It seems that the young man at the orthodontist office does not know the woman I just ran into at the drug store. Had they been acquainted, he surely would have warned her about me. Unfortunately for her, she did not know with whom she was messing - she did not get the Don't Tick Off Sandy memo. Ok, there really was no messing, no tussling, no true let's-get-ready-to-rumble moment. What there was, though, was another opportunity for me to not be a doormat.
The trip to CVS this evening was essential so that I could refill my prescriptions before June 1, when co-pays and prescription costs go up. Again. Tangent...............Somebody get Barack on the line. I shan't complain too loudly as I am blessed with an employer who pays 100% of my health insurance premium! For this I am truly thankful, especially when it is evidenced daily that the price of nothing goes down. Up, up and away............
The check-out line there was marked by those cattle-herding rope lines, just like what you'd find at an amusement park. Oddly, these corrals did not have end pieces which would direct you as to which way you must turn to hold your place in the queue. The brain trust at CVS counts on the general public, many of whom are colossally stupid and/or rude, to properly and respectfully navigate themselves to the register.
I got lucky, or so I thought. When I arrived at the non-instructional rope line, there were no other customers in the vicinity. I made the executive decision to stand at the right end of the "line". Both ends were equidistant from the register, so I felt safe in my decision to begin a line, should other drug-seekers approach. Aha - here came one - the woman who doesn't know cell phone boy from the other day. This bleached blonde twit immediately positioned herself clear at the other end of the rope line. Politely and with an attempt at countrified cuteness I pointed at the dismembered check-out border and said "I'm not sure which end is the front". To this she replied "Well, I was here, but realized I forgot something." My initial, though not vocalized thought, was "AND????" Second thought: "I hope what you forgot was Ex-Lax to help get that stick out of your ---!" I said nothing - just stood there stewing in my juices. What nerve!
Then the answer came to me like Archangel Gabriel, but with much less religious significance. I WILL NOT let this obnoxious, brain-addled witch-face get to the register before I do!! NOT NOT NOT!!! So, when the clerk offered to help the "next person" in line, I darted right up to him! From the corner of my eye, I saw Ms. I-Was-Here-First attempt to make her move to scurry in front of me. I prevailed and could feel her eyes boring holes in the back of my head. It would have been satisfyingly awesome if I had the ability to stick out my tongue at her from the back of my head!! The icing on my Petty Cake was that the clerk could only find one of the three prescriptions I was there to collect. Ah, so sad that woman had to wait even longer. Mwuhahaha.
Mind you, I am not an evil person. However, I have spent way, way, way too much of life trying to be nice, accommodating others at all times, and just generally being a doormat. I think it's high time I stand up for myself, my desires and the things to which I am genuinely entitled. As long as I do not physically or emotionally scar anyone, or land myself in jail - where's the damage? Of course, it's small potatoes to tell a teenager to pipe down or to rightfully take my place in a drug store line, but I have to start somewhere, right?
Some may speculate that I have latent anger issues. To them I say - leave me alone, I have to go downstairs and do some Wii Boxing!!
May 29, 2009
May 27, 2009
Take THAT!
My kid had a check-up yesterday with the orthodontist, also known as The Place That Has My Six Thousand Dollars. I must admit that the office has a very nice waiting room for parents, complete with tons of magazines from which to choose, lovely pictures covering every wall, and a juke box in the corner. So, I sat quietly in the waiting room while TER was selecting yet another odd color band with which to string up his braces. This time, it was alternating blue and red - in honor of his baseball team.
In walks what I thought was another dad with his prepubescent daughter. The girl went back to the actual dental office which is stocked with a tv, games and even an Xbox for the kids to use while waiting their turn in the chair. Cool, huh? Now I know what became of some of my $6,000.
Shortly after he sat down, this 'dad' got a call on his cell phone and it quickly became apparent that he was actually a high school kid who had carted his sister to her appointment. (I would have bet money that this guy was in his forties! It's not often you see an Asian guy who looks much older than he is. Perhaps he is being punished by God.) I know he was a high school kid because he proceeded to have a semi-loud discussion about some chick who had broken up with him, but now wanted to get back together; and how she kept wanting to sit with him at lunch. He was "pissed" that she told him to "f-off", and he's glad it's over. Blah Blah Blah..........
It was annoying enough that this twerp continued this conversation in the presence of the rest of us, but when it became more graphic - she had called him a "dick" and an "asshole" (I think she's right on this point), I had enough. I was done. I often claim to be DONE, but this bonehead pushed me even closer to the cliff by which I spend most of my time anyway.
Of course, I would have preferred to beat him about the head and face with the nearest copy of Good Housekeeping, but instead I got up, walked over to him, pointed my finger in his face and said "go take that outside, there are kids in here!" He gave me the beginning of a nasty look, but proceeded to exit the front door. As he left, I heard him tell his likely-equally-idiotic buddy that "some woman just told me to go outside."
Aha! That's right, buddy, GTFO!!! Oh, that made me feel so good, especially when the other adults in the room practically gave me a standing-o! One man smiled at me, one woman winked in solidarity, and another Mom exclaimed that "these kids think they are so entitled!" She's right - many kids these days think they are entitled and can play by their own rules. WRONG! Time to smack some of these nitwits down a peg or seven.
Since I don't often stand up for myself - although I'm getting better at it with age - telling that kid to leave was so empowering! Perhaps handing over $6,000 gives me authority to tell people where to stick it when I'm in that building. I'll accept that as truth, and try to pretend that I'm always in that building, so I can tell all deserving jerks, creeps and sphincters to f-off, no matter where I might find them!
In walks what I thought was another dad with his prepubescent daughter. The girl went back to the actual dental office which is stocked with a tv, games and even an Xbox for the kids to use while waiting their turn in the chair. Cool, huh? Now I know what became of some of my $6,000.
Shortly after he sat down, this 'dad' got a call on his cell phone and it quickly became apparent that he was actually a high school kid who had carted his sister to her appointment. (I would have bet money that this guy was in his forties! It's not often you see an Asian guy who looks much older than he is. Perhaps he is being punished by God.) I know he was a high school kid because he proceeded to have a semi-loud discussion about some chick who had broken up with him, but now wanted to get back together; and how she kept wanting to sit with him at lunch. He was "pissed" that she told him to "f-off", and he's glad it's over. Blah Blah Blah..........
It was annoying enough that this twerp continued this conversation in the presence of the rest of us, but when it became more graphic - she had called him a "dick" and an "asshole" (I think she's right on this point), I had enough. I was done. I often claim to be DONE, but this bonehead pushed me even closer to the cliff by which I spend most of my time anyway.
Of course, I would have preferred to beat him about the head and face with the nearest copy of Good Housekeeping, but instead I got up, walked over to him, pointed my finger in his face and said "go take that outside, there are kids in here!" He gave me the beginning of a nasty look, but proceeded to exit the front door. As he left, I heard him tell his likely-equally-idiotic buddy that "some woman just told me to go outside."
Aha! That's right, buddy, GTFO!!! Oh, that made me feel so good, especially when the other adults in the room practically gave me a standing-o! One man smiled at me, one woman winked in solidarity, and another Mom exclaimed that "these kids think they are so entitled!" She's right - many kids these days think they are entitled and can play by their own rules. WRONG! Time to smack some of these nitwits down a peg or seven.
Since I don't often stand up for myself - although I'm getting better at it with age - telling that kid to leave was so empowering! Perhaps handing over $6,000 gives me authority to tell people where to stick it when I'm in that building. I'll accept that as truth, and try to pretend that I'm always in that building, so I can tell all deserving jerks, creeps and sphincters to f-off, no matter where I might find them!
May 25, 2009
Disconnection
Have you ever had a person give to you something you had forgotten you wanted - only to then announce that (s)he wanted It back; that the person couldn't let you have It now? IT SUCKS. It makes you want to shout: "It's not fair! But, I want that! Why?! Give that back, now!!!"
But, it's gone. And you have to adjust to what was perhaps your favorite thing having virtually disappeared. You can't see or touch It, but you also can't forget about It. At least not today. Maybe some day, you'll forget about It, just as you had earlier forgotten your desire for It in the first place.
In the meantime, I miss my Connection.
But, it's gone. And you have to adjust to what was perhaps your favorite thing having virtually disappeared. You can't see or touch It, but you also can't forget about It. At least not today. Maybe some day, you'll forget about It, just as you had earlier forgotten your desire for It in the first place.
In the meantime, I miss my Connection.
Memorial Day
Much gratitude and many thanks to all of those who have, do and will serve this country in the Armed Forces.
Several of my family members have served over the years. Cousins, uncles, and my dear father who was in Viet Nam. And that it just about all I know on that fact. He never really speaks of it, but I vrecall something about his leg being inured, although I'm not sure by what.
My grandfather was a young man when he arrived in France during WWII. Poppa was shot in the chest, and reassured his new bride, my Nana, that he was alright because "those Germans weren't very good shots!" That anecdote always brought a smile to my face. He was a sweet, funny man who passed away almost two years ago. Shortly before he died, I happened to be on the Mall in D.C. and visited the WWII Memorial. There I found a stone labeled with the name of the French city in which my grandfather spent time - St. Lorraine. I snapped a picture of it for him and I think he enjoyed it.
It is the Veterans of Foreign Wars who you will see distributing Budd Poppies during this time of year. I'm always touched when I see these (largely) old men working to remind all of us of the sacrifices made by so many. This is one donation I make every year without exception. For those who don't know, the tradition of the poppy was inspired by a poem written by Col. John McCrae - "In Flander's Field":
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
Several of my family members have served over the years. Cousins, uncles, and my dear father who was in Viet Nam. And that it just about all I know on that fact. He never really speaks of it, but I vrecall something about his leg being inured, although I'm not sure by what.
My grandfather was a young man when he arrived in France during WWII. Poppa was shot in the chest, and reassured his new bride, my Nana, that he was alright because "those Germans weren't very good shots!" That anecdote always brought a smile to my face. He was a sweet, funny man who passed away almost two years ago. Shortly before he died, I happened to be on the Mall in D.C. and visited the WWII Memorial. There I found a stone labeled with the name of the French city in which my grandfather spent time - St. Lorraine. I snapped a picture of it for him and I think he enjoyed it.
It is the Veterans of Foreign Wars who you will see distributing Budd Poppies during this time of year. I'm always touched when I see these (largely) old men working to remind all of us of the sacrifices made by so many. This is one donation I make every year without exception. For those who don't know, the tradition of the poppy was inspired by a poem written by Col. John McCrae - "In Flander's Field":
We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.
May 22, 2009
How to Turn Off a Television
I've been a television viewer now for the better part of 35 years. One of my earliest memories is of The Price is Right. When it was over, it was time for me to go to school - we only had 1/2 day kindergarten and I was blessed with the afternoon slot. When I was 3, it was the tv that alerted my parents to the fact that I couldn't see worth a damn. In order to see what was on the screen, I kept my eyes about two inches from the glass. I'm still unsure whether my folks wanted to get my the medical care I needed, or if I was just in the way of their viewing March Madness. Kidding - sort of.
Thus, with my vast experience with the boob tube, one would assume I was quite adept at operating its On/Off switch. Granted, the invention of the remote may have caused us to sometimes jump through hoops to turn off the cable/vcr/dvr/tv/stereo in a cohesive manner. BUT - it is not rocket science to turn off the television when one is forced to admit that either 1) there is something else that must be done, or less often, 2) there is nothing on worth watching.
The television in my living room is small by modern standards. It is color - I don't live all the way back in Dark Ages. It has no bells or whistles, just your basic, ordinary, less than 15 button remote control. Aside from the moments when the remote cannot be found (read: my son, the beloved TER, has lost it either between the sofa cushions, or left it in the bathroom!), this magic stick that allows us to sit on our arses while resting catatonic in front of the pretty colors emitted from the accompanying magic box - is what we use to operate the television.
Here's what I do about half of the time though. I point the supernatural wonder we call the remote control and properly press the On/Off button and - GASP - the television is off. No more lights or sound - Off. I see this happen, I know it's off.
The TV is off - I know because Me, Myself and I just turned it off. Then, on my way to the front door to pick up my keys and purse and head on our for whatever errand I probably wished I didn't have to complete, I use my finger to turn the tv Off. But, what have we just learned boys and girls? The tv was already off. Now - it is back On. WTF?
What the hell is wrong with my brain that it cannot retain for three seconds the fact that I just turned it off? I did not turn it back on, and the house is not occupied by poltergeists, ghosts or gremlins who tease me by undoing my button-pushing. And yet, I all-too-frequently turn that damn thing back on as I walk by it immediately after having turned it off from my comfy position on the couch.
Do I stand up too quickly? Does blood rush from my head and take with it all recollection and short term memory? Or is it just a part of aging - akin to walking into a room and not remembering why you went there in the first place? And for added fun - after having turned the tv off - oops, ON - I then refer to myself as an Idiot - aloud. There are times I swear I hear the television and possibly the stereo next to it snickering about me as I walk out the front door.
Thus, with my vast experience with the boob tube, one would assume I was quite adept at operating its On/Off switch. Granted, the invention of the remote may have caused us to sometimes jump through hoops to turn off the cable/vcr/dvr/tv/stereo in a cohesive manner. BUT - it is not rocket science to turn off the television when one is forced to admit that either 1) there is something else that must be done, or less often, 2) there is nothing on worth watching.
The television in my living room is small by modern standards. It is color - I don't live all the way back in Dark Ages. It has no bells or whistles, just your basic, ordinary, less than 15 button remote control. Aside from the moments when the remote cannot be found (read: my son, the beloved TER, has lost it either between the sofa cushions, or left it in the bathroom!), this magic stick that allows us to sit on our arses while resting catatonic in front of the pretty colors emitted from the accompanying magic box - is what we use to operate the television.
Here's what I do about half of the time though. I point the supernatural wonder we call the remote control and properly press the On/Off button and - GASP - the television is off. No more lights or sound - Off. I see this happen, I know it's off.
The TV is off - I know because Me, Myself and I just turned it off. Then, on my way to the front door to pick up my keys and purse and head on our for whatever errand I probably wished I didn't have to complete, I use my finger to turn the tv Off. But, what have we just learned boys and girls? The tv was already off. Now - it is back On. WTF?
What the hell is wrong with my brain that it cannot retain for three seconds the fact that I just turned it off? I did not turn it back on, and the house is not occupied by poltergeists, ghosts or gremlins who tease me by undoing my button-pushing. And yet, I all-too-frequently turn that damn thing back on as I walk by it immediately after having turned it off from my comfy position on the couch.
Do I stand up too quickly? Does blood rush from my head and take with it all recollection and short term memory? Or is it just a part of aging - akin to walking into a room and not remembering why you went there in the first place? And for added fun - after having turned the tv off - oops, ON - I then refer to myself as an Idiot - aloud. There are times I swear I hear the television and possibly the stereo next to it snickering about me as I walk out the front door.
U BE ME
I went to the grocery store this morning.......Giant is having a great great great sale on Coke products. My mother raised a girl with an abiding love of sales and coupons (properly pronounced KEW-PONS). Therefore, I was giddy at the notion of getting five (count 'em, 5!) 12-packs of Coke Zero for the low, low price of $11.00. Holy Caffeination, Batman!!
In the Giant parking lot - which ironically, is quite large - there was an SUV with the vanity plate reading "U BE ME". I wondered if this was a challenge, an accusation, a wish for somebody else's life........what did that mean? U BE ME. If I were to say to another person "U BE ME" - it would no doubt be said in a snitty tone and clearly mean "Oh yeah!! Then YOU do it all!!".
In a kind a peaceful world, the drive of said vehicle is a less defensive and bitter person than am I. Perhaps this person is simply wishing that all of mankind could be as happy and contented as he/she is. With glee and joy, the driver exclaims U BE ME! - attain the harmonious and undisturbed state of consciousness which I have discovered. Perhaps the person wishes to Teach the World to Sing and Buy the World a Coke. AHA, must be it. This perpetually fulfilled vessel of delirious bliss was at Giant stocking up Coke products! Even the euphoric appreciate a good bargain!
Ah, piss on that.
In the Giant parking lot - which ironically, is quite large - there was an SUV with the vanity plate reading "U BE ME". I wondered if this was a challenge, an accusation, a wish for somebody else's life........what did that mean? U BE ME. If I were to say to another person "U BE ME" - it would no doubt be said in a snitty tone and clearly mean "Oh yeah!! Then YOU do it all!!".
In a kind a peaceful world, the drive of said vehicle is a less defensive and bitter person than am I. Perhaps this person is simply wishing that all of mankind could be as happy and contented as he/she is. With glee and joy, the driver exclaims U BE ME! - attain the harmonious and undisturbed state of consciousness which I have discovered. Perhaps the person wishes to Teach the World to Sing and Buy the World a Coke. AHA, must be it. This perpetually fulfilled vessel of delirious bliss was at Giant stocking up Coke products! Even the euphoric appreciate a good bargain!
Ah, piss on that.
May 20, 2009
Living With a Teenager
My son is 13. I thought briefly about simply using "13" as his alias here, but that is the nickname for Foreman's lesbian girlfriend on House. So........I'll call the boy The Eye Roller ("TER").
Upon entering middle school and subsequently turning 14-1, TER morphed from a respectful, helpful and sweet child into a mini-man who believes that every move I make and everything I say is stupid, oftentimes the "stupidest thing ever". Maybe he's right. Maybe:
Upon entering middle school and subsequently turning 14-1, TER morphed from a respectful, helpful and sweet child into a mini-man who believes that every move I make and everything I say is stupid, oftentimes the "stupidest thing ever". Maybe he's right. Maybe:
- All I ever do is laugh at him and take away his stuff.
- I always tell him to shut up.
- My suggestions will "never work".
- It is my responsibility to remind him of everything.
- I make him do everything around the house.
No. No. I'm pretty sure none of that is true. Yep, darn sure none of that is true. Can it be that hormonal changes on his part account for the radically different ways we now perceive things? If so, why has medical science not discovered a revolutionary hormone therapy for parents that allows them to effectively deal with these beings whose ailments also include Selective Hearing and Muttering Under The Breath?
Certainly, it could be worse. Things could always be worse. Perhaps I just have not had enough had time to acclimate to the changes that come with teenage boy-dom. Is there a class I can take?? I fear that this is a learn-as-you-go kind of thing. At present, though, it doesn't seem that I'll crack the code in the next 5.5 years. Yes, I'm counting down until he goes to college.....
Is it also wrong that I have made a chain of paper clips - counting the days until he goes to a week-long summer camp located several states away?
May 19, 2009
Feast or Famine
In my office, I am one of two things - either gorged or malnourished. My workload vacillates between Enough For Three People To Get Done and Not Even A Slug Would Agree To This Nothingness.
Almost three years ago, I left a job where the theme was forcible gluttony. You know, like in the movie "Se7en" with Brad Pitt when the killer murders that one guy by force-feeding him. The powers that be at that particular workplace were oblivious (some would say callously insensitive) to the fact that 99% of their employees were overworked and overburdened to the point that it is a wonder that none of us ever beat them about the head and face with staplers and hole-punchers. I'm still waiting for notice that a former co-worker has finally snapped and hurled obscenities and office equipment at her superiors. No one will blame her and in fact, will likely throw a parade in her honor. However, since I do not like parades, I will send a simple, but lovely bouquet of flowers.
In any event.....today, I have nothing to do. Bored. Out. Of. My. Mind. It's almost time for me to start playing online-sudoku, which is what I do when I've really hit my limit of idleness. I hear such games help keep your mind sharp. I hope so........I'll need some brain cells for the next time I might have actual work to do.
Almost three years ago, I left a job where the theme was forcible gluttony. You know, like in the movie "Se7en" with Brad Pitt when the killer murders that one guy by force-feeding him. The powers that be at that particular workplace were oblivious (some would say callously insensitive) to the fact that 99% of their employees were overworked and overburdened to the point that it is a wonder that none of us ever beat them about the head and face with staplers and hole-punchers. I'm still waiting for notice that a former co-worker has finally snapped and hurled obscenities and office equipment at her superiors. No one will blame her and in fact, will likely throw a parade in her honor. However, since I do not like parades, I will send a simple, but lovely bouquet of flowers.
In any event.....today, I have nothing to do. Bored. Out. Of. My. Mind. It's almost time for me to start playing online-sudoku, which is what I do when I've really hit my limit of idleness. I hear such games help keep your mind sharp. I hope so........I'll need some brain cells for the next time I might have actual work to do.
And I'm off!
At least that's what most people say about me. But that's ok. Normal people are boring. If you're not at least kooky, I don't need to know you. In fact, it is best if I can detect at least a modicum of insanity about you. To this I can relate.
So, if you meet the minimum requirement listed above, I'll be happy to know that you care to read about my own crazy thoughts, wonders, worries, plans and -isms that pop into my head. Be warned, there will be no theme to this - so anything is fair game!
So, if you meet the minimum requirement listed above, I'll be happy to know that you care to read about my own crazy thoughts, wonders, worries, plans and -isms that pop into my head. Be warned, there will be no theme to this - so anything is fair game!
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