I think Warren is starting to wean himself. And while part of me is so glad to get to have my body all to myself again, I'm also feeling like he's a little tiny baby, and it's the only thing he and I have that is special, that Xtian can't do. It was the only way I was preferable to Dada, and now he's just too busy for it. Does everyone feel that way? Or is it especially hard because I'm not his primary care giver? Do stay at home moms get as upset? Or is it just one more thing that I'm making myself crazy over? Because, clearly, if I don't have five sources of freak out every moment of my life, I die. I just fall down and die.
We're officially on a nursing schedule of first thing in the morning (though, I usually have to wake him for it before I leave, he's not getting up for it), sometimes when I get home in the evening (but that usually lasts about 10 seconds, I think it's mostly for his comfort and a way to reconnect at the end of a long separation), and sometimes he nurses for a minute before bed. I think he likes the idea of nursing, since he will pull on my shirt and say "na- na" often, but then wanders off once he nurses for a second.
Are you hearing this internet? I'm a creepy mother of sons. This? This right here? Is how women who only have male children become those creepy overbearing, overly-clingy women who chase their sons all over the country, begging them to call! I can't have it. I will accept this latest rejection stoically, like the millions of women who have gone before me.
Does this mean I can start drinking more than my one drink per evening? Bring on the rum!
Showing posts with label creepy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creepy. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Meh.
Oh, it's so fun being at work the day before a holiday. Especially since very few others bothered to come in. But, just waiting for a more reasonable time to leave early. (Strangely taking off at 11 am just seems like a less than good idea). Luckily, the VP who's taken it upon himself to do a "roll call" walk through every day is on vacation. Yeah, this guy is clearly so busy and important, he takes the time to walk through every department to see who is at their desk, and who is not. Then he brings it up in leadership meetings. Just fantastic.
And there are further updates on the crazy coworker. Yes, the same one who complained about my boss "being in the building" with her. She's gotten herself a little hard on for another friend of mine, whom we'll call Char. Char is a male, who works in the same office section as crazy lady. There are two doors leading out from this section, one that leads a person past my boss' office, and one that leads out into a hallway. Both doors are about equidistant to anywhere you'd want to go (lunchroom, bathroom etc). My friend, Char, usually uses the one that passes by my boss' office. Crazy lady refuses to use that same door, even though her desk is right next to it. (See, she's going to show my boss!).
Yesterday Crazy Lady sent Char an email telling him he's not supposed to be using the door by her (the one that leads a person by my boss' office). When he replied asking her, uh, why not? She said that most people in his department use the other door, so he probably should too.
This is just weird. Is she now the gate keeper? I can't imagine how fucked up in the head she is that she actually sat down and formulated words, put them into an email and hit "send" about which door she thinks someone ought to be using. Dear god.
This is a few weeks following Crazy Lady complaining to Char's boss that Char "yawns too loudly," and once used the word "naked" in a conversation she was not part of. (And no, it was not in reference to anything explicit, more like mentioning the brand name juice).
Again, the really bizarre part is not that she makes these complaints, it's that when she does, no one from my company (like the managers or HR folks) ever question it. Instead they fully investigate the claim, and give those she's harassing warnings. Sometimes, the world doesn't make sense.
Ok, that's all I've got. New Warren videos up for your viewing...pleasure? Yeah, I know. No one besides me and Xtian actually care, but my parents need the Warren videos. So Warren videos they'll get. Huzzah!
And there are further updates on the crazy coworker. Yes, the same one who complained about my boss "being in the building" with her. She's gotten herself a little hard on for another friend of mine, whom we'll call Char. Char is a male, who works in the same office section as crazy lady. There are two doors leading out from this section, one that leads a person past my boss' office, and one that leads out into a hallway. Both doors are about equidistant to anywhere you'd want to go (lunchroom, bathroom etc). My friend, Char, usually uses the one that passes by my boss' office. Crazy lady refuses to use that same door, even though her desk is right next to it. (See, she's going to show my boss!).
Yesterday Crazy Lady sent Char an email telling him he's not supposed to be using the door by her (the one that leads a person by my boss' office). When he replied asking her, uh, why not? She said that most people in his department use the other door, so he probably should too.
This is just weird. Is she now the gate keeper? I can't imagine how fucked up in the head she is that she actually sat down and formulated words, put them into an email and hit "send" about which door she thinks someone ought to be using. Dear god.
This is a few weeks following Crazy Lady complaining to Char's boss that Char "yawns too loudly," and once used the word "naked" in a conversation she was not part of. (And no, it was not in reference to anything explicit, more like mentioning the brand name juice).
Again, the really bizarre part is not that she makes these complaints, it's that when she does, no one from my company (like the managers or HR folks) ever question it. Instead they fully investigate the claim, and give those she's harassing warnings. Sometimes, the world doesn't make sense.
Ok, that's all I've got. New Warren videos up for your viewing...pleasure? Yeah, I know. No one besides me and Xtian actually care, but my parents need the Warren videos. So Warren videos they'll get. Huzzah!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Now that we all have diabetes...
Or at least want to puke from all the saccharine around here, let's talk Family Party, shall we?
So, Uncle Mark, the birthday boy, showed up. And avoided me mostly. Which makes me, lucky. I only overheard a few really fucked up things being drunkenly shouted with dozens of kids present, so we'll call that "success." I'll share one choice selection, so if you have sensitive sensibilities, skip a few lines, mmmkay? While discussing a neighbor who'd been arrested for molesting a 10 year old girl, "I'd a thought he's a complete queer, 'cept for that little girl he was fucking."
Oh joy. Just awesome. My other awful uncle (at least this one isn't actually blood related in any way), Joe, made himself a complete ass, as per usual. His big thing lately has been celebrating that TWO boys were born. Yeah, we have mostly girls in all the families, the joke being that you get one boy. If you have 2 kids, if you have 12, you get one boy per family unit. And both my aunt and I had boys. And Joe has taken that as a personal achievement. What HE had to do with it, I'll never know, but he's quite pleased with himself. My favorite quote from him, regarding his three daughters, followed by a son, "I made three mistakes before I got one right." Yes, he said it in front of his young daughters. Classy.
He's been on this kick for a while, so I usually avoid him at all costs. Look, it's annoying, and offensive, and if I thought he was joking, I'd be able to overlook it. But he started in again on Saturday, he grabbed my shoulders from behind and kind of shook them back and forth while shouting, "GOOD JOB! GOOD JOB! Now just make a few more of those boys and we'll be all set!" Fucking asshole. I finally responded with, "Keep it to yourself, Joe." But he didn't get it. Because he's stupid.
The other fun thing he does, is tell me all the ways I'm doing it wrong. Specifically in how I'm raising Warren. Yes, because so much really can be done wrong at 4 months old. Good thing I don't take parenting advice from the guy who just spent 3 years in San Quentin for having a Meth lab in his home, with his children. That doesn't stop him from offering his advice however. God, I hate that guy. Why is it, half the men in my family are just the most worthless pieces of shit imaginable? And yet, Joe thinks we need MORE boys? Yeah, because they turn out so well, right? (No offense to the actually decent men in our family, of which there are a few.)
Ok, that's all the energy I have for today. I'll tell you all about my sweety mother's day and our "meh" anniversary.
So, Uncle Mark, the birthday boy, showed up. And avoided me mostly. Which makes me, lucky. I only overheard a few really fucked up things being drunkenly shouted with dozens of kids present, so we'll call that "success." I'll share one choice selection, so if you have sensitive sensibilities, skip a few lines, mmmkay? While discussing a neighbor who'd been arrested for molesting a 10 year old girl, "I'd a thought he's a complete queer, 'cept for that little girl he was fucking."
Oh joy. Just awesome. My other awful uncle (at least this one isn't actually blood related in any way), Joe, made himself a complete ass, as per usual. His big thing lately has been celebrating that TWO boys were born. Yeah, we have mostly girls in all the families, the joke being that you get one boy. If you have 2 kids, if you have 12, you get one boy per family unit. And both my aunt and I had boys. And Joe has taken that as a personal achievement. What HE had to do with it, I'll never know, but he's quite pleased with himself. My favorite quote from him, regarding his three daughters, followed by a son, "I made three mistakes before I got one right." Yes, he said it in front of his young daughters. Classy.
He's been on this kick for a while, so I usually avoid him at all costs. Look, it's annoying, and offensive, and if I thought he was joking, I'd be able to overlook it. But he started in again on Saturday, he grabbed my shoulders from behind and kind of shook them back and forth while shouting, "GOOD JOB! GOOD JOB! Now just make a few more of those boys and we'll be all set!" Fucking asshole. I finally responded with, "Keep it to yourself, Joe." But he didn't get it. Because he's stupid.
The other fun thing he does, is tell me all the ways I'm doing it wrong. Specifically in how I'm raising Warren. Yes, because so much really can be done wrong at 4 months old. Good thing I don't take parenting advice from the guy who just spent 3 years in San Quentin for having a Meth lab in his home, with his children. That doesn't stop him from offering his advice however. God, I hate that guy. Why is it, half the men in my family are just the most worthless pieces of shit imaginable? And yet, Joe thinks we need MORE boys? Yeah, because they turn out so well, right? (No offense to the actually decent men in our family, of which there are a few.)
Ok, that's all the energy I have for today. I'll tell you all about my sweety mother's day and our "meh" anniversary.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Yes, let's converse further about my mammary glands!
Ok, so seriously? There is a rash of awful news going around. Cancer, dead cats, disease, layoffs, deployment to war zones, non-improving medical conditions, the list goes on. Careful out there, catastrophic life events seem to be catching. I'm doubling up on my vitamin C just in case. You might consider doing the same.
Every day I have at least one awkward conversation revolving around lactation. I think people at my office are just not busy enough. And the weird part, it's all men who talk to me about it. I'm perfectly content to just wash out my pumping supplies in silence. But no. Every day, some creepy guy or another is peering over my shoulder to see what it is I'm doing at the sink, then feels the need to comment. "I remember those from when my wife was breastfeeding!" Good for you. Now fuck off.
Or the really weird guy, "Do you always wash those out in the kitchen?" Umm, since my office lacks a sink, yes. Yes I do. Are they just making conversation? Because this? This is not the makings of idle conversation. It's awkward, and on the verge of harassment. Go ahead, ask me about my breast health some more!
Everyone I talk to asks me what we're doing with Warren for Easter. When I answer, "Um, nothing," everyone's a little taken aback. My rationale for not doing shit on the holidays for Warren: He's a baby. He does not care, and I don't really follow the christian faith as it is. So, like every year, I will be waiting until Monday, then buying all the half-priced Easter candy I can get my hands on. People were equally horrified when I mentioned that we didn't buy Warren any Christmas presents either. DUDE! He was like, 5 days old. His gift? He gets to live.
I'm really not motivated to do anything festive for a baby who has no concept of what is going on. Maybe when the kid's like, three and has some idea of what a holiday is, maybe I'll suddenly give a shit about doing all the cutesy stuff. I think my kid is pretty dang cute, but I have no desire to make/buy special outfits, or have his picture taken with a big, creepy Easter bunny at the mall, or put an easter basket together for him. And no, I don't think that makes me a negligent mom. But from the looks of shock and dismay I receive, clearly, I'm wrong.
Parents are weird.
Every day I have at least one awkward conversation revolving around lactation. I think people at my office are just not busy enough. And the weird part, it's all men who talk to me about it. I'm perfectly content to just wash out my pumping supplies in silence. But no. Every day, some creepy guy or another is peering over my shoulder to see what it is I'm doing at the sink, then feels the need to comment. "I remember those from when my wife was breastfeeding!" Good for you. Now fuck off.
Or the really weird guy, "Do you always wash those out in the kitchen?" Umm, since my office lacks a sink, yes. Yes I do. Are they just making conversation? Because this? This is not the makings of idle conversation. It's awkward, and on the verge of harassment. Go ahead, ask me about my breast health some more!
Everyone I talk to asks me what we're doing with Warren for Easter. When I answer, "Um, nothing," everyone's a little taken aback. My rationale for not doing shit on the holidays for Warren: He's a baby. He does not care, and I don't really follow the christian faith as it is. So, like every year, I will be waiting until Monday, then buying all the half-priced Easter candy I can get my hands on. People were equally horrified when I mentioned that we didn't buy Warren any Christmas presents either. DUDE! He was like, 5 days old. His gift? He gets to live.
I'm really not motivated to do anything festive for a baby who has no concept of what is going on. Maybe when the kid's like, three and has some idea of what a holiday is, maybe I'll suddenly give a shit about doing all the cutesy stuff. I think my kid is pretty dang cute, but I have no desire to make/buy special outfits, or have his picture taken with a big, creepy Easter bunny at the mall, or put an easter basket together for him. And no, I don't think that makes me a negligent mom. But from the looks of shock and dismay I receive, clearly, I'm wrong.
Parents are weird.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Is you is, or is you ain't my constituency?
Have I ever told you about my weird neighbor, Captain Ron? Well, we call him such because his name is Ron, and he stands on the steps up to his house in a captain’s hat, hands on hips, feet spread wide, as though he is Captain of the neighborhood.
He’s a strange character. See, my neighborhood is right on the edge of a pretty intense ghetto. (Did I mention there was a fatal shooting on the next block when Xtian’s friends were in town? Oh, I didn’t? oops.) So, Capt Ron “looks out for the neighborhood.” Now, I’m not sure what this all entails. Apparently, yelling loudly at anyone who lives around there, pushing his non-functioning 70’s Mercedes back and forth across the street, and pulling guns on my relatives.
You see, one of my cousins showed up a month early for my wedding. While looking for my house, at about 1 pm on a Tuesday (ok, who gets married on a Tuesday? Or at least has the party on a Tuesday? Probably should have been my cousin’s first clue, but whatever), my cousin was driving slowly and looking for the right address. Capt Ron lives directly across the street from us, and apparently thought my cousin looked suspicious. So, he did what any good neighbor would do, PULLED A FUCKING SHOTGUN ON MY COUSIN! When my cousin explained that what he was looking for, all Capt Ron had to say was, “Well, trust me, your cousin doesn’t live here. Now get out of here!”
Good stuff, right? I’m not sure he’s ever thwarted a crime, but he’s certainly irritated/endangered most of the people I’ve invited over. He means well, but he’s just nuts. Xtian maintains a civil relationship with the Capt, and often gives Capt Ron leftover containers of the organic orange juice his company sells. Apparently, this has led to Capt Ron feeling the need to reciprocate.
So far, he’s brought over home made barbecued Chicken and a home smoked salmon. Now, I get that he’s being nice, but it’s still weird.
Lately, he’s taken to leaving flowers on our doorstep. As Ron explained to Xtian, “I like seeing men treat their women well. So, here are some flowers for you to give to your wife.” Nice, right? Yeah, but also kind of weird and creepy. So, every few days or so, we’ll find some assortment of flowers wrapped in newspaper propped against our door. I’m not really sure how to react to this, or what will be the next step here. Are we required to bring him increasingly elaborate, but still bizarre things? A bucket of cleaning supplies? Or a half eaten sub sandwich?
~~
Tomorrow is Sarah’s birthday, so tonight I’ll be heading down to scenic San Leandro to join her and some other folks in various forms of eating and merrymaking. Of course, since this stuff doesn’t get rolling until 7 pm, how long do you think I’ll make it before falling asleep, facedown in the appetizers?
New development: I forget the whole “there’s a human living in my abdomen” thing sometimes, and it leads me to move in ways I really can’t anymore. For example: bending over. From my office chair, I attempted to pick a pen up off the floor. To my dismay I found that trying to bend at the waist/hips causes me to half vomit. What with the kid and all my internal organs being pushed up into my ribcage, the added pressure forces a whole lot of upward movement. This is not a fun discovery.
He’s a strange character. See, my neighborhood is right on the edge of a pretty intense ghetto. (Did I mention there was a fatal shooting on the next block when Xtian’s friends were in town? Oh, I didn’t? oops.) So, Capt Ron “looks out for the neighborhood.” Now, I’m not sure what this all entails. Apparently, yelling loudly at anyone who lives around there, pushing his non-functioning 70’s Mercedes back and forth across the street, and pulling guns on my relatives.
You see, one of my cousins showed up a month early for my wedding. While looking for my house, at about 1 pm on a Tuesday (ok, who gets married on a Tuesday? Or at least has the party on a Tuesday? Probably should have been my cousin’s first clue, but whatever), my cousin was driving slowly and looking for the right address. Capt Ron lives directly across the street from us, and apparently thought my cousin looked suspicious. So, he did what any good neighbor would do, PULLED A FUCKING SHOTGUN ON MY COUSIN! When my cousin explained that what he was looking for, all Capt Ron had to say was, “Well, trust me, your cousin doesn’t live here. Now get out of here!”
Good stuff, right? I’m not sure he’s ever thwarted a crime, but he’s certainly irritated/endangered most of the people I’ve invited over. He means well, but he’s just nuts. Xtian maintains a civil relationship with the Capt, and often gives Capt Ron leftover containers of the organic orange juice his company sells. Apparently, this has led to Capt Ron feeling the need to reciprocate.
So far, he’s brought over home made barbecued Chicken and a home smoked salmon. Now, I get that he’s being nice, but it’s still weird.
Lately, he’s taken to leaving flowers on our doorstep. As Ron explained to Xtian, “I like seeing men treat their women well. So, here are some flowers for you to give to your wife.” Nice, right? Yeah, but also kind of weird and creepy. So, every few days or so, we’ll find some assortment of flowers wrapped in newspaper propped against our door. I’m not really sure how to react to this, or what will be the next step here. Are we required to bring him increasingly elaborate, but still bizarre things? A bucket of cleaning supplies? Or a half eaten sub sandwich?
~~
Tomorrow is Sarah’s birthday, so tonight I’ll be heading down to scenic San Leandro to join her and some other folks in various forms of eating and merrymaking. Of course, since this stuff doesn’t get rolling until 7 pm, how long do you think I’ll make it before falling asleep, facedown in the appetizers?
New development: I forget the whole “there’s a human living in my abdomen” thing sometimes, and it leads me to move in ways I really can’t anymore. For example: bending over. From my office chair, I attempted to pick a pen up off the floor. To my dismay I found that trying to bend at the waist/hips causes me to half vomit. What with the kid and all my internal organs being pushed up into my ribcage, the added pressure forces a whole lot of upward movement. This is not a fun discovery.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
I'm gonna show you how to ball, middle finger to the law.
So the weekend exploded into far more activity than I was hoping for. What with birthdays and graduations coming up, we had a lot of errands to run.
Then, Saturday evening was my cousin’s 17th birthday party. That was just delightful, and I’m so glad I have the luxury of being so close to my extended family. I’ve been fortunate in that I get to watch my cousins turn into real people, and neat people as well. There were some awkward moments there, so I’ll share. (Because that’s what I do.)
Awkward Moment number 1:
The two preggos (me and my newlywed aunt) were chatting when a family friend wandered by and joined in the conversation. I’ve known this woman for years and years, but only casually. She started putting both hands on the bellies and kind of palpating, like trying to see where the baby was at that moment. For a few minutes she was kind of groping my abdomen, alternating between my belly and my aunt’s. It was really kind of odd. I mean, I don’t mind people close to me, who ask, touching the belly. But this was not just touching; this was two steps from a pap smear. Weird. (And to stem the questions, no this women is not a medical professional.)
Awkward Moment number 2:
The adult women were all kind of clustered together chatting about the wedding, specifically about the groom’s sister. (you know, the one who went into labor with what I found out was her SEVENTH child during the wedding). This woman is in her late twenties, has SEVEN children and doesn’t seem to really give a shit about parenting any of them. One of the women (not related to me) engaged me in a one on one conversation wherein she regaled me of tales of the so-called Welfare Queens in her town. According to her, 90% of all people receiving welfare or food stamps are all churning out new kids each year to get more money.
First off, like any stereotype/urban legend, I know there’s a nugget of truth. Yes, some people do take advantage of the systems meant to take care of those who need help. But I do not believe that this is the majority of those receiving help. Secondly, how the fuck would she know? She does not work for social services; she works for a grocery store. Her only experience is the people she comes into contact with, I daresay, NOT every single person on welfare in her county.
So, this kind of ruffled my feathers, but she’s a friend of one of my family members and clearly this upsets her, so I just kind of made noncommittal sounds while she complained about old neighbors of hers who were “paid to come to this country, NONE of them work, they party all night long, and drive brand new cars that I can’t afford. That must be nice.” This is when we get to the heart of it. She is upset that other people have things that she does not. She does NOT know these people’s situation, because she’s never spoken with them. She is angry that she does not have more. This is a person who will never be happy with what she has, but does a nice song and dance about how “I don’t let it bother me. I’m happy with my life.” But clearly, since this is the conversation I’m stuck in, it does bother her. Enough that she’s proselytizing to someone who was trying desperately to get out of this conversation. I was openly looking around trying to find someone to get me out of there. She wouldn’t let me walk away. Sheesh. Finally my cousin rescued me, and I spent hours avoiding this woman. If I may use a quote brought to my attention by the glorious Sarah, “A fanatic is someone who can not change their mind, and WILL NOT change the subject.” I think we hit the nail on the head with that one.
Awkward Moment number 3:
I was walking out of the bathroom (you know because peeing is my new favorite hobby these days), and I was corner by my Step Grandmother. I’d chatted with her a little earlier in the evening, did a little post mortem on the wedding etc. So, I was confused when after finding me walking out of the bathroom, she immediately whined, “So you didn’t like the wedding?”
*sigh*
I had said nothing but positive things about the wedding in every conversation I’d had with her and everyone else. Hell, how could I not like the wedding, I MADE THE WEDDING. I can stand back and realize that this is her sick way of asking for affirmation and reassurance. Anyone else with any level of social skills would fish for compliments by saying, “So, how’d you like the wedding?” But it’s SG, so it must be couched negatively. Just fantastic.
Once again, I will thank my mother for reminding me that this is a person who is bound and determined to be unhappy. So, I mumbled about how the ceremony was great the wedding went well etc and ran the hell out of there.
Why is it all the wackos decide to vent their Crazy on me? I mean, I know that I’m often described as easy to talk to and I try to be kind and open-minded with everyone I meet. But this is just taking advantage of someone who is too polite to say, “YOU ARE FUCKING NUTS. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE, I DON’T WANT WHAT YOU ARE OFFERING.” For serious.
Anyone, got anything they use to defuse situations with nutbags like those illustrated above? (Aside from the aforementioned, “FUCK OFF!”?)
Then, Saturday evening was my cousin’s 17th birthday party. That was just delightful, and I’m so glad I have the luxury of being so close to my extended family. I’ve been fortunate in that I get to watch my cousins turn into real people, and neat people as well. There were some awkward moments there, so I’ll share. (Because that’s what I do.)
Awkward Moment number 1:
The two preggos (me and my newlywed aunt) were chatting when a family friend wandered by and joined in the conversation. I’ve known this woman for years and years, but only casually. She started putting both hands on the bellies and kind of palpating, like trying to see where the baby was at that moment. For a few minutes she was kind of groping my abdomen, alternating between my belly and my aunt’s. It was really kind of odd. I mean, I don’t mind people close to me, who ask, touching the belly. But this was not just touching; this was two steps from a pap smear. Weird. (And to stem the questions, no this women is not a medical professional.)
Awkward Moment number 2:
The adult women were all kind of clustered together chatting about the wedding, specifically about the groom’s sister. (you know, the one who went into labor with what I found out was her SEVENTH child during the wedding). This woman is in her late twenties, has SEVEN children and doesn’t seem to really give a shit about parenting any of them. One of the women (not related to me) engaged me in a one on one conversation wherein she regaled me of tales of the so-called Welfare Queens in her town. According to her, 90% of all people receiving welfare or food stamps are all churning out new kids each year to get more money.
First off, like any stereotype/urban legend, I know there’s a nugget of truth. Yes, some people do take advantage of the systems meant to take care of those who need help. But I do not believe that this is the majority of those receiving help. Secondly, how the fuck would she know? She does not work for social services; she works for a grocery store. Her only experience is the people she comes into contact with, I daresay, NOT every single person on welfare in her county.
So, this kind of ruffled my feathers, but she’s a friend of one of my family members and clearly this upsets her, so I just kind of made noncommittal sounds while she complained about old neighbors of hers who were “paid to come to this country, NONE of them work, they party all night long, and drive brand new cars that I can’t afford. That must be nice.” This is when we get to the heart of it. She is upset that other people have things that she does not. She does NOT know these people’s situation, because she’s never spoken with them. She is angry that she does not have more. This is a person who will never be happy with what she has, but does a nice song and dance about how “I don’t let it bother me. I’m happy with my life.” But clearly, since this is the conversation I’m stuck in, it does bother her. Enough that she’s proselytizing to someone who was trying desperately to get out of this conversation. I was openly looking around trying to find someone to get me out of there. She wouldn’t let me walk away. Sheesh. Finally my cousin rescued me, and I spent hours avoiding this woman. If I may use a quote brought to my attention by the glorious Sarah, “A fanatic is someone who can not change their mind, and WILL NOT change the subject.” I think we hit the nail on the head with that one.
Awkward Moment number 3:
I was walking out of the bathroom (you know because peeing is my new favorite hobby these days), and I was corner by my Step Grandmother. I’d chatted with her a little earlier in the evening, did a little post mortem on the wedding etc. So, I was confused when after finding me walking out of the bathroom, she immediately whined, “So you didn’t like the wedding?”
*sigh*
I had said nothing but positive things about the wedding in every conversation I’d had with her and everyone else. Hell, how could I not like the wedding, I MADE THE WEDDING. I can stand back and realize that this is her sick way of asking for affirmation and reassurance. Anyone else with any level of social skills would fish for compliments by saying, “So, how’d you like the wedding?” But it’s SG, so it must be couched negatively. Just fantastic.
Once again, I will thank my mother for reminding me that this is a person who is bound and determined to be unhappy. So, I mumbled about how the ceremony was great the wedding went well etc and ran the hell out of there.
Why is it all the wackos decide to vent their Crazy on me? I mean, I know that I’m often described as easy to talk to and I try to be kind and open-minded with everyone I meet. But this is just taking advantage of someone who is too polite to say, “YOU ARE FUCKING NUTS. PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE, I DON’T WANT WHAT YOU ARE OFFERING.” For serious.
Anyone, got anything they use to defuse situations with nutbags like those illustrated above? (Aside from the aforementioned, “FUCK OFF!”?)
Friday, October 13, 2006
Stuff, Stuff and More Stuff
I’m supposed to be writing some things for work. But I’m lacking anything good, so I thought I’d vomit all my non-creativity onto the internet before I start.
~~~~
I converted this here blog to the Beta version. Which I can't really see any features I'd find useful, but you know the big drawback? Now I can't even comment on NON-Beta blogs. So, I'm more than a little bitter. Everyone else should now convert their blogs forthwith in order to accommodate ME. I'm awesome, didn't I mention?
~~
Two great things I’ve heard in the last 24 hours:
“You’re a bitch, but I love you anyway.” And no, Xtian did not say that to me. That little gem right there (which pretty much describes how most of my friends feel about me) is courtesy of Bowling for Soup in their spectacularly titled song “The Bitch Song.”
The Second great thing came straight from the mouth of my beautiful Sarah.
“Remember, half the population is below average.” Just kind of reminds me that at least half the people in the world are probably too stupid for me to feel like talking to. (Wow, that was bitchy. May I refer you to Great things I’ve Heard in the Past 24 Hours, Thing the First?)
~~
So, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat all day. I’ve been having the feeling that something bad is going to happen. It all started when I got up to run this morning. It was just after 5 am when I got outside. It felt weird. Ominous. I live in a semi-sketchy neighborhood, and my run takes me through some places I’m sure have been featured as crime scenes on TV shows. I run this way at least 4 days a week, but today I felt terrified the entire time. I was just sure something was off. It was too dark, too quiet, too windy too….everything
Then as I was running through an intersection, a car was turning left just past me. The driver’s side window was the closest to me, and I swear this guy leaned out the window and said “Coley, I’ll see you soon.” Except I didn’t recognize the car and didn’t see the guy. Then he drove past me about 3 minutes later, heading toward my destination. In that moment, I made peace with my life, because I was sure this is how I died.
Now, it’s possible I miss-heard the guy, and it’s all just some weird thing concocted in my imagination. And nothing came of it…yet. But even so, the whole day feels weird. So, if you all don’t hear from me again, it’s probably just that Creepy McCreeperson finally got ahold of me, and is in the process of torturing me until I either die, or he becomes bored.
So, now that my weekend is all planned out, I feel pretty resigned to my fate. Or something…
~~
Now that my cell phone is officially a glorified clock (at the low, low price of $80 a month. SUCH A DEAL!!) I feel like I’m not talking to any of my friends anymore. I usually use my 40-minute commute to call the people on my list. However, now that would take a lung capacity I simply do not have. It’s getting way too easy to revert to my hermit-like tendencies.
And this weekend will continue with my hermitness. If possible, I plan to not speak with anyone who isn’t Xtian, my cats, or my TV? (come on, can I really watch football without screaming at the TV? The answer to that is no. Absolutely not.) Could get difficult when I go shopping, or when Xtian and I go out to dinner, but whatever. I’m willing to make that sacrifice.
~~~~
And for a final Friday Morning Note: My headache is back with a vengeance. I swear, if this one lasts longer than a few hours, I’m going to go looking for Mr. Creepy McCreeperson and see if we can get a jump on the sadistic murder. At least then there’d be an end in sight. And to make it all worse, I share living space with a man who DOESN’T GET HEADACHES EVER. How is this possible? I didn’t realize that some people just don’t get them. The injustice, the sheer lack of equity and fairness.
Right. I’m out to transfer pre-existing documents to a new template design. Sounds riveting, no?
~~~~
I converted this here blog to the Beta version. Which I can't really see any features I'd find useful, but you know the big drawback? Now I can't even comment on NON-Beta blogs. So, I'm more than a little bitter. Everyone else should now convert their blogs forthwith in order to accommodate ME. I'm awesome, didn't I mention?
~~
Two great things I’ve heard in the last 24 hours:
“You’re a bitch, but I love you anyway.” And no, Xtian did not say that to me. That little gem right there (which pretty much describes how most of my friends feel about me) is courtesy of Bowling for Soup in their spectacularly titled song “The Bitch Song.”
The Second great thing came straight from the mouth of my beautiful Sarah.
“Remember, half the population is below average.” Just kind of reminds me that at least half the people in the world are probably too stupid for me to feel like talking to. (Wow, that was bitchy. May I refer you to Great things I’ve Heard in the Past 24 Hours, Thing the First?)
~~
So, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat all day. I’ve been having the feeling that something bad is going to happen. It all started when I got up to run this morning. It was just after 5 am when I got outside. It felt weird. Ominous. I live in a semi-sketchy neighborhood, and my run takes me through some places I’m sure have been featured as crime scenes on TV shows. I run this way at least 4 days a week, but today I felt terrified the entire time. I was just sure something was off. It was too dark, too quiet, too windy too….everything
Then as I was running through an intersection, a car was turning left just past me. The driver’s side window was the closest to me, and I swear this guy leaned out the window and said “Coley, I’ll see you soon.” Except I didn’t recognize the car and didn’t see the guy. Then he drove past me about 3 minutes later, heading toward my destination. In that moment, I made peace with my life, because I was sure this is how I died.
Now, it’s possible I miss-heard the guy, and it’s all just some weird thing concocted in my imagination. And nothing came of it…yet. But even so, the whole day feels weird. So, if you all don’t hear from me again, it’s probably just that Creepy McCreeperson finally got ahold of me, and is in the process of torturing me until I either die, or he becomes bored.
So, now that my weekend is all planned out, I feel pretty resigned to my fate. Or something…
~~
Now that my cell phone is officially a glorified clock (at the low, low price of $80 a month. SUCH A DEAL!!) I feel like I’m not talking to any of my friends anymore. I usually use my 40-minute commute to call the people on my list. However, now that would take a lung capacity I simply do not have. It’s getting way too easy to revert to my hermit-like tendencies.
And this weekend will continue with my hermitness. If possible, I plan to not speak with anyone who isn’t Xtian, my cats, or my TV? (come on, can I really watch football without screaming at the TV? The answer to that is no. Absolutely not.) Could get difficult when I go shopping, or when Xtian and I go out to dinner, but whatever. I’m willing to make that sacrifice.
~~~~
And for a final Friday Morning Note: My headache is back with a vengeance. I swear, if this one lasts longer than a few hours, I’m going to go looking for Mr. Creepy McCreeperson and see if we can get a jump on the sadistic murder. At least then there’d be an end in sight. And to make it all worse, I share living space with a man who DOESN’T GET HEADACHES EVER. How is this possible? I didn’t realize that some people just don’t get them. The injustice, the sheer lack of equity and fairness.
Right. I’m out to transfer pre-existing documents to a new template design. Sounds riveting, no?
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