Helpful Tips for Avoiding Douche-Like Behaviour

So, Friday was Halloween and we celebrated the day by trying desperately to look cool whilst looking like office workers wearing hats. Which is what we were. Until some guy walked in and we had a difficult time deciding if he was wearing a costume or if he actually looked like that. He had a mustache, hat and glasses…so does one always wear mustache, hat and glasses or was it a Halloween costume? Was he trying to confound and confuse us into thinking he didn’t normally look like that, but since Friday was Halloween and everybody looked unusual anyway, ( I mean we were wearing hats) he fit right in? That’s what I’m going with. I wish I had had a mustache, hat and glasses so that I could have made him feel even more at home…next year I’ll be more prepared.
While I am attempting to squash my asshole-like tendencies by being pleasant and over-the-top-helpful-bordering-on-strange-creepy-and-sorta-awkward, I have amassed a list of tips to avoid asshole-like behaviours so you too, can be over-the-top-helpful and borderline strange and creepy.
You. Are. Welcome.
1. People tend to not enjoy negative comments like “you suck” and “stop being so annoying”. I realize this may be a news flash for some, but try to employ a bit of tact when telling somebody you’d rather have a mouthful of wasps than be in their company. Phrases like “I realize you probably suffered some childhood trauma that makes you such an asshole, but please try to be more cooperative” are pretty good. Also, labelling the behavior is a good way to tell someone what they are doing is not so appropriate. “You are yelling and your opinion is not important enough to me to matter” is a great way to be specific. Go You!

grumpy cat

2. When Grumpy McGrumperston arrives at your door to bring all kinds of negative shit your way, I find being the total opposite is a wondrous adventure in both movie trivia and ‘how crazy can I become for the sake of making a point’. For example, when a certain someone decided that I was being totally unreasonable in my expectations to at least attempt at cleaning a room, and became a version of Grumpy Cat 2.0, I went all Mary Poppins on her ass and had a grand time! Singing “Spoon Full of Sugar” with a British accent whilst twirling around with the dog in my arms proved to be an alarming yet effective means of avoiding any kind of conversation whatsoever. It also proves that kids nowadays have no sense of old Disney movies and who in the hell Julie Andrews is, OR the value of a good British accent.

3. Remember, employing the ‘obviously’ word in a snide Snape-like tone tends to be a real turn-off for members of the opposite sex when they’ve made an observation that you made a few days ago. It’s often better to nod and smile…then laugh hysterically behind their backs after they leave the room. That way they won’t see how much more intelligent you are. It’s better to say something useful about the weather when they’ve returned and you have gotten up off the floor. See how considerate you are?!


4. Apparently, using the phrase “Fuck you” is not a constructive way to handle conflict. I know it came as a shock to me, too. When the need arises to use such filthy language, use this instead: “I have come to the realization that speaking with you any further can only lead to angry outbursts, thus I will only communicate with you in mime.” I think no further explanation of this point is necessary.

There you have it. Four useful Tips In How Not to Be a Total Douche in Public. I should start on the manual. It could be a bestseller…

Conversations with Mags…the Dog

Me: Mags, we need to talk about this ‘attitude’ you seem to have developed.
Mags: What?! Attitude?! Me? ! I have no ‘attitude’. I’m just a better dog than all the others, that’s all
Me: Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re not better. In fact, you are anti-social and don’t like humans or dogs. You’re a downright bitch.
Mags: Well of course I am. I’m a female dog. The smartest and prettiest dog ever. AND, humans that come to MY door need to pass a security test. I smell them to make sure they are okay to enter MY house. I’m protecting you. I don’t know why you get so upset when I bark at intruders. They need to be screened. You humans are so trustworthy and stupid. Gawd.
Me: Okay, first of all we are NOT stupid and since when did you use the word “Gawd”?
Mags: Our human child says it all the time when you’re not here.
Me: ‘Our’? Ugh, I suppose she does. And not all humans are untrustworthy, Mags. You trust me, right?
Mags: Barely. You need all the help you can get. You let anybody come traipsing in here with their little humans who incessantly chase me around and try to pet my head. I hate that.
Me: I let people we know in the house. Not complete strangers.
Mags: The dude that fixed the fridge was what? Your bestie? I hardly think so. And you let those other humans sit in my spot and mess up my blankie. Poor blankie….
Me: Yeah…okay. Speaking of ‘bestie’ you need friends and you can’t have friends if you bark at them and antagonize other dogs all the time. You’re getting a bad rep and you need to be friendlier.
Mags: Other dogs are stupid. They slobber and walk around as if the world is a happy place. It isn’t happy! It’s scary. Stupid.
Me: Mags…how about Howard?* You like him, right? You guys play together after you ‘screen’ him, right?
Mags: Howard is an idiot. That dog just sits there and stares blankly into space. Does he not know how to chase a ball or run? Seriously, what’s wrong with him?! I run around the yard and he just sits there and looks at me like I’M the one that needs help.
Me: That’s because you scare the crap out of him! If you let him sniff you and…
Mags: Wait a minute…YOU WANT ME TO LET THAT IDIOT SNIFF ME??!! ARE YOU CRAZY??!! That dog is going nowhere near my butt….
Me: It’s how you animals make friends, Mags.
Mags: Where do you get your information from, Mom?
Me: Ugh, anyway Howard is adorable. He’s all fluffy and cute and is actually FRIENDLY TO PEOPLE.
Mags: Yeah…dummy. Just like I said.
Me: You need to at least try, Mags.
Mags: Okay, I’ll let our human daughter’s friend in. I like her.
Me: Yeah, obviously. You pee on the floor every time she walks in the door.
Mags: I get so happy. Is she coming over now?! IS SHE HERE?!! HERE?!!
Me: NO! Stop it.
Mags: Ugh….let’s play ball! I wanna play ball!
Me: We aren’t done talking, yet.
Mags: BALL! BALL! BALL!
Me: NO
Mags: BALL! WUBBA!! WUBBA!! *runs to the door* I GOTTA PEE!
Me: Okay, but NO BARKING AT THE NEIGHBOURS!
Mags: JUST LET ME OUT I HAVE TO GO!!
Me: Okay, okay. There.
Mags: *stands stationary for five minutes surveying the yard, then…* BARK, BARK, BARK!!!
Me: Mags!! Come here!
Mags: *runs happily to me* WHAT?! GAWD, THEY STARTED IT!
Me: Ugh….
*fictional name to protect the innocent…and adorable.
I think Mags just rolled her eyes at me. Can dogs do that?

I'm so pretty, it hurts.

I’m so pretty, it hurts.

Top Ten Reasons People Think I Have Issues

I thought of this post at exactly 3:25am whilst taking the dog out to pee and upon returning to bed, realizing I was completely awake.  Had I not been so lazy, I would have written the post as it happened in my head, but writing at 3:30 in the morning is not my thing.  So I willed myself to remember at least a few of the points so I could amaze and delight you with it now.  I remembered exactly two…the rest I’ve made up hoping they are as funny now as they seemed to me at 3:30 in the fucking morning…I’m hilarious in the middle of the night.

I have strange dreams that I insist on detailing to Hubby, like the time I dreamed there were elephants wandering around in Churchill Square and we should go down and see the baby elephants as they were especially cute…

I refuse to lend any participation in the silly notion that my attendance to any academic institution’s so-called ‘curriculum night’ is deathly important and if I do not attend, I would be considered a ‘bad parent’. The last time I attended one such event, it was in 2009/2010 or thereabouts and I got lost during the whole “okay, do what your kid would do and go to all of her classes”, and just gave up and went home. And had wine, which is a much better option if I do say so myself…

I drink wine and talk about it…a lot. So? Wine.I am impatient when I drive and complain constantly about it and the dumb-dumb in front of me is driving under 90km ON THE HIGHWAY and it’s a nice dry day…which is rare, but still. You would think he could see me in his rearview mirror as I make face like this:  Diaz Bad teacher

Apparently, he does not bend to driver pressure…GOOD FOR YOU, BUDDY.  SAY NO TO BULLYING…

I can’t decide at what temperature I am comfortable and get greatly distressed by others who find it perfectly perfect all of the time…IT’S NOT PERFECTLY PERFECT!  IT’S BLESSED HOT AND COLD AT THE SAME TIME AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.  I need layers…and a blanket…and an ice pack.  Wine.  I need wine

I can’t make a decision. I think…wait.  Maybe not, the other day I decided to wear a dress, but then it looked like it would rain so I decided to change into jeans.  I then questioned my decision when the sun came out later that day…so, basically I decided to be flexible in my wardrobe choices and DECIDED to lament about them regularly.  I decisioned the shit out of that!

I send random emails to all the ladies in the ‘hood every week to let them know I’m still alive and to induce voluminous chatter about nothing in particular because I’m a badass, ‘yo…or incredibly bored…or both. And they actually lead me to believe they read the emails diligently and appreciate my sarcasm and blatant disregard for politeness and etiquette…that’s true friendship…

I tell my kids that no one will ever like them as much as I do and they need to honour my memory when I die with flowers and written effigies of affection…to which they roll their eyes and say “Yeah, okay. Whatever that means” They truly love me.

I continue to harbor a deep desire to acquire a zombie gnome and decorate my front lawn with it…or several…and perhaps spread the joy and put one on the lawn across the street…I could scare the shit out of Cuddles the cat…hmmm….

Sometimes, I get a little sweary…like when I drive… or had some wine (not at the same time)…or when I walk…run…trip over concrete barriers THAT SHOULD NOT BE THERE…am forced on a ski lift/chair lift/death ride from hell…am denied morning coffee…just sat through an hour of ‘blah, blah, as a parent you should assist your child with homework, blah, blah, blah’…can’t find the chocolate I hid yesterday…forced to speak to anyone at Bell (that includes Daughter when she tries to tell me something that makes total sense to her because she has swallowed the Bell- Koolaid, but to totally rational adults like me, it’s complete asshattery designed to confuse and disorient and then take all your money…sorta like the bank on acid).

There you have it.  You would think I have issues, but really I don’t…really.

Hand over the chocolate.

And wine.