My Advice to the Queen of Cross Walks

Let’s start the day off right shall we?  I’ll start by letting you in on a little secret.  I despise the holidays.  You may be shocked that someone as “cheerful” as I could dislike the holidays, but it’s true.  Believe it.  So the closer it gets to December, the antsier I get.  I get easily irritated, my tolerance for stupidity drops drastically, and my patience is next to nil. 

So I’m driving to work this morning and there is a girl who starts walking across the cross walk (on a ‘don’t walk’ sign might I add).  I stop a good 4 feet from the edge of the cross walk (that’s about normal distance I assume) and this chick stops dead in her tracks, right in front of my car, turns to face me and yells at my car “This IS a cross walk you know. Yield to pedestrians!!”

I very calmly pointed my arm out the window gesturing toward the “Don’t Walk” sign, (a sign that actually has the words “Don’t Walk” not just the picture) and, as politely as I could, yelled back at the moron “Your Fat ASS isn’t splattered all over the pavement is it? That’s called yielding! Next time you should attempt the whole reading and comprehending process.” Then I very calmly drove away.

Here's my advice to you Cross Walk Queen: First, conquer the illiteracy. Second, conquer the attitude. Finally, attempt to conquer the stupidity.  If you fail, you can always walk out in front of more traffic, though next time, I suggest a busy interstate...at night...wearing all black.

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Quote of the Day

"You can't introduce an old dog to new tricks.  You can however, introduce an old trick to new dogs, and I suggest it. Pimp fights are ALWAYS fun to watch."

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Quote of the Week

Quote of the Week:

We’re keeping this one Anonymous for good measure…

“Wait! So how did it taste?”

“You wanna know what your lip blood tasted like?”

“Well…yeah. Is that weird? You were the one who kept kissing!”

“You tasted like sweet, warm metal. Like pennies left in the sun and covered in maple syrup.”

“And that’s…good?”

“Very”

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I Think Charles Manson's Karma Found Me???

Allow me to give you a glimpse of my day yesterday.  I woke up just like any normal day.  Ran my three miles, made myself a breakfast which consisted of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and yogurt. I got myself ready for work, and drove in.  Now, at my office, we switch out who is in charge every day, someone who takes care of all the little random things that pop up throughout the day at any given moment, and it just so happened that yesterday, was my day.  I get my turnover from the guy who had it the day before and realize, with about four hours of notice that I was going to be escorting this well-to-do, important Swedish official around.  From the beginning everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.  The people he was traveling with ended up not being on the access list, the people who had laid out the proper safety gear for him, had misplaced it, the people who were supposed to deliver his biography didn’t, and the people that were supposed to bring his “thank you gift” didn’t even know anything about his visit.  So the entire time I stand there looking like an idiot because I’m the only person there so OBVIOUSLY everything that went wrong…is my fault.  When that was FINALLY over, I was driving back to my office, and my tire exploded.  Like, we’re not talking about getting a flat.  We’re talking the sidewall of my tire blew a hole and the tire comes flying off in pieces.  Mind you, I have never had a tire explode.  Here I was thinking the Swedes were mad at me and had sent assassins!!!  Okay, maybe not that bad but still.  At this point in my day, I was on my 7^th Rockstar and, needless to say, I was pretty jumpy already.  So after I realized that no one was shooting at me, I call up my buddy, because, while I know how to change a tire, in theory, the tires on my car weigh about 60 pounds and I weigh 87 pounds, and really let’s be honest, the math to this really doesn’t work out too well in my favor.  So Ryan comes and puts my spare on for me and I drive to the tire place to get a new one and I sit there for almost three hours because they have to drive (in rush hour traffic) to their warehouse to get the specific tire.  Finally my tire is changed and all is right in the world once again.  I’m driving back to work (an hour after I was already supposed to have left to go home) just to check my email and tie up some loose ends and from out of nowhere, a truck slings a rock into my windshield, cracking it instantly.  So…I turned around and drove home.  You would think this was the end of my day…yet sadly, there was still the grand finale.  I go out to my favorite bar to unwind (by this time I am on Rockstar number 12).  I decided to just round it off to an even 15 and be done with it.  My two favorite bartenders of all time were both working, finally my night is looking up.  I have a blast at the bar and when walking to my car to drive myself home, I run into “an old friend.”  Today I’m sporting a very trendy black eye that seems to be all the rage for me lately.  Kids, you can collect all two!! To top off my night, after 15 Rockstars my blood to Rockstar content was severely questionable and the sleep I needed so desperately...never came.  I think I’ve decided…that I need a cuddle buddy…any takers???

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Gasoline: The Fail-Safe Method for Curing Chronic Halitosis

I am going to talk about something extremely important to ALL of us.  Chronic halitosis:  You KNOW if you have it, and if you don’t know, then maybe you should get your olfactory system checked.  I mean from a real professional; your roommate jamming that popsicle stick up your nose doesn’t count (you know who you are).  It’s bad enough when someone is talking to you and you find yourself turning away and leaning in the opposite direction.  What’s worse is when, even AFTER the person stops talking and has long shut the offending gap in their face; the smell still lingers in the air for a good 45 seconds.  That’s when you know you have a REAL problem.  When I don’t give you eye contact, it usually means something negative, when I shift my body away from you it’s like slapping you in the face with less aggressive body language. 

I’m trying to tell you without actually telling you that you that the particular blend of bitter coffee and stale cigarettes that you combined this morning is making your breath smell like something crawled into your mouth, died, and is now starting to rot.  It’s actually SO bad in fact, that you’re giving me flashbacks to every Resident Evil game I’ve ever played that had a cut-scene of a zombie growling right in someone’s face.  Can you imagine how that must smell?  Well take that, remove the fear-factor from the whole situation and we’re left with nothing but a guy who’s been feasting on raw meat, never brushes his teeth and smells like road kill that’s been baking in the sun.

Take the hint and go brush your teeth.  Or, if you prefer the fail-safe method, gargle with gasoline for about 60 seconds and then go light one of those stale cigarettes you’ve been sucking down all morning…

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Common Courtesy: What's That?

Common courtesy.  It’s something that seems to have dissolved over the years.  Slowly melting away, and much like baker’s chocolate, what’s left behind leaves a bitter taste at the back of your tongue.  It saddens me when I see people having no regard for anyone but themselves.  When did it become “lame” to open a door or pull out a chair for a girl?  When did stopping and helping someone on the side of the road become so dangerous that we just drive by not even checking to see if everything is alright?  When did we stop offering to carry out groceries for an elderly woman?  Example: I was at Vons yesterday and there was a lady in front of me (maybe in her late 70s early 80s).  After bagging her groceries (which was a total of nine plastic bags, the checker takes her cart and puts it up, not giving her the option of putting her bags back into it, AND not even offering to assist her to her car.  I was so angry I left my six pack of root beer and carton of milk at the register, picked up that lady’s bags and carried them to her car without even so much as a word to the checker (though I did shoot him my trade mark serial killer glare, which he appropriately recoiled from).  When I got all of Francine’s (her name) groceries into her trunk she gave me the biggest smile, and told me that I made her day.  She said that she hadn’t had a person offer to help her in years and that she was starting to lose faith in the younger generation.  Well Francine, I’m glad I could help restore at least a little part of that faith.  This just proves that you can be a cynical, sarcastic loud-mouth and still practice common courtesy. 

To the checker at Vons:  I hope on your way to put my root beer back on the shelf, you dropped it, slipped on the root beer and fell on top of the broken bottles stabbing yourself in the throat.

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Quote(s) of the Week

This week I had so many hilarious quotes I couldn't narrow it down to just one. So I thought to myself...why try? Without further adieu:

Dayna Cristina: "I thought you were taking it slow."
Me: "We ARE taking it slow..."
Dayna Cristina: "Yeah, I can totally tell by the DNA that's still under her fingernails."

"I knew it couldn't possibly last when I heard myself say the following words: So we were fooling around in her treehouse the other day and..."

Jen MacKenzie: "Sorry about your back."
Me: "What you mean the fact that you're part wolverine?"
Jen MacKenzie: "Well...I think it's safe to say I have an 'ear thing'."
Me: "The blood on my shirt agrees yes..."

"Sweetheart, asking me to massage your thighs is like asking a drug addict to sweep up the leftover cocaine you just spilled on the floor."

Alli Rykowski: "I may just make two accounts, but it's so much work, it's like living two lives."
Lissette Wilensky: "And being double the Harry Potter nerd."

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