Things That Make Me Want to Quote a Certain Grammy Nominated Cee Lo Song

Thank you, in advance, for this opportunity to rant.  Please feel free to read this in your best Lewis Black voice for the full effect.

1. Have more than one air freshener hanging from your rearview mirror. Whatever it is that you're doing in there should be stopped. Immediately. If it's not there because of some especially foul odor, but just because you're lazy, you need to get a grip. Immediately.

2. When I hand you a $10 for something that is, let's say $6.03 please, oh please, oh please ask me if I have three cents. I'm aware of how currency works, ma'am. You need to realize that I probably don't have three cents, or I would've given it to you. However, even if I had fifty tiny coin purses, each containing three shiny pennies, I'm still perfectly within my rights to hand you an even dollar amount. Maybe I don't want to dig through my purse for change. Maybe I need to flip a coin soon. Maybe I need to buy a bouncy ball.

3. Tennessee Residents: have any year other than the current year showing on your license plate. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN? It very clearly has only one spot for the year sticker, and you are to place the current year over the past year. What is particularly infuriating is that the incorrect places people put their stickers have instructions about what is supposed to be there. What about "Wheel Tax Decal" says that you should probably go ahead and put the year there. Why would the police care if you were in compliance in 2009? No need to imitate Bob Ross with your color pallette of the past three years.

4. Respond with "That'll be fine" to a statement. If I'm not asking your permission, please don't feel the need to give it. Unsolicted advice is also unappreciated at least 83% of the time.

5. Expect me to care if you think things have an expiration date. I've got no interest in the philosophy that for something to be good it must be less than 3 months old or greater than 10 years old, plus those bizarre caveats for things that are acceptable to like ironically. Grow up.

6. Say that you don't like small dogs. My dog doesn't like you either.

7.  Make mindlessly offensive comments about only children. You've got to let go of those fantasies you had as a child where you would've been allowed everything you ever wanted if only it weren't for your brother or sister.  No you wouldn't have. Neither was I.  You see, onlies are the whole shabang.  Grandkids?  Gotta be you.  College? Gotta be you.  All their success as a parent is measured by you.  Just you.  You get the best, but also the worst, of being the oldest, middle, and youngest child.  Think on it. 

8.  Be mad at me when I'm mad at you.  Wait your turn.


Ahhhh.  That feels better.

Untitled

Please, please, please don't go to this link if you are at all squeamish about death and dying.  You'll just find it upsetting.

I think it's really powerful and beautiful, just be aware of the subject matter.

LINK

Hair Raising

If you were ever going to heed my my warning about the banality of a post, this should be the one.  I definitely won't be posting this one to Facebook because I'm afraid I might be the first person booted off for lulling a hundred people to sleep.  Okay, maybe I'm being a little dramatic.  I know only seven people read this foolishness.

If you think you have the fortitude to stay awake and aren't operating heavy machinery, then please allow me to share.  I have a product review I'd love to pass along.  I've always been the biggest sucker for pretty packaging and the cache of luxury products.   I'm always drawn to expensive beauty potions and fine cosmetics.  I don't always give in, but I am definitely charmed by the finer things.  With that in mind, I hope you'll be able to appreciate the seriousness with which I tell you that I have found the greatest shampoo/conditioner I've ever used.  It's the Suave Professionals line.

What!!!

Maybe you aren't having to recover from shock the way that I imagine, but just know, it really is that good.  I'm a Sephora junkie and I've used everything.  Keratase, Bumble and Bumble, Aveda, Ojon, Phyto...all the overpriced brands that are supposed to be amazing.  I've also used every drug store brand ever made.  I've got wavy, coarse, dry hair that has been dyed and styled with in an inch of its life at one point or another.  Nothing has ever worked as well as Suave Professionals.  I've been using it for a few months and my favorite is the Almond and Shea Butter, but I've tried a few and they are all perfect.  The best part is, they're only about $3 a bottle, so you can afford to try a few.

I feel like a massive goober posting this, but I just had to share.  There is a formula for every hair type and I would highly recommend trying one out.  Just make sure it's the Professionals line.  I can't vouch for the other stuff.

Hey.

HEY!

Wake up.

Squirrels and Nuts

I have talked about this before, but I like to call my dog a lot of things other than his Christian name, which would be Max; Maxwell Franklin Beanpotts if you're nasty.  I call him Scooter a lot, or Potts, or Mista Pottair, a la Welcome Back Kotter.  Sometimes, he'll come if I call him DJ Skriddle and lately I've taken to calling him Dr. Lucien Farkas.

For all this and more, I'm sorry Craig.

There is one more name that I call him, and many other animals, and that is squirrel, sometimes pronounced skwee rell. 

Don't worry about it.

Anyway, this has somehow become a self-fulfilling prophecy, as Craig (via Dan) found an amazing portrait-esque drawing of a squirrel in a suit that he's using as his profile picture on facebook.  It's from an etsy page of an artist who makes them and they're so great.  There's another of a lady squirrel and I'm thinking about hanging the man and the woman in black oval frames on the wall, like silhouettes, facing each other.  In related news, I'm thinking about owning seventy-eight cats and driving a 1989 Bonneville with beige sneaks and a pocket book.  Get off my lawn and quit trying to dig up my money!

In keeping with the theme, I had a visitor this afternoon.  Allow me to introduce you to a little friend.



Taking a little bath in the snow.




Here he is, just being cute and what not.





Max thought we should invite him in for some stimulating conversation, and possibly a little light mauling.






Please and Thank You.



Um, please??





Why Not?

Sometimes this bubbles up from the maternally inherited portions of my DNA.

Deal Breakers

     I recently watched a show...wait, that's a terrible way to start a post.  I'm not sure I would read something that started, "I recently watched a show."  That's almost as bad as, "I had this dream the other night..."  Those are statements that usually precede a story that sounds a lot like what I need to buy from grocery store, because that's what I think about during the story.  For the most part, I only care about what my husband dreams about because, then, I get an explanation for the rabid badger-esque movements and the grunts and snickering he does in his sleep.  One night, I got up to go to the restroom and he said, "You can't dance like that on NPR!"  I, of course, thought that it was the most charming thing I've ever heard.  Usually, though, he tries to get in a little work in his sleep because he explains the Memphis housing market or foreclosure counseling to me at 3 o'clock in the morning.  That's no joke. 

     Anyway, I did watch a show and you can just get over it. 

     It was some kind of reality something or other and these women were talking about deal breakers in relationships and what they won't put up with or stay in a relationship because of.  I started thinking about my own life, and couldn't really imagine that I have deal breakers.  Until Craig, I've essentially dated different versions of the same person all based on a boy I had an all consuming crush on at summer camp.  My relationship history is all guitars, bonfires, and bootleg Keller Williams cds.  One or two was nicer than the other one or two.  All smart.  Most full of it.  None were quite right for me in the end.  That's not a comment on anyone I was ever friends with or involved with, only that I got too good at the type.  I knew the all the right bands and thought all the right unconventional thoughts, and could talk about things I had no basis for with the best of them.  I've become much more of doer as I've gotten older and have a lot less interest in talking about how this thing or that ought to be.  Change what you can, but get over the rest.  I've become much more skeptical of this "type" as I've gotten older, too.  Now, I think it's ridiculous to rehash canned ideas and live your life for your favorite band's next show, unless you're twenty.  It's easy to not care about having nice things when you've never had to go without them. 

    Even though the door to that path has been permanently closed behind me, I am still drawn to people with some of those traits.  I love being around people who can think big.  Those things weren't deal breakers, I just outgrew the type.

    The deal breakers in my current life apply to would be friends, not relationships, but are just as strongly held.

• Bigotry is a no go.  Don't like it.  Don't think it's funny.  I have a hard time coming back from racial slurs, offensive gay comments, ignorant statements about the poor, etc., etc.  Someone is free to believe what they want to believe, but I will freely believe they are stupid in return.
• Fear of admitting when something is unclear.  It's a huge pet peeve of mine when people are too prideful to just ask a question or admit that they don't know something.  Silly, silly, silly.
• Stare at women like they're there to for the sole purpose of your viewing pleasure.  It makes my skin crawl.  Admiring an attractive woman is something no one could be offended by, but when it becomes gross and leering, I always want to throw my shoe at the offender and yell to the woman, "In case you're into trolls, there's one lurking in the corner trying to read your butt's mind with his laser eyes."
• I'm usually down for dirty joke and don't offend too easily with language, even though I try to keep it fairly clean myself, but there are a few words that immediately shift my opinion of someone.  Actually, there are a few words and a few combinations of said words, in particular.  I won't list them here, but hearing some of them instantly makes me turn into one or two of these phrases.
• Before someone makes a sweeping statement about my religion, I would prefer it if they do a little reading to make sure they are not, in fact, completely mistating doctrine, or taking something out of context.  I won't defend the Catholic Church on every front, but I definitely won't defend it to someone who's quoting stereotypes.
• The previous things listed are pretty serious.  This next one isn't, but is definitely a major impediment to my friendships/relationships.  Tardiness.  I don't think you're an ass if you're late, I just can't hang with you.  I have to work to not be early everywhere.  Craig and I will both sit, fully dressed, whenever we're leaving to go somewhere and tell ourselves that we have to wait another ten minutes to leave. 
• Being rude to wait staff and salespeople.  Unless someone does something outrageous, I'm deliberately nicer to these people than I would be to another stranger. I've worked retail and it was hard.  I know how someone can make you feel very small with one comment. 

 I guess that's about it.  I've never had rules like, my significant other has to be able to dance or my friends have to like the same things that I do.  I've never dated anyone under six feet tall, but I wouldn't say that was a requirement.  I can't reach anything so, although not required, height has always been much appreciated.  My mom always said that she hoped for me to find someone who was tall, dark, Catholic, which I have.  Craig is very different from my past relationships.  I think I knew he was the one when, while singing Boys II Men in a karaoke bar packed with old white men, he proceeded to start a slow clap FOR HIMSELF.  Later, he sang Sexual Healing to a woman no younger seventy, and I thought, that one is a keeper.  She did too, but I guess I won.

So Long (For Now)

I've hit the wall again.  Maybe not even a wall, because what I'm talking about happens every year around this time.  I guess it's more cyclical.  Every year after Christmas and the holidays I get this big urge to draw myself in, take stock, and find a little quiet.  I don't experience it as a negative thing, more like the backswing of a pendulum.  The holidays are so extreme.  A lot of people, a lot of food, a lot of places to go, a lot of drinks, a lot of fun, a lot of things to do and say and make and give.  A lot, a lot, a lot...


See, Mr. Hawes, I did learn that "a lot" is two words.  All that red pen from sixth grade still hurts abit.

Last year when this feeling hit, we cut out TV for Lent.  Since Lent is coming a little later this year, I've decided to deactivate my facebook account temporarily to kind of declutter my mind a little.  Baby steps, right?  I'm an internet junkie, a ham, and pretty nosy, which is the perfect storm for losing hours of life on facebook.  I use it to keep in touch (a plus), but I also tend to measure myself by what other people are doing.  Of course I know that's not an accurate measure of success.  I'm so full of it most of the time, that if other peoples' profiles are similar, there's no reason to worry about it.  I don't lie, but I'm not posting double chin, smudged mascara,burger in the hand pictures either.  I'm not going to talk about having a cough or needing to replace the air filters.  I don't portray myself as somebody who can't remember the last time I had my hair trimmed and is scared of the dark. I don't let people know the effect baby shoes have on me.  That I thought a ham was a bird until high school.

Or, maybe I do.

I want people to think I've got my act together a solid sixty-five percent of the time, but I probably don't, which really isn't the point. I am only trying to say, in a most characteristically roundabout way, that every now and then I need to unplug from one thing or another to bring it all back to center.  It's not about the things I'm getting distance from, but more about tuning back into myself. 

I have no idea if anyone will ever read this site without me posting it to facebook.  I have no idea if I'll stay deactivated for more than a couple of weeks.  Length of time doesn't really matter. I have no idea how I managed to use the word ham twice in this post.  Ham, ham, ham.  I'm gonna start blogging only about ham.  Ham Happenings.  First up, a post entiled, Things Ham is Not.  The whole post will consist of the words, "a bird."

I've been on the ol' fbook for five or so years, so it'll be weird to be disconnected for any length of time.  I'll be glad to return to it when my mind has had a little time for R and R after this Season of Too Much.  I will still be posting here.  I realize that may not seem to make much sense.  It makes sense to me.  But, a spiral cut bird made sense to me too.

Bye bye

Photo here:  bp.blogspot.com/.../hand-waving-goodbye.jpg