You think my Love of Charmed is bad?

My compulsive need to see every episode of Charmed has been well documented. Probably one of my less charming traits. (Charming, get it? Sorry, that was awful.)
But it’s time to rat out Xtian.
Xtian has developed a love of Bridezillas. Yes, that terrible, train wreck of a show about women who lose their damn minds planning a wedding. And I wholly encourage Xtian’s newfound obsession, you want to know why?

With each episode I look steadily less crazy. Close friends will remember the Parmesan cheese fiasco the day before my own wedding. But that is not even comparable to the level of horridness displayed on this show. Xtian is amazed at the shrieking, bitching, freaking out wenches portrayed on this program (but I seriously see how some of them can get that way. Your dressmaker ripped the bodice of your $4000 dress and didn’t mention it or fix it? So you’re now being stitched into the dress 45 minutes before the ceremony? Proceed with the complete mental breakdown.).

I’ve decided all television shows viewed by Xtian should serve to make me look better by comparison. For every lunatic spewing animosity on her betrothed, I look like more like Mother Theresa.

In this same vein, Xtian watched a documentary on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Again, I think my compulsive neuroses and obsessive traits have been discussed at length on this site. But watching this documentary made Xtian remark, “After seeing these people, it makes your OCD look CUTE.” And that, ladies and gentleman, is precisely what I’ve been trying to convince him. Mission accomplished.

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In the restroom at work, there are three stalls. Two of them have doors that automatically sit slightly open, unless you lock them. The third stall has a door that automatically falls closed. The one that falls closed is a touch roomier than the other two so when possible, I use that stall. (Umm, what’s with making bathroom stall so cramped you have to step around the toilet to close the door behind you? This is just awkward and gross.)
Knowing that the one stall is always closed, whether someone is in there or not, I usually listen when I walk into the bathroom to hear if someone else is in there. If I don’t hear anything, I’ll gently nudge the door to see if it’s locked. If so, I move on to another stall.

Apparently, this is not a thought process anyone else has experienced. Every time I’ve been in the preferred stall, someone will burst into the bathroom, and SLAM their full body force against my stall’s door. It’s disconcerting. (and being the pregnant lady who pees 4 times an hour these days, I’m in and out of the bathroom a LOT.)

But that’s nothing compared to the other day. I was in the preferred stall when Mean Russian Lady and someone else walk into the bathroom. They are having a loud conversation as they walk in, and MRL SLAMS into my stall’s door. While continuing the conversation, she moves on to another stall, does her thing and steps out of the stall. Then she proceeds to SLAM into my stall’s door again, and again while loudly saying, “This door is locked but no one’s in here!” My response was to clear my throat, cough, make some other sound to alert the person that, indeed, someone IS in there. But she didn’t hear anything because she’s loudly banging on the door and shouting about NO ONE BEING IN THERE!

Finally, I had to shout, “MEAN RUSSIAN LADY! SOMEONE IS IN HERE!” It was beyond uncomfortable.

Apparently, I have to somehow announce my presence in the bathroom in order to not have someone beating the door down. F’ing A.

But then again, why do expect anything better from the people I work with? Picture your rank and file trailer park in back woods Arkansas. Now, imagine the people who were chased OUT of that trailer park for being too stupid and low class. Now think if all those people were brothers and sisters who procreated together. THIS is the level of people we’re talking about.