You can't have you cake AND eat it too

This post is probably going to piss off a lot of you married folks.  Oh, wait.  No one reads this.  My own mother doesn't read this.  Mostly because my mother doesn't get the idea of an online world.  She has email that she checks about once a month and she knows she can pay her bills online but don't even ask her about facebook, twitter and most certainly about a blog.
  However, this isn't about my mother's lack of knowledge of the internet.  This is about married people and what they ever so charmingly refer to as "date night".  Ugh.  Gag me.  I am about to completely burst your bubble, married folks.  The only way you get a date night is if you are cheating on your spouse.  Yup.  See, YOU got married.  So you stopped dating when you had that big party, made us all dress up (remember those - "it can be worn again!"), and we catered to your every whim for a day.  Or in some cases,  a week.  Or six months.  Whatever.  I did all that.  And I really did it with a smile on my face and for the most part I meant it.  I really did.  I only faked it a few times.  Oh, but with the invention of facebook people feel the need to keep me abreast of every teensy detail of their lives.  This includes what you married peeps call date night.  HA!  Jokes on you.  You don't get a date night.  You get a "night away from those screaming toddlers that you thought were going to be so much fun and in fact like to yell all the damn time and trash the house".  But I'm guessing that's too much to put on a facebook status.  See, the thing is, I get date night.  And I get it with different people.  Don't like Friday date night?  No problem!  Saturday's a different date!  Enjoyed Friday's?  Great!  Let's book it again for next weekend!  The best part is that I don't even feel like I'm escaping when I do it.  That's what a date actually is.  Now, before you start to get all pissy about this, just remember - you get the holidays with a standing date for all work functions, someone to snuggle you whenever you want it, and if you're very lucky, someone to make the coffee in the morning.  If you're me - you have a Keurig so you get coffee in about 30 seconds and don't give a rat's ass about the other stuff.

Prozac all around!

I just heard that some woman broke in line at a drive thru window, was refused service for her bad actions, then decided she did not have to move her car when asked by the restaurant staff to do so.  The authorities were called and as a result this woman was tasered.   Had to be physically hit with a stun gun because she wanted her Big Mac and fries so much that she broke the rule everyone else learned in first grade (remember no frontsies, no backsies?) and then refused to leave when asked by the management at the place.  What on earth gives her the right to 1. treat the other patrons like that and 2. treat the people working there like that?  Does she think her need for some McNuggets outweighs everybody else's?  I don't care if you've got an entire busload of kids screaming in the back you do not get to jump in the middle of a drive thru.  That's not even an accidental happening.  

So, after hearing about this (and being completely appalled) I have decided an appropriate solution is to begin placing inhaled Prozac in public air fresheners.  They will be in every public building.   Most places have that crap anyway so why not put a little help for the people in them?  They don't even have to be changed out to a fresh scent because after the scent runs out - no one will even care!  That's the beauty of it.  Within 10 years I think they should be required for all homes being built as part of code standards.  This way by time all these kids we've massively screwed up today with the idea that everybody wins, every one's special, no one should fail even if you don't try, get to be parents everybody will be permanently happy.  

Think about it.  If that crazy drive thru lady had been on appropriate medication then when she saw how long the line was she would have asked to jump ahead.  And since no one behind her would have cared (cause they're all high on Prozac too) she would have slid in line, gotten her food and gone home.  No need for all that childish nonsense she was causing for some McRib.  

Did I shave my legs for this?

Okay, so we all know I'm single and out there dating. I have pretty much perfected the art of being alone. I usually prefer it. I can eat at a restaurant alone, shop alone, and know who to call when something is leaking in my house. But I thought I'd jot down some moments of dating horror for those times when I wonder, "Do I want a husband?" Cause based on these experiences, it's not worth the pain in my butt to get one. I'm seriously going to start asking for a resume prior to meeting someone. And maybe have them send me an online video.

1. There was the guy that described himself as an "Anderson Cooper" lookalike. That was code for gray hair. He was twittery, jerky and so freaking twitchy that I thought he might have a seizure right then and there. And me being the idiot (and nice gal that I am), I thought maybe he was just really nervous and agreed to see him a second time. We had nothing in common, met at a small pub at dinner that didn't serve food (but lots of beer), and after I explained that I'm not big on PDA he moved in for some smooching. Ick, ick, ick. I remember actually threw my hand up and said something along the lines of, "Yeah, I don't do that." LOL

2. Then there was the guy that told me all about his recent brief admission to the hospital for an anxiety attack. First of all, I was raised in a household that doesn't even believe in that. Show up with a real problem. My medical part knows that they do exist but my mother's voice of, "come to me when there's blood gushing or bones protruding" still rings true in my mind. The sad part is that this guy was actually easy to talk to and I may have been able to forgive him the anxiety attack talk (on the first date I might add) but clearly, I was too weird for him to even consider. It makes me wonder how weird I must be for anxiety attack guy to not want to call me again. I'm mostly mad because I wasted my best hospital face on him. I even made appropriate soothing nursey noises. Massive eye roll.

3. There was once a guy that I had NO intention of dating but my newly wed friends really thought I should go out with. They were in the throes of bliss and felt everyone needed a mate to be complete. (snort of cough to cover up the bullshit). They didn't care that this guy is only about 3 years younger than my mom and has kids closer to my age than I am to his. They also didn't care that I thought he was a racist, bore, and only put up with him because I liked his kids. At the last minute my so called "friends" bailed on our group dinner and I was forced to listen to him rant about those "damn Mexicans", that he couldn't believe how long the wait was(on a Friday night - idiot), and then proceed to tell me that I didn't know the way to get back to my own apartment. Ugh. In fact, double UGH.

4. And last but not least, my latest in a long string of reasons why I'm okay with not dating: today's adventure. So I agree to meet this guy at a local coffeeshop. I've seen a picture and he describes himself as average. I also describe myself as average but I should mention that I have a goal of running a 1/2 marathon one day. This guy shows up and hasn't run for anything except doughnuts. Well, that's being harsh. Let's just say that a man's definition of average and a woman's definition of average are two very different things. He also felt the need to mention that he thought it was truly sad that I've never smoked pot. Really? The first time I've ever met you and we're going to talk about pot? Or the fact that when you settled down and got your first real job less than 10 years ago the thing you found most bothersome was that you had to quit firing up a doobie whenever you wanted?

Once again, folks, if that's what's out there then leave me inside.

Running

Ahhh, yes. You read the title of this one correctly. My somewhat bigger than average rump is now running. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. It's more like a fast walk/jog/attempt to remember to keep breathing sort of thing. I have left the state of Oklahoma (where I knew a total of 4 avid runners) and am now in Nashville, TN. There's a LOT more running fools here. I go to a trail to run and let me tell you - it's always crowded. However, there's a wide variety of people there.

1. First of all, you've got your typical runner. I like these people. They are clearly the professional runners. The women run in sports bras and running shorts and they are extremely fit. The men are running shirtless, God bless'em cause they look great. They have miniature computers for watches and are usually on mile 15 when they pass me. For the second time.

2. Next, you have the mom runners. They are the social group. I know they really believe they are working hard but they aren't even breaking a sweat as they push their strollers, sip their overpriced waters, and gossip with their girlfriends. As a side note, they tend to take up the walking space with their overpriced strollers. However, since they are one of the few groups I can run faster than, I don't complain much.

3. Then you have the really, really beginners. I am no longer in this group. I'm not sure how I advanced out of this group except that I have a proper sports bra and the women here do not. They make me want to stop them and beg them to go to a specialty store and get something to hold the gals in place better. I have these terrible visions of the headlines, "Woman falls after breasts trip her. States, 'No one told me this could happen!' "

4. And those paved paths through the woods are too tempting for the bicyclists that ignore the signs for no speeding. They are the reason my music is very low. Unfortunately, I don't usually hear them over my breathing but I stick to the side as much as possible and have yet to be run over. I sense my day is coming. Or they may be tripped by someone's loose breast (see group 3)

5. And then my favorite - the business walker. I don't really know what the hell that person is doing out there. They are dressed appropriately but are actually having a business meeting on a Blackberry while on the trail. Makeup still completely intact, hair unmussed. Basically just taking up room.

And then there's little ole me. I'm the one, huffing along at a snail's pace. I'm actually considering getting a shirt with the letters DNR printed on the front and back so if I do collapse and some good Samaritan calls the paramedics they will know just to bury me and not to resuscitate me. My face is beet red, sweat is dripping and by time I'm done it appears I've done a marathon. Or a half marathon. How far did I go? 3 whole miles. On a good day. And I'm pretty damn proud of it.

Christmas, part 2

Making my way through the airport, looking for a Starbucks, desperately needing a little caffeine fix, my phone rings. It's my sister. She's always concerned that my plane will crash and she won't know even though I've tried to tell her that my absence should make it obvious that something has happened. So, I answer the phone and this time it's not about me. She's telling me that my mom has been in an accident but not to worry, she's fine. You know, I appreciate the call, but I don't know if I want to know about a could have been a serious car accident just before I ingest a shitload of caffeine on an empty stomach and then navigate my way through Nashville. Why do people do that? Hey, mom's been in an accident, I know you're still 2 hours from home, but she's fine. Well, thank God she's fine. What the hell would I have done if she'd been in ICU? Not like I could have gotten there any faster.

So, anyway, our real Christmas gift was that the dumb ass that was texting while driving and ran a red light, clipped a car and then t-boned my mother only managed to do damage to the car. : )

But still. I get home, jittery from too much caffeine and too little food and my sister sees me and says, "Wow. Your hair is really dark." Ummm, it's the same color it always is. What kills me is that there's no effort to even put a compliment in there. Although if her filter is as bad as mine she probably said that to avoid what she was really thinking which was, "Damn. Your ass got so big."

During our annual Dirty Santa game my brother and his wife have brought their gifts. They've been pretty busy with my 6 month old nephew and they do tend to procrastinate so their gifts were unusual. They brought liquor (no doubt regifted from my brother's work party - no objections from us though) and a framed picture of my nephew. Well, of course we all oooed and aaawed over the picture of the baby. Immediately it gets "stolen" then "stolen" again. My mom ended up with it. My sister-in-law is crushed. She said she didn't actually think she'd have to part with it. Seriously? It's Dirty Santa. And we play very, very dirty. It's not even her first Christmas with us. It's like her 3rd or 4th. So for her to think she can waltz in with a picture of her son and it NOT get stolen, well, she must be smoking something. Next time, try shopping and get some cheapass gift card. Like I did.

Christmas, part 1

So, I flew home for Christmas. It's cheaper to fly home on Christmas Eve. So you can bet your bottom dollar that was the day I flew home. Even though my mother was somewhat worried I wouldn't make it in time for family "traditional" time at 6 or so. My plane was scheduled to land at noon. It was a 2 hour drive from the airport. I was fairly certain I was going to make it.

By now, everyone knows (or actually not everyone, but the one person who follows this page and all of my friends I've whined to) that I hate people. And crowds. And loud children. And fat old women who bathe in their perfume. Sigh. I'm really just not a nice person. I admit it, which is big of me, but really, I just don't do well with all of these things. Needless to say, an airport is just ripe to put me in a bad mood. But, it's Christmas, so in the spirit of things, I have decided to be nice and show some Christmas cheer. Or at least look forward to a good drink when I get home.

I get on the airplane. I should mention that I fly Southwest. They are the only airline that doesn't charge for your bags. I feel that if I'm paying that much for freaking travel then I should not have to pay for my luggage to also arrive with me. I have paid my extra $10 so I am in the first boarding group which is a priority for me. I like to sit in the middle to front of the plane and on the aisle. If I have to make a connecting flight I want to sit in the front. When I get on the plane there are already at least 20+ people on board. My guess is that they were from an earlier flight that was just passing through and didn't have to deplane. Okay. So I find a seat, on the aisle, in the middle. So far, so good. No overlarge people sit beside me, no screaming babies. Yes! I have achieved flight perfection!

Plane lands and I don't have to deplane. I am perfectly satisfied with my seat so I don't move when the opportunity presents itself. However, a woman with a 2 year old boards and sits a few rows ahead of me. Then the crying begins. As I'm digging in my bag for my ipod a couple get on the plane and sit down in the row across from me. Then I hear a yipping sound. Yep. They have a dog. A long haired dachshund. I like dogs and I feel sorry for this one. I don't really want to hear one bark for an hour while I'm on a plane though. Then the most shocking thing happens. I look over and the woman with the dog has gotten it out of the carrier and has placed it on her lap. I am not an expert on airplane rules but I'm pretty sure this is breaking all kinds of flight regulations. An animal on the plane that is not secured? What if someone has allergies? What if the dog gets down? What if he bites someone? No one said a word though. I'm wondering how much that ticket cost.

Meanwhile, the child up front is shrieking, crying, and making all kinds of noise indicating that she is being tortured right in front of our very eyes. Ahh, thank god for ipods. When the plane lands I notice that the mommy of the screaming child has every protruding part of her face pierced. I wondered if that's why the kid was screaming; perhaps they'd been piercing the baby in flight to match mommy.

Wal-Mart Madness

I would like to start by saying that I do not enjoy shopping at Wal-mart. Not because it's a monoply or has completely eliminated the mom and pop stores. I would normally love the convenience of being able to purchase groceries while getting the oil changed on my car and swing by to pick up shampoo. The reason I hate Wal-mart is because unless I go at the crack of dawn on Sunday I will not be able to be a happy shopper. Here's how my latest trip went.

I put off the shopping over the weekend for no good reason. As a result, I was stuck visiting the "redneck playworld" during a busy time. I went after work. I didn't go directly work for fear of running into lots of other people doing the same thing. I went around 7 pm. It wasn't overly crowded so I got a decent parking place (yay). I get my shopping cart and after a few feet notice that it has a distinct "harump" to it as I push it. So I turn around and put it back so I can get a quieter cart that doesn't talk to me as I push it. I get about 15 feet with this one when it also has a noticible "harump" as I push it. Sigh. I opt not to turn around and continue with my shopping.

As I cruise the aisles I notice there's a ton of people there. I'm guessing most people don't set an alarm for Sunday morning like I do for the sole purpose of shopping at Wal-mart. The best part about the people is that this is clearly social hour for the community of Lawton. Everyone has stopped in the middle of the aisle and is chatting. Really? I just want to get through so I can go home. I am also convinced that there are secret air fresheners that squirt something in the air to make you purchase unneeded items. I found myself admiring grills once. Ummm, I live in an apartment with no backyard and I'm pretty sure the fire marshall won't let me play with fire. Especially if he ever saw me cook on a stove. So I'm in a hurry to get out of the store.

I haven't even mentioned the children running around. Wow. They are everywhere. Grabbing things, yelling, stomping, opening things. One kid kept yelling, "I want the yellow one! I want the yellow one!" I really wanted to find something yellow just to shut him up.

My nerves shot, hands shaking, I continue on my way. As I shop for some baked/low fat chips to munch on for lunch I notice that Lawton has been attacked by locusts. The chip aisle is pretty much bare. I am in awe. Are we under a snow storm that I didn't hear about? The high today was 87 degrees, but you never know. However, I did find a multipack of baked chips that I love to bring to lunch with me. In fact, the baked chips were the only things left on the shelves. I'm thinking I have solved the obesity problem in Lawton.

Ahhhh, now to check out. I have made it unscathed and there are no extra things in my cart. Well, maybe some chocolate. But I needed that after shopping during rush hour. I get to the front where there are about 75 registers. Unfortunately for me there are only about 5 cashiers working and I have squeaked by the "15 items or less" lane. So I wait. And wait. And wait a bit more. By time I'm done I've practically memorized the recipe for a chocolate cake that was in a magazine by the register. But I've learned my lesson. I will be at Wal-mart bright and early next weekend. This madness was not worth avoiding the weekend shopping.