Yes, you, Mr. I Wear My Sunglasses Even Though the Sun Hasn't Risen Yet. You do not look cool wearing shades when there isn't even a glimmer of sun on the horizon. It was 6:30 in the morning. No sun yet. No daylight at all, actually. You look like a dumbass wearing them. Stop it. Now.
Yes, you, Miss I'm Going to Talk REALLY Loud on My Cell Phone with My Car Window Down in My Super High-Pitched Valley Girl Voice While I'm Trying to Drive a Stick Shift and Steer While Holding My Phone AND Trendy Environmentally Friendly Coffee Cup. First of all, it's creepy to maintain the same speed I am in the lane next to me for a solid 5 miles on the highway. Speed up or slow down, okay? Secondly, there's this amazing device shaped like a little headset that you can put on your ear that allows you to have free use of your hands AND talk on the phone at the same time! No, I swear, it's for real! You know what else they have nowadays? These nifty little niches in cars that are round and just big enough to hold drinks in them - I think they are called "cup holders" and they allow you to take a fountain beverage or cup of coffee with you while you're driving so you can still have both your hands free for that ever important steering that is necessary when one gets behind the driver's wheel of a car. Also, if you kept your window rolled up while driving at 70 miles an hour, you probably wouldn't have to yell into your cell phone in order to be heard by your caller. Because not only will this possibly enable the person on the other side of the phone to hear you, but everyone else around you can hear you too. No, you are not "the best human ever" because you bought an environmentally friendly coffee cup that you "get to use over & over again!" That's kind of the point of the cup, Dumbass. And I don't care that "it's soooo cute because it looks just like a disposable one!" Why is that a bonus? Do you want to trick people into thinking it's just a regular cardboard cup? Because that's just stupid. Oh, and when you're holding said cup while you're driving and not paying attention and suddenly have to stop short because there's traffic, OF COURSE it's going to spill all over the place!! Although I did chuckle at myself when I heard your blood curdling scream. So thanks for that.
Yes, you, Jerkwad Who Parked Your Car Right (at an ANGLE) on the Parking Line. Guess what? I drive a Jeep. It fits in really tiny spaces. I know how to park that thing on a dime. I don't care that you are parked in an effort to keep other people from parking next to your precious '86 Honda Accord. That parking space was close to the building, which, as you know since you work here as well, is a primo spot because it means you only have to walk 1/2 a mile to get inside instead of the typical day-long hike I do most days. I don't care if you barely have room to open up your driver's side door to get in later. Go ahead, ding up my Jeep. It's a CAR and already 10 years old and is rusting in spots so adding a nick to it really won't devastate me. Also, YOU DRIVE AN '86 HONDA ACCORD, so quit acting like it's a freakin' Ferrari, you dumbass!
And, of course, this includes you too, Khloe Kardashian. You cannot "literally" have butterflies in your stomach. Well, I suppose you could but that would require you actually digesting REAL butterflies. I'm thinking you didn't do that. So figure out the difference between "literally" and "figuratively" and stop making youself sound like a bigger dumbass than you probably are. I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Girlie. I'm trying to believe that you are not as stupid as you sound. So help a Sister out, okay?
And this goes out to the rest of you dumbasses - the ones that think it's okay to disrupt military funeral services to spew your anti-gay, bible thumping rhetoric that God's punishing those fallen solidiers because being gay is a mortal sin, thus allowing gays in the military requires God's discipline. I'm pretty sure you're screwing up the message God is actually trying to send, which is "Just be chill and live & let live, Dumbasses!"
And to the judge in Mississippi that forced a lawyer to sit in a jail cell for 5 hours because he didn't say the Pledge of Allegiance. "Contempt of Court" is not supposed to be used as your personal agenda to force people to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, or sing the National Anthem or pray or anything else that infringes upon a person's freedom of speech, which also gives a person the right to not speak if they so choose. It does not make one less American if they choose to not recite the Pledge, and one is not legally obligated to do so under any circumstance. Way to abuse your power and look like the hillbilly dumbass judge you really are.
Get a clue, people. Get a freakin' clue. This is 2010. You should be smarter by now. Stop doing stupid things and behaving like uneducated, unenlightened neanderthals. You will make my life so much easier if I don't have to constantly restrain myself from physically or verbally attacking you. Thank you in advance for your attention to this matter.
Sincerely,
Seoul Sister
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
First Day of School
As most of you are now aware, I have some paranoia issues. And OCD. And probably a good dose of ADD thrown in for good measure. At any rate, I'm also married to a man that has yet to be run off by my...quirks...and takes my panic attacks about various situations (mostly imagined, but could totally possibly be real & happen, so it totally counts as legitimate!) in stride. Usually he's very supportive & understanding.
However, sometimes he doesn't fully grasp the severity of the potential threat about which I'm panicking, and thus ends up being snarky and sarcastic instead of supportive. I guess no one's perfect. Anyway, today was the kids' first day of school. They are now 7th & 10th graders. Every year since they've started school, I was able to either walk them to the bus stop, or when they got too "old" to be escorted, I would watch obsessively from our kitchen window to make sure they did indeed get on the bus and not kidnapped by crazy puppy & candy-weilding ninjas intent on abducting my children and throwing them into the back of a rape van so they could be sold off into slavery never to be seen or heard from again.
Seriously, there are times where I cannot sleep at night because of the horrific things I imagine happening to them, all because I was too lazy or falsely secure in my feeling they were safe to watch them physically get on the bus. And would that be any comfort to them while they are being repeatedly drugged & tortured in some dirty, smelly shack? NO, it most certainly would not. Nevermind the fact that the bus stop is literally 10 steps from our door. Or that even if I did see puppy & candy-weilding ninjas abducting my kids, I'd still be too far away to stop them. Or the fact that both my kids are black belts. Or that my 13 year old son is bigger than some of the 16 year olds in our neighborhood, and that my 15 year old daughter dresses like such a freak I'm fairly certain most folks in the area are afraid of her. It could happen, and that's all that's needed to get me all worked up and incapacitated at the thought of losing my children.
Anyway, this year, because of my crazy commute to work, I was unable to perform my annual task of making sure they weren't kidnapped and sold into slavery of some sort. However, my beloved husband reassured me that he would take over this duty and be ever diligent to make sure they made it on the school bus safely. I went to work, my mind at ease in knowing my husband (who is also a 2nd degree black belt, thus much more capable of catching and disabling any potential ninja kidnappers) had taken me seriously and would prevent any wrong doing from happening. I should have noticed him rolling his eyes...
So, I go to work this morning, and upon opening my email, I received this from my dear spouse:
"The kids are off to school. Both got on their busses okay and only had to fight off 2 or three waves of puppy and candy wielding kidnapper ninjas before doing so. Here is a picture I made for you to remember the kids first day of school this year! Have a Superwonderful day!
P.S. Just be aware this is an artist's rendering of this morning's events, not an actual photograph. Also it is only *based*on actual events...some liberties may have been taken, and names have been changed to protect the innocent."
However, sometimes he doesn't fully grasp the severity of the potential threat about which I'm panicking, and thus ends up being snarky and sarcastic instead of supportive. I guess no one's perfect. Anyway, today was the kids' first day of school. They are now 7th & 10th graders. Every year since they've started school, I was able to either walk them to the bus stop, or when they got too "old" to be escorted, I would watch obsessively from our kitchen window to make sure they did indeed get on the bus and not kidnapped by crazy puppy & candy-weilding ninjas intent on abducting my children and throwing them into the back of a rape van so they could be sold off into slavery never to be seen or heard from again.
Seriously, there are times where I cannot sleep at night because of the horrific things I imagine happening to them, all because I was too lazy or falsely secure in my feeling they were safe to watch them physically get on the bus. And would that be any comfort to them while they are being repeatedly drugged & tortured in some dirty, smelly shack? NO, it most certainly would not. Nevermind the fact that the bus stop is literally 10 steps from our door. Or that even if I did see puppy & candy-weilding ninjas abducting my kids, I'd still be too far away to stop them. Or the fact that both my kids are black belts. Or that my 13 year old son is bigger than some of the 16 year olds in our neighborhood, and that my 15 year old daughter dresses like such a freak I'm fairly certain most folks in the area are afraid of her. It could happen, and that's all that's needed to get me all worked up and incapacitated at the thought of losing my children.
Anyway, this year, because of my crazy commute to work, I was unable to perform my annual task of making sure they weren't kidnapped and sold into slavery of some sort. However, my beloved husband reassured me that he would take over this duty and be ever diligent to make sure they made it on the school bus safely. I went to work, my mind at ease in knowing my husband (who is also a 2nd degree black belt, thus much more capable of catching and disabling any potential ninja kidnappers) had taken me seriously and would prevent any wrong doing from happening. I should have noticed him rolling his eyes...
So, I go to work this morning, and upon opening my email, I received this from my dear spouse:
"The kids are off to school. Both got on their busses okay and only had to fight off 2 or three waves of puppy and candy wielding kidnapper ninjas before doing so. Here is a picture I made for you to remember the kids first day of school this year! Have a Superwonderful day!
P.S. Just be aware this is an artist's rendering of this morning's events, not an actual photograph. Also it is only *based*on actual events...some liberties may have been taken, and names have been changed to protect the innocent."
And this is why I'll be divorcing him for mental cruelty.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Fortunately/Unfortunately: A Tale of Misfortune, Paranoia and Stupidity
Once upon a time, there was a woman who suffered from terrible paranoia and fear that one day she would be murdered in her sleep. She has, on several occasions, awakened her husband from a sound sleep just to check the locks on the doors, convinced that one was left open, thereby allowing murderers, rapists and pyschopaths (or - her worst fear - a combination of all three) easy access to their home to inflict unspeakable amounts of violence and mayhem. However, when her husband is unavailable for door-checking, she makes certain to check, double check & triple check the locks herself. She also goes through this same ritual with her stove, because what good is it to lock all the doors to keep the psychopaths out only to burn to death in your own home because you forgot to turn off the stove or oven, and maybe there was a piece of paper or something that somehow got stuck on the stove or in the oven and then it catches fire, which then catches fire to the oven mitt you accidentally left out, which then catches fire to the wooden spoons (and let's face it, they might as well be kindling!!) and the next thing you know you've become your own personal deep fried wanton? It could happen, people. It could happen!
*Ahem* Anyway...
Recently, she found a job that requires her to commute long distances (160+ miles round trip), but fortunately she was able to work out a plan with her in-laws where upon she could stay at their house a few nights a week in an effort to save gas money and extra wear & tear to her vehicle. This worked out nicely because they no longer lived in the house and had put it up for sale. By staying in the vacant house, her in-laws had someone who could keep an eye on things and make it look as if it was still occupied. And of course (especially because she was All Alone in the house), whenever she stayed there, she was sure to lock all the doors, including the one that opened from the garage into the house, despite the fact that one can't actually enter the garage once the garage doors have been shut, thereby negating the need to lock the door into the home but you just never know.
One day her father in-law kindly asked her to check their basement for water damage, as it had stormed the night before. She agreed, and upon arrival at the home, proceeded to bring all her belongings (a rather hefty skate bag, her overnight bag & her giant purse) into the house, where she (of course) promptly locked the aforementioned garage door. After having checked to make sure the other doors & windows in the home were securely locked (she didn’t want someone to sneak in & murder her while she was in the basement, because you can get murdered during pre-dusk hours too, you know), she went down to the basement to see that, fortunately, no water damage had been done. What a relief! Her father in law would be so happy! She went to send him a text with the good news, only to discover her phone battery had died. So she plugged her phone in to charge it and left it on the nightstand next to her bed (so it would have enough charge to dial 911 if that was needed at some point during the night - always prepared, that one!), as she did nearly every night she stayed there.
Then she remembered that he also wanted her to check the gutter by the basement to make sure it wasn’t clogged up with leaves. Fortunately, the door to get outside was right next to the gutter so she slipped outside, remembering to close the door behind her (there were bugs flying about, and it would be just as traumatic for her to awaken with bugs crawling/flying on her as it would to be murdered. Yes, she knows she’s completely crazy), when she heard an ever so faint “click” that turned out to be the automatic locking mechanism to the door. Unfortunately, she had no key to the home in order to get herself back inside - she always used the remote key pad on the side of the garage to get into the house. More unfortunately, ALL her things were in the house, including her cell phone (which was dead anyway, so that really didn't help, but the idea of her phone being in the house and her current position of being out of the house was making her panic) and any kind of implement she could have used to maybe pick the lock to the garage door, because she could get into the garage, just not the house once she was in the garage.
However, wanting to complete her requested task, she quickly checked the gutter (fortunately leaf-free because she really didn’t like the idea of having to dig out leaves in all that muddy guck), and then walked round & round the house, checking all the windows and doors in case one may have been inadvertently left open but they were (of course) securely locked. She was nothing if not thorough in her quest for safety. Eventually she noticed the little basement window on the side of the house that was surrounded by dirt (okay, a flower bed, but it was still dirty and gross. Did I mention her great dislike for the outdoors and the dirt that goes with it?), and covered in cobwebs, spiders and other unidentifiable yuckiness. She also noticed the window lock was up.
She knew what she had to do. So she squatted down to the window and tried to pull the window up. Nothing. She cursed. A lot. She tried again to pull the window up, nearly giving herself a hernia in the process. Nothing. She took her shoes off and threw them. Obviously the shoes were not allowing her to get a firm stance in the dirt. Pulled some more. Still nothing. In fit of anger, she shoved the edge of the window while profanity poured out of her mouth faster than a runaway train. Miraculously it opened. Just a smidge. Because the window in question was not the kind of window that pulled up or pushed down to open and close. It was the kind one pushed in or out. Had she bothered to really look, she’d have noticed that a lot sooner, and before her feet were covered in dirt.
So she shimmied and squirmed her way through the window, fairly certain her sizeable bandonkadonk wasn’t going to make the trip. Visions of Winnie the Pooh came to mind and she thought how no one at work would believe she wasn’t able to make it in the next day because she managed to get herself stuck in a window. Fortunately, her ability to measure accurately is just as faulty as her observational skills, so she was able to get through the window and into the house, where she cleaned up the dirty footprints on the bathroom sink (fortunately for her, the window was directly over it because falling onto the tiled floor in a heap wasn’t a fun thought) and closed the window all the way, but didn’t lock it. After all, she figured, if a murderer is going to go through all the trouble of getting dirty and squeezing through a tiny basement window just to slit her throat in her sleep, then he earned it.
And the next time her father in-law asks her to check the gutters for leaves, she's going to tell him to check his g-damned gutters himself.
The end.
*Ahem* Anyway...
Recently, she found a job that requires her to commute long distances (160+ miles round trip), but fortunately she was able to work out a plan with her in-laws where upon she could stay at their house a few nights a week in an effort to save gas money and extra wear & tear to her vehicle. This worked out nicely because they no longer lived in the house and had put it up for sale. By staying in the vacant house, her in-laws had someone who could keep an eye on things and make it look as if it was still occupied. And of course (especially because she was All Alone in the house), whenever she stayed there, she was sure to lock all the doors, including the one that opened from the garage into the house, despite the fact that one can't actually enter the garage once the garage doors have been shut, thereby negating the need to lock the door into the home but you just never know.
One day her father in-law kindly asked her to check their basement for water damage, as it had stormed the night before. She agreed, and upon arrival at the home, proceeded to bring all her belongings (a rather hefty skate bag, her overnight bag & her giant purse) into the house, where she (of course) promptly locked the aforementioned garage door. After having checked to make sure the other doors & windows in the home were securely locked (she didn’t want someone to sneak in & murder her while she was in the basement, because you can get murdered during pre-dusk hours too, you know), she went down to the basement to see that, fortunately, no water damage had been done. What a relief! Her father in law would be so happy! She went to send him a text with the good news, only to discover her phone battery had died. So she plugged her phone in to charge it and left it on the nightstand next to her bed (so it would have enough charge to dial 911 if that was needed at some point during the night - always prepared, that one!), as she did nearly every night she stayed there.
Then she remembered that he also wanted her to check the gutter by the basement to make sure it wasn’t clogged up with leaves. Fortunately, the door to get outside was right next to the gutter so she slipped outside, remembering to close the door behind her (there were bugs flying about, and it would be just as traumatic for her to awaken with bugs crawling/flying on her as it would to be murdered. Yes, she knows she’s completely crazy), when she heard an ever so faint “click” that turned out to be the automatic locking mechanism to the door. Unfortunately, she had no key to the home in order to get herself back inside - she always used the remote key pad on the side of the garage to get into the house. More unfortunately, ALL her things were in the house, including her cell phone (which was dead anyway, so that really didn't help, but the idea of her phone being in the house and her current position of being out of the house was making her panic) and any kind of implement she could have used to maybe pick the lock to the garage door, because she could get into the garage, just not the house once she was in the garage.
However, wanting to complete her requested task, she quickly checked the gutter (fortunately leaf-free because she really didn’t like the idea of having to dig out leaves in all that muddy guck), and then walked round & round the house, checking all the windows and doors in case one may have been inadvertently left open but they were (of course) securely locked. She was nothing if not thorough in her quest for safety. Eventually she noticed the little basement window on the side of the house that was surrounded by dirt (okay, a flower bed, but it was still dirty and gross. Did I mention her great dislike for the outdoors and the dirt that goes with it?), and covered in cobwebs, spiders and other unidentifiable yuckiness. She also noticed the window lock was up.
She knew what she had to do. So she squatted down to the window and tried to pull the window up. Nothing. She cursed. A lot. She tried again to pull the window up, nearly giving herself a hernia in the process. Nothing. She took her shoes off and threw them. Obviously the shoes were not allowing her to get a firm stance in the dirt. Pulled some more. Still nothing. In fit of anger, she shoved the edge of the window while profanity poured out of her mouth faster than a runaway train. Miraculously it opened. Just a smidge. Because the window in question was not the kind of window that pulled up or pushed down to open and close. It was the kind one pushed in or out. Had she bothered to really look, she’d have noticed that a lot sooner, and before her feet were covered in dirt.
So she shimmied and squirmed her way through the window, fairly certain her sizeable bandonkadonk wasn’t going to make the trip. Visions of Winnie the Pooh came to mind and she thought how no one at work would believe she wasn’t able to make it in the next day because she managed to get herself stuck in a window. Fortunately, her ability to measure accurately is just as faulty as her observational skills, so she was able to get through the window and into the house, where she cleaned up the dirty footprints on the bathroom sink (fortunately for her, the window was directly over it because falling onto the tiled floor in a heap wasn’t a fun thought) and closed the window all the way, but didn’t lock it. After all, she figured, if a murderer is going to go through all the trouble of getting dirty and squeezing through a tiny basement window just to slit her throat in her sleep, then he earned it.
And the next time her father in-law asks her to check the gutters for leaves, she's going to tell him to check his g-damned gutters himself.
The end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
