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Why I Don’t Like You and Other Truths

Posted in Misguided Musings by

It’s true. There are some people in this world that are just hard to like. You know the ones. The obnoxious guy who always tries to make puns out of ridiculous things; the girl who incessantly judges all the other girls; the sarcastic narcissistic boss who decides you are not worthy of his time and/or discussion hence he ignores your pleas for a meeting and constantly schedules you to clean out the photocopy machine during lunch; the highly OCD/Religious lady who declares you Hell-bound lest you fall on your knees and immediately repent for the wine you drank last night and the garden gnomes you stole off her lawn during your drunken escapade… You know. THOSE people.
I’ve decided I should write down all the things I DON’T like about people, so I can discover all the things I DO like and compare. It’s a shit-list, but well worth my time…since the photocopier is a lame-duck anyway. WHO NEEDS LUNCH, EMMIRITE???!!! Ugh…
Since we all love a good list, here’s a list of characters I don’t like:
The “I-don’t-drink-cause-it’s-bad-for-you-and-not-because-I’m-a-recovering-alcoholic-which-would-be-way-more-understanding-if-I-was” person – WHAT IS UP WITH THAT?! I know, I used to be in your crowd, and as the saying goes, the rehabilitated are the worst…so that would be me. Instead of being the rehabilitated alcoholic, I’ve reinvented the program and did it backwards. I’m the rehabilitated non-drinker…tea-totaler gone alckie if there ever was one. I’m the worse…I love a good glass of wine…alcohol and I are good pals…in moderation. BUT REALLY? Nothing? Nadda? Cocktail? No? I just don’t see how we could go on being friends. Hand in your friendship rewards card. I just can’t deal right now…

MAGOO TOAST
Bad drivers – Ugh. I think everybody admits to knowing a bad driver, but never admits to BEING a bad driver. With so many of BD’s out there, you would think SOMEBODY would cop to being the one and only asshole who takes pleasure in cutting you off, or speeds up as you are about to pass, or texts and drives then is surprised by rear-ending someone…I’m actually a pretty decent driver…seriously, I’m an excellent driver…just don’t talk to Hubby… no, don’t do that.

Diaz Bad teacher
The Narcissistic “I’m- fucking-awesome-and-you’re-the-lamest-lamo-evah” dude – GET OVER YOURSELF. YOU SMELL. WE ALL FIND YOU HIGHLY OFFENSIVE AND AWFUL TO BE AROUND. GET OVER YOUR MOMMY ISSUES AND GET SOME MANNERS…AND STOP BEING AN EMOTIONAL FUCKWIT. I think that covers it.
Competitive, much? – Seriously. I can only handle the ‘you vs me’ thing so long before it gets old. I’m done. If we just come to a mutual understanding of cohesiveness and team work, all will be good. There is no need for this competitive bullshit that takes up way too much time and effort. It’s too hard…let’s move on. By the way…I WIN.
The Russian Judge just gave you a -10. – Judgey people are the worst, right? They decide who is right and who is wrong, who is ‘in’ and who is not, who wore it best, who wore it like a burlap sack, who has too much eyeliner on today, who is an idiot, who doesn’t belong because she has the wrong colour of hair, the mommy who looks down her nose at you after you had that glass of wine at breakfast lunch…seriously. If you can do better, than do it. Otherwise, be supportive…be objective…be open minded. Oh, Goddammit, just be Oprah.

That's right! I'm awesome!

That’s right! I’m awesome!

The “You’re-going-to-Hell-and-I’m-not” person– okay. Jesus turned water into wine, right? He saved Mary Magdalene from being stoned to death, right? He told people not to judge others unless they want to be judged, right? Hmmm….

My Jesus toast says 'Be non-judgey'

My Jesus toast says ‘Be non-judgey’

The Whiner/Constant Complainer – OH MY GAWD STOP IT ALREADY. It’s not going to get better by incessant whining…DO SOMETHING. If it’s not the way you want it, CHANGE IT YOURSELF. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone. I’m busy making lists…Ugh..

That should be a pretty exhaustive run-down of all that is annoying in this world. The awesomeness is below…
Givers
Considerate drivers
Tolerant
Positive
Good Sense of humour. Imperative.
Social people who make unsocial people less awkward and more social-ish. It’s a talent. They can draw people in and make them feel at ease, instead of reminding them of their usual awkward and self-conscious selves. It’s a rare gift.
Happy

So, the truth in assigning what’s wrong with people vs what’s right with people is as individual as the person. Unfortunately, it’s human nature to judge, its human nature to complain and its human nature to drive badly…so I’m told. I guess the human condition requires us to be more supportive and less rigid in our expectations, to be more tolerant and to be accepting of everyone as they are…as annoying and as difficult as that may be. We are all in this together…so putting up with each other’s idiosyncrasies is imperative if we are to have some check marks on the ‘awesome’ side of the list. Tolerant, giving, positive…words to define humanity at its best. We all have people we don’t like and think we could go on without, but if we did that, we would lose three quarters of the population! Who wants a world of ‘perfect’ people?

Wait…I’m thinking….
Sorry. ‘Perfect’ is an unreal ideal.
We are all human, afterall….

I'm not Human...I'm a Sloth. But I'm still cool...

I’m not Human…I’m a Sloth. But I’m still cool…

Monday Thoughts

Posted in Misguided Musings by

I forgot my chocolate in the car. Is it wrong to get my daughter to drive it over to me?
Pictures are worth a thousand words, so I plan on taking more of them because I’m getting too lazy to write shit down

Huh?

Huh?

After forty-eight years of struggle and fear, I finally accomplished a real push-up. Not the wussy modified knee-pushup…the real ‘military’ style one. AND, not just one. I can do up to FIVE! IN A ROW. I was ecstatic about it until I started bragging to everybody I knew and they all gave me that look. You know the one…the ‘oh-that’s-cute-and-sad-at-the-same-time-cause-she-thinks-she’s-conquered-an-acutal-life-skill’ look and go ‘yeah. EVERYBODY can do those’. Fuck. I thought I was being awesome. Turns out I was just being average. So, now I’m asking everybody I see if they can do an actual pushup and not the wussy modified knee-pushup but an actual pushup, and they go ‘yeah’ and then I go ‘show me’ which they do, which makes me feel only slightly adequate and not at all as awesome as I did when I finally completed my FIVE IN A ROW. Ugh. I’ll have to up my game and brag about my expert crafting skills at building a tower out of Popsicle sticks and white glue. That’ll show’em…

This one...this. I did this.

This one…this. I did this.

I must have driven to work like I was in the Indy 500 this morning, because by the time I arrived in the parking lot, my lunch had spilled all over the back seat of the car…I think half of it landed somewhere on the floor under a seat, but I was too lazy to look for it. It’s buried under there somewhere. Maybe D2 will find it…eventually. Then it will be like “Gawd. Something died in here. What’s that smell?” I’ll blame the dog…It’s good to have a plan.

What?!

What?!

I just tried to call D2 to bring me my chocolate. She’s not answering. She probably found it in the secret hiding space in the car where everybody looks first, and is not answering my calls because she knows that I’m going to ask her to deliver it. Dammit. I hate it when my kids know me too well. I’ll have to text her with the word ‘emergency’ and then she’ll call me and be all like ‘chocolate isn’t an emergency’, but I beg to differ. CHOCOLATE IS ALWAYS AN EMERGENCY. THAT’S LIKE SAYING BAMBI’S MOTHER’S DEATH WASN’T A TRAGEDY!! Have you no heart? Ugh.

TRUTH!!

TRUTH!!

We are planning the next all-ladies all-inclusive boozer vacay that hubby has decided he needs to be apprised of just in case he wants to go off somewhere warm alone and without his awesome lovely wife…whilst we ladies are contemplating sand, sun and visions of drinks and shirtless waiters, I may have to give a false not-so-sunny-and-hot location just to make him feel better. Like, instead of Jamaica or Cancun, guess what dear? We have decided to go to Bell Island or Greenland instead. Or, we’re foregoing any awesome vacay altogether, just so we can spend all of our saved cash on you guys…
Hahaha…I know, right? Good, one Kayjai.

I Have No Business Watching the Osmonds or Reading King…Apparently

Posted in Books, Misguided Musings by

Please tell me why I just spent ninety minutes watching the Osmonds’ life story? Ugh… I shit you not, that’s exactly what I did for NINETY INANE MINUTES.  How is that even legal?

 My life has reached a point of stagnation that a movie about the Osmonds manages to hold my attention FOR NINEY MINUTES.  I just kept watching and watching.  It was like I couldn’t tear my eyes away and when the Donny and Marie show spirals out of control it was like I was reliving the tragedy “I’m a little bit country” all over again…then they lose 80 million dollars (yeah, 80 million) and then they start a tour again, then Merril faints (oh noooo)  and then suddenly, they’re all grown up and singing on some wanton stage dressed in black, “He’s ma Brother”   The End.  There.

 I just saved you from having to watch that movie. 

You. Are. Welcome.

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

In other relevant news, I just finished reading Under the Dome by Mr. King and it was fabulous.  A tad long, but great.  Wonderful.  You all should read it…just kinda flip through some of the non-essential boring stuff…you’ll see what I mean if you get the epic book that could double as the manual for orchestrating world domination with nothing more than a few arm bands and lighter fluid.  AND, written in Japanese…It’s huge and heavy so if you plan on carrying it around with you, don’t.  You’ll end up in the emergency room with back spasms or shoulder issues. They (meaning Steve) should have affixed a warning label on the cover stating the weight of the book may cause damage to your central nervous system if carried long distances.  Or brain issues if you read incessantly for periods of time that you get confused if there’s a dome surrounding your house or if that’s just your cat blocking the windows with her giant fur-clad body. Or when the next case of radiation may spontaneously invade your space that you think you need to run to Walmart to see if they have wayward lead rolls in stock to cover the windows of your car should you choose to drive up to the nearest cliff to see the strange purple flashing light….it’s a King book, remember?

Bigger than the dome

Bigger than the dome

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  It’s a two-man lift, …or two-woman lift…or one-man/one-woman lift.  An epic saga in that I-wanna-read-it-all-in-one-sitting-but-I’m-slowly-going-crosseyed-and-what’s-that-strange-idiotic-cat-doing-since-I-don’t-own-a-fucking-cat kinda book.  You get what I’m saying here…IT’S FUCKING HEAVY.   Just to be clear. 

‘Cause that was totally comprehensible…

It’s been a long day.  I need wine.   I could possibly be checking in with you all later this evening if I’m not drunk…or it may be more fun if I am.  Either way. 

Wine.

 

 

 

 

Saving the World One GPS At A Time

Posted in Conversations With, Doggie Diaries by

D1: OH MY GOD THE DOG JUST SHIT AND NOW SHE’S PLAYING IN IT! 

Me:  Perhaps you should tell her to stop

D1: OH MY GOD NOW SHE’S RUNNING ALL OVER THE HOUSE!  EWWWWW!!

Me:  Perhaps you could catch her so it doesn’t infest the floors with dog feces

D1: OH MY GOD SHE THINKS I’M PLAYING WITH HER AND NOW SHE WON’T STOP! 

Me:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

D1: IT’S NOT FUNNY!!

Me:  I used to have to run after you for the exact same thing when you were a baby!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

D1:  WHAT??!!  That’s not helping.

Me:  No, but it is funny….

What? It wasn't me! WANNA PLAY?!

What? It wasn’t me! WANNA PLAY?!

Below is an excerpt from an email I sent to ma DH ladies last week.  It seemed to generate a lot of discussion.  Hmmm….

Now that spring has sprung and kids have already begun to get lost, I suggest the following to keep the kiddies safe and the mommies sane:

 

* have a GPS locator installed on your kids’ shoes.  It saves a lot of texting, calling, yelling, screaming and crying.  AND, it’s kickass to have a GPS installed in your kid’s shoe.  True Story.

 

* Circulate a map of the area with the areas highlighted where the bodies may be buried with instructions that the kids stay away from there.  Then, because we know our children so well, have zombie-like mannequins buried in very shallow graves so when they do look for them, they will have the shit scared out of them.  Then they can come running home and you can all say what all mothers have been destined to say for centuries “I told you never to go there!!  Listen to your mother!  I know what I”m talking about!  Now get upstairs and put on clean underwear!”  

 

* Post signs for a non-existent neighbourhood watch program and install fake video cameras at every lamp post.  It’s creepy and the kids will be ominously looking skyward and waving at the cameras.  Visitors to the street will wonder what the fuck is wrong with these kids who are randomly waving and looking at the lampposts.  They’ll call city hall and then city hall will inspect the street, find the name-withheld-for-obvious-reason’s in violation of every lawn infraction imaginable and evict them.   Perfect. Solution. 

 

I could so solve the world’s socio-economic problems if just given half a chance and some alcohol…

 

This is why I get invited to DH every other week.  I may actually do some of this shit!

Attack of The Crows

Posted in Misguided Musings by

Current events in our city has prompted this drawing.  Crows are attacking innocent peeps in a terrifying Hitchockian manner!  Residents walking downtown minding their own business and totally not shouting or mocking the birds.  Observe:

A picture is worth a thousand words...or at least a few hundred

A picture is worth a thousand words…or at least a few hundred

Now you are officially informed.

Pray for us….or send slingshots.  At least that way we could charge admission to the public for their chance to play the game called “Scare The Crap out of the Crows” If someone actually hits one, they win a free bucket o’chicken.

Artwork by Kayjai