a wordy one...
I'm battling a wee cold and it worsened while I was out chasing skirts on Friday. Or more accurately while standing sheepishly by the bar and hoping someone -- ANYONE -- would chase me. It's a problem, really. Wait, let me rephrase that... people approaching me is not a problem. Me instigating a conversation is. A woman sporting liquid eyeliner and a bountiful rack chatted me up but I was too shy to finish the deal (I also wasn't fond o' the eye makeup. Meow!) The shyness sometimes scores me "adorable points" but lately, it's just been adding to my dry spell. I am frustrated on many fronts.
Anyhoo, in addition to losing my nerve, I also lost my voice by night's end. I had plans yesterday but I had to cancel them so that I could stay home and doctor myself up. I hate being home ALL day. I couldn't call anyone to pass the time because they wouldn't hear a word I said anyway. So I'm letting it all fly here. You've been warned.
I woke up from a nap just in time to see Smarty Jones lose in the Belmont Stakes. I don't really care about horse racing but I found myself rasping at the television (not yelling -- I can't, remember?) when Birdstone started catching up in the final stretch. I found myself getting mad at the jockey and croaking, "No! No! No!" Shocking behavior on my part. I had no money bet on this race and I'm kinda appalled by the whole whipping the horse thing but I was still bummed that Smarty Jones didn't win the Triple Crown. That really sucks. Methinks the winning jockey will need to go into hiding.
I've also been following an interesting thread on craigslist's Missed Connections. Someone floated the dating-related theory that boys named Pete are a dead end. Josh, Noah and Dave have also been added to this list. The fact that I don't like dick sort of disqualifies me from contributing but I will say here that I've had problems with women named Claire (or Clare) and a boy or two named Jay. Not all Claires and Jays are bad but a few stick out in my mind as being colossal beeotches/pricks.
On the political front, I was no fan of Ronald Reagan and his conservative views, but I was still saddened by his passing. His presidency straddled my childhood. I remember he liked jelly beans. I remember being petrified of the Soviet Union (especially after seeing The Day After). I remember being really scared after we bombed Libya. I remember impersonating him by saying, "Well..." in front of each statement. I remember writing a letter to Nancy Reagan in fifth grade telling her that I was currently just saying no and would continue to do so. Um... at that point, no one was even offering me drugs anyway but she didn't need to know that. Again, his conservative politics weren't my cup of tea but Reagan seemed like a nice enough fellow in his private life. I was struck by the love he and Nancy shared. I welled up one morning during a Today show segment when Nancy shared the letters he wrote her. That kind of love is really special and rarely do we see it on display.
On a much lighter note and more in tune with my superficial, self-centered writings... I enjoy the show Clean Sweep but I despise the contestants on it. I love before-and-after home shows because I like to see order restored and things made pretty in an hour's time. It feeds some obsessive need within me and it also caters to my short attention span. It's all good... except for the homeowners. I saw two episodes yesterday and I really discovered how much I detest these tasteless pack rats. I don't understand this mentality. If they were holding onto tax forms and other paperwork, I can understand but what do you need with hundreds of ceramic and stuffed frogs? After his home was gutted and redone, the homeowner exclaimed, "Holy macaroni and cheese!" Yet another reason to dislike this man. Ack!! I wanted to punch him in the face.
Watching this show reminded me of how much I abhor patrons of garage sales (not all, but some). My mother had two garage sales and I was outraged at the cheapskates that darkened our doorway both times. Things are already really cheap so why must they try to knock off five or ten cents from the ridiculously low price? Seriously, does that constitute a bargain? I sold my beloved Wilson baseball glove (with George Brett's signature) for a paltry quarter because the tight bastard didn't want to pay 50 cents. Argh! It makes my skin crawl.
Before moving into the city a few years ago, I sold my cherished Toyota Corolla. The man who ended up buying it was so repugnant that I actually said, "Now get out of my driveway!" when the deal was done. He kept asking if I was sure I didn't want to check with my husband before selling the vehicle. What the fuck?!?! The fact that the man walked away with his nuts intact is nothing short of a miracle.
Even though it incites a rage within me, I will still watch Clean Sweep and "ooh" and "ahh" over the transformations while continuing to misplace my frustration on the schlubby contestants. My thinking is if these people and the high-fiving morons on Trading Spaces continue to feel the brunt of my wrath, it makes me much more well-adjusted in real life, no? Shut up.
Anyhoo, in addition to losing my nerve, I also lost my voice by night's end. I had plans yesterday but I had to cancel them so that I could stay home and doctor myself up. I hate being home ALL day. I couldn't call anyone to pass the time because they wouldn't hear a word I said anyway. So I'm letting it all fly here. You've been warned.
I woke up from a nap just in time to see Smarty Jones lose in the Belmont Stakes. I don't really care about horse racing but I found myself rasping at the television (not yelling -- I can't, remember?) when Birdstone started catching up in the final stretch. I found myself getting mad at the jockey and croaking, "No! No! No!" Shocking behavior on my part. I had no money bet on this race and I'm kinda appalled by the whole whipping the horse thing but I was still bummed that Smarty Jones didn't win the Triple Crown. That really sucks. Methinks the winning jockey will need to go into hiding.
I've also been following an interesting thread on craigslist's Missed Connections. Someone floated the dating-related theory that boys named Pete are a dead end. Josh, Noah and Dave have also been added to this list. The fact that I don't like dick sort of disqualifies me from contributing but I will say here that I've had problems with women named Claire (or Clare) and a boy or two named Jay. Not all Claires and Jays are bad but a few stick out in my mind as being colossal beeotches/pricks.
On the political front, I was no fan of Ronald Reagan and his conservative views, but I was still saddened by his passing. His presidency straddled my childhood. I remember he liked jelly beans. I remember being petrified of the Soviet Union (especially after seeing The Day After). I remember being really scared after we bombed Libya. I remember impersonating him by saying, "Well..." in front of each statement. I remember writing a letter to Nancy Reagan in fifth grade telling her that I was currently just saying no and would continue to do so. Um... at that point, no one was even offering me drugs anyway but she didn't need to know that. Again, his conservative politics weren't my cup of tea but Reagan seemed like a nice enough fellow in his private life. I was struck by the love he and Nancy shared. I welled up one morning during a Today show segment when Nancy shared the letters he wrote her. That kind of love is really special and rarely do we see it on display.
On a much lighter note and more in tune with my superficial, self-centered writings... I enjoy the show Clean Sweep but I despise the contestants on it. I love before-and-after home shows because I like to see order restored and things made pretty in an hour's time. It feeds some obsessive need within me and it also caters to my short attention span. It's all good... except for the homeowners. I saw two episodes yesterday and I really discovered how much I detest these tasteless pack rats. I don't understand this mentality. If they were holding onto tax forms and other paperwork, I can understand but what do you need with hundreds of ceramic and stuffed frogs? After his home was gutted and redone, the homeowner exclaimed, "Holy macaroni and cheese!" Yet another reason to dislike this man. Ack!! I wanted to punch him in the face.
Watching this show reminded me of how much I abhor patrons of garage sales (not all, but some). My mother had two garage sales and I was outraged at the cheapskates that darkened our doorway both times. Things are already really cheap so why must they try to knock off five or ten cents from the ridiculously low price? Seriously, does that constitute a bargain? I sold my beloved Wilson baseball glove (with George Brett's signature) for a paltry quarter because the tight bastard didn't want to pay 50 cents. Argh! It makes my skin crawl.
Before moving into the city a few years ago, I sold my cherished Toyota Corolla. The man who ended up buying it was so repugnant that I actually said, "Now get out of my driveway!" when the deal was done. He kept asking if I was sure I didn't want to check with my husband before selling the vehicle. What the fuck?!?! The fact that the man walked away with his nuts intact is nothing short of a miracle.
Even though it incites a rage within me, I will still watch Clean Sweep and "ooh" and "ahh" over the transformations while continuing to misplace my frustration on the schlubby contestants. My thinking is if these people and the high-fiving morons on Trading Spaces continue to feel the brunt of my wrath, it makes me much more well-adjusted in real life, no? Shut up.
posted by curly mcdimple @ 11:36 AM :: permalink :: ::
