Soul Thumping

My Christmas "Yeah!" Countdown: You Can Decorate ANYTHING for Christmas

I think I now have Poseidon's cold, so this will probably be my last countdown to Christmas post (boo, I already miss Christmastime, and Christmas isn't even here yet).

Apparently, you can decorate anything you want for the holidays.  Christmas...it's not just for trees anymore.

Decorate an entire house, trees, and yard (photo from mentalfloss.com):

 

One can even decorate a vacant lot (Athens report):

 

How about a boat? (from moon.com):

 

 

Your motorcyle! (photo from Snapshots):

 

 

What about the family pet? He looks merry  (photo from Sunday's Child):

 

Yes, you can even decorate your RV in holiday finery (from The Funtimes Guide):

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

Christmas Shopping Etiquette - Manners ARE Required, Lunkheads

Photo from CBC News

It is no secret that I'm caught up in the Christmas spirit this year, more so than in years past, and I'm trying to keep this train of cheer and goodwill toward man chugging forward, but it is also no secret that I'm a cynic, I'm convinced many people should undergo forced lobotomies, and I'm easily annoyed with stupidity; therefore, Christmas shopping in a public store/mall is a true ordeal for me.

Happily, I've done most of my holiday shopping online and have not had to endure many trips to public places where I'm more than likely to encounter rude, entitled miscreants.  It is this lack of interaction with dimwits that has allowed me to keep my good mood and Christmasy cheer intact!

Because even the most conscientious of people, those who know the spoken and unspoken rules of what constitutes good behavior in a polite society, can become a subnormal dolt while out and about during this festive season, I want to remind everyone of a few Christmas shopping rules of etiquette:

• If someone holds a door open for you as you juggle your purchases say, "Thank you."  If I hold a door open for you and you do not say, "Thank you,"  I'm going to let you know that you didn't say it, and I will be sure to let everyone within earshot hear me schooling you in Christmas shopping etiquette.

• Do NOT walk around in circles like a dimwit talking on your cell phone in the middle of a store like you would if you were home.  Why?  Because YOU ARE NOT AT HOME!  You are in a public space where people do their shopping and they do not need, and most importantly, want to hear your banal conversation about...ANYTHING!

• This could be lumped in with number 2, but enough impudent donkeys do this that it requires its own bullet...texting while standing in the middle of an aisle in a store as others are trying to shop around you is not acceptable behavior.  What shocks me about this is most of the offenders I encounter are not teenagers, they are the moms of teenagers.  I know you are trying to show everyone what a hip cool chick you are and that you have an iPhone (that your husband has to keep showing you how to use), but holding up other shoppers and forcing them to go around you isn't cool.  Put it down, or go sit on a bench and text your bff.  Maybe you think you can shop and text at the same time, but you CAN'T.  I know, because I CAN'T!

• It is the Christmas season, and people will be shopping, stores will be crowded and you are not the only one in the store.  There WILL be lines at the registers, for the bathrooms, for food, etc.  You are not entitled to ask others in line if you can go ahead of them.  I was asked this a few years ago by a woman who was huffing and puffing and shuffling around in line because she was mad that she, Queen of the Land of Faux Fur and YSL Bags, had to wait.  She asked me (in a very haughty manner) if she could go ahead of me because she only had 2 items and I had 4.  I gave her my gargoyle stare for many seconds and said nothing.  She slipped back to her place in line, didn't say another word and I'm sure she had nightmares about me that night. 

• If a sales clerk has done nothing to you, or has given you no reason to be a cad, then DON'T.  Trust me, they don't want to wait on you anymore than you would want to wait on them.  This also goes the other way around:  Sales clerks, if I haven't been rude to you, don't be rude to me.  Thank you.

• Lastly...baby strollers that are 6 feet wide.  Ladies, if you can't get a babysitter, and you don't have a small "appropriate for tight quarters" stroller, then stay home and do your shopping online.  I don't mean to offend anyone with children, but the monstrous strollers that could double as freight haulers are not befitting for crowded stores.  I was shopping in a small (and I mean S M A L L) gift shop once, and the owner of the boutique posted a sign just outside the door that said "No Strollers Allowed." Of course, an entitled, rude dragon-woman brought her stroller inside because that sign was clearly for everyone but her, and this stroller was so wide it wouldn't fit down the aisles.  As I was looking at some cards, she stood there waiting for me to move out of her way and when I didn't, she started clearing her throat.  I won't repeat what I said to her, but some of the other patrons actually clapped for me.  Woman and stroller swiftly left the store.  Please don't be rude and expect everyone to work around your rudeness.

That is all.  I hope everyone is having a lovely Christmas season so far!  Stay safe out there, and wear chain maille if necessary!

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Strangers in Our House - A Home Sellers Hell

In May of this year, Poseidon and I put our house on the market.  We went through the entire process of making our lived-in home look like an unlived-in squeaky clean doll house, at our realtor's insistence.  We rented a storage unit and moved many of our more fun belongings into the storage space so that our home resembled something like a house maintained by a Stepford wife.

For 6 months we made the bed every morning upon rising, wiped down everything we touched, vacuumed more than should be legal, and scooped cat poop out of the litter box every morning (that is a lie...I scooped it out once or twice each week, tops).  We made sure toilet lids were down, cat hair was swept out of sight (which usually meant under the rug), our goofy Cleveland Browns night light in the bathroom was tucked inside of a drawer--I mean really, who wants to buy a house from people who actually root for Cleveland?  I even went as far as making sure our more liberal magazines in the bathroom magazine bins were shuffled to the back--I mean really, who wants to buy a house from a pair of socially liberal thinkers?

Poseidon and I actually kept a nice, clean, neat household for nearly 6 months.  We did this because strangers were/would be going through our home.  Strangers who would decide if our home was good enough to become their home.

Now, when I started writing this post, my intent was to mention that we've decided to take the house off the market and Poseidon and I will more than likely turn our apple-pie tidy house into a trash pile that could double as a model home for an episode of "Hoarders."  However, after mentioning the bit in the above paragraph about strangers exploring our home, my train of thought chugged down another track entirely:  there were actually creepy strangers in my home!

Not only did these interlopers peer into every room in our house, they examined and critiqued every nook and cranny.  One such ass, I mean, prospective buyer, went so far as to comment about a little tiny spider web that attached itself to our bedroom window while we were on vacation.  Give me a break you boorish nimrod, I mean prospective buyer.  My cat can knock down a spider web with one little whisker.  Spider webs aren't permanent fixtures that convey in a real estate transaction you degenerate, I mean potential buyer.

Another inane home shopper broke off a piece from our living room window (probably while trying to open it).  A woman house shopping for her daughter and new son-in-law commented to me personally one day while I was working with flowers in my yard that our house was just lovely, but she didn't like the fact that our neighbor had a sail boat parked in his driveway.  She said in a snarky voice, "Is that thing always parked there?  I don't like that at all."  I looked at her said, "Yup, it's been parked there since I bought the house 3 years ago.  I don't think it has ever seen water."  Why is this petticoat house shopping for her newly married daughter anyway?  I wanted to punch her in her face so she could go back and report to Buffy and Biff that our neighborhood was not a good fit for them.

What makes me smile the widest smile now, after the fact, is that on at least 3 occasions, our cats (they probably took turns) puked the most pulchritudinous hairball piles that in no way could have gone unnoticed.  If only we had had a video camera installed to capture the horrified look on the faces of those blockheads (I mean potential buyers) as they tripped the light fantastic over our cat's "welcome to our home" offering.  Ah, that does make me feel better.

 

--Fortuitous Observer 

Yes, I'm Judgmental and Will Call You Out...Get Yourself Over it.

I'm in one of those moods tonight, and I'm not sure why because I had a great day...oh yeah, until I went to the dry cleaners.

My dry cleaners have a drive through window to drop clothes off, and having just had surgery, this window is awesome, because I don't have to get out of the car..until tonight.

I pulled into the parking lot, and was in the ONE WAY lane (big white one way only arrow spray painted on the pavement), pulling up to my dry cleaners, when a stupid yahoo pulled right in front of the drive through, the WRONG WAY, parked, got out of his yahoo truck, and with his clothes and walked into the cleaners.

I was pissed.  I had no choice now except to park, which I did, gathered up my pile of clothes and got out of my car and walked into the cleaners.  I stared this ass hole down the entire time he was in the store, and he couldn't even look at me.  He forgot stuff and went out to his truck to get it, and Mrs. Lee (the owner) took my clothes and she gave me my pick up receipt.  I still continued to stare said jack ass down.  He was afraid to look at me.

I left the store, and was getting in my car as he was slinking  back to his truck, and I said to him, "Maybe next time you might want to take notice that you are going the wrong way in a one way lane."  He of course, being a stupid North Raleigh dickhead, said something stupid back to me, when I said, "Blah, blah, blah...I don't speak dumbass.  Try a differnet dry cleaner next time, one for intellectually deficient dick wads."

He didn't respond, because he couldn't.  I might be judgmental, but my parents, thankfully, taught me what it means to do the right thing and be polite (I'm sure this ass wipe parks in handicapped spaces too), and if you do something wrong that inconveniences me...I will be more than happy to take on the responsibility to teach you the manners that your dumbass parental units neglected to teach you.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

 

Please Keep Your Pacifier Out of My Mocha

Before I even begin to get into this, let me start by saying I have nothing against babies, toddlers, children, etc, and to most of my friends who are parents, please do not be offended, because you are great parents.  I love googooing and gahgahing over babies and sweet little folks, if they truly are kind, sweet little folks, which generally means they have been brought up properly, well-behaved and polite, and taught that they are not the only beings on the planet and the world does not revolve around them outside of their parent's home.

As a matter-of-fact, I had a lovely conversation with the most adorable little girl (I'm guessing she is probably 2 years old) this evening at the grocery store.  She was so unselfish and tender, and she babbled preciously with an "inside voice" and I could tell her parents were enlightened and imparted upon her the virtues of being respectful of others (I'm not sure how her parents did this, but I applaud them loudly); that the world does not revolve around her and she is but only one small cog in a huge wheel like the rest of us.  I'm so serious:  I applaud these parents (and they looked very young, early 20s).

What a contrast to the ridiculous little spawn, and more importantly, his mal apropos "mother" I encountered in a coffee shop this morning.  I had my follow up appointment with my surgeon to check my healing process (had my gallbladder removed over a week ago), then decided to go to a coffee shop to do some writing for a change of scenery, and fortunately I left before cops had to be called...

While sipping my iced mocha (with the heat index today...it was near 101 degrees at this time, 9:30am, so anything I consumed had to have ice...except my bagel, it was toasted) and typing away on my laptop, I noticed a woman (I'm truly gonna now use that term lightly) and a toddler - he looked to be around 3ish - walk through the door.  I went back to typing, and not 5 minutes later I heard a scream, which caused me to look up in fear because I thought a child was being murdered.  The aforementioned toddler was screaming and kicking the counter because he demanded to be picked up and sat on the counter and the toddler-whipped pansy of a mother complied with his wishes, which made me want to vomit thinking of a poopy-filled diaper touching the counter where I had just picked up my bagel and mocha only minutes before.

I went back to typing, when the enfant terrible began running around the coffee shop, which I could ignore, but he ran up to my table and started pulling at my notebook, laughing and screaming.  I pulled the notebook away, giving him a stern look, and then looking toward his mother for some sort of involvement, and she was totally oblivious (under the age of 30), then he ran away, bothering other patrons.

I again turned to my writing, and within 5 minutes he did it again.  Sorry, not on my watch.  If you can't parent your child, I'm going to step in and help you.  I said loudly, "Excuse me, I'm working," and pulled the notebook from the future delinquent's hand, which got a look from his mother, and a "Jamison, let's go."  No apology.  Nothing.  You rude, ignorant $%^&.

This story is apropos, because yesterday evening I was reading an NPR article about a restaurant in Pennsylvania called McDaine's that has chosen to ban children under the age of 6 from their establishment.  Oddly enough (for an NPR article), the majority of the comments (a great deal many from those who ARE parents) are in favor of this.  I have to quote one of the comments, that in my opinion, sums up the problem with a neat little bow...it's not the children, it's the parents...kids NEED boundaries, just like puppies:

"There was a time in our history where this wouldn't have ever been an issue. Children were expected to meet a certain standard of behavior, and would never be brought to certain venues (restaurants, theaters, etc.) if they couldn't be trusted to behave appropriately. Since many parents don't set this standard anymore, it is a really great idea to have these rules to protect the rights of the majority of patrons who wish to have an enjoyable time. There *are* some well-behaved children out there...but unfortunately there are also far too many who can be downright awful."

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Evil Robots

I hope your silver minivan gets a flat tire, you evil robot...

Venting.  On my way home from the gym tonight, I was driving along, at 55mph, and the posted speed limit is 45, so I was doing my fair share of booking it.  There was no one near me, and I happen to glance in my rear view mirror and see a speeding silver minivan coming out of nowhere in the lane next to me, like a bat out of hell (I felt compelled to throw in a little Meat Loaf quote). 

For some unknown, stupid, moronic, imbecilic, arrogant, domination-minded, anger-management-needing reason, the asshole speeds up to at least 70, just to pull right in front of me in my lane.  He had no reason to do that.  Stop it you dim-witted, base androids.  Did you really have to speed up, endanger your life, my life, and everyone else's because you needed to be ahead of everyone?  Are you angry you simpleminded cyborg because you have to drive a minivan?  Is that it?

Deep breath.  OK, now I feel better.  Just as this incident was happening, the radio happened to be playing Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1 by The Flaming Lips, which I thought was more than apropos!

 

--Fortuitous Observer

The Naked Man on Fire - One of my Favorite Childhood Memories

Last night I found myself staring into the glow of my fireplace, trying to lose myself in the dancing orange flames.  As usual, my mind started taking little trips of its own, and I sat back and let it go.  I started thinking flames, flicker, heat, fire, naked man.  What?  Did I just say naked man?  That's right, naked man.

When I think of fire, I think of the naked man who visited our home one morning (approximately 2 am, on a school night) when I was in the fourth grade (or it could have been the fifth grade...once one hits 40, grade school seems like one big year instead of many), because he wasn't just naked...he was on fire.

The drama started around 2 am when our front doorbell rang.  My parents got up immediately, and as the doorbell continued to ring, in an urgent sort of way, my sister and I crept out of bed to check out the action.  My dad opened the door to find a skinny naked man and his hair, or what was left of it, was on fire.  His skin was red and blistered, and smoke was billowing from his body!  His clothing had melted away!

This strange man told my parents that his car had exploded up the street and could he please get into a bath or shower and run cold water on his body because he was burning.  My parents rushed him down the hall and into the bathroom, which is of course when my sister and I noticed he was naked (and smoking, mostly his hair).  My parents helped him turn on the cold water and one of them called the police.

Now, there really isn't much else to tell of this story.  I suppose this may have been my first naked man sighting, but it was a blur because he was on fire, which captured my attention more than his nakedness.  It turns out, he was stealing gasoline from cars in the neighborhood and he was putting the stolen gasoline into large open containers in the trunk of his car, which of course, caused an explosion.  He was naked, on fire, and stupid.

I can't really remember what happened next, but I believe the police came to our house and promptly arrested him, and that was the end of that.  The lessons learned from my little flashback into childhood are these:  if you are going to steal gasoline, make sure you put it in closed containers, and, if you have an unexpected naked visitor on fire at 2 am--or anytime--grab your camera, because no one will believe you the next day.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Oh the Things You'll See...at the Gym

As I was leaving the gym tonight, a woman in a white Mercedes SUV was sitting in the parking lot, right by the doors to the gym, holding up traffic.  I wasn't sure what she was doing until I noticed she was watching me.  Creepy.  Then of course, I realized what she was really doing:  she was waiting to see where I parked so she get my parking space!

The SUV started following me slowly as I walked across the parking lot, like a vulture poised and ready to swoop down on a field mouse.  I'm not sure which is the vulture in that analogy, the woman or the Mercedes SUV.  Now here is the funny part:  unfortunately for her, I park as far away as I can from the gym so I can get a good warm up on my way inside for my workout.

She seemed to get more than slightly annoyed when she realized she wasn't going to get a spot close to the door if she continued to follow me, so the SUV sped up and went down the next aisle, then up the next aisle, passing up several parking spaces along the way.  I don't get it.  She could have already completed a 15 minute warm up inside had she just parked and hiked it across the parking lot.

Anyway, I'm mentioning this little slice out of my evening because it gave me a chuckle, and more importantly, made me glad to be me today.

 

--Fortuitous Observer 

Merry Christmas! Now Shut up and Drive

You've seen those bumper stickers while driving, with the ha ha funny saying, "Shut up and Drive."  You know the one, with the picture of the cell phone in the red circle with the red bar through the middle?  I saw one yesterday on an SUV as I drove to work, and I thought for a second that I had something in common with this anonymous driver;  we shared a driving philosophy that ties us together.  Two peas in a pod, commuting our way through road rage hell during morning rush hour without the use of a cell phone.  I felt invigorated, less alone in the world.  I'm NOT the only one who doesn't talk on my cell phone while driving!  Hurray!

NOPE.  Alas, when I passed her (because she was going too slow) I saw that she was indeed on her cell phone.  No!  I felt alone again.  Betrayed.

Honestly though, I don't get annoyed so much if folks talk and drive, unless they are holding up traffic, or they swerve into my lane (if that happens, I won't lie, I shake my head, and the horn sounds off as I mouth, "You miserable moron" while passing them).  Though I don't get as mad as others do, I, however, will not answer my cell phone or make a call while driving unless it is an emergency.  Not because I don't want other drivers blowing their horn at me, or giving me the one-finger salute, but because my multi-tasking skills, like the "old gray mare," aren't what they used to be, and I know this for certain.

If I were engaged in a conversation while trying to drive, I can assure you I will be the dumb petticoat you see along the highway involved in a fender bender (the one you point at while laughing hysterically, so hard in fact that you have to stop at McDonald's to pee).  It's true.  I don't think I can even walk and chew gum at the same time anymore, although I haven't chewed gum in years, so I can't be 100% sure.  Maybe I'll give that a try this weekend, just to see if it is possible.

In the meantime, if you insist on talking, or God forbid, texting, while driving, just be careful, and know this:  if I see you talking, and you then are involved in a fender bender, I'll be the one laughing at you while I roll past, and I always go to the bathroom before I get in the car, so I won't have to stop at McDonald's.

--Fortuitous Observer

A 'Slice of Life'...or at Least a Bagel

Poseidon and I were in line at one of our favorite deli/bagel joints in Chapel Hill, and the folks in front of us seemed a little slow on the ordering, but we were patient and as I browsed the deli menu above the squeaky clean counter I noticed Reuben on the menu!  A Reuben is one of my favorite sandwiches and I was so excited that I shouted out loud, "Ooh, look, Reuben!  I want a Reuben!"  Just as I finished my sentence, the guy in line ahead of us said, "I'll have a Reuben."  Wow, I'm a trendsetter now!

The gentleman behind the bagel counter asked the guy if he wanted a regular Reuben or a turkey Reuben.  He was quiet for a bit, then he said in his inside voice so as not to be heard (or so he thought), "I don't know, what does a Reuben usually have on it?"  Hmmm.  OK, this is the south, and a Reuben is more of a northern sandwich, so I wasn't going to write him off as a weirdo yet.  The employee explained to him what a Reuben is and the guy said he would have the "regular" kind instead of turkey.  The only person I will excuse for ordering a turkey Reuben when a regular Reuben is on the menu is Poseidon, and not because he is my husband but because he is a vegetarian.

Anyway, the couple then moved to the side as Poseidon and I ordered (I changed my mind...I had the tuna melt instead of the Reuben), as the couple quietly discussed the bagel case and all the many wondrous flavors and smells.  The woman (the other half of this couple) became excited and nearly screamed, "Look, they have that walnut spread..." only it came out like this..."Luk, thay haave thaat wollnut spray-ed."  Now folks, I'm not making fun of her accent, because I have a strange little accent myself.  I began to get a better picture of this couple.  I doubt (and again, I am NOT making fun of these people, I'm truly not) either one had gone further than the 6th grade in school.

The woman went back to the counter and told the poor kid taking orders that she would also like walnut spread.  He gave her a look and then asked what kind of bagel she wanted.  She was so confused she nearly had a meltdown and whispered to her husband/boyfriend/brother, I'm not sure what the relationship was between them (he called her Shirley).  He then spoke up and said, "I think she wants that cinnamon thing."  The guy asked if she wanted it toasted, and again, meltdown number two.  She didn't know how to answer.

She began asking questions which led me to believe they had never seen a bagel before.  After a lengthy explanation that you put the spread (a.k.a. cream cheese) on the bagel, they finally ordered a bagel with cream cheese to go with their Reuben (and apparently she had ordered an omelet before Poseidon and I arrived).  She then asked the guy behind the counter if she could write a post-dated check, which he promptly refused, so they dug up some money between them, extremely embarrassed.

Poseidon and I sat down with our tuna melts, in silence, as I contemplated the entire scene that had taken place here at the bagel shop.  These two were a real 'slice of life.'  I thought, how is it possible in this day and age that people are still so sheltered from the modern day rat race we call life?  That isn't a judgement on them, not at all.  It's almost envy.

Life must be extremely innocent and uncomplicated for them...I was happy (and I'll be honest, quite amused) to have witnessed this episode, and I'll never be able to order another Reuben (or bagel) as long as I live without feeling a little smile for these two stretching across my face.

 

--Fortuitous Observer