November Blog Series: Day 16

Tuesday. Day sixteen. This day is draaaaaaaggiiinnng.

Sitting here staring at the screen. Have I mentioned how much of a pain in the butt this is? I’m bored out of my mind today. Waiting on some other things to come together before I complete some pending projects. **sigh** I hate waiting. I’m impatient! I demand instant gratification!

Yeah, dream on.

I mean, c’mon! I’m even sitting in my home away from home (coffee house)! I blame the aroma. It’s making me loopy instead of inspiring me to write. Though honestly, I’m at a standstill with my writing until I know which way the story is headed. I’ve completely betrayed my outline. It now exists for my entertainment only. I look at it from time to time so it doesn’t feel lonely intermixed with all of the completed chapters.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah…

That’s about all that’s in my head at the moment.

I am, however, enjoying the interesting pitch and cadence of “valley girl speak” by a couple of girls near me. I’ve completely lost count of the “totallys” and “likes”.

Like, totally.

Speaking of ‘dumb’, did you know that the majority of college students nowadays don’t even know how to write in cursive? WTF? Not kidding. What is America coming to that its young people don’t even know how to write their signatures? Evidently, the art of cursive writing is being rendered obsolete. And since everything in the mainstream has been reduced to sound bites and blurbs, I guess it makes sense that basic grammar and writing skills are being affected.

Like, OMG!

Ey’thg is GR8, tho! So much cooler 2 type this way! IDK. Not! MMWTBMFBO!

(Confused? Thought you might be. That last one is the representation for ‘makes me want to blow my freakin’ brains out’)

Know what I wanna do right now? Stand up in the middle of this place and suddenly let out a loud, blood-curdling scream at the top of my lungs. Think that would get anyone’s attention? The management may or may not find it amusing…while they call the authorities…who then proceed to load me up and take to the psych ward.

I may just go willingly. Might find some things to blog about.

I shouldn’t joke about things like that. Some days I feel like I have a few screws loose. Today is one of them. I’m restless. Anxious. Feeling the pressure about some decisions looming in the near future. Like, at the end of this week. I think my mind and body must be preparing for the stress I know is going to seep in.

My adrenaline is literally surging superfast through my veins. My hands are nearly shaking as I type this (not to mention I’m typing much faster than usual). I feel like I could sprint up and down the freeway and not lose any physical momentum. What’s up with that, Pike? I’ve only had one tall latte (with a shot of white mocha, of course).

Think I’ll go for a drive in my new car. I know there must be some roads in this county that I haven’t driven in the last five days.

Geez, I’m reaching. Blowing this popsicle stand before I lose it any further.

Talk 2 u L8R, peeps.

Like, for reals!

November Blog Series: Day 2

It is officially day two of my writing challenge. Today is voting day for mid-term elections. I thought at first that I might write about politics, but in my fit of passion for that topic, I would likely end up giving myself an aneurysm.

However, get out there and do your civic duty, people! You have no grounds to complain if you don’t use your voice and make an effort regarding who actually ends up leading our states and this nation. And that is all I will say about it today.

I think I will write about bad drivers.

I am not one.

There’s a quote I think about often: “God must love stupid people, because He made so many of them.” This saying is only solidified and rings loudly true when I get behind the wheel and brave the traffic. It takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round. And on the highway of life’s journey there are a select few who have successfully managed to lower the IQ of the entire human race. These people will undoubtedly end up forcing us to return to the days of cave dwelling.

In short, here is an inventory of the most common types of bad drivers and situations. Or, at least the bad drivers and situations that most commonly irritate me:

1. Do not tail my bumper so closely that I can count your teeth or see the color of your eyes. And rest assured if I have to slam on my brakes, you WILL be buying a Ford.
2. Ladies, stop putting on your makeup while you drive. Really? Can you not get up an extra ten or twenty minutes earlier to apply it in the confined safety of your non-moving home? When I hear stories about women showing up in the ER with a mascara wand embedded in their eye socket, I have a little bit of trouble mustering up any sympathy for them.
3. Texting. **sigh** I think I will reserve this subject for an entire blog in itself. But in a nutshell, STOP TEXTING AND DRIVING! Unless you’re an octopus and have eight arms with which to multi-task, you do not need the distraction of trying to juggle your cell phone while attempting to concentrate on the road. And last I checked, the DMV doesn’t issue licenses to octopuses anyway.
4. If you are going to drive under the speed limit, please please please stay in the right hand lane. It is the courteous thing to do if you are driving 30 mph while every other car on the road is driving 70 mph. Seriously.
5. I’ve pulled trailers before, so I understand the difficulty in having to compensate for the careful maneuvering required to keep your load (and your vehicle) intact. I respect you. I do. But, you do not own the road. Pay careful mind to the cars around you who don’t weigh a combined three+ tons. We have a right to be there, too. Same rules apply to the big rigs. Don’t be a jackass.
6. Learn the all-important fluids that are necessary to make your engine run smoothly and your vehicle function safely. And I’m convinced there must’ve been a sudden inflation hike on blinker fluid, because a lot of you seem to be running low on it.
7. Do not slow down at a green light. “Green” means “go”. If you need help finding the gas pedal, it’s that thing down there to the right of the brake.
8. Thugs, please turn down your music. I really don’t want to hear you bassin’ about ‘someone bussin’ a cap in yo ass’ or whatever other gangsta beat may be flowing from your speakers. I love music. I love to jam, too. But I do not love being distracted by it while operating a vehicle. I will be more than happy to convey this to you in sign language, as the likelihood of you being hearing-impaired is highly probable in this scenario.
9. Attention: habitual lane changers. Never mind… I’m not even sure where to begin.
10. Smokers and litterbugs: I cannot gather enough derogatory words or comments concerning the two of you. Well, I can, but I’m really trying to keep this PG-13. I will never understand, or tolerate, your disgusting habit. Keep your cigarette butts and trash in the car. There are two very useful inventions that will come in handy for you – the ashtray and the trash bag. Use them.
11. Hey, you guys, you know that red, octagonal sign with the white lettering that reads, “STOP”? Guess what? That’s what it means! For real! Not, “pause” or “coast” or “roll right on through”. The word “stop” was the most efficient, abrupt phrase that would fit on the sign while simultaneously conveying a very specific instruction. It’s there for a reason. Can’t read it? Then you shouldn’t be driving.
12. Cyclists: all of the traffic laws apply to you, too. Just because you’re on two wheels instead of four does not mean you get to choose to obey only half of the laws. And when you zoom by me on the sidewalk and nearly knock me down, I will make it my mission to identify you, hide behind the nearest bush/tree/building, and clothesline you.
13. Wear your seatbelt. I do realize that the gene pool needs a good cleansing every once in a while. If you choose not to buckle up, then chances are you will eventually find yourself circling the drain…drowning in your own ignorance…suffocated by the potent aroma of bleach.

I’m sure there are more that belong on the list, but my brain can’t conjure them up at the moment. I probably should have gone with my first instinct to write about politics. About to hit the road to run some errands. I will try and avoid the traffic around the polling areas. I know for certain there are plenty of sheep, er, idiots...I mean, people there.

Oh, the stress. I can feel my arteries bulging already.

Witchy Woman

Today is Wednesday. Soapbox Wednesday. I haven’t had a good rant in a while, so I figured with it being “hump day” I would hump out some things that are bugging me.

And yes, these issues are minor, mind you, but I need to vent about them nonetheless.

First, there comes a time in each adult’s life where they need to stop dressing up for Halloween merely for the sake of going door-to-door to get candy. I could be wrong...no, I'm not...but that seems a little pathetic. What’s even worse is when they venture out sans costume, carrying a plastic bag.

Really?

Really???

If it weren’t for the innocent kids trekking through the neighborhoods (sometimes with them), I would pelt ‘em with candy corn, and then soak ‘em with a blast from the water hose. Yeah, you know who you are. If you’re that desperate for candy, my advice is to hop on over to Wally World and buy a few packages of those orange circus peanuts and gummy worms for 50 cents each.

On that note, if you are going to dress up, for Pete’s sake be creative. I know there are plenty of parties where dressing up to look like a Catholic schoolgirl or a seductive kitten is sexy, but leave some things to the imagination. Or at least, cover it up while you’re in public as you make your way from one rave to the next. Better yet, save those costumes specifically for your man. I guarantee you he will be more than happy to help you test out the strength of the material’s seams.

But, alas, sex sells.

Several years ago, I attended a Halloween party with a friend, in which several of us (including me) entered a costume contest. I wasn’t really dressed to compete, but since the grand prize was a $200 Visa gift card, I figured, “what the heck”. Know who won? A girl wearing a towel. That’s it. (Well, maybe a thong to cover up her “goodies”, but I wasn’t straining to see anything.) She was dressed up like she was “fresh out of the shower”. The panel of judges consisted entirely of men.

I swear I am not a sore loser by any means, but…yeah…will refrain from elaborating any more on that subject.

Maybe I’m old school, but I think the idea of dressing up (speaking of adults here) should be to emulate some sort of disguise. In years past, when I haven’t been too lazy to come up with a costume (or rather, had a reason to wear one), I’ve always dressed up to the point where someone will have to stop and look at me for a second, thinking who is that? I love getting into character – clothing, face paint, hair, and attitude – the whole nine yards. It’s fun. I do it to break out of my shell for an evening. Not for the candy.

Maybe this makes me sound like a “witch”, but it feels refreshing to fuss for a few moments. **echoing cackle**

Second, I am torn between being upset with my church at the moment, and resolving to just accept the decisions being made and keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I feel like it would serve me well to carry around a tiny saltshaker to add some flavor to my shoe.

But, since I’m on a roll and can’t very well squish all of the worms back into the can, here goes…

My church is hosting an annual Halloween Carnival this coming Saturday. Although, it’s simply called a “Fall Carnival” so as not to include any negative connotations that may be associated with the word “Halloween”. There will be food, fun, games, a cakewalk and face painting (by yours truly), etc. Sounds fun, right?

Yeah.

Except for one, really big factor.

Supposedly, the kids are being discouraged from dressing up. Why? These are mostly country kids, folks. They don’t get the opportunity to go door-to-door very often during this season. (The majority of the neighbors in that area are more than walking distance apart.) Let them dress up! What are the ‘squelchers-of-fun’ afraid of? That some kid might wear a “blood and guts” costume? Or dress up as a creature of the night? Just because a kid is wearing a vampire costume does not mean he’s going to hijack mom’s minivan and go on a biting rampage after everyone else has gone to bed. I mean, come on! Those kids aren’t interpreting the “Carnival” as a means to let their lunatic streak out of the bag. They see it as a chance to dress up, play with other kids, and get sweet treats.

Next thing you know, they’ll be eliminating the annual Easter egg hunt (the Easter Bunny is a thief who steals eggs from chickens), and Valentine’s (those angelic little cherubs have a mean streak, I tell you). Oh, and let’s not forget the turkey at Thanksgiving, or Santa Claus at Christmas. I could go on.

Let’s all live in a glass box, where we’re sheltered from any influential factors that might potentially cause us to have to make decisions for ourselves. Let’s make sure everything is politically correct so we don’t run the risk of damaging anyone’s psyche. Let’s never turn on the stove so we can find out the hard way that the surface might burn us on occasion. Let’s all tread carefully and tiptoe around each other so we can point fingers and be hypocrites when others trip and fall.

Now, I am in no way attacking the decisions of my church. But, I can darn sure express my disagreement with them! If the line is not drawn somewhere, then we will never have the opportunity to learn from life, or know when it’s appropriate to cross it or not. Knowing and doing are two very different things. We need the elements of distinction between them both, which enables us to grow from our experiences and apply that gained wisdom and knowledge to our lives.

Disguises or not, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

And that, my friends, is my rant for today. Stepping down off the soapbox now.

Happy haunting! **echoing cackle**

You Actually Left the House Wearing That??!

Today will be fondly known as “Soapbox Wednesday”. Maybe I’ll start a tradition…

My diatribe today is in regards to fashion. People come in all shapes and sizes. That is part of the blessing of the various appearances the human race has to offer. Color, creed and religious preferences aside, we are all human beings. I have a saying, “We are all the same color; just different shades”. But, alas, everyone does not dress alike. That in itself can often amount to being nothing short of a catastrophe, thus proving we are shades apart.

Lately, I have begun to question the fashion with which the human race is donning. It seems we are getting bigger (thanks drive-thrus), and the clothing is getting smaller. Most of us have embraced a lackadaisical lifestyle for which we take no pride or class in our exteriors. Don’t get me wrong. Everyone is entitled to his/her own peculiar tastes and choices in style. However, that fact does not make it appropriate to share some of your choices with the public.

The summary of my unsolicited advice is this:
1. Young ladies, please put on some clothing. Public sidewalks are not a runway for modeling the latest mid-drift.
2. Young men, please turn your hat around and wear it correctly and pull up your damn jeans. I know I’m not the only person who cares if you’re wearing your Scooby-Doo boxers or not.

Rarely do I ever set foot outside of my house without making sure I’m completely dressed. In fact, the only time I’ve ever been scantily clad in public view is when I’m having one of those terrible dreams where I’m rollerskating down the halls of my old high school, and then suddenly, I look down and realize I’m stark naked. And somehow, the only thing I can find to cover myself is an old pink and green quilt I’m pretty certain is stashed in my locker – and I can’t remember the combination to it.

Back to my point…

I’ve heard countless arguments that adults just don’t understand today’s youth. Not true. I understand that you have such little consideration for others (and yourself), that you can’t bother to exude any more effort to getting dressed in the morning, besides rolling out of bed and putting on the first articles of clothing you find on your floor. This applies to both sexes. When did it become acceptable to wear pajama pants and a t-shirt as common attire? Now, I’m all about comfort, I just believe that some clothing should be worn in the privacy of your own home. And ladies, when you’re wearing a skirt that is so short that your butt cheeks touch the chair when you sit down, take time to reconsider putting on something else. I’m positive a well-placed trash bag would be more attractive (with the right shoes, of course). I don’t care how cute your figure is; leave something to the imagination. On the same note, just because they make some styles in a size 7XX, doesn’t mean it’s the most flattering look for you. It’s no surprise to me that some men have lost respect for a majority of the young ladies out there. If you present yourself as a meat market, sooner or later, the only thing a guy will want to do is chew on the steak for a while. Show a little class.

And men, unless you’re a bona fide gang-banger or thug, please turn your baseball caps around and wear them in the manner for which they were designed. There are very few men that can pull off that look. Kudos to you, Fiddy. And the pants… **sigh** Where do I even begin? Years ago, when my sister and I were entering the wonderful world of dating, my dad made sure to give us fair warning about boys showing up to our house with their pants sagging below their waist. He vowed to permanently affix their jeans in the correct place with his staple gun. At the time, we were mortified that he would actually follow through with his threat. Nowadays, I find myself lurking in corners of the mall, holding a staple gun, just waiting to leap out and pounce on my unsuspecting victim.

As well, I place plenty of blame on the fashion industry. I love clothes. I hate shopping. I’m lucky enough to have an hourglass figure, but finding clothes to fit me is nearly impossible – like an honest act of congress. Most of the styles are made for pre-pubescent stick figure heroine addicts. ‘They’ say that fashion recycles. Well, welcome back to the 80s, folks. Neon colors and leggings are back. And I swear to you, if Velcro shoes ever thrive again, I will move to another planet. Some things need to go away forever. Like, Justin Beiber, the Jonas Bros. and Miley Cyrus (subject for another blog). And I cannot bring myself, ever, to get on board with girls above the age of 10 wearing bows anywhere on their head. Did you just get finished with cheer leading camp? Do you realize that you look like total moron? Just wanted to make you aware of that. N’kay?

And I know guys don’t have it much easier. I’m sure it’s hard to decide between acid-wash skinny jeans and a $90 t-shirt with all of that shaggy hair falling across your eyes. I’ll make it easy for you. Men do not look good in skinny jeans. At all. Give me a clean-cut, tall man in a pair of casual jeans and a Stetson cowboy hat any day of the week. Shirt is optional, especially if you resemble Joe Manganiello (Not familiar with him? See True Blood). **swoon** Yeehaw!

Living in a college town makes it easy to observe the interesting clothing combinations available to the helpless span of humans that roam Earth. Fashion can be a bit challenging at times. It is often entertaining, if not a bit sad. Open head, insert brain. Basic common sense should be a fairly easy concept to ascertain when it comes to the principles of applying clothing to specific areas of the body.

So I leave you with this final, sound advice. Social media is the wave of the future. Almost everything and everyone is accessible via the internet. Prospective employers will take a look at how you present yourself, both in the past, and for any potential future job endeavors. Try to sustain some aspect of virtue. Keep your clothes on.

Problem with my post? Refer to the First Amendment.

Time to sign off. I have some shopping to do. And I need to make sure my staple gun is loaded.

Animal Print

The following is a true story. It actually happened a while back (Fall of '09, if memory serves).

At my job, we have many student workers that often breeze through our department, working various hours, etc. One young girl in particular, I won't name names, was a little on the "blonde" side. (I mean no disrespect to blondes - it's just to reference the association one assumes might be a characteristic of a blonde - deet dee dee.) Of course, being so long ago, I don't remember the one-sided conversation verbatim, but the jest of it still leaves me speechless. Sometimes I think it would be a huge benefit to be eidetic.

I've constructed a fictional conversation (below) based on the actual facts of the events. We shall call the girl "Jane" (real original, I know).

(Jane, on the phone)
Jane: "I saw the cutest dress for Joe's party on Saturday and I almost bought it."
Caller replies
Jane: "I wasn't sure. It was, like, animal print. Giraffe."
Caller replies
Jane: "I have a cute black one that I want to wear, but I need new shoes to go with it. Plus, it's like, supposed to be cold."
Caller replies
Jane: "The black one makes me look thinner and stuff. Do you think the giraffe one will make me look taller?"

Yeeaahh...I'm not often without words, but this one about took the cake. The only reason I remembered it was because I saw a student wearing some giraffe-print leggings today. Specifically, giraffe-print leggings, under red shorts and a brown Texas A&M t-shirt. With a huge green, glittery bow on the side of her head. Seriously? Did you bother to check yourself in the mirror before you left the house? Do you not have friends that will be brutally honest with you? Did we time-travel back to the 80s?

I can't make this stuff up, people.

Self-restraint

While true sarcasm could quite possibly be misconstrued as a bluff for attention, disdain, or even deflection, I believe that in some cases, it is direly necessary. I am sarcastic by nature. Am I mean? No. I've always been complimented for my friendly and social personality. Do I consider myself intelligent and professional? Absolutely! But, I also have a very strong b.s. detector, and more often than not, I find myself biting my tongue rather than expressing it in order to maintain what little political correctness is required to peacefully coexist with my peers.

Case in point. Earlier today (12/16/09), I decided to work through lunch in efforts to finish a project (so I won't be left to stress about it during my holiday break). I ordered from a local sandwich shop (thou who shall not be named) to eat at my desk. The delivery boy arrived with my order, totaling $7.50. I figured he had change for my $20, since I specifically told the clerk who took my order by phone that I would be paying with cash. Wrong. **sigh**

So, I figured if I gave the guy a $20 and asked for $10 back, that would allow him a nice tip of $2.50. So I handed the guy my money and gave him my simple instructions. He stood there looking at me and said, "I don't have change." Right. Okay. "Will you take a check?" I asked. Nope. He did offer to let me write down my credit card number on a piece of paper and he would charge it when he got back to the store. Mistake number one. He then proceeded to tell me that for personal orders under $20, there would be an additional 2% credit fee. Mistake number two. "Or you could just give me your $20. It is Christmas, you know." Mistake number three. Oh, it gets better...

After some discussion, he then informed me that he had change in his car, but that would mean he would have to walk all the way back down in the cold (the building I work in has its own garage), and that this fact should earn him more than a $2.50 tip. I'm convinced he thought he was being cute. Um, no. I told him I was happy to wait.

He returned about ten minutes later with a bunch of stinky, wadded up dollar bills. He didn't even count them out for me. He just dropped the bills on my desk. There were only nine. "That's all I have," he said. Hmmm.

I kindly told him that would have to do. I must say I am proud of myself for not exploding. I have too much respect for our office cleaning staff than to expose them to the gory results of my spontaneous combustion.

In efforts (or so I'm guessing) to deter my discord, he then proceeded to ask me how I like working in a boring office. "It's not boring to me. I love my job. I get to be creative and get paid well to do what I love," I told him. He then said, "You'd have to be a real idiot to want to sit in an office all day. I couldn't live like that. I'm waaay smarter."

(I was only recently able to close my mouth from the shock of his comment)

Displaying an extreme amount of self control, I told him, "Yeah. Good luck with that." I'm thinking his verbal dysentery will most likely hinder any future chance he has to work professionally. Anywhere.

So I sit here in my warm office, still pondering the delivery debacle. He's out making deliveries in the cold. Who's the idiot now?