LaurieWrites

Not that I think illegal activity is amusing...

One of the reasons why I sometimes miss Dayton.

Maybe I just wish our lead stories were a little more tame 'round these parts. Although it's true that when I lived there I'd pay $7.50 for a Washington Post Sunday edition on MONDAY, just for a little slice of violence and political intrigue, along with the crossword puzzle. We won't talk about grad school weekends when I'd just "borrow" it from the shelf and skip the puzzle. Ahem.

Ritual

At least once each day, and sometimes more than once, I do exactly the same thing.

I pick my dog up, or I lean down to where he is lying on the bed or the floor. I kiss him on the head, and I say, "I will kiss you on the head."

I'm not sure he cares one way or the other, but it always makes me feel better.

   

Sunday Conversations

Some choice bits overheard in my travels today...

"Wow, Anna. You're so fun to go to the mall with. Not." - A little girl of 8 or so, to her sister, around the same age, who was wearing a Big & Rich t-shirt.

"Better than Starbucks. AHHHHHH....That is music to a barista's ears. Please say it again, much more slowly." Barista at Annapolis cafe

"People graduate with student loans and then we do something until we pay it off. It's the way America works. We're totally efficient and we're good employees. We won't have any problems." A student who obviously has not yet participated in the United States workforce on a full-time basis, Annapolis cafe.

Aha Moment

Found in the Mighty Girl archives today, and saw slice of own life in its mirror:

Philosophical note to self (and you too, since you're here):
People who are good to know are also sometimes hard to know. If you want sparky friends in your life, you have to accept all of their eccentricities--not just the cute ones. The things you have to work for are usually better anyway.
7:28 p.m.

I strive to really like people, for the most part. My commute yesterday contained a reason why it is difficult sometimes:

I take a back road to work now that I live nowhere near the interstate. I don't like either of my options for getting to where I eventually need to go, but the one I usually take takes me around most of the problem spots on the way to my office. The only downside is that to finally get back out on the road that leads to my building, I have to drive up a side street that is populated with several industrial businesses - heavy duty operations that involve lots of dump trucks and cement mixers, and all shape and size of commercial vehicle that makes it completely unnecessary for all the rest of us to be emissions-tested. I mean, with these dudes on the road, what's the point? You're going to test my BEETLE while Big John here blows smoke through my sunroof that chokes me for days? (and yes I know it should be closed. Clearly, you've never met me if you're even thinking I'd have the foresight to shut the damned thing. ; ) )

So anyway, I have to turn right off this dump truck-road, and so do most other people, so the traffic backs up pretty bad in the right lane. I normally try to avoid it, little stealth pilot that I am, by cruising up the left lane, and switching over into the right in front of one of my dump truck friends who takes 80 years to accelerate. This usually works. Either that, or I get stuck going straight and it takes me an extra ten minutes to get where I'm going. But that's rare...rare enough to keep me switching lanes.

Yesterday, I was in the right lane. I was stopped in front of a sign that said "DO NOT BLOCK INTERSECTION", because I was right in front of an entrance/exit to some industrial hellhole, and if they don't put the sign up, no one will ever let the trucks out. I definitely adhere to these signs, because it's not like I want to tangle with a dump truck, and I have some traffic scruples. As I was stopped in front of the sign, leaving a reasonable space between me and the car in front of me, a woman in a huge white SUV (which will be the full anthropological impression of this area, should the remains ever be excavated) pulled up, and pulled in front of me, completely blocking the driveway, half in one lane and half in another.

Of course I hated her immediately. Of course I sat there turning purple with the injustice that I, model citizen that I am, had been carefully NOT blocking the intersection, when this gas-guzzling interloper totally ignored ALL propriety and CUT ME OFF, not to mention blocking the progress of my friends the polluting trucks. This was bad enough. But then, when the line of cars started up, we made our way up to the green light at the top of the hill, where I needed to turn right...where about 80 percent of the cars need to turn right.

She sat still. She was going straight. She was also leaving just ALMOST enough space for me to drive up to her right and turn right. JUST ALMOST. Then she got on her cell phone. 

This is the reason for road rage, folks.

I honked my horn lightly, its "Could you please just move up just a tiny bit please thank you" teeny little Beetle beep belying my ABSOLUTE RED RAGE, all the ANGER IN MY PERSONAL UNIVERSE directed at this inconsiderate woman in her inconsiderate SUV. She ignored it. I honked again, a little longer, because she clearly had room to move. Nothing. More yapping. More sitting. More little orange Beetle driver angst.

I was of course talking to myself by this point, cursing and bitching and babbling to myself. I was questioning my giving nature, my own inability to blithely block intersections and cut people off (I mean, unless it's accidental...things happen.) We sat still for a solid two or three minutes. I had just about talked myself down. Then, she hung up her phone, pulled up, and turned her car right, onto the highway.

There really are no words to describe my reaction. Some experiences are put in my path, I believe, to remind me of how much patience I still need to make it through the day, and clearly, how much I'm lacking. I hate shit like that.

Holy Mini-Snickers, Batman...

I am officially a geek, because I have never written down a tired Batman reference in my life. New material: FRESH OUT!!!!

Blame it on a days-long headache, and anxiety-related chest pains that have me convinced I'm passing out behind the wheel any second, and any other of the number of possible suburban ills. I swear sometimes I'd rather live on the exposed northern plains in a teepee.

ANYWAY, that pumpkin reference was for HALLOWEEN PHOTOS. Check 'em out.

My mother has stolen my witch headgear in the first one, which I allowed. See, I went as myself, in a cute boa and very cute tights and my SUPERCUTE witch head bobbers. So essentially I went as "cute girl". Gag. Not really, that just sounded funny a second ago. My number one pet peeve is when people get in your face (in yesterday's case, this lady dressed up like a witch who insisted on repeating the "I'll get you my pretty" line, which is not going to encourage conversation with me. Honest. Rap it, or say it in pig Latin, and we'll talk. Just blurt it out like the witch of the West who you clearly are not? Nope. So on top of that, she was in my face going, "WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE???? A DIVA???????" Yep, a DIVA. You got it sister...Anyway...Thanks to my girl Susan for hooking me up with the head bobbers (is there a more annoying phrase in this life at this moment? I think not. But I somehow can't stop saying it.). Some people in my life are alarmed because I seem unwilling to remove them, either prior to the holiday, or after. It's been very helpful, because there's one really serious person, and  when I'm sharing the superimportantandcriticalandearthshatteringinformationrequiredtoaccomplishsomething with her, and I'm wearing them, she can't stop laughing. So it's golden, man. Throws 'em off.

My mom's big candy deal this year was Krabby Patties, ala Spongebob Squarepants. She bought them not knowing what they were (which is sort of frightening now that I type it), and then when all the little kids started coming up to the door going, "MOM I GOT A KRABBY PATTY!!!!!!!!" or "MOM I WANT A KRABBY PATTY!!!!!" or "GIVE ME A DAMNED KRABBY PATTY LADY OR I'LL KNOCK YOU AND YOUR STUPID HEADGEAR INTO NEXT WEEK", my mom was all, "What's a Krabby Patty?" And of course I knew, because my parents have a myriad of reasons to be proud. So she starts explaining what this all means to my grandmother, who, although she is very sharp in spite of her stroke, really doesn't have time or space for a ton of minutiae. So my mom is going on and my grandmother is all, "What the hell's a Krabby Patty? Looks like a hamburger to me," and was completely unimpressed. Spongebob made no sense either, as she was like, "Oh. A tv show about a sponge. Okay." and went on chowing down on her cupcake. And it occurred to me that probably even 30 years ago, way pre-stroke, both of my grandparents would have been like, "You shut that show off about that damned sponge and I don't want to hear anything more about that krabby patty business. Rot your brain, it will." And they'd have been right on, although I still kind of dig SpongeBob and would rather my kid watch it than that Boobah nonsense. **SHUDDER**

The final ones are shots of my dog, cause Halloween is his FAVORITE day ever, because on what other day during the year is he trapped behind a gate while a hundred kids (his FAVORITE) come up to the door in funny costumes, and he has to stay what might as well be a GAJILLION MILES AWAY?   BEHIND A GATE? Oh yeah, and as if that wasn't happiness ENOUGH, he gets to wear some stupid-ass head gear that I make him wear for a photo op?

He was still in a bad mood this morning.

Bush to Announce Strategy to Battle Flu (AP)

Bush to Announce Strategy to Battle Flu.

It's sad that this headline struck me as funny, even if I don't really start being discriminating til around 11 a.m. Why did I get the image of him in a flak jacket standing on a tarmac at some undisclosed location when I read this?

"We will track down these evil-doing germs and we will prevail. We will seek JUSTISH against this in-FLU-enza  - get it? It is called in-FLU-enza! Ain't that neat? Anyway, there is an evil plan, an axis of evil plan, a terroristic plan of terror behind this in-FLU-enza. Justish. Evil. Doing. Crap. Virus. Sucks. Kill. Me. Thank you. Good night."

Maybe there will be flu color codes instituted as well. Mauve for the chicken flu, aqua for the plain old knock-you-on-your-ass-and-ruin-your-life winter flu, green for the wink-wink yes, I have the FLU and simply CANNOT meet my assigned duties flu.

Ridiculous. At least Clinton would have played his sax at an anti-flu benefit by now. Standards are so far gone, who even remembers their outrage over Monica? It seems, sadly, like chump change...a silly diversion, a halfway pleasant memory, even, in comparison to the present-day political quagmire...Oh yay, another conservative white man nominated to the Supreme Court. Whoopee, another challenged nomination. WHEEEEEEEEE, casualty numbers continue to mount like a telethon toteboard. And this dude is going to battle the flu with his GIJoe action figures? I mean, I was watching him at the Rosa Parks service, and could literally almost envision the birdies tweeting around his big old head. It is supremely, absurdly frightening, and sends a very odd message to anyone who feels pressured to actually be intelligent and produce something of value. Of course you'll do it anyway, as a biological, social and intellectual imperative, but it doesn't mean you'll get to be president.

Bleh. Happy thoughts later.