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Archive for the ‘Rants’ Category

Well, I hope you guys are happy!

You always push and whine until you get your way and then you thumb your noses at those of us who see things differently.  And then, to make things worse, we have to listen to you gloat for almost eight months!

Yes, as you’ve probably already guessed, it’s time for my yearly rant against your stupid Daylight Saving time!

Every year you insist on going against Nature and the natural order of things and you monkey with the clocks.  Only in my house it isn’t just normal clocks.  It’s also a collection of watches, a stove clock, microwave clock, coffeemaker clock, two digital recorder clocks, three TV clocks, a burglar alarm clock and…the one I always forget…my car clock!  And why?  So you can have more hours of daylight at night! Ridiculous!

What about the word “night” don’t you understand?  Under normal circumstances we already have daylight coming out the ying-yang!  Most of our life takes place in daylight, while a large percentage of night goes by while we’re sleeping. That should be enough for you.

Needless to say I, personally, prefer the night. I love it when darkness falls, the moon rises and the sky is filled with a host of twinkling stars.  The night is mystery.  The night is enchantment and romance.  The night is peaceful and filled with potential.

The day, on the other hand, is sunburns.  The day is noise and traffic.  The day is sun beating down on the top of your head and nearly blinding you.  The dayis babies with poopy diapers.  (Okay!  I just threw that last one in, but you get my point!)

So, anyway, you win again.  We’ve lost a precious hour of time and we won’t get it back until the first Sunday in November.  November!  It’s so unfair!

But seeing how I’m in the minority with these feelings, I guess I’ll just have to wait until late, late in the night, gather up my moon and my stars and have myself a good old healthy pout!  So go ahead!  Enjoy your stupid old Daylight Saving Time!

I know I won’t.  😦

 

 

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The world is so full of inexplicable things that I thought I’d throw a few questions I have out here and see if any of you faithful readers have the answers.  Okay, here goes:

1) Why doesn’t anyone sell a condiment that is a mixture of mustard and ketchup?  I love putting both of those on my burgers and  it’s a hassle having to drag both of them out of the refrigerator to do so.  If someone made them pre-mixed in a bottle I’d gladly buy it.  This is such a good idea that I can’t figure out why someone hasn’t already invented it!

2) There’s a new commercial out (I think it’s for Safeco Insurance, but I can’t swear to it,) where about five different people, men and women, kick a poor guy hard between the legs.  The first time I saw it, I simply couldn’t believe it.  It’s actually painful to watch.  Why on earth would someone make a commercial like that to sell something?

3) Why in the world has the show “Dancing With The Stars” asked Christine O’Donnell to participate?  Witch or not, I don’t really consider her to be a “star,” and have no interest whatsoever in watching her.  Didn’t they learn anything with Bristol Palin?

4) Why oh why can’t Charlie Sheen just go away and never let us hear from him again?  Not a day goes by that he doesn’t shoot off his big arrogant mouth again.  And it’s like he’s deliberately trying to offend every person he works with and every group he can think of.  He keeps defending himself by saying, “My fans will stand behind me.”  What fans?

5) Why would you do a commercial for a medicine which is accompanied by the warning, “Discontinue if you experience vomiting, hives, dizziness, nausea, blurred vision, sleeplessness, skin eruptions, sores in your mouth or thoughts of suicide?” I mean, I don’t care WHAT’S wrong with you, do you really want to add that lovely menu of side effects to the mix?  Craziness!

6) Finally, and this is one I’ve been giving quite a bit of thought to – Why does the word “Wednesday” have two “d’s” in it?  Why isn’t it “Wensday?”  No one pronounces the first one.  Why not drop it?  Doesn’t that make a whole lot more sense?  Surely people have realized that by now, so why hasn’t it been changed?  If they can kick Pluto off from being a planet, surely they can correct this spelling.  (Oh, and for those of you reading this who are too young to remember the show “The Addams Family,” that’s their daughter, Wednesday, in the photo.)

Okay, let me know if you have any answers.  Meanwhile, have a great Wensday and Thursday!  Ha. Ha.

 

 

P.S. Since I wrote this “Dancing With The Stars” announced their lineup and O’Donnell isn’t on it, thank goodness!  Not many “stars” are, either!

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Foreign Instructions

Don’t you just love it when you have to put something together and the directions have been written by someone who is obviously not an English speaker?  And when I say “love it,” I mean “hate it!”  I can’t tell you the hours of my life I have wasted assembling something, trying to understand what was actually meant by the writer of the instructions.

I had another great experience not long ago.  Due to the fact that I had an unfortunate accident of the glass-breaking type, I had to order another mist fountain for my bedroom.  When it arrived, I should have known there would be problems when I saw the front of the instruction sheet.

“Three Leg Fog Spring Light?”  What’s a three leg fog?  (Just kidding.)  Anyway, it’s just  a simple mist fountain, people!  And what’s with the schmaltzy-looking flowers that have been attached?  There are no such flowers (and I wouldn’t want any!)

Fortunately, I’ve put one of these together before so I didn’t really need the instructions.  But number 5 was so priceless that I just had to share it with you.  I’ll record it here just as it was written, misspellings and all.

“5.  Add pure water without alkalescence and without fatness to sprayer black senser,  3 cm high.

(Caution: water lever too high will make spraying effect not good, too low will make spraying failed.”

Hmm.  Now I’m wondering where one gets fat water or, heaven forbid, water with alkalescence, whatever that is.  At any rate, you’ll be glad to know that I got the whole thing up and running and I did not “make spraying failed!”

But, seriously, how much would it cost to hire an English proofreader for this stuff?  Huh?  Not all that much I’d think, but then, that’s just me.

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My nerves aren’t great in the best of times.  And, believe me, these aren’t the best of times.  We’re reaching that point in the winter when I start to get an overwhelming urge to bitch-slap people who annoy me.  Scary, but true.

It’s not as if we’re having snow all the time, but more that the damned weather people are always threatening snow, which is almost worse.  I’ll make plans for the next day and then hear the weather guy saying  there’s a chance of a “snow burst” or freezing sleet tomorrow.  It’s just enough to make me feel tense.

But I think the worse part of it is the constant below-freezing temperatures .  That’s what’s really starting to get to me.  It’s like being trapped in a deep freeze.  I miss spending time outside.  I miss the birds and their singing.  I miss studying the critters, four-legged and insectoid around my house.  I miss my beloved big white puffy clouds, in which I so delight in finding shapes.  And my balcony!  My lovely ten foot by twenty-foot balcony where I spend so much time in spring, summer and fall!  I miss my balcony!  I can’t even sneak out there for a minute, due to huge dollops of snow and ice which cover the floor.

No, when I’m home, I’m a prisoner in my own house! And when I go out, I’m slapped in the face by frigid winds or nearly killed by slippery roads.  Even though my sidewalks are cleared, I have to put on boots to get the morning paper every single morning. Why?  Because my paper man throws like a girl!  No, I take that back.  I’m a girl and I could throw a hell of a lot harder than he does.  One hard throw downhill from the street would send the paper right to my front door.  As it is, he lands it right in the middle of the yard, where the snow comes practically to my knees!  And thus, my Winter Bitch emerges…

I can’t really help it, you know.  Could the Incredible Hulk help it?  Can a werewolf help it?  Of course not!  Circumstances beyond my control push me to the point where my tongue becomes sharper than a Ginsu knife.  I walk into a restaurant for lunch with a friend and when the hostess looks at just the two of us standing there and asks, “Two?” I frown, look puzzled, turn to my friend and ask, “You’re not pregnant, are you?” and then turn back and say, “Yes, just TWO.” 

And when a telemarketer calls and asks, “Is this a good time?” I’ll usually respond, “we’re in the middle of a funeral here, but what do you need?”

This time of year makes me surly.  I have no tolerance for stupidity.  Stir in double vision and a mouth still sore from oral surgery and LOOK OUT!  It’s times like these when I really wish I had one of those professional punching bags because I’d be giving that baby a work out!  (And no, Charles, I don’t want to go to a gym.  Too many innocent lives would be at stake!) The Winter Bitch isn’t all that fond of people…especially stinky sweaty ones in work-out clothes.

No, I’ll try to keep her contained, as best I can until spring.  But between now and then, I desperately hope that no one crosses me because I can’t be held responsible for the results.  As it is, I’m thinking of making a big pile of snowballs tomorrow morning and just waiting there on my front porch.  When the paper man drives up, I’ll be standing there with my hands full, yelling, (in my very best Dirty Harry voice,) “Go ahead and throw it, punk!  MAKE MY DAY!”

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My Weather Moods

As I’m writing this, I can just feel a bad “weather mood” trying to sneak up on me.  I don’t even have to go outside to know.  There is blinding sunlight illuminating my entire  living room, to the point where I almost need sunglasses inside.  If one didn’t know better, one would assume that it’s like Miami Beach outside.  But it isn’t.  It’s 20 frigid degrees! And the reason things are so bright is that the sun is being reflected off all the snow covering the ground.  I hate days like this.  It’s as if the sun is mocking me.  When it’s this cold, I want the sky to match. Give me some clouds.  Give me some overcast.  Don’t try to blind me with your fake “summer lighting.”  It’s just not right.

I don’t know if weather affects everyone like this or not.  But I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t weather-sensitive.  I don’t mean I get crazy or lose my mind or anything, but I AM always affected by conditions outside, whatever they may be.

It’s like a few weeks ago when I was doing a long list of errands.  I was walking through the parking lot on my way into the grocery store and the temperature was in the teens.  It was dark and gloomy and a light sleet was coming down.  Now if that were all, I would have said, “Okay, it’s winter.  What do you expect?”  But right then, to add insult to injury, gale-force winds began to blow, making my hair stand on end and slapping that sleet right into my face!  I recall yelling something like, “Oh, come ON!” as I rushed into the store.  Weather is like that, you know.  It can can get nasty…on purpose.

But it’s not just a case of whether or it’s sunny or raining or snowing.  It’s the whole atmosphere that’s created that can get under my skin or conversely, make my day.  Give me a day when it’s warm and balmy, with hardly a breeze and a big blue sky with giant puffy white clouds and I’m in heaven.  Days like that give me such a sense of well-being.  On the other hand, days like today, with that glaring sun beating down on the snow, well, they just piss me off.

I have a close friend, Rose, who loves gloomy days when the skies are overcast and it’s raining or at least threatening to rain.  She says they make her want to hide away and cuddle up with a book and a warm drink.  I can totally understand that.  I like moody days like that, too, especially in the Fall with the sound of geese honking overhead.

Weather provides the backdrop to our lives and, as such, should know its place.  The sun should learn how to share the sky with the clouds and stop being such a show-off.  The wind should be kept on a very short leash and learn to curb its destructive tendencies.  Snow should learn just when to quit. (After awhile, Snow, you stop being pretty and just start looking cheap and dirty!) And rain, although welcome, should never overstay its visit.

It would be so nice if the elements would cooperate with me, but alas, I know it’s not to be.  They’ll just continue to mold me to their will.  I’m the one who will always have to yield.  And with that said, you’ll have to excuse me.  I’m going to go close the damned blinds before I get sunburned!

 

 

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An Unwelcome Gift

So there I was, taking a card out to my mailbox, scurrying along because the temperature was only 24 degrees.  On my way back toward the house, I noticed the earth seemed to be disturbed in front of my porch.  I slowed down and took a good close look.  What was it?  And then I KNEW…

MY ARCH-NEMESIS, THE MOLE FROM HELL!

I couldn’t get a picture to show how tall the mounds of earth were, short of getting on my stomach on the cold concrete sidewalk, but trust me, he tore up quite a bit of the earth!  He did this under the snow, when I thought the earth was frozen stiff.  Those of you who have been regular readers of this blog know that I had a running battle with this mole all summer long.  And yes, this is the same mole. Don’t ask me how I know.  I just do. It is The Demon Mole that will never die.

At any rate, you’ve heard the phrase, “seeing red?”  Well, when I saw these mole mounds, I virtually saw red!  I stepped into my foyer, grabbed my rubber mallet from the front closet where I keep it for situations just like this, and stormed back out, no time for gloves or scarf.  I began to pound down each and every mound with all my strength.  Yes, I know.  The neighbors probably looked out and said, “She’s at it again.”  But I don’t care.  This was really too much! I pounded and pounded until my fingers were so stiff with cold that I was afraid they’d drop off.

But that’s not the worst of it.  Three hours later I happened to look out and he had pushed two of the mounds back up again! Can you believe that?  The war was on!  Naturally, I pounded them back again.  You think he’d realize by now that he cannot beat me. Funny, I thought this battle was over, at least until summer returns, but obviously I was wrong.

So okay.  Two can play this game.  I have a little gift for him. I have a couple of long sticks of dynamite I’m going to stick down into his tunnel and light. It will be just like in the cartoons.  He’ll come bursting up on a geyser of dirt, looking  terrified.  Then we’ll see who’s laughing.

Merry Christmas, Mole,

Love,

 

 

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The Illusion of Safety

I’m writing this a little bit after the fact, but it’s one of those news stories I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

In my city about a week ago at night, a man’s old van broke down on the side of the road, booming out backfires.  He got out quickly, fearing it would catch fire.

At that moment two police officers zoomed up, mistaking the van’s backfires for gunshots and immediately opened fire on the van.  The man who owned the van was standing there with his hands straight up, yelling that he wasn’t shooting at them, but they couldn’t hear him.  Besides the damage to the man’s van, the windows of the patrol car were also shot out by the officers as they were getting out.

Thank God the man was not injured.  The two officers have been put on administrative leave, pending an investigation.

So, what’s wrong with this picture?  In my mind…everything.

The idea that we have two officers who either thought they were some kind of action heroes or else so jumpy that they decided to shoot first and ask questions later, makes me feel very uncomfortable.  Apparently they took no time to assess the situation, namely, that the man was standing with his hands up, no gun in sight,  and that despite the loud noises from the van, no bullets were hitting their unit.  By reacting as if they were in the Valentine’s Day Massacre, they could have endangered any number of innocent bystanders with their flying bullets, not to mention hitting the guy standing there.  It’s embarrassing, and not a little scary.

I come from a police family, so I’m well aware of how a policeman puts his life on the line every time he answers a call.  And there are times he has to make snap judgments.  But, shooting out their own windows?  To me that suggests an zealousness to discharge their weapons that verges on dangerous!

The F.B.I. has a training exercise for recruits called Hogan’s Alley, in which the agents have to walk simulated darkened streets and react to things that suddenly pop up or appear in front of them.  At the end of it they find out how many innocent people they shot and whether or not the bad guy got them.  The goal is to hone their analytical skills under pressure.  Maybe we need something like that for our newer policemen.

And in this case I really feel for the victim.  I mean, is the city going to pay to repair all of the bullet holes in his van ?  They should.  The poor guy was really shook up, as well he should be, standing in the line of fire like that when his only crime was having a van that was experiencing a fart-attack.

So anyway, am I supposed to sleep easy now, knowing excitable cops like these are patrolling our streets?  I’m thinking…not so much.

 

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