Today I waited patiently with my blinker on for a parking spot that was almost two miles away from my destination - Costco. It was so far away that I knew I was going to get thirsty on my walk/journey to the store so I packed a water. I also contemplated getting the journey turned into a trilogy a la Lord of the Rings. Only Frodo has had a rougher journey than the one that I was prepping myself to endure.
And then? A car whipped around the corner and tried to take my spot. I got it, but they sat there and honked at me.
At me.
For a spot that I had waited for. For a long time I waited. And it wasn't even a good spot.
To the asshat that made me feel guilty for taking a spot that I had waited for?
Bite me. And then Happy Holidays!
It doesn't have a lot of trees, animals, or any big lakes, but it does have its perks. Sunshine every day and a daily forecast of warm or hot. This has two benefits. One, getting dressed is a snap. Two, every day is sandal day! Arizona isn't perfect, but it is where we are currently calling home. We are just two youngsters from the Midwest, trying to survive in the desert. And this is our story.
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
Showing posts with label etiquette. Show all posts
4.02.2013
It's Just a Small Gift, Really. But Still...You are Welcome, Neighbors.
The worst thing about the stupid cast thing is taking it on and off.
Seriously, the level of lazy that I am reaching here is astounding. I blame it on the fact that I can't do freaking anything.
As I am required to take it off to drive, and then immediately put it back on upon arrival at my destination, it gets old. Fast. I can't really do anything about it at work. But at home? The thought of taking the boot/cast off to drive home, put it back on to walk into the house, take it off two minutes later when I get into my cozies (Everyone wears cozies around the house, right?), and then put it on after said cozies are on is enough to kill me. So I have figured out that I can save minutes, actual minutes, by getting out of my car, taking off my pants, putting the cast/boot back on, and walking into the house in my undies.
Then when I get upstairs, I can just throw on my cozy pants OVER the boot. Because those pants STRETCH.
Where's the gift, you might ask?
I close the garage door first. You are welcome.
Because my neighbors know that I am not above walking around in my undies.
 |
| Seriously, I would like to burn it. When it's not, you know, attached to my foot. |
Seriously, the level of lazy that I am reaching here is astounding. I blame it on the fact that I can't do freaking anything.
As I am required to take it off to drive, and then immediately put it back on upon arrival at my destination, it gets old. Fast. I can't really do anything about it at work. But at home? The thought of taking the boot/cast off to drive home, put it back on to walk into the house, take it off two minutes later when I get into my cozies (Everyone wears cozies around the house, right?), and then put it on after said cozies are on is enough to kill me. So I have figured out that I can save minutes, actual minutes, by getting out of my car, taking off my pants, putting the cast/boot back on, and walking into the house in my undies.
Then when I get upstairs, I can just throw on my cozy pants OVER the boot. Because those pants STRETCH.
Where's the gift, you might ask?
I close the garage door first. You are welcome.
Because my neighbors know that I am not above walking around in my undies.
2.08.2013
Boogers - Bathroom Series, Part 1
They built us new bathrooms when they did the school remodel. That's fantastic, right? As far as community bathrooms go, this one is pretty nice.
In early fall, I walked into my favorite stall and noticed what appeared to be a booger on the wall of the stall. I am very easily disturbed by other people's icky things, and I was only able to calm myself down by the fact that the booger would be erased forever when the bathrooms were cleaned that evening.
The next day, the booger was still there.
For over a week, this booger held steadfast to its spot on the wall. Eventually, I took an empty toilet paper roll (This makes it sound like our bathrooms are never cleaned, doesn't it? Not the case, I promise.) and used that as my weapon to remove the booger.
Not ONE FREAKING WEEK LATER, a new booger was smeared on the wall. Who the hell does this? It has to be an adult woman, as it is the staff bathroom. And really, Friends? What better place to pick your nose because not only is it private, but there is toilet paper RIGHT THERE for you to use as booger holders. Use the toilet paper. Please, I beg of you.
Same story, did not get taken care of, I used my shoe, yadda yadda.
Last Friday I went into my favorite stall and there was another booger smeared on the wall. I did not take care of it. I just want to write a note and post it in the stall. My mental letter goes something like this:
Dear Booger-Wiper,
What the hell is wrong with you? This is the adult bathroom. We do not wipe boogers on the wall. Actually, my third graders don't even wipe boogers on the wall. There is plenty of toilet paper here, use that. If you can't handle disposing of your nose gold properly, I would suggest you use a different bathroom.
Sincerely,
A Kleenex-User
I can't even comprehend this disgustingness.
Someone, anyone, please share a job related story for me that will make me feel better about this situation.
In early fall, I walked into my favorite stall and noticed what appeared to be a booger on the wall of the stall. I am very easily disturbed by other people's icky things, and I was only able to calm myself down by the fact that the booger would be erased forever when the bathrooms were cleaned that evening.
The next day, the booger was still there.
For over a week, this booger held steadfast to its spot on the wall. Eventually, I took an empty toilet paper roll (This makes it sound like our bathrooms are never cleaned, doesn't it? Not the case, I promise.) and used that as my weapon to remove the booger.
Not ONE FREAKING WEEK LATER, a new booger was smeared on the wall. Who the hell does this? It has to be an adult woman, as it is the staff bathroom. And really, Friends? What better place to pick your nose because not only is it private, but there is toilet paper RIGHT THERE for you to use as booger holders. Use the toilet paper. Please, I beg of you.
Same story, did not get taken care of, I used my shoe, yadda yadda.
Last Friday I went into my favorite stall and there was another booger smeared on the wall. I did not take care of it. I just want to write a note and post it in the stall. My mental letter goes something like this:
Dear Booger-Wiper,
What the hell is wrong with you? This is the adult bathroom. We do not wipe boogers on the wall. Actually, my third graders don't even wipe boogers on the wall. There is plenty of toilet paper here, use that. If you can't handle disposing of your nose gold properly, I would suggest you use a different bathroom.
Sincerely,
A Kleenex-User
I can't even comprehend this disgustingness.
Someone, anyone, please share a job related story for me that will make me feel better about this situation.
11.07.2012
Hello! My Name is Childless.
This weekend I was reading on Facebook a friend whose children had been reprimanded by a stranger in public. I don't know the details, so I am not really writing about the incident. What I am writing about is something that I have not been able to let go of since I read the responses to her post yesterday.
Someone (Okay. It was her husband. I was not going to mention it, but it got pretty ugly and at this point I am so disappointed in everything that played out that I do not give poo.) had responded that the reprimander, an older woman, was "a bitter, old, childless woman". Anger coursed through me and it would not stop. Has not stop.
To use childless as an insult?
To suggest that anyone without children must be bitter? My life is less fulfilling than someone who has children? I don't even understand this.
Not every woman has to have children to feel complete. To suggest otherwise is ridiculous.
Not every woman should be a parent. There are plenty of examples of these women in the news. After my accidental "trip" on prescription meds, I doubt my own parenting abilities. I fear I am a little nutty.
In addition, what about the women who have had children and lost them? The women who want to have (or wanted to have) children but could not? To them I imagine that being called childless is a slap in the face. The cruelest of comments.
I responded politely but with an obvious dislike of using the word childless as an insult. The response? That I think too much and that obviously any woman that would reprimand children that were not hers in public could NOT have children of her own (I mean, OBVIOUSLY).
Because all you parents raise your children in the same way? Because parents take an oath to never speak up in public when another person's children misbehave? Was there a secret handshake involved? Man, I am NOT pissed about being childless, but I AM pissed that I missed the secret handshake. I LOVE secret handshakes.
I responded just as politely as I had the first time but this time suggested that perhaps the woman had indeed raised children of her own, but simply did not agree with the parenting style that she was witnessing. Was she in the right? Maybe not. But again? You are still being insulting. And to assume that everyone thinks you are the most awesome parent and that you never make mistakes and everyone wants to parent just.like.you?
Is just wrong.
Regardless of how you look at it - calling someone bitter and childless is defensive and insulting. It's a shame that some of us can't just say "Whoops. I did not mean to offend anyone."
Instead the response back was this: Is calling someone dogless if they don't have a dog insulting?
No, and neither is just saying that someone without child is childless. It's an insult when you pair it with all those other words.
At this point, he decided that I was a bitter woman (I would like to point out that if Jeremiah EVER called any of my friends names or made insulting remarks it would get ugly. Not that he ever would.) and I was just jealous. And that I was what was wrong with the entire world - people that made everyone else walk on eggshells. It was a shame that this value of respecting other people's privacy was not taught anymore. I should not read her posts any more and next time her name pops up on my screen, I should just keep scrolling and mind my own business.
I responded by saying that if you post something on Facebook, you lose your right to tell me to mind my own business. And then I told him I would work on minding my own business though, if he would work on being less insulting and stop name calling. It was a shame that no one taught their children that anymore, I said, because it would make my job a lot easier. I also told him it was a shame that two adults could not disagree without one of them making it ugly.
And then I unfriended my friend. Because seriously? Even if a friend of mine was completely out of line (which I was not) and rude (again, I was not) I would still have Jeremiah lay off or delete the post. But she just let her husband call me jealous and bitter and everything else.
He also said he wished he had been there to give that woman a piece of her mind. Like, in the woman's room? My thought to this (which I did not say) was, Can she (my friend) not stand up for herself? And why do you need to yell at a woman? Too afraid to stand up to a man who might beat the shit out of your wimpy ass? So you go after women instead? That right there is a tough guy. Oh, wait. I mean an asshole.
Sad.
So he can have my friend from high school who apparently does NOT think too much and does not speak up for herself and her friends.
P.S. Edited to add: All the while he was attacking me, he and his wife posted about an adult bible study they were hosting at their house that weekend. That's really all I have to say about that.
Someone (Okay. It was her husband. I was not going to mention it, but it got pretty ugly and at this point I am so disappointed in everything that played out that I do not give poo.) had responded that the reprimander, an older woman, was "a bitter, old, childless woman". Anger coursed through me and it would not stop. Has not stop.
To use childless as an insult?
To suggest that anyone without children must be bitter? My life is less fulfilling than someone who has children? I don't even understand this.
Not every woman has to have children to feel complete. To suggest otherwise is ridiculous.
Not every woman should be a parent. There are plenty of examples of these women in the news. After my accidental "trip" on prescription meds, I doubt my own parenting abilities. I fear I am a little nutty.
In addition, what about the women who have had children and lost them? The women who want to have (or wanted to have) children but could not? To them I imagine that being called childless is a slap in the face. The cruelest of comments.
I responded politely but with an obvious dislike of using the word childless as an insult. The response? That I think too much and that obviously any woman that would reprimand children that were not hers in public could NOT have children of her own (I mean, OBVIOUSLY).
Because all you parents raise your children in the same way? Because parents take an oath to never speak up in public when another person's children misbehave? Was there a secret handshake involved? Man, I am NOT pissed about being childless, but I AM pissed that I missed the secret handshake. I LOVE secret handshakes.
I responded just as politely as I had the first time but this time suggested that perhaps the woman had indeed raised children of her own, but simply did not agree with the parenting style that she was witnessing. Was she in the right? Maybe not. But again? You are still being insulting. And to assume that everyone thinks you are the most awesome parent and that you never make mistakes and everyone wants to parent just.like.you?
Is just wrong.
Regardless of how you look at it - calling someone bitter and childless is defensive and insulting. It's a shame that some of us can't just say "Whoops. I did not mean to offend anyone."
Instead the response back was this: Is calling someone dogless if they don't have a dog insulting?
No, and neither is just saying that someone without child is childless. It's an insult when you pair it with all those other words.
At this point, he decided that I was a bitter woman (I would like to point out that if Jeremiah EVER called any of my friends names or made insulting remarks it would get ugly. Not that he ever would.) and I was just jealous. And that I was what was wrong with the entire world - people that made everyone else walk on eggshells. It was a shame that this value of respecting other people's privacy was not taught anymore. I should not read her posts any more and next time her name pops up on my screen, I should just keep scrolling and mind my own business.
I responded by saying that if you post something on Facebook, you lose your right to tell me to mind my own business. And then I told him I would work on minding my own business though, if he would work on being less insulting and stop name calling. It was a shame that no one taught their children that anymore, I said, because it would make my job a lot easier. I also told him it was a shame that two adults could not disagree without one of them making it ugly.
And then I unfriended my friend. Because seriously? Even if a friend of mine was completely out of line (which I was not) and rude (again, I was not) I would still have Jeremiah lay off or delete the post. But she just let her husband call me jealous and bitter and everything else.
He also said he wished he had been there to give that woman a piece of her mind. Like, in the woman's room? My thought to this (which I did not say) was, Can she (my friend) not stand up for herself? And why do you need to yell at a woman? Too afraid to stand up to a man who might beat the shit out of your wimpy ass? So you go after women instead? That right there is a tough guy. Oh, wait. I mean an asshole.
Sad.
So he can have my friend from high school who apparently does NOT think too much and does not speak up for herself and her friends.
P.S. Edited to add: All the while he was attacking me, he and his wife posted about an adult bible study they were hosting at their house that weekend. That's really all I have to say about that.
10.01.2012
Dear "Guest" Teacher,
Thank you so much for coming into my room last week and deciding for me that all of my dry erase markers (which aren't cheap, by the way) were not "dark enough" and throwing them out. That was nice of you to show initiative.
I also want to thank you for giving my students free time at the end of the day when I specifically asked you AND my students to not have free time and to wait until Monday. It was not even in my plans. My students even told you they were not supposed to have it. But again, you showed initiative.
Lastly, thanks for NOT covering my duty at the end of the day. You were scheduled to be here until 3:20, but you did not want to do a duty that lasted until 2:45. So you left at 2:30. I mean, good for you. Leave work fifty minutes early.
Maybe it is because, as you mentioned repeatedly, you are a retired teacher and taught for twenty-eight years. I thought that I expressed the correct amount of respect and admiration. I could be wrong, though, because I tend to be socially awkward.
Here's the deal, though, honey.
YOU were a guest in MY room. I am the teacher. You said it yourself - you retired. It is now MY turn to make decisions and run a classroom. I would have never had the balls (excuse my language) to go into someone's classroom and do the stuff that you did. It would be like being invited to someone's house and throwing away their stuff or listening to a friend give direct instruction to their child/grandchild and then intervene, telling the child that they do not have to listen to their parents.
Awesome.
So thanks again for everything. You'll understand when I don't ask you back, right?
Hugs & Kisses,
Emily - The Teacher
I also want to thank you for giving my students free time at the end of the day when I specifically asked you AND my students to not have free time and to wait until Monday. It was not even in my plans. My students even told you they were not supposed to have it. But again, you showed initiative.
Lastly, thanks for NOT covering my duty at the end of the day. You were scheduled to be here until 3:20, but you did not want to do a duty that lasted until 2:45. So you left at 2:30. I mean, good for you. Leave work fifty minutes early.
Maybe it is because, as you mentioned repeatedly, you are a retired teacher and taught for twenty-eight years. I thought that I expressed the correct amount of respect and admiration. I could be wrong, though, because I tend to be socially awkward.
Here's the deal, though, honey.
YOU were a guest in MY room. I am the teacher. You said it yourself - you retired. It is now MY turn to make decisions and run a classroom. I would have never had the balls (excuse my language) to go into someone's classroom and do the stuff that you did. It would be like being invited to someone's house and throwing away their stuff or listening to a friend give direct instruction to their child/grandchild and then intervene, telling the child that they do not have to listen to their parents.
Awesome.
So thanks again for everything. You'll understand when I don't ask you back, right?
Hugs & Kisses,
Emily - The Teacher
6.22.2012
Why I Hate Dunkin Donuts
Dear Dunkin Donuts,
In my entire adult life, I have stopped by twice. Both times have been sucky. And you know what they say (well, everyone except George W. knows this saying): Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
And seriously. Shame on me.
First of all, it is important to note that Jeremiah and I are not doughnut people. We were heading out of town two years ago and wanted to get doughnuts, as that is one of the few times we treat ourselves to them - on a trip.
So we stopped and went in to your store/restaurant(?)/business/coffee shop (what the hell do you call Dunkin Donuts?). It was still early - maybe eight or so - and almost all of your wire baskets that are SUPPOSED to hold doughnuts are empty. Apparently, you ran out.
How do you run out of doughnuts? You are a doughnut shop. It is your entire business, besides the coffee. It'd be like a pizza place running out of dough. McDonald's running out of fries.
Fast forward to Wednesday. I took Jeremiah out to celebrate the start of birthday week. We passed a Dunkin Donuts and thought we would give you another shot.
We were the only ones in there. We stood back from the register so you would see that we were not ready to order.
Guy 1: Hey Guys! Welcome! Can I take your order?
Us: Still looking thanks.
Guy1: Well, let me know when you are ready! My name is Gus!
What when wrong here? Anyone? Okay, I'll go. You do NOT address your customers as "Hey Guys". You just don't. Especially when one of them is a GIRL. I learned the proper way to address customers when I worked with people and food, you should, too.
Thirty seconds later:
Girl: Hi! Welcome! Can I help you?
Us: Still looking, thanks.
Girl: Well, I will be helping you when you are ready.
Then she proceeds to stand in front of the doughnuts. And ask us several more times if we are ready. This prompted Jeremiah, who is VERY hard to annoy, to say, "No, because we are trying to see the doughnuts and you are standing directly in front of them."
Then another guy asks to take our order (seriously, Dunkin Donuts, are you working on commission? You have WAY to many people working.).
All within maybe one minute. We probably would have ordered faster if we hadn't been interrupted every ten seconds. And if you see that someone else has asked us, why the hell are you asking, too?
We place our order, I go to pay, and the girl taking our order has already forgotten what we ordered and couldn't fill it.
Seriously.
And then, we get our frozen drinks and there is no whippy cream on top. Jeremiah points out that they are supposed to have whippy on top, and the guy says...
Wait for it...
They ran out.
Again, you are a doughnut and COFFEE shop. You have this drink advertised all over your establishment. Everywhere are pictures of this new drink you want your customers to try. And then you can't freaking make it correctly because you ran out of the ingredients needed to make it?
Just so you know, Starbucks NEVER runs out of whippy. Neither does McDonald's for that matter.
Stupid Dunkin Donuts. We will never be coming back. Never.
Hugs & Kisses,
Emily
4.24.2012
I Freaking Apologized Once - That's a Big Deal for Me. Take What You Can Get, Idiot.
Sunday was the first day of swim season for me. Mostly because it was 103 degrees on Sunday, but also because normally we start swimming the first week of April and I simply could not wait a second longer.
As I was lounging around afterward, with my puppies flying around the yard, I tipped my face up so it could kiss the sun. As my face and the sun were engaged in some serious snogging, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
Oh, yeah. It was my neighbor. Peeking over the fence. The new neighbor, that we love so much we can hardly stand it.
I waited until I caught his eye and then gave him my "What the hell do you want and why are you staring into my backyard?" smile. It's quite the smile. The following conversation truly did happen:
Neighbor: M'am?
Me: Holy shit. This idiot did NOT just call me m'am. I don't think m'ams use noodles and floaties in the pool. Yes, SIR?
N: Yer gettin' water in my yard.
Me: Oh, yeah. The filter needs a small replacement part. I'm sorry about that. We shut it off. It should not be leaking anymore.
N: There's water in my yard.
Me: Again, we turned it off. We'll get it fixed before we turn it back on. It was an accident.
N:It's right where my dog stands.
Me: Oh my gosh! I will be right over with paper towels and a blow dryer! We'll fix this mess! Oh, wait. It's THE GROUND. It is also the freaking DESERT. I think it will dry. As will your dog, unless it melted because it is pure barking evil.
Because seriously? At this point, what do I say? I have said everything possible regarding the situation.
I don't get being all butt hurt about this. I truly don't. Every day our neighbor waters their lawn with sprinklers and our fence/surrounding wall/ground gets wet. Not once in all these years did it occur to me to complain. We also had a neighbor with a pool and every time they back-washed the pool our yard flooded a bit. Never thought about complaining.
Maybe he is butt hurt because I left an anonymous note taped to his house about common courtesy regarding barking dogs all night long. I did it under the cover darkness and the cover of some shorts and a t-shirt, but no underwear. Which is weird, running around outside feeling naked but not actually being naked. It's the self-conscious girl's version of streaking.
Or maybe he is grumpy because in addition to my kind note, someone had called animal control and I saw that note taped to the door. So maybe he isn't feeling the love.
So neighbor? This is for you.
Dear Neighbor,
I wanted to take a moment to have a heart-to-heart with you. To be completely honest, Jeremiah and I had high hopes that you and your wife would be semi-normal people. Sadly, our hopes were dashed with the F*CK SCOTTSDALE t-shirt that you so proudly wore the day you moved in next door. If possible, Jeremiah's hopes were dashed even more upon sight of the cases of Bud Light. While we gave up on friendship, we thought perhaps we could all be decent neighbors. No such luck. Your barking/baying dog all hours of the day and night ruined that pipe dream. And then? Then you get weird and pissy about your "lawn". And it wasn't even concern for us (Once before the previous renter had asked if everything was okay with our pool after we backwashed. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to have water go everywhere.), SIR, it was about your precious beast of a dog. Who happened to be standing on wet ground. Oh, the horrors. In addition, please know that I am keeping tabs on you. I know that there are multiple people coming and going from your house. Sometimes there are kids, sometimes no. I do know that no one ever seems to leave the house to go to a job, which is interesting because you have a newer model vehicle. I have also noted that you keep your trash in the garage, which is fascinating to me. People don't do that here. The garages are way too small. What are you trying to hide?
Sincerely,
Anonymous Neighbor
P.S. I am watching you.
P.P.S. I realize that this may not intimidate you, as you have already been caught peeking over our fence and spying on ME.
P.P.S. When I came inside on Sunday, I cursed you and the day you were born.
As I was lounging around afterward, with my puppies flying around the yard, I tipped my face up so it could kiss the sun. As my face and the sun were engaged in some serious snogging, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.
Oh, yeah. It was my neighbor. Peeking over the fence. The new neighbor, that we love so much we can hardly stand it.
I waited until I caught his eye and then gave him my "What the hell do you want and why are you staring into my backyard?" smile. It's quite the smile. The following conversation truly did happen:
Neighbor: M'am?
Me: Holy shit. This idiot did NOT just call me m'am. I don't think m'ams use noodles and floaties in the pool. Yes, SIR?
N: Yer gettin' water in my yard.
Me: Oh, yeah. The filter needs a small replacement part. I'm sorry about that. We shut it off. It should not be leaking anymore.
N: There's water in my yard.
Me: Again, we turned it off. We'll get it fixed before we turn it back on. It was an accident.
N:It's right where my dog stands.
Me: Oh my gosh! I will be right over with paper towels and a blow dryer! We'll fix this mess! Oh, wait. It's THE GROUND. It is also the freaking DESERT. I think it will dry. As will your dog, unless it melted because it is pure barking evil.
Because seriously? At this point, what do I say? I have said everything possible regarding the situation.
I don't get being all butt hurt about this. I truly don't. Every day our neighbor waters their lawn with sprinklers and our fence/surrounding wall/ground gets wet. Not once in all these years did it occur to me to complain. We also had a neighbor with a pool and every time they back-washed the pool our yard flooded a bit. Never thought about complaining.
Maybe he is butt hurt because I left an anonymous note taped to his house about common courtesy regarding barking dogs all night long. I did it under the cover darkness and the cover of some shorts and a t-shirt, but no underwear. Which is weird, running around outside feeling naked but not actually being naked. It's the self-conscious girl's version of streaking.
Or maybe he is grumpy because in addition to my kind note, someone had called animal control and I saw that note taped to the door. So maybe he isn't feeling the love.
So neighbor? This is for you.
Dear Neighbor,
I wanted to take a moment to have a heart-to-heart with you. To be completely honest, Jeremiah and I had high hopes that you and your wife would be semi-normal people. Sadly, our hopes were dashed with the F*CK SCOTTSDALE t-shirt that you so proudly wore the day you moved in next door. If possible, Jeremiah's hopes were dashed even more upon sight of the cases of Bud Light. While we gave up on friendship, we thought perhaps we could all be decent neighbors. No such luck. Your barking/baying dog all hours of the day and night ruined that pipe dream. And then? Then you get weird and pissy about your "lawn". And it wasn't even concern for us (Once before the previous renter had asked if everything was okay with our pool after we backwashed. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to have water go everywhere.), SIR, it was about your precious beast of a dog. Who happened to be standing on wet ground. Oh, the horrors. In addition, please know that I am keeping tabs on you. I know that there are multiple people coming and going from your house. Sometimes there are kids, sometimes no. I do know that no one ever seems to leave the house to go to a job, which is interesting because you have a newer model vehicle. I have also noted that you keep your trash in the garage, which is fascinating to me. People don't do that here. The garages are way too small. What are you trying to hide?
Sincerely,
Anonymous Neighbor
P.S. I am watching you.
P.P.S. I realize that this may not intimidate you, as you have already been caught peeking over our fence and spying on ME.
P.P.S. When I came inside on Sunday, I cursed you and the day you were born.
3.19.2012
Holy Crap. Old People Swear.
I promised this, and I hate to break promises. More on our mini-vacation later, as time permits.
If you think that I am wonderful and innocent and perfect, stop reading right here because this will ruin your image of me.
No one? Okay. Let's get on with the story.
Setting: Self-Checkout at Lowe's. There is nothing around the self-checkout. No impulse purchases, nothing. Just four registers, two on each side.
Characters: Myself, Old Creeper, Jeremiah, On-Lookers.
I am checking out at the self-checkout closest to the exit. There is another one directly behind me. Jeremiah is checking out across from me. I am all alone. As I hit the "pay" button, I notice that a very tall and very scruffy old man is standing right there with me. He isn't buying anything. He isn't with the people checking out behind me. He is standing right there with me. To an on-looker, it would look as though we are together. He was almost touching me. It made me super uncomfortable. Enough that I spoke up. And I NEVER speak up.
Me: Um, Sir? Would you mind backing up while I type in my personal information? I would like to point out that I wasn't rude at all.
Creeper: Loudly GEEZ, LADY! I'M NOT EVEN LOOKING AT YOUR INFORMATION. GOD. I'M JUST STANDING HERE!
I'm pretty sure that he was trying to embarrass me and make me feel even more uncomfortable. People are staring. Jeremiah is paying zero attention to me and/or Creeper, as he is talking with the Lowe's guy. Awesome. So Creeper refuses to leave, and the two men (Jer & Lowe's Guy) that could do anything about it are deep in conversation. I finish checking out and race over to Jeremiah, who is wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, all tattoos exposed except one. Guy walks away when he sees me go to Jeremiah. Just disappears. I think he thought I was alone. As we walk out and are getting into the car, I see the old guy. I roll down the window.
Me: Sir? Have a nice day!
Creeper: F*CK YOU!
Me: Holy crap, Jeremiah. That old guy just gave me the finger, and I'm pretty sure he just told me -
Jeremiah: Yeah, he just said f*ck you.
Me: Nice.
I can only say this. I did not swear at him. But I did show my general dislike in some way. Now to the finer/scarier parts of this.
So all I can say is this. In all seriousness. Ladies? Speak up for yourself. I was shocked that my friend had had a similar creepy experience. With a creepy older gentleman. I don't normally think of older people as creepy, but some really horrible people grow old without ending up in jail. I would have been terrified if Jeremiah wasn't right there. I felt stupid asking him to back up, and he tried to make me feel worse by yelling at me, but if I hadn't said anything, no one else would have noticed that I was uncomfortable. And some on-lookers did. But no one said anything. So you really need to speak up for yourself. Make a scene if you need to. If Jeremiah hadn't been there, I would have gone immediately to the Lowe's guy.
P.S. Old People Really Do Swear Bonus: One time years ago, back in Michigan, a tiny old guy in a fancy car called me a bitch at the gas station. I had been waiting in line for a pump and he swerved in, trying to cut me off and a few others. He didn't dig that I didn't back down. He hobbled over and said, "You, young lady, are a bitch." And I said, "You are a VERY mean old man." Then he walked away.
Stay on your toes, Girls.
If you think that I am wonderful and innocent and perfect, stop reading right here because this will ruin your image of me.
No one? Okay. Let's get on with the story.
Setting: Self-Checkout at Lowe's. There is nothing around the self-checkout. No impulse purchases, nothing. Just four registers, two on each side.
Characters: Myself, Old Creeper, Jeremiah, On-Lookers.
I am checking out at the self-checkout closest to the exit. There is another one directly behind me. Jeremiah is checking out across from me. I am all alone. As I hit the "pay" button, I notice that a very tall and very scruffy old man is standing right there with me. He isn't buying anything. He isn't with the people checking out behind me. He is standing right there with me. To an on-looker, it would look as though we are together. He was almost touching me. It made me super uncomfortable. Enough that I spoke up. And I NEVER speak up.
Me: Um, Sir? Would you mind backing up while I type in my personal information? I would like to point out that I wasn't rude at all.
Creeper: Loudly GEEZ, LADY! I'M NOT EVEN LOOKING AT YOUR INFORMATION. GOD. I'M JUST STANDING HERE!
I'm pretty sure that he was trying to embarrass me and make me feel even more uncomfortable. People are staring. Jeremiah is paying zero attention to me and/or Creeper, as he is talking with the Lowe's guy. Awesome. So Creeper refuses to leave, and the two men (Jer & Lowe's Guy) that could do anything about it are deep in conversation. I finish checking out and race over to Jeremiah, who is wearing shorts and a tee-shirt, all tattoos exposed except one. Guy walks away when he sees me go to Jeremiah. Just disappears. I think he thought I was alone. As we walk out and are getting into the car, I see the old guy. I roll down the window.
Me: Sir? Have a nice day!
Creeper: F*CK YOU!
Me: Holy crap, Jeremiah. That old guy just gave me the finger, and I'm pretty sure he just told me -
Jeremiah: Yeah, he just said f*ck you.
Me: Nice.
I can only say this. I did not swear at him. But I did show my general dislike in some way. Now to the finer/scarier parts of this.
- I told a friend about this and she had a creeper, too, a few years ago. Her dad told her this, rather simply. Dad: So he could see you were uncomfortable? Friend: Yes. Dad: And he continued to stand there? Friend: Yes. Dad: Then SOMETHING was not right about this guy.
- And that is SO true. Who, seeing that they are making someone uncomfortable, would remain there, when they are straight out asked to give a little space? Only someone who was doing it purposefully.
- Also, self-checkout lines start before the little registers. So if he were in line, he should have been standing back behind all four registers. He wasn't. And he wasn't buying anything.
- Next, if someone had asked me to give them space, I would have felt awful and backed up immediately, apologizing.
- If he didn't have bad intentions, why did he leave when he saw me with Jeremiah?
So all I can say is this. In all seriousness. Ladies? Speak up for yourself. I was shocked that my friend had had a similar creepy experience. With a creepy older gentleman. I don't normally think of older people as creepy, but some really horrible people grow old without ending up in jail. I would have been terrified if Jeremiah wasn't right there. I felt stupid asking him to back up, and he tried to make me feel worse by yelling at me, but if I hadn't said anything, no one else would have noticed that I was uncomfortable. And some on-lookers did. But no one said anything. So you really need to speak up for yourself. Make a scene if you need to. If Jeremiah hadn't been there, I would have gone immediately to the Lowe's guy.
P.S. Old People Really Do Swear Bonus: One time years ago, back in Michigan, a tiny old guy in a fancy car called me a bitch at the gas station. I had been waiting in line for a pump and he swerved in, trying to cut me off and a few others. He didn't dig that I didn't back down. He hobbled over and said, "You, young lady, are a bitch." And I said, "You are a VERY mean old man." Then he walked away.
Stay on your toes, Girls.
3.05.2012
It's a Little Like Hell. Minus the Good Company. And No S'Mores. Because There are S'Mores in Hell, Right? Right??
Guess who has a hound dog? Our new neighbors!
It is SWELL.
OC Choppers shirt? Fine.
Cans of Miller Lite? Fine (although I am speaking solely for myself).
A dog that stays outside ALL DAY AND NIGHT (I am not even kidding. We were up until about one on Saturday, listening to the dog.) and BAYS NONSTOP? Unforgivable.
I dream of inviting myself into their rental house, standing there, listening to their dog and saying to them "Ohhhhhhhhh, so you CAN hear that in here. Okay. I thought maybe you couldn't."
But I am guessing that sarcasm might be wasted on them. And sarcasm is a terrible thing to waste on idiots.
You see, Friends, I don't get how someone can listen to that and not be bothered by it. Or not be bothered or worried that their neighbors might be annoyed. Because we have two of the naughtiest, most annoying little barkers that ever did exist. And we are extremely careful to keep outdoor annoyances at a minimum. Meaning, we don't leave our dogs outside unattended. Barking nonstop. Houses here are really crammed together. Your neighbors hear everything. It's something to think about. Or maybe not. Maybe that's just us.
Jeremiah and I are wondering if this is karmic retribution. He can't think of anything too horrible that he's done. I can think of some things, but I am pretty sure that inner-city teaching is the ultimate good karma coupon. If not, I may have to rethink some things.
And by the way...
Neighbors?
It.is.ON.
p.s. And while we're on the subject of neighbors & being a curmudgeon, I would also like to point out that our neighbors are apparently hearing impaired. I have never in my life heard people speak so loudly. The house is a single level and it isn't that large. There is NO NEED to yell. They either all have ear infections or they have all been watching the tv a bit too loudly. Let's bring it down a notch, mmmmkay?
p.p.s. And I totally have to tell you about how an old guy swore at me at Lowe's yesterday. As in, he dropped the f-bomb. And I really didn't deserve it. Promise.
It is SWELL.
OC Choppers shirt? Fine.
Cans of Miller Lite? Fine (although I am speaking solely for myself).
A dog that stays outside ALL DAY AND NIGHT (I am not even kidding. We were up until about one on Saturday, listening to the dog.) and BAYS NONSTOP? Unforgivable.
I dream of inviting myself into their rental house, standing there, listening to their dog and saying to them "Ohhhhhhhhh, so you CAN hear that in here. Okay. I thought maybe you couldn't."
But I am guessing that sarcasm might be wasted on them. And sarcasm is a terrible thing to waste on idiots.
You see, Friends, I don't get how someone can listen to that and not be bothered by it. Or not be bothered or worried that their neighbors might be annoyed. Because we have two of the naughtiest, most annoying little barkers that ever did exist. And we are extremely careful to keep outdoor annoyances at a minimum. Meaning, we don't leave our dogs outside unattended. Barking nonstop. Houses here are really crammed together. Your neighbors hear everything. It's something to think about. Or maybe not. Maybe that's just us.
Jeremiah and I are wondering if this is karmic retribution. He can't think of anything too horrible that he's done. I can think of some things, but I am pretty sure that inner-city teaching is the ultimate good karma coupon. If not, I may have to rethink some things.
And by the way...
Neighbors?
It.is.ON.
p.s. And while we're on the subject of neighbors & being a curmudgeon, I would also like to point out that our neighbors are apparently hearing impaired. I have never in my life heard people speak so loudly. The house is a single level and it isn't that large. There is NO NEED to yell. They either all have ear infections or they have all been watching the tv a bit too loudly. Let's bring it down a notch, mmmmkay?
p.p.s. And I totally have to tell you about how an old guy swore at me at Lowe's yesterday. As in, he dropped the f-bomb. And I really didn't deserve it. Promise.
2.23.2012
Let's Start with the Basics - Parking.
Ready, Friends?
It is that time of the week. The time when you take a break from all that work you are doing for your weekly driving lesson.
We are going to start with an easy one.
Or more accurately, what should be an easy one.
Parking.
Do you know what chaps my ass?
This:
Rule Number One: When you park, you have to park (by law) in the direction that the traffic flows. Passenger side against the curb. IT JUST MAKES SENSE. That way, when you go to drive away from your parking spot, you are NOT driving on the WRONG side of the road.
In addition, your craptastic parking job won't freak out regular, less imaginative drivers who are driving down the correct side of the road.
You would think especially near intersections, like in the photo above, you would stick to the rules. Apparently NOT SO MUCH.
Exhibit B:
To be fair, I was a country girl growing up and did not have to do street parking. My senior year of college I had to park on the street for like, two minutes, and my friend Derek went ape-shit and informed me that I was on the wrong side and I should move my car immediately. Friends don't let friends park on the wrong side of the road.
But apparently the police do.
And I am SORRY, but if you have lived in the city or cramped suburbs, you have NO excuse. You should know the rules.
And then let us examine Exhibit 3: Parking Lot
I took these pictures of Old Red IN ONE DAY. Old Red is in the center. In general, this is how bad the parking is in Arizona. People are not only incapable of parking correctly on the street, but it is also a challenge to pull forward into a spot. And forget backing up and straightening the cars out a bit. That would be an inconvenience.
I got a new car (more on this later) and I have already been scraped up in the school parking lot. In addition, Jeremiah says that my new vehicle is a magnet for crappy drivers. We go into a store? No one parked around me. We come out? Idiots parked in the same parking spot as me. Not next to me, but squished right in there with me.
Bastards.
So I guess what I am saying is this: Be aware of parking rules in your area. People do NOT love it when you park on the wrong side of the road. You are NOT too special to follow the rules like everyone else. Suck it up and turn your freaking car around. And if you park crookedly, back the freak up and try it again.
Believe it or not, people notice your parking. And if they are like me and you park like this, they laugh at you and curse the day you were born.
And then they post the pictures online.
P.S. Okay, let's hear it. You KNOW there is something that irks you about other drivers. Spill.
It is that time of the week. The time when you take a break from all that work you are doing for your weekly driving lesson.
We are going to start with an easy one.
Or more accurately, what should be an easy one.
Parking.
Do you know what chaps my ass?
This:
 |
| No, this is not a picture from England. This is my street. I LOVE that both red cars on either side of the road are parked facing the wrong direction. It is a shitload of awesome around my house, let me tell you. |
Rule Number One: When you park, you have to park (by law) in the direction that the traffic flows. Passenger side against the curb. IT JUST MAKES SENSE. That way, when you go to drive away from your parking spot, you are NOT driving on the WRONG side of the road.
In addition, your craptastic parking job won't freak out regular, less imaginative drivers who are driving down the correct side of the road.
You would think especially near intersections, like in the photo above, you would stick to the rules. Apparently NOT SO MUCH.
Exhibit B:
 | |||||
| Notice the black truck and the white car. Same intersection, different day. I was all, "I have had it, Jeremiah. I am calling the non-emergency line because there are too many idiots living near us." Jeremiah's response: "Um, considering it is the police officer's SON, I don't think they will really care." And then I said a profanity that is not fit for your gentle ears. |
To be fair, I was a country girl growing up and did not have to do street parking. My senior year of college I had to park on the street for like, two minutes, and my friend Derek went ape-shit and informed me that I was on the wrong side and I should move my car immediately. Friends don't let friends park on the wrong side of the road.
But apparently the police do.
And I am SORRY, but if you have lived in the city or cramped suburbs, you have NO excuse. You should know the rules.
And then let us examine Exhibit 3: Parking Lot
 |
I got a new car (more on this later) and I have already been scraped up in the school parking lot. In addition, Jeremiah says that my new vehicle is a magnet for crappy drivers. We go into a store? No one parked around me. We come out? Idiots parked in the same parking spot as me. Not next to me, but squished right in there with me.
Bastards.
So I guess what I am saying is this: Be aware of parking rules in your area. People do NOT love it when you park on the wrong side of the road. You are NOT too special to follow the rules like everyone else. Suck it up and turn your freaking car around. And if you park crookedly, back the freak up and try it again.
Believe it or not, people notice your parking. And if they are like me and you park like this, they laugh at you and curse the day you were born.
And then they post the pictures online.
1.29.2012
Dear Neighbor,
Dear Neighbor,
I moved out of an apartment because I did not like listening to horrible music through a connecting wall. And yet, years later, here I am.
Listening to your shitty music. No wall connecting us. In fact, three walls separating us. So loud that I CAN HEAR THE WORDS, the booming bass, everything. For HOURS. On Sunday afternoon. A day of rest.
It is such a joy to have you next door. I especially love it when I am on vacation and spend my mornings exercising, listening to my music on the ipod and your music which I can hear OVER my ipod. Or when I try to enjoy the silence with a good book and some tea and I get to listen to your crap instead. That is awesome, too.
A couple questions I have for you:
1. Do you work?
2. Do you go to school?
3. Do your mom and dad know that you are an asshat?
I'm going to go out on a limb and answer "no" to all of these. Because you are always there. Because you are like a horrible Visa card. Everywhere I want to be.
Sincerely,
Your Ticked-Off Neighbor
p.s. We really like your dad, so he can stay, but we'd appreciate it if you would leave. Thanks.
p.p.s. I'm not against a blaring stereo for a song or two. Honestly, sometimes you just have to listen to something loudly. But now it is getting scary and my anger bubbles inside like the time I ate potato chips and burped sour cream and onion burps all night. This? This is seriously not good.
I moved out of an apartment because I did not like listening to horrible music through a connecting wall. And yet, years later, here I am.
Listening to your shitty music. No wall connecting us. In fact, three walls separating us. So loud that I CAN HEAR THE WORDS, the booming bass, everything. For HOURS. On Sunday afternoon. A day of rest.
It is such a joy to have you next door. I especially love it when I am on vacation and spend my mornings exercising, listening to my music on the ipod and your music which I can hear OVER my ipod. Or when I try to enjoy the silence with a good book and some tea and I get to listen to your crap instead. That is awesome, too.
A couple questions I have for you:
1. Do you work?
2. Do you go to school?
3. Do your mom and dad know that you are an asshat?
I'm going to go out on a limb and answer "no" to all of these. Because you are always there. Because you are like a horrible Visa card. Everywhere I want to be.
Sincerely,
Your Ticked-Off Neighbor
p.s. We really like your dad, so he can stay, but we'd appreciate it if you would leave. Thanks.
p.p.s. I'm not against a blaring stereo for a song or two. Honestly, sometimes you just have to listen to something loudly. But now it is getting scary and my anger bubbles inside like the time I ate potato chips and burped sour cream and onion burps all night. This? This is seriously not good.
1.09.2012
Husbands, Wives, & Pee
Tuesday was my last day before returning to school. I thought I would celebrate my last day of vacation by getting my blood work done (I get this done every few months due to my disease). I stopped eating Monday evening (I had to fast, you know) and when I woke up bleary-eyed on Tuesday, I called the doctor's office to see if I could stop by to get the work done.
Apparently you are supposed to have an appointment. And apparently I did have an appointment. And apparently I missed it.
In my defense, I didn't get the reminder call that the secretary kept mentioning. Not once have I missed an appointment. Also, I didn't know I had to have an appointment just for the tests. I thought I could just walk in and get the work done.
Anyway, they said to hurry in and they could do it.
So I threw on some clean clothes and drove there. The nice thing about living in a huge city is that something, almost everything, usually ends up being close by to your dwelling. In this instance, the doctor's office was only a five minute drive.
When I got there and after they drained me of all my blood, the following conversation occurred:
Nurse: I'm going to need you to pee in the cup.
Me: Silence
Nurse: Here you go. Hands the cup to me.
Me: Um, I really don't have to go. I just woke up.
Nurse: How can you not have to go? You knew you'd need to do this test.
Me: I wouldn't have made it here without having a tinkle accident. I always pee first thing in the morning. I should mention that I tend to over-share. If you haven't realized it yet. I guess I could try. How much do you need?
Nurse: Grabs a cup of pee from her office. About this much.
Me: Holy crap. Giggling ensues. Is that someone's pee?
Nurse: Gives me an eye roll. I feel sorry for your husband.
Now at this point, I have to stop. Mostly because my head rotated around a full 360 and the scene in my head played out in a very ugly way.
First of all,who says that? To someone they don't know? I understand that she thought she was being funny, but you know what? No.
Yes, he does put up with a lot. Tears - happy ones, sad ones, tired ones, frustrated ones, I cry a bunch. I over-work. I over-share. I demand a lot. I can be immature. I can be a curmudgeon. He deals with my disease. He helps me through flare-ups and a variety of doctor visits.
But you know what? We chose each other. I have plenty of positive characteristics as well. And he has plenty of negative things with which I deal, along with all his positives (like dealing with the aforementioned negatives of mine). I think we are lucky to have each other. Neither of us is the winner. Or the loser. Or sometimes we're both.
I'm reminded of something Robin Williams says when he is remembering his wife in the movie Good Will Hunting. The things that he misses about her. "The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me, too, she knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they're not, aw, that's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let in to our weird little worlds. You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal."
So me giggling at someone's pee doesn't in any way make me a bad "wife". In fact, if I didn't laugh at silly things, I wouldn't be the girl with which Jeremiah fell in love. And I start to feel sorry for her, because it's a sad life if you can't be silly in front of your husband/boyfriend/significant other.
And as I think that this woman needs a lesson in tact and social skills and I'm ready to get in her face and say something highly inappropriate, I change my mind.
I have her fill the cup out for me, I take it, break it open (thereby rendering it useless), stand there pretending to think, and say, "Nope. I guess I don't have to go."
I toss the pee cup in the trash and walk out.
They'll get my pee when I'm good and ready to share it.
And let's think before we open our mouths and insult strangers, shall we?
Apparently you are supposed to have an appointment. And apparently I did have an appointment. And apparently I missed it.
In my defense, I didn't get the reminder call that the secretary kept mentioning. Not once have I missed an appointment. Also, I didn't know I had to have an appointment just for the tests. I thought I could just walk in and get the work done.
Anyway, they said to hurry in and they could do it.
So I threw on some clean clothes and drove there. The nice thing about living in a huge city is that something, almost everything, usually ends up being close by to your dwelling. In this instance, the doctor's office was only a five minute drive.
When I got there and after they drained me of all my blood, the following conversation occurred:
Nurse: I'm going to need you to pee in the cup.
Me: Silence
Nurse: Here you go. Hands the cup to me.
Me: Um, I really don't have to go. I just woke up.
Nurse: How can you not have to go? You knew you'd need to do this test.
Me: I wouldn't have made it here without having a tinkle accident. I always pee first thing in the morning. I should mention that I tend to over-share. If you haven't realized it yet. I guess I could try. How much do you need?
Nurse: Grabs a cup of pee from her office. About this much.
Me: Holy crap. Giggling ensues. Is that someone's pee?
Nurse: Gives me an eye roll. I feel sorry for your husband.
Now at this point, I have to stop. Mostly because my head rotated around a full 360 and the scene in my head played out in a very ugly way.
First of all,who says that? To someone they don't know? I understand that she thought she was being funny, but you know what? No.
Yes, he does put up with a lot. Tears - happy ones, sad ones, tired ones, frustrated ones, I cry a bunch. I over-work. I over-share. I demand a lot. I can be immature. I can be a curmudgeon. He deals with my disease. He helps me through flare-ups and a variety of doctor visits.
But you know what? We chose each other. I have plenty of positive characteristics as well. And he has plenty of negative things with which I deal, along with all his positives (like dealing with the aforementioned negatives of mine). I think we are lucky to have each other. Neither of us is the winner. Or the loser. Or sometimes we're both.
I'm reminded of something Robin Williams says when he is remembering his wife in the movie Good Will Hunting. The things that he misses about her. "The little idiosyncrasies that only I knew about. That's what made her my wife. Oh, and she had the goods on me, too, she knew all my little peccadillos. People call these things imperfections, but they're not, aw, that's the good stuff. And then we get to choose who we let in to our weird little worlds. You're not perfect, sport. And let me save you the suspense. This girl you met, she isn't perfect either. But the question is: whether or not you're perfect for each other. That's the whole deal."
So me giggling at someone's pee doesn't in any way make me a bad "wife". In fact, if I didn't laugh at silly things, I wouldn't be the girl with which Jeremiah fell in love. And I start to feel sorry for her, because it's a sad life if you can't be silly in front of your husband/boyfriend/significant other.
And as I think that this woman needs a lesson in tact and social skills and I'm ready to get in her face and say something highly inappropriate, I change my mind.
I have her fill the cup out for me, I take it, break it open (thereby rendering it useless), stand there pretending to think, and say, "Nope. I guess I don't have to go."
I toss the pee cup in the trash and walk out.
They'll get my pee when I'm good and ready to share it.
And let's think before we open our mouths and insult strangers, shall we?
11.27.2011
Idiots on Bikes
Today Jeremiah convinced me that I really wanted to bike with him. I reluctantly went with, thinking about the last time that we biked and my TIRE (not the tube) got an odd hole and we had to walk home. With the bikes. Sadsies.
Anyway, I geared up and he geared up and we were ready to go.
I took the right side of the paved bike trail, as to 1) Not be in anyone's way 2) Leave the moving out of peoples' ways to Jeremiah.
We went along at a leisurely pace. By leisurely I mean that I went a good speed for me and Jeremiah braked a lot to slow down to my speed.
As we are leisurely biking along, with Jeremiah regularly checking back to make sure he didn't need to move out of someone's way, I felt/heard/saw someone fly by my RIGHT SIDE without announcing themselves. The paved path is wide enough for him to have gone by Jeremiah on the left. He could have also used biking etiquette and slowed down and then announced his intentions with an "On your left!".
But no.
This idiot went flying by ME. On the right. You aren't supposed to pass on the right. We all know that, don't we? By the way, this rule applies to cars, too. Just saying. I know that none of my blog readers are passing on the right types...
So I put myself in this guy's shoes.
He comes upon two bikers on the path. One is obviously a pro, with all the gear, fancy saddle, Camelbak, shoe clips for the pedals, etc. The other biker might qualify for the slowest, wobbliest biker race ever. Big cruiser with an "I heart my bike" bell. Tennis shoes. A t-shirt stating "I'm 21. R U?". That weird biker that got her leg caught in the pedal earlier that you missed? She's riding on the far right. You could pass the pro biker on the left and stay on the path. Or you could hop the trail, ride in the sand/gravel, and (I'm guessing purposefully) intimidate the beginner.Which would place you in the same category of hell as people who intimidate little children or tease puppies.
You choose to do the latter, and hop off the trail, fly by the beginner, scaring the shit out of her and prompting her to say in her best smart ass voice "ON YOUR RIGHT!"
And as that girl says that, you are hopping back on the path, proud at your show-offity-ness.
And you begin to wobble.
Then you wipe the hell out.
Falling on your left side, scraping the shit out of your bare little legs (those stretchy shorts don't protect knees, do they Mr. Butthole Biker?) and your arm/hands.
The two bikers that you were so eager to pass? They stopped (on the side of the trail. Let's not forget biking etiquette, please). They have nothing else to stare at except you - they can't pass you on the left (but you better believe they would have done a sing-song "On your left, asshole"), because you are perpendicularly blocking the path. With your bloody body and your bike. So they stare. They could ask if you are okay, but the man is being oddly silent (and he's normally so polite. He might be pissed that you scared his girlfriend or that you give bikers a bad name) and the girl (who is NEVER nice and will laugh at just about anybody that gets hurt) is trying not to laugh and is getting by with a wide smile.
So you get up and pedal off as fast as you can.
People?
Do I get credit for not laughing until he was out of earshot? And how about the fact that I didn't reenact the scene until he was out of view?
But I didn't ask if he was okay. I did stare. And I did say "On your right" which *might* have had something to do with the fall.
This is probably why I'm going to hell. For sure that idiot will be there too. If hell is anything like Dante wrote it, the man will be wiping out with people watching over and over again for eternity. Totally worth the flames.
p.s. If any of you reading in the Phoenix area have a husband/boyfriend/dad/son/uncle/grandpa come home today and he is all bloody and he tells you that it is because he was rescuing a whole heap of kittens from certain death he is lying his ass off.
Anyway, I geared up and he geared up and we were ready to go.
I took the right side of the paved bike trail, as to 1) Not be in anyone's way 2) Leave the moving out of peoples' ways to Jeremiah.
We went along at a leisurely pace. By leisurely I mean that I went a good speed for me and Jeremiah braked a lot to slow down to my speed.
As we are leisurely biking along, with Jeremiah regularly checking back to make sure he didn't need to move out of someone's way, I felt/heard/saw someone fly by my RIGHT SIDE without announcing themselves. The paved path is wide enough for him to have gone by Jeremiah on the left. He could have also used biking etiquette and slowed down and then announced his intentions with an "On your left!".
But no.
This idiot went flying by ME. On the right. You aren't supposed to pass on the right. We all know that, don't we? By the way, this rule applies to cars, too. Just saying. I know that none of my blog readers are passing on the right types...
So I put myself in this guy's shoes.
He comes upon two bikers on the path. One is obviously a pro, with all the gear, fancy saddle, Camelbak, shoe clips for the pedals, etc. The other biker might qualify for the slowest, wobbliest biker race ever. Big cruiser with an "I heart my bike" bell. Tennis shoes. A t-shirt stating "I'm 21. R U?". That weird biker that got her leg caught in the pedal earlier that you missed? She's riding on the far right. You could pass the pro biker on the left and stay on the path. Or you could hop the trail, ride in the sand/gravel, and (I'm guessing purposefully) intimidate the beginner.Which would place you in the same category of hell as people who intimidate little children or tease puppies.
You choose to do the latter, and hop off the trail, fly by the beginner, scaring the shit out of her and prompting her to say in her best smart ass voice "ON YOUR RIGHT!"
And as that girl says that, you are hopping back on the path, proud at your show-offity-ness.
And you begin to wobble.
Then you wipe the hell out.
Falling on your left side, scraping the shit out of your bare little legs (those stretchy shorts don't protect knees, do they Mr. Butthole Biker?) and your arm/hands.
The two bikers that you were so eager to pass? They stopped (on the side of the trail. Let's not forget biking etiquette, please). They have nothing else to stare at except you - they can't pass you on the left (but you better believe they would have done a sing-song "On your left, asshole"), because you are perpendicularly blocking the path. With your bloody body and your bike. So they stare. They could ask if you are okay, but the man is being oddly silent (and he's normally so polite. He might be pissed that you scared his girlfriend or that you give bikers a bad name) and the girl (who is NEVER nice and will laugh at just about anybody that gets hurt) is trying not to laugh and is getting by with a wide smile.
So you get up and pedal off as fast as you can.
People?
Do I get credit for not laughing until he was out of earshot? And how about the fact that I didn't reenact the scene until he was out of view?
But I didn't ask if he was okay. I did stare. And I did say "On your right" which *might* have had something to do with the fall.
This is probably why I'm going to hell. For sure that idiot will be there too. If hell is anything like Dante wrote it, the man will be wiping out with people watching over and over again for eternity. Totally worth the flames.
p.s. If any of you reading in the Phoenix area have a husband/boyfriend/dad/son/uncle/grandpa come home today and he is all bloody and he tells you that it is because he was rescuing a whole heap of kittens from certain death he is lying his ass off.
9.28.2010
Why I Shouldn't Have Neighbors
This morning at about 5:15 I could hear someone using a chain saw. I could hear it over the noise of my exercising and the noise of my music. The dogs and I were deeply disturbed.
When I was finished, I see that my neighbor has hired landscapers to remove the one tree (Michiganders, you would call it a shrub, it was very small) in their front yard. I feel as though this is not okay. Chainsaws at 5? No.
In addition, the idiots parked their humongous truck (Hello? Overcompensating?) and trailer in FRONT OF MY DRIVEWAY. I was completely locked in. Plus, all of their gadgets and debris and garbage cans? Oh, yeah, they just put them in my driveway. Why the hell didn't they park in front of my neighbor's driveway?
So I went outside in my exercise clothes and slippers and stared at them. One of the guys looked up and said, "Oh, sorry." and started laughing.
That asshole laughed. At me. Until I got out my phone and took a picture of all his stuff in my driveway and his truck locking me in. And then watching me as I called the non-emergency police line. Then he moved his truck. And his crap.
By the way, apparently landscapers can make all the noise they want as early as 5. What.The.Hell? This is due to the fact that it gets so hot. Because it would be too hot at six? Seriously, it is triple digit temps. The difference in temp between five and six in the morning is like, one degree.
So I'm going to tell my neighbor that I just LOVE the work they did, get their number, and complain.
Don't park in front of my driveway. Don't put crap in my driveway. And don't piss me off at five in the morning.
And this is why I shouldn't have neighbors.
When I was finished, I see that my neighbor has hired landscapers to remove the one tree (Michiganders, you would call it a shrub, it was very small) in their front yard. I feel as though this is not okay. Chainsaws at 5? No.
In addition, the idiots parked their humongous truck (Hello? Overcompensating?) and trailer in FRONT OF MY DRIVEWAY. I was completely locked in. Plus, all of their gadgets and debris and garbage cans? Oh, yeah, they just put them in my driveway. Why the hell didn't they park in front of my neighbor's driveway?
So I went outside in my exercise clothes and slippers and stared at them. One of the guys looked up and said, "Oh, sorry." and started laughing.
That asshole laughed. At me. Until I got out my phone and took a picture of all his stuff in my driveway and his truck locking me in. And then watching me as I called the non-emergency police line. Then he moved his truck. And his crap.
By the way, apparently landscapers can make all the noise they want as early as 5. What.The.Hell? This is due to the fact that it gets so hot. Because it would be too hot at six? Seriously, it is triple digit temps. The difference in temp between five and six in the morning is like, one degree.
So I'm going to tell my neighbor that I just LOVE the work they did, get their number, and complain.
Don't park in front of my driveway. Don't put crap in my driveway. And don't piss me off at five in the morning.
And this is why I shouldn't have neighbors.
8.10.2010
Oh No He Didn't, or The Thief in the Kitchen , or Kitchen Etiquette
Yesterday night in my most tired state ever (I've started my first week back - no students yet, but still! It's never easy to come back) I rinsed my tupperware that had housed grapes for lunch that day. Then I set out the newly cleaned 'wares for today's grapes. That way, when up I gets in the morning, I don't have to do it then.
I'm smart like that, yo.
Imagine my surprise when I go downstairs (after exercising for nearly an hour) to have breakfast and finish making my lunch only to discover that boyfriend had taken my freakin' tupperware and used it himself. And then left.
Oh.No.He.Didn't.
Looks like it's Ricky that has some 'splainin' to do this time. Completely threw me off my game. I tried to explain why I was upset to the dogs, but I honestly don't think they cared. Typical males. I hate being outnumbered!
So anyway, I had to dig for a clean container and will now be completing a kitchen etiquette list for Jer-dog.
Because, also? Guess who doesn't exercise for almost an hour (in the wee hours of the morning)?
Boyfriend. The dude totally had the time to get his own tupperware.
p.s. please stayed tuned for "oh no he didn't, part 2" as we analyze Boyfriend's attempts to "quietly" come to bed after I've already hit the pillow. Boys. Boys. Boys.
p.p.s. please note that I can't be too snarky to the boy 'cause he hung my sconce yesterday (that took me months to pick out) while I was at work. Any guy that will risk taking some voltage for you is totally worth keeping.
I'm smart like that, yo.
Imagine my surprise when I go downstairs (after exercising for nearly an hour) to have breakfast and finish making my lunch only to discover that boyfriend had taken my freakin' tupperware and used it himself. And then left.
Oh.No.He.Didn't.
Looks like it's Ricky that has some 'splainin' to do this time. Completely threw me off my game. I tried to explain why I was upset to the dogs, but I honestly don't think they cared. Typical males. I hate being outnumbered!
So anyway, I had to dig for a clean container and will now be completing a kitchen etiquette list for Jer-dog.
Because, also? Guess who doesn't exercise for almost an hour (in the wee hours of the morning)?
Boyfriend. The dude totally had the time to get his own tupperware.
p.s. please stayed tuned for "oh no he didn't, part 2" as we analyze Boyfriend's attempts to "quietly" come to bed after I've already hit the pillow. Boys. Boys. Boys.
p.p.s. please note that I can't be too snarky to the boy 'cause he hung my sconce yesterday (that took me months to pick out) while I was at work. Any guy that will risk taking some voltage for you is totally worth keeping.
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