Flashback: Top 10 Most Annoying Things People Do (Part I)

Happy day after Memorial Day, y'all.  I hope you had lots o' BBQ and fun time with family and friends.  My mom and Shrinky Dink and her man came over for barbecued ribs, baked beans, corn on the cob, sweet cornbread muffins, deviled eggs, and Shrinky Dink's Loaded Baked Potato Salad.  (YUM.)  Strawberry shortcake and margaritas for dessert!

I wrote the post below a little over a year ago.  It's one of my favorites.  Hope you like it.  (Part II will be published next week!)  

P.S.  I'm working on another rap video.

P.S.S.  This one will also feature Nature Boy!

P.S.S.S.  I'll publish the video here when it's done.

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If you're like me, stuff gets on your nerves a lot. So I've compiled a Top 10 List of the most annoying things people do. Because I'm such a gracious blog hostess, I illustrated each one using examples from my life. That's a lot of drawerings, y'all, so I'll have to list them in two installments. (Click pictures to enlarge.)

10. Letting their dogs roam the neighborhood.

This just happened yesterday. We live a few houses down from an antisocial young family with a stinky, mangy, um, unaltered bulldog. This bulldog somehow frequently manages to get out of the house without anyone knowing. He then proceeds to sexually harass the female dogs on the street, peeing and pooping indiscriminately on the way. Bolt (his real name) pushed his way into our living room yesterday when my son opened the door to tell me the dog was out again. Bolt is way too interested in our 9-year-old (spayed) female lab mix. Although she responds with, "I will CUT you!", Bolt doesn't seem to want to take no for an answer. To demonstrate his displeasure, he took a dump in my front yard while I was waiting for his owner to come get him.

9. When a crowd of people stops to chat right in front of the exit.

This is a common occurrence. You're in a crowded place and foot traffic is proceeding in an orderly fashion. Suddenly, some idiot decides that he can't walk and talk at the same time so he stops right in the path to the door. Then the flock gathers 'round. Perhaps it's due to my impatient nature, but this peeves me.


8. When people offer their unsolicited opinions about my family size.

Sometimes when we're out in public, people I don't even know ask me if my son is my only one. When I affirm this, they ask if I'm going to have any more children. Why do they need to know this? Is it a clue in a scavenger hunt they're participating in? Are they brushing up on their trivia for a future Jeopardy game? When they ask, I usually feel compelled to explain that I have secondary infertility. I guess I could just say, "Nope." But then I worry that they'll think I'm so disappointed with this parenting go-round that it's soured me to future child-bearing. And my kid is awesome, so I don't want to misrepresent!

Even worse was the time a neighbor told me straight to my face that she thinks having an only child is a horrible thing to do to a child.

She's lucky I'm medicated.


7. Interrupting me when I'm reading.*

Last week I was sitting in the waiting room of the chiropractor's office, happily reading my favorite magazine, Real Simple. A lady sat down next to me and picked up a copy of Hippies R Us Magazine (or some such) and began making noises of interest and revelation over the contents. When I didn't express an interest, she forged ahead anyway and began talking to me about diatomaceous earth. I made noncommittal sounds, avoided eye contact, and hunched further down into my magazine. She persisted. Not only did she persist, she went on tell me that she hadn't taken a shower in three days, she doesn't usually wear flip flops out in public, and her mom used to call cleaning yourself in between showers "taking a bird bath".


6. When doctors treat patients like crap.

I've seen a doctor or two in my day. It's another gift that autoimmunity brings. Most of them are nice, but some of them are buttholes. Some specialists in particular seem to have God complexes. In my experience, it's been gastroenterologists (hee hee, I said buttholes earlier) and psychiatrists. Years ago at the end of an initial appointment with a new psychiatrist, I asked her what her impression was. And I got the response in the drawing above. I was younger then, so I just kept quiet and never went back to her again. If that were to happen at this point in my life, I'd probably respond more like the cartoon me.

And that's it for today, folks. Stay tuned for the second installment!


*YouTube sensation Julian Smith made a hilarious music video about this very topic. Check it out.

Flashback: Just another manic Monday

Oldie-but-goodie post numero uno was originally written in February 2011.  Back then, I was just introducing you to my BFF, Shrinky Dink, and her trio of bloodthirsty ninjas adorable daughters. 

So pretend it's cold outside and settle in for a peek into life with my bestie.

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Schools were closed again today due to last week's snow storm. And I say, Hooray! We homeschool, so a snow day means the neighborhood school kids are available to play all day and I have a legitimate excuse to be a homeschool slacker. Shrinky Dink and others of her ilk aren't so thrilled about the news. They aren't used to being in close proximity to their delightfully moody pre-teen children for days on end. I swear that Shrinky Dink has developed an eye twitch in the last week.

In a selfless act of mercy, I agreed to an afternoon of McDonald's and errands with Shrinky Dink and BeBe's kids her kids. My son (who I'll call Nature Boy) and I bravely accompanied them to public places(!) with only the occasional smack down occurring amongst the children. McDonald's was fine. Shrinky Dink and I even managed to have an adult conversation (once her kids un-Vecroed themselves from their mom). No food fights broke out. No blood was shed. We call that a good day.

And then we went to Hobby Lobby. Yeah, I don't think we really thought that one through. Our thought process went something like this:

Shrinky Dink: Hey, let's go to the local Fragile Goods store and spend an hour with all four children!
Me: What a great idea! I mean, the kids have been getting along so well all afternoon, and they are really stir crazy from being stuck indoors all week. Let's set them loose amongst glass wall art and ceramic decor!

Yeah.

The good news is that only $14 worth of damage was done to the store. The bad news is that I nearly had a nervous breakdown. I was so stressed out that I got all PTSD and left my purse in the store. Which only became apparent when we arrived at our next destination. Then my son had the nerve to complain about the drive back to the torture chamber Hobby Lobby to get my purse. "I don't want to have to be in the boring car even longer!" It's a good thing I'm on Zoloft, y'all.

On the way, Shrinky Dink and I had a Seinfeldesque conversation about last night's switcharoo emailing with the Match.com guy. She said, "It reminds me of that story about the guy with the big nose who writes the letters to the girl because the other guy can't do it." I was like, "What are you talking about?" She said, "You know, that guy with the big nose..."

Me: "Pinocchio?"
Her: "No! It's a Shakespeare story about a guy with a really big nose...."
Me: "Look, Disney's all I got, okay? I don't know anything about Shakespeare and a guy with a big nose."
Her: "Yeah you do! Remember, there was a movie and Steve Martin played the guy with the nose--"
Me: "Now that you mention Steve Martin, something is coming to mind."
Her: "He was in a movie with Daryl Hannah, and it was called Roxanne."
Me: "Yeah, and he sang (singing) "Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light!"
Her: "No, that was Sting."
Me: "No, I'm pretty sure Steve Martin sang that song."

Shrinky Dink's delightfully moody pre-teen daughter (who I'll affectionately call Thing 1) had been smarting off to me (as well as to anyone within hearing distance) for the past half hour, and in a display of efficiency, used the extra van time to insult and threaten Nature Boy under her breath (reminding me again why I'd hoped for a boy during my pregnancy). Yes, the impulse to backhand her from the front seat was strong, but verily I say unto you, the Lord stayed my hand. (Which is a good thing, because while Shrinky Dink is slow to anger, you really don't want to piss her off.)

Somehow we made it back to our neighborhood. We were lulled by a brief period of peace in the van on the way home, so Shrinky Dink and I decided to extend our time together and work on the craft projects we'd picked out at Hobby Lobby. Aside from Shrinky Dink's littlest girl's puking-in-the-garage episode, most of the evening went well. We (responsibly) parked the kids in front of the TV and sat down at the kitchen table to work.

We were in our creative zones when we heard, "I'm bleeding!" coming from the living room. Not wanting to be left out, Shrinky Dink's middle child (Thing 2) had slapped my son in the face and scratched him under his nose.  I'd like to say that my perfectly well-behaved son had done nothing to bring on the slap, but in reality, he'd grabbed Thing 2 and her slap was a reaction to being surprised. Sigh.

It was time to go. It was BEYOND time. But the streets are covered in snow and ice and the little pukester (who I'll call Peppermint, because that's what she calls people when she wants to insult them) was asleep on the couch, as was Dr. Jekyll/Mrs. Hyde Thing 1, so Shrinky Dink couldn't take Nature Boy and me home.

So I called my husband (Tree Guy) to come pick us up. He was in the throes of trying to set up our new Blueray player to stream Netflix, so I benevolently offered to wait another 10-15 minutes. After 20 or 30 minutes, Tree Guy still hadn't shown up. Nature Boy was getting cranky and tired. So we decided to walk home in the snow and ice. Tree Guy opened the door for us in (mock) confusion. "Why didn't you call?" I was a little crabby at this point, but I patiently said, "I DID call! I said you could pick us up in 10 or 15 minutes!!" He said, "Oh, I thought you said you'd call in 10 or 15 minutes." Yeah, right. I think he just didn't want to leave the peace and quiet of our house to go pick us up.

And really, after the day we've had, I can't blame him.

A little corn with my flakes

So uh, instead of pondering for the entire summer whether or not I'll resume blogging in the fall, the decision took me all of one day. Because my impulsive ass doesn't need three months to methodically weigh the pros and cons and stew in the resulting angst.

Nay, with the help of my legions of blog fans (read: about 8 people), I've determined that this blog is worth continuing. I really do enjoy writing it. And let's not forget that reading my blog affects public policy, raises money for cures for obscure diseases, and shapes the very fabric of a generation. (I just made that last bit up.)

I still need to spend a lot less time online though. So what's a girl to do?

This girl has decided to stick with a summer blog hiatus and to give up my less rewarding online activities so I can continue blogging after the summer break.

Pinterest-schminterest. Youtube-booblube. Message boards--I can't think of one for those.

In the meantime, I'll be reposting oldies-but-goodies each week.

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P.S. To get you in the mood for summer, here's a picture I took at the pool of the whitest guy in America.

You're welcome.