

Also? I never got into the show 24 before. But last season, Jake got into it, so he wanted to watch the premier on Sunday. We watched what we thought we thought was all of it. And I found myself interested in it. But when Jake started to watch last night, he realized quickly that we had missed something. I think it’s my fault because I switched it over to Desperate Housewives at 8 p.m. assuming that it was only one hour. Jake said that he downloaded the episode so we can watch the hour we missed, and then watch last night’s two hour show that we recorded.

But seriously? How much of an ego do you have to have a four-hour two-night season premier? Get over yourself already.

Grumpy Old Women

This morning I had to go to the doctor to get a blood progesterone test. As I approached the elevator bank, I saw an elevator that was going up (clearly marked as such by the lit up-arrow) and two little old ladies getting on the elevator. I also got on the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. As soon as the doors closed, I noticed that the other lit button was for the lower level of the garage. Just as I noticed that, one of the women said in a very snide tone of voice, “Thanks a lot for making us go up!” Luckily the trip up to the third floor is a short one, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, the doors opened. As I walked out, I turned to them and said, “This elevator was already going up. I didn’t make it go up.” Grumpy old bitches. You are retired. You obviously don’t have anywhere pressing to be that an unexpected trip to the third floor would interfere with. Don’t fuck with me. I’m already not the biggest fan of old people. I don’t need further excuse to hate them.

Someone shoot me if I become a miserable old person, ok?

I’m Ahead of My Time

In May of 2004, I posted an entry about how much I hate those decals people put on the back of their cars and trucks for their kids’ activities, with the kids’ names on them. I pointed out first and foremost the danger that broadcasting information about your kids poses to them.

Today, I saw an article online about how police are now warning parents not to display those stickers because it makes their kids an easy target for sexual predators. The site requires registration so I’ll post the text of the article here:

PLANO — Thousands of proud but unsuspecting North Texas parents could be giving child molesters vital information about their children.

Plano police are issuing this warning: Do not display your kids’ names on your cars or trucks.

Police said the problem is with decals that proudly tout a child’s accomplishments—cheerleading squad, drill team, football team—right along with their names and sometimes uniform numbers.

Officers said parents who willingly display their childrens’ names are taking a risk and flirting with danger.

“I’m proud of my girls and all that they’ve accomplished in their sports,” said Cheryl Kitzkow of Frisco, who has the names of her three daughters emblazoned on the rear window of her sport utility vehicle.

But with so many sexual predators in the community, Carrollton mom Stephanie Smith said parents who make it easy for criminals to identify their kids are asking for trouble.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone my child’s name who didn’t need to know it,” Smith said. “Today—when we can’t even let our kids play outside by themselves—why would you want to put your kid’s name out on your car?”

Plano police Sgt. Jermy Watney said having that name can give a potential predator the upper hand. “If they’re at a soccer game, and they see a kid get out of a car, and they know that kid’s name is Mike, they can walk up to that kid and introduce themselves.”

Sgt. Watney said the child could conclude that the stranger is a family friend or a coach. “So their guard is going to be let down,” he said.

Cheryl Litzkow is rethinking her decision to express her parental pride by using decals.

“I never really thought about that, but it’s a great point, and it’s making me upset right now,” she said. “I want to go rip them off.”

Yard signs with a child’s name can pose an even bigger potential problem, police said. The people who might want to hurt your child can learn his or her first name and find out where they live at the same time.

Police said stickers depicting teams or organizations are OK, as long as they don’t include the names or numbers of participants.

I can’t believe that police haven’t said anything about this before now. Hopefully in the next few weeks we’ll see a dramatic reduction in the number of decals on the road. Now if we could just do something about the idiotic names these parents are giving their kids….

U2 for Geriatrics

It’s very disheartening to go to the biggest rock and roll show of the year, at least to us, and see that the crowd is terribly old and full of yuppie tools. I hope no one thought we were yuppie tools.

First, let me say that the show was fantastic. Amazing. Loved it. We had really good seats, right on the side of the stage, just a few rows up. Perfect view of the whole band and stage. Jake thought the Elevation Tour was better, and I tend to agree, but this was still incredible. They opened with “City of Blinding Lights”, which was the PERFECT song to open with. They played a lot of stuff from the new album, of course, but they also did a lot of old stuff. I mean really old. I mean Joshua Tree and before. Very little from Achtung Baby - just “One” which was fine by me since that’s one of my very favorite U2 songs of all time. Bono is quite the showman, and he didn’t disappoint.

But the crowd. Dear lord the crowd. Did I mention that they were old?? Older than us by far. I guess these are people who were the age we are now when U2 first hit it big and they’ve stayed fans. And let me tell you about the yuppie tools in front of us. The number of high fives that were passed around between these four people was out of control. Jake and I are kind of annoyed by people who give high fives anyway, because most of the time you look like a complete idiot giving a high five. But this group took that looking like an idiot thing to new heights of idiocracy. (Yes, I do believe that’s a made up word. Bite me.) Then one guy in the group was talking to someone on his cell phone every few minutes to get the score to a football game. I mean, come on man! This is U2! Catch the scores on Sports Center when you get home. That’s why it’s there. Then another one kept turning around trying to get the attention of a friend of his sitting somewhere above us. I don’t know if he understood that we paid to hear U2 play, not to hear him call his friend Jason over and over and over and over and over…. He also didn’t seem to comprehend that it was LOUD in there and Jason just couldn’t hear him. Didn’t stop the jackass from trying, though. And the last thing I have to complain about is the fact that someone around us was having digestive issues, to put it delicately. It was disgusting. Jake said as we were leaving, “Remember when you’d go to a show and there’d be the overwhelming aroma of pot in the air? When did it turn into the overwhelming aroma of farts?” I guess when the geriatrics started coming out to shows. As a brief but disgusting side note, when I flew home from Paris, I was seated in front of a women doing the same thing. For eleven hours. Did I mention it was in an airplane? Yeah, gross.

I know I had a lot to rant about but the show was not one of them. Fabulous. Amazing. I hope that they come back through Dallas again soon. I don’t want to wait another four years to see them live.

Dear Ann Taylor,

First, let me just say what a big fan I am. I mean really. Love your clothes. So much. You are always one of the first places I go when looking for clothes. And I would never dare to criticize, but I do have one tiny suggestion that you might want to look into.

I’m wearing some sassy new grey pants I bought a few weeks ago and they are lovely. But. Is it really necessary to put so many buttons, hooks, zippers, and buckles on one pair of pants? If it truly is, you should put a warning label in the pants about not waiting until it’s an absolute emergency to go to the bathroom, because it takes an additional 10 minutes to get the pants down. I really could have used some warning to build that 10 minutes into my schedule. Luckily, a crisis was averted, but only just. Had it not been, I would be sending you my cleaning bill.

Fondly,

SpuddyBuddy

Monday Must Be Bad Luck

I was trying to be in a good mood today. I really was. Seriously. But in the short amount of time I have been awake, forces beyond my control have conspired to piss me off.

First, I woke up late. We had the carpets steam cleaned on Saturday and we moved all the furniture out of our bedroom. Apparently when I was resetting my alarm last night, I set it for 5:30 PM instead of 5:30 AM. I woke up, all snuggly with Jake, opened my eyes a tiny bit, and wondered if I had time to go back to sleep for a bit. Except I noticed it was light out. It should not be light out. I looked at the clock and it was 6:50. The exact time I should be in the car and on my way to work. I jumped up and into the shower, before the water even had time to warm up. Luckily I didn’t have to shave anything. I woke Jake up, then let the dogs out, and came back and dried my hair, got dressed, put on makeup and was out the door by 7:25. I knew I was going to be late, but…..

There has been horrible construction on the main road that turns into the highway I take to work (and that we take pretty much everywhere we need to go). In the end it’ll be great because the highway is going to be extended, and they are also building a sassy new mall with a movie theater right by us. We love that. In the meantime, it has been a nightmare with traffic delays you wouldn’t believe. And if I see one more smug electronic sign telling me to use an alternate route, I am going to grab a baseball bat and go Sammy Sosa on that fucker. There IS no alternate route, assholes! Anyway…. Saturday morning, as we tried to run to Lowe’s for a few things to complete our staining project in the garage, we found that they had shut the road down westbound, and were diverting traffic onto a small residential street. There were cops on every corner, but none could be bothered to get out of the cars and direct traffic to help the backup at all. What should have taken 5 minutes took us about 25 minutes. The upside was that by Saturday night, it seemed to be fixed, they had the intersection open. Uh, no apparently they closed it again. Just in time for Monday morning traffic. God forbid they work overnight to avoid traffic disruption, or to get the job done faster. Oh no. They think it’s a good idea to just close down an intersection on a weekday morning. So I was able to turn around and go a back way, but I’m not sure it was any faster. It was definitely much more infuriating. I made it to work at 8:30, which is not too bad.

In the hustle of getting ready in 30 minutes, I forgot to pack my yoga bag. And I guess even if I had my stuff, I have to stay at work until 5:30, so I can’t go anyway. And this was the only night this week I was going to be able to go. Fuck! Maybe I’ll make it to class on Friday night, but it will have been another week and a half since I went last, and it will suck.

Some good news, though. The carpets are clean. Still have some stains that will never come out of the white carpet, but at least it IS clean, even if it doesn’t LOOK clean in some spots. Damn pets are destroying our house. On that note, I decided that dogs need to be in crates when we are sleeping or not at home. No problem for Lucy - I crate trained her at 8 weeks old. She actually likes her crate and will go in willingly. Robbie, however is another story. We’re working on it, though. He’s very food motivated, so really a few Milkbones was all it took to lure him in. Last night, when I put him in before bed, I didn’t have to use the cookies. He went right in. And I didn’t hear a peep out of either of them. Hopefully that will keep up. I’m beginning to think they both need a refresher course in house training, since I can’t tell which one is the one making the messes.

UGH. I just want to get back in bed.

Back When He was Just a Pretty Face

When I got home last night, Jake was watching A Few Good Men, which was on TNT or something. I paused for a moment to watch some of it, and remembered a time when he was one of my favorite actors, and H-O-T as a bonus. Now, I can barely stand to look at him because of all the stupid shit he’s doing and saying.

Why can’t celebrities just keep their traps shut and do what they are paid to do? I mean, it’s cool to have your causes and charities and beliefs, but can’t they just go about that part of their lives like the rest of the population? That is to say, not assume that we want to hear about your beliefs, causes or charities.

I may never be able to watch Top Gun again.

My Prayers Have Been Answered!

I just found out that the insanely annoying woman who occupies the cube next to me is quitting. She has given her notice. Hallelujah! So I have less than two weeks to listen to her gum chewing and completely inappropriate personal phone calls. Unfortunately, since she gave her notice there has been a marked increase in both.

Just a minute ago I heard her rummaging through her drawers, saying out loud to herself that she needed to find some gum. I almost stood on my desk and popped my head over the top of the cubicle wall to yell at her that if she found some, I would have to shove my foot down her throat. But I do have some restraint and so I just did some yoga breathing until the urge to commit murder subsided. But I guess if I ever do give in to the urge, I still have a yet untested defense strategy ready and waiting….

UPDATE: Tomorrow is her last day! Tomorrow! I am so happy, I did a little Happy Dance (TM) when I found out. I don’t have to suffer through another week of gum snapping and smacking and popping. Just one more day! And because she’s a lazy-ass, I’m sure she’ll cut the day short and ease my suffering even more. I half wonder if I should say something to her about how disgusting and annoying that habit is, just so she doesn’t disgust and annoy her new co-workers. I’ll bet she’d kick my ass if I said anything though. She’s mean.

The Clomid Defense?

How long do you think it will be before someone pleads not guilty of murder because they were under the influence of Clomid? I feel sure that in the era of suing companies because depressed people killed themselves, the makers of Clomid are just cruising for a lawsuit with their damn crazy pills.

I just pray it’s not me who has to be the guinea pig for the Clomid Defense. I’m not promising anything, though.

The woman who sits on the other side of the cubicle wall from me is really grating on my last nerve. Between chewing her gum like a hooker, and her highly inappropriate personal phone conversations, I am about to throttle her. Of course, that annoys me on a good day, so I can’t swear it’s a hormone thing. But we’ll keep that between us, just in case….