I have been a huge slacker and haven't updated my blog in a long time. For the 4 of you that actually care, I do apologize. I've been sick off and on since Labor Day. I'm totally not kidding. I was beginning to think I was immune to antibiotics and really would have to live in a plastic bubble, when finally, this Round 5 of meds seems to be working. Praise the Lerd, Hallerlujah, as Madea would say.
I am so sore right now, it's not even funny. And before you give me credit for exercising, it's not from that. It's from decorating. Yes, you read that correctly. I had to decorate at work for a contest, and not only did I learn how out of shape I am, I learned that I should never, ever try to do anything artistically creative. I just don't have that gene. I can write you the most entertaining story on any obscure topic with only five minutes' notice, but if you ask me to draw or decorate, I'll have a mild panic attack. Smitty is a better decorator than I am. In fact, art contests in elementary really used to piss me off, because it was the one area of school (until math was introduced) in which I couldn't be the best. And I really felt the teachers were doing it on purpose because I occasionally corrected their grammar and was a know-it-all little shit.
My dad taught me how to draw Indians. They weren't particularly fancy Indians, but I could do them pretty well. As long as I have a template, I'm generally okay, like I could totally win that scholarship you get for tracing the turtle in the back of magazines. But, recently, my nephew demanded drawings of the animals in his animal book and when I tried to draw a giraffe, he said "that's not a giraffe," and I argued with a 3-year-old until I started laughing and then he started laughing, and I said, "Matthew, Aunt Emily can't draw. I'm sorry. Let's read." He was fairly disappointed. But he has to learn disappointment sometime.
So, I decided, because the theme for the contest was islands, we would do the Island of Misfit Toys, so I proceeded to bring our entire toy chest, reserved for nieces, nephews, children of friends, and me when I'm bored, to work, hang sock monkeys from cubicles, tape blocks to cubicles, I wrote a story about the island, and in the end, it was very, very sad. In my defense, no one helped me or offered a way to make it better, so, I actually deserve some props. People that don't contribute to things that can potentially benefit them bug me. I figure we spend at least half of our lives at work, so why not enjoy things, participate, and have fun? Oh, and do your job correctly..that's also a pet peeve.
On a completely unrelated note, this morning, I had the rare opportunity of getting breakfast for myself at McDonald's before I went to work. It was a reward for me going to my allergy doctor and also a celebration of not having to have sinus surgery for at least a year. So, as I pull into the drive-through, I notice a security guard...at 9 AM, mind you, wearing a plastic bag due to the rain, and he's motioning me to drive up to the drive-through ordering dealie. Um...yah, I live in America, so I'm pretty well acquainted with how the whole drive-through set up works. Then, when I pay at the first window, he directs me to the second window to get my food..Um, really? Dude, I can't go anywhere but forward. How exactly do you think you're helping me here? I finally asked the girl (in a realization I may be turning into my grandmother),"Why is this moron directing me where to go? I kind of understand the whole script for ordering through the drive-through." She said that he was driving them crazy and apparently just needed something to do. Although, I thought about it later and was mildly concerned that I went to a McDonald's that employs a day time security guard. Are people battling one another over Egg McMuffins?
So, I never really liked Halloween, unlike my bestie Amanda, who lives for it, seriously, I've never seen anyone over the age of 10, get that excited about Halloween. And even though I refuse to decorate for it (see above rant about decorating), I'm actually kind of excited about my costume, which would be the first costume I've worn in about 11 years. I'm going to be a cat burglar, as in I'm a burglar with a gun, handcuffs, and a money bag, but I will have cat ears...ergo, "cat burglar." Get it?? I figure as long as I amuse myself, it doesn't too much matter what others think. I wanted to be Betty White, but I couldn't find the right wig, and I chose not to be Slutty nurse/teacher/schoolgirl/proctologist, as some people use Halloween as an excuse to dress like complete hookers. I'm a married lady with dignity....and frankly, too much extra candy corn in the trunk to dress like slutty anything. So, I will carry a cap gun, wear a ski mask, if I can find one, and burgle as a feline hooligan.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
If you walked a mile in my shoes, you'd have gigantic blisters
I'm sitting here thinking about the feasibility of suing the company that made the shoes I wore today. I think I could get punitive damages at least. They're so cute, with heels and a sassy little thong between my toes, and now, 12 hours after putting them on, I curse whoever made them with a plague on all his houses, and I would give them to charity, except I don't want destitute people getting blisters either.
I think, after riding behind the fifth car in two week that either didn't have a muffler or the muffler was there strictly for show, it should be a national law that cars have to pass emissions tests. Now, before you start calling me Moon Queen and signing me up for Greenpeace, hear me out. Yes, it is truly awful for the environment to have your car just shooting out exhaust that smells like burning tires and prison, but you know what else? It's bad for me. My allergies and the Bubble Girl persona started when I lived in Philadelphia, PA, not because of trees and flowers and dust, but because the city, God bless it, emits more pollution than I believe any other U.S city, except for a few in California. In the actual hub of the city, you almost can't breathe for the cars, buses, weird grates that smell like people dump their septic tanks down there, the occasional person peeing on the sidewalk, etc...So, yeah, it's my personal opinion that maybe we don't worry about Mexicans who have been living here for 30 years and working their asses off. Maybe we worry about the fact that none of us can breathe properly.
I had a very strong memory of my dad today, and it was so weird how it happened. I was on my lunch break at work, and a very irritating person was discussing an alleged bill that Obama has proposed to add a 1% tax to some banking transactions. Where do I start???
A. Don't randomly bring up politics at work, for God's sake. Even I know that. If I went around espousing "I worked for John Kerry in '04, I voted for Obama in '08, and I do it again if he ran tomorrow," it would be akin to me going to an Alabama game, stripping down naked with the words "Bear Bryant was a homosexual," and running around the stadium. Generally not a good idea.
B. How exactly do people think we are ever going to get the country out of debt? I mean, really, I'm not kidding. If what this person was saying was true, and I'm not sure it was, a 1% tax would be added to paycheck deposits. Yeah, I said 1 percent. If that were true and it actually helped the economy, seriously?! That's why you want to bitch at Obama? Then, I really got nothing. Be sure to have some Earl Grey for me at the Tea Party. We should clearly just continue to overspend what we don't have, rely on credit, have unemployed people taking three vacations a year, and everything will work out fine. Do you know what the word sacrifice means? No, none of us do because this generation, and the one before us, I would venture to say, is spoiled rotten, expects to get everything they want now, now, now and knows nothing about what it means to cut back and save money. We're never going to progress without some modicum of sacrifice. Period.
Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I feel frustrated. It seems like I expect things to go one way, and they go another. I don't really do all that well with change, but I think I'm getting better. I had to kind of realize that no matter what I want to happen, and oh, the things I want (monkey butlers, a wine tap in my car, to have the financial freedom to write my best-selling novel, a baby without giving birth or adopting, minions), but what I want doesn't matter. God and the universe always have other plans. What I've gotten better about is how I cope with these things. You can't change other people's actions or behavior, but what you can change is your reaction and how you cope.
And that's what I've changed. I am 33 years old, I weigh more than I want, but my face is still really nice, I have excellent hair, a vocabulary, speech and spelling ability I'd match against anyone, my husband is the most amazing, sexy, protective man I have ever met, and he can reach whatever's up really high, and he fixes stuff...and cooks and kills bugs when I have a "Crying Game" moment and refuse to roll out of the fetal position until all bugs are dead, and I have a lot of people who truly love and care about me. What else is there? The rest is a ride to be enjoyed and used as a learning experience should things not go my way. I refuse to stress out about inconsequential things, and I want for people to think that knowing me enriches their lives. Hopefully, that's true, that I'm the kind of friend you'd want to have...
I think, after riding behind the fifth car in two week that either didn't have a muffler or the muffler was there strictly for show, it should be a national law that cars have to pass emissions tests. Now, before you start calling me Moon Queen and signing me up for Greenpeace, hear me out. Yes, it is truly awful for the environment to have your car just shooting out exhaust that smells like burning tires and prison, but you know what else? It's bad for me. My allergies and the Bubble Girl persona started when I lived in Philadelphia, PA, not because of trees and flowers and dust, but because the city, God bless it, emits more pollution than I believe any other U.S city, except for a few in California. In the actual hub of the city, you almost can't breathe for the cars, buses, weird grates that smell like people dump their septic tanks down there, the occasional person peeing on the sidewalk, etc...So, yeah, it's my personal opinion that maybe we don't worry about Mexicans who have been living here for 30 years and working their asses off. Maybe we worry about the fact that none of us can breathe properly.
I had a very strong memory of my dad today, and it was so weird how it happened. I was on my lunch break at work, and a very irritating person was discussing an alleged bill that Obama has proposed to add a 1% tax to some banking transactions. Where do I start???
A. Don't randomly bring up politics at work, for God's sake. Even I know that. If I went around espousing "I worked for John Kerry in '04, I voted for Obama in '08, and I do it again if he ran tomorrow," it would be akin to me going to an Alabama game, stripping down naked with the words "Bear Bryant was a homosexual," and running around the stadium. Generally not a good idea.
B. How exactly do people think we are ever going to get the country out of debt? I mean, really, I'm not kidding. If what this person was saying was true, and I'm not sure it was, a 1% tax would be added to paycheck deposits. Yeah, I said 1 percent. If that were true and it actually helped the economy, seriously?! That's why you want to bitch at Obama? Then, I really got nothing. Be sure to have some Earl Grey for me at the Tea Party. We should clearly just continue to overspend what we don't have, rely on credit, have unemployed people taking three vacations a year, and everything will work out fine. Do you know what the word sacrifice means? No, none of us do because this generation, and the one before us, I would venture to say, is spoiled rotten, expects to get everything they want now, now, now and knows nothing about what it means to cut back and save money. We're never going to progress without some modicum of sacrifice. Period.
Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I feel frustrated. It seems like I expect things to go one way, and they go another. I don't really do all that well with change, but I think I'm getting better. I had to kind of realize that no matter what I want to happen, and oh, the things I want (monkey butlers, a wine tap in my car, to have the financial freedom to write my best-selling novel, a baby without giving birth or adopting, minions), but what I want doesn't matter. God and the universe always have other plans. What I've gotten better about is how I cope with these things. You can't change other people's actions or behavior, but what you can change is your reaction and how you cope.
And that's what I've changed. I am 33 years old, I weigh more than I want, but my face is still really nice, I have excellent hair, a vocabulary, speech and spelling ability I'd match against anyone, my husband is the most amazing, sexy, protective man I have ever met, and he can reach whatever's up really high, and he fixes stuff...and cooks and kills bugs when I have a "Crying Game" moment and refuse to roll out of the fetal position until all bugs are dead, and I have a lot of people who truly love and care about me. What else is there? The rest is a ride to be enjoyed and used as a learning experience should things not go my way. I refuse to stress out about inconsequential things, and I want for people to think that knowing me enriches their lives. Hopefully, that's true, that I'm the kind of friend you'd want to have...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
It is better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and say, "Hi, I'm Emily."
I've had my cranky pants off and on intermittently this week. To be clear, cranky pants are imaginary, and I haven't been randomly taking my pants on and off. In light of that tense, my shoulders-are-around-my-ears, feeling I've been rocking this week, I decided, after Smitty pointed out to me something stupid I said, to share with you the truly stupid actions and comments that have highlighted my 33 years....
1. When I was about 16, we had one of those stay-over parties no 16 year-old has any business having, and the next morning, we set about making breakfast. My gentleman caller at the time, Jon, who I am still friends with to this day (we're both happily married; don't judge me), asked me how many eggs I wanted in my omelet. I didn't care for eggs at the time and said, "Ew, just make mine without eggs," to which I was rewarded with mocking and ridicule that lasted about three years. Here's my justification: I had never had an omelet, my mother didn't make omelets, I knew that they existed as a food, but I thought they were made with butter and bread and maybe flour. I had never really thought about it before, and thus, was the butt of many, many jokes.
2. Again, when I was 16, actually, no, I was 15, I went to high school in New Hope, MS, which was about 45 minutes from Macon where we lived. My mother was the guidance counselor and made me change schools when she thought that the private school in Macon had "bad influences." In retrospect, that's pretty funny, because I came into contact at New Hope with some fairly shady characters, there were gang fights in our common area, and they had the highest rate of teen pregnancy in the state. I digress. So, all my actual friends lived 45 minutes away. I had a '87 Oldsmobile Firenza (which a. is NOT a Mexican car, and b. they don't make anymore), which I used to "go riding" in Macon every weekend at 6 p.m., and would drive to New Hope, hang out with my unbelievably trashy boyfriend (only dated 3 weeks), and then drive home by curfew. That particular night, my friend Jessica convinced me to drive back to New Hope at midnight to hang out with my trashy boyfriend and her and his older brother, who she was dating, although I used the term loosely.
I did, in fact, do that. I put Emily-size pillows in the bed in case my dad checked on me, climbed out the window and down the tree and set off for New Hope. I stayed there until about 3 a.m., drove back and assumed I could climb back in the window, no muss, no fuss. Well, I left the window cracked about 3 inches so I could get back in. It was about 20 degrees that night. So, when my dad checked on me, God bless him, he did that, he felt a brisk draft wafting in from the window. Then, he cracked my devious plan by pushing on the pillows and discovering I wasn't there. So, when I rolled in at 4 a.m., the window was closed. I didn't immediately panic, thinking, "well, maybe he just closed the window and didn't know I was gone. I'll just use my key, and they'll be none the wiser." HA. I opened the door, and he was lying in wait behind the refrigerator.
He asked me if I had a nice time, and I said "It was okay, I think I'm gonna break up with Shane," because I am THAT stupid, and then he gave me a 5-minute lecture about irresponsibility and what if something had happened to me, etc...then, he told me to go to bed...at 5. Then, I was awakened for church at 8 and threatened with what I'm sure they're not allowed to threaten you with anymore if I didn't get up and go to church. I was grounded for a month, which, in teenager time, is really, really long.
3. You'd think I used up all of my "stupid" in high school. You would be dead wrong. I actually hadn't even planned to tell this story, but it just occurred to me. When I lived in Huntsville, all of us went to Crossroads, which is still in the top 5 of coolest places ever...and I had too much to drink. A guy who worked at a restaurant in downtown Huntsville offered to drive me home, with my caveat that his friends that I knew would follow us. Apparently, there was a serious breakdown in communication, because they did not follow us. And when we got about a half mile from my apartment, Mr. Designated Driver got grabby. I told him to stop, and I told him to pull over and he wouldn't.
I made him pull over at a gas station under the guise I had to pee, and when I ran inside to call a friend of mine, author of http://amyblam.com/, he totally stole my car. I had the clerk call the police, who came and interviewed me as I described, "I dunno, he was a really gross guy who was sweaty, and I had no interest in him whatsoever." They found my car that night when he was arrested for DUI. A wonderful designated driver, eh? He also had thrown up several times in the car, and when I went to get it out of the impound lot, I had to have my dad, the registered owner, fax over a notarized statement to release the car to me. Then, I had at least 4 calls from a Huntsville detective who really wanted me to press charges for sexual assault. I declined, even though I would've been within my right, just because I handled it, he didn't really do anything, and they're not usually so nice to the female victims in court..
Wow, I haven't even scratched the surface of recently putting plastic lids on dishes and causing a fire in the oven or falling in a hole in the yard and tearing a ligament in my foot or burning my tongue every other effing day because I can't wait for stuff to cool, or when I lived in Philadelphia, I leapt into my bed, only to bounce off the bed and slam myself into the radiator, which caused bruises that looked like I was dating Ike Turner..I guess I'll save those for later.
1. When I was about 16, we had one of those stay-over parties no 16 year-old has any business having, and the next morning, we set about making breakfast. My gentleman caller at the time, Jon, who I am still friends with to this day (we're both happily married; don't judge me), asked me how many eggs I wanted in my omelet. I didn't care for eggs at the time and said, "Ew, just make mine without eggs," to which I was rewarded with mocking and ridicule that lasted about three years. Here's my justification: I had never had an omelet, my mother didn't make omelets, I knew that they existed as a food, but I thought they were made with butter and bread and maybe flour. I had never really thought about it before, and thus, was the butt of many, many jokes.
2. Again, when I was 16, actually, no, I was 15, I went to high school in New Hope, MS, which was about 45 minutes from Macon where we lived. My mother was the guidance counselor and made me change schools when she thought that the private school in Macon had "bad influences." In retrospect, that's pretty funny, because I came into contact at New Hope with some fairly shady characters, there were gang fights in our common area, and they had the highest rate of teen pregnancy in the state. I digress. So, all my actual friends lived 45 minutes away. I had a '87 Oldsmobile Firenza (which a. is NOT a Mexican car, and b. they don't make anymore), which I used to "go riding" in Macon every weekend at 6 p.m., and would drive to New Hope, hang out with my unbelievably trashy boyfriend (only dated 3 weeks), and then drive home by curfew. That particular night, my friend Jessica convinced me to drive back to New Hope at midnight to hang out with my trashy boyfriend and her and his older brother, who she was dating, although I used the term loosely.
I did, in fact, do that. I put Emily-size pillows in the bed in case my dad checked on me, climbed out the window and down the tree and set off for New Hope. I stayed there until about 3 a.m., drove back and assumed I could climb back in the window, no muss, no fuss. Well, I left the window cracked about 3 inches so I could get back in. It was about 20 degrees that night. So, when my dad checked on me, God bless him, he did that, he felt a brisk draft wafting in from the window. Then, he cracked my devious plan by pushing on the pillows and discovering I wasn't there. So, when I rolled in at 4 a.m., the window was closed. I didn't immediately panic, thinking, "well, maybe he just closed the window and didn't know I was gone. I'll just use my key, and they'll be none the wiser." HA. I opened the door, and he was lying in wait behind the refrigerator.
He asked me if I had a nice time, and I said "It was okay, I think I'm gonna break up with Shane," because I am THAT stupid, and then he gave me a 5-minute lecture about irresponsibility and what if something had happened to me, etc...then, he told me to go to bed...at 5. Then, I was awakened for church at 8 and threatened with what I'm sure they're not allowed to threaten you with anymore if I didn't get up and go to church. I was grounded for a month, which, in teenager time, is really, really long.
3. You'd think I used up all of my "stupid" in high school. You would be dead wrong. I actually hadn't even planned to tell this story, but it just occurred to me. When I lived in Huntsville, all of us went to Crossroads, which is still in the top 5 of coolest places ever...and I had too much to drink. A guy who worked at a restaurant in downtown Huntsville offered to drive me home, with my caveat that his friends that I knew would follow us. Apparently, there was a serious breakdown in communication, because they did not follow us. And when we got about a half mile from my apartment, Mr. Designated Driver got grabby. I told him to stop, and I told him to pull over and he wouldn't.
I made him pull over at a gas station under the guise I had to pee, and when I ran inside to call a friend of mine, author of http://amyblam.com/, he totally stole my car. I had the clerk call the police, who came and interviewed me as I described, "I dunno, he was a really gross guy who was sweaty, and I had no interest in him whatsoever." They found my car that night when he was arrested for DUI. A wonderful designated driver, eh? He also had thrown up several times in the car, and when I went to get it out of the impound lot, I had to have my dad, the registered owner, fax over a notarized statement to release the car to me. Then, I had at least 4 calls from a Huntsville detective who really wanted me to press charges for sexual assault. I declined, even though I would've been within my right, just because I handled it, he didn't really do anything, and they're not usually so nice to the female victims in court..
Wow, I haven't even scratched the surface of recently putting plastic lids on dishes and causing a fire in the oven or falling in a hole in the yard and tearing a ligament in my foot or burning my tongue every other effing day because I can't wait for stuff to cool, or when I lived in Philadelphia, I leapt into my bed, only to bounce off the bed and slam myself into the radiator, which caused bruises that looked like I was dating Ike Turner..I guess I'll save those for later.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
I pick strange battles
Can you be apathetically anal?? There are many, many things about which I'm very relaxed, some may say lazy (some may get punched)...I am a terrible housekeeper. I mean, our house doesn't look like Hoarders or anything, but I will leave my shoes anywhere...under the couch, in a pile by my dresser, in Smitty's side of the bed...the list could go on until Christmas. However, if you leave a dish in the sink without rinsing it, and those little chunks of food are glued on when I notice it hasn't been washed, it takes a great amount of restraint for me not to make you lick off the little chunks...(I'm looking at you, Smitty) The fact that Smitty doesn't do that is pretty funny because he is absolutely compulsive about everything else, that one little thing is the thing that irritates me most. Actually, maybe I just answered my own question.
In keeping with that, I am absolutely a psycho when it comes to being right and doing things correctly. This applies to every job I've ever had, even the ones I hated. I physically cannot go to a job and do a half-ass job or do something I know is wrong. It's just impossible. Soo, when I took a test last week for another job at my company and miserably failed the test, it was quite a little shock to the ego. I was furious with myself and am still not crazy about it. I gave myself a little talking-to last week, in fact. I've thought about it since then, and realize that I'm being stupid and actually realize that I need to stop taking personal setbacks like this so seriously and use them as a learning experience. Yes, I failed the test and felt like I should ride the short bus home that day. But, now I know what to expect from a test like that should I ever apply for a similar job. Also, and some of you may find this shocking, if it were God's will for me to have that job, I would have. He has something better in store for me, and really, I'm just along for the ride.
Speaking of God, I would like to first say, I am a Christian. I was raised in the Presbyterian Church, was confirmed at 12, and I do and am trying to lead a life that He approves. I think going to church is a fine idea, but I do not believe that going to church regularly makes you any more of an acceptable Christian than I am. We have found a church that we like, but our schedules/stress levels/dying parents have kept us from being in regular attendance. I do hope that we get back to attending soon, and I know that we will. However, I did not appreciate the letter I got from someone in our Sunday School class noting that we had been absent from class. That in and of itself was fine. The letter actually would've been very nice, except that it ended, "Christ is indeed worthy of our praise." Maybe had the word indeed not been added, it wouldn't tick me off so much, but you, whose handwriting I could barely decipher, and so actually don't know who you are, are the exact reason why a lot of people my age feel like church is judgmental.
I like to think that I am a Christian who will witness to others, not say to a gay person, "You're going to burn in hell, and we will never think otherwise. Please come to our church." Why would they subject themselves to that? Wouldn't it be far more effective to say, "Hey, we just want to see you worship with us. Please join us for fellowship." We are not here to judge; that is so not even remotely our job. When I think of an example to follow, I really do think about my father-in-law. I know he believes certain things, but he would never pass judgment to someone whose life might not fall in line with God's Word. He would witness to them, show them Christ's love, and demonstrate that's how a Christian acts. That is what might convert someone or make them think, "Hey, maybe these Christians aren't so bad. I'd like to see what that's about."
Further, I do not care for Facebook posts or statuses that are very similar to what I said above, i.e., quoting scripture that implies if you don't adhere to God's Word, that's it for you...that any deviation from the very letter of the Bible is a sin and you should be ashamed. Or, my other favorite, just preachy, holier-than-thou posts about why you should do this and why you should think this, etc...That's akin to me making frequent posts about why you should like Obama and why I am the smartest for supporting Obama. It's not the forum, and it's not your place to lecture using scripture, which anyone can cherry pick, to support your viewpoints.
Speaking of politics, that's another strange battle I've picked. Yes, I worked for John Kerry. I didn't particularly support him wholeheartedly, but I would've worked for Justin Bieber against another term of George Bush. I supported and do support Obama, and yes, I do get a little irritated when people seem to expect him to be some type of Iron Man/Superman combo when he was handed the worst economy since the 1920s, is actually keeping his campaign promise of reforming healthcare, and suffered an awful environmental disaster under his administration. And I still wonder, did people expect him to swim down there and plug the leak with his body? Remember that truly stellar response from the White House to Hurricane Katrina? Yeah, me, too. So, if I were a smug Republican, I might rethink faulting him for an oil spill for which he not only wasn't responsible, but some of the criticism was based on him not going there enough. Oh...silly amnesiac GOPs, how many times did Dubya go to the Mississippi Gulf Coast or New Orleans and how quickly? And by the way, as a delegate of Mississippi, yeah, Mississippi's coast was destroyed, too. Whole towns were destroyed, in fact. I'm guessing because Mississippi isn't as cool or happening or culturally rich as New Orleans, that disqualifies the coast for any attention? Yahhh...okay
Anyone know where I can find a giant, inflatable gorilla? I need to know.
In keeping with that, I am absolutely a psycho when it comes to being right and doing things correctly. This applies to every job I've ever had, even the ones I hated. I physically cannot go to a job and do a half-ass job or do something I know is wrong. It's just impossible. Soo, when I took a test last week for another job at my company and miserably failed the test, it was quite a little shock to the ego. I was furious with myself and am still not crazy about it. I gave myself a little talking-to last week, in fact. I've thought about it since then, and realize that I'm being stupid and actually realize that I need to stop taking personal setbacks like this so seriously and use them as a learning experience. Yes, I failed the test and felt like I should ride the short bus home that day. But, now I know what to expect from a test like that should I ever apply for a similar job. Also, and some of you may find this shocking, if it were God's will for me to have that job, I would have. He has something better in store for me, and really, I'm just along for the ride.
Speaking of God, I would like to first say, I am a Christian. I was raised in the Presbyterian Church, was confirmed at 12, and I do and am trying to lead a life that He approves. I think going to church is a fine idea, but I do not believe that going to church regularly makes you any more of an acceptable Christian than I am. We have found a church that we like, but our schedules/stress levels/dying parents have kept us from being in regular attendance. I do hope that we get back to attending soon, and I know that we will. However, I did not appreciate the letter I got from someone in our Sunday School class noting that we had been absent from class. That in and of itself was fine. The letter actually would've been very nice, except that it ended, "Christ is indeed worthy of our praise." Maybe had the word indeed not been added, it wouldn't tick me off so much, but you, whose handwriting I could barely decipher, and so actually don't know who you are, are the exact reason why a lot of people my age feel like church is judgmental.
I like to think that I am a Christian who will witness to others, not say to a gay person, "You're going to burn in hell, and we will never think otherwise. Please come to our church." Why would they subject themselves to that? Wouldn't it be far more effective to say, "Hey, we just want to see you worship with us. Please join us for fellowship." We are not here to judge; that is so not even remotely our job. When I think of an example to follow, I really do think about my father-in-law. I know he believes certain things, but he would never pass judgment to someone whose life might not fall in line with God's Word. He would witness to them, show them Christ's love, and demonstrate that's how a Christian acts. That is what might convert someone or make them think, "Hey, maybe these Christians aren't so bad. I'd like to see what that's about."
Further, I do not care for Facebook posts or statuses that are very similar to what I said above, i.e., quoting scripture that implies if you don't adhere to God's Word, that's it for you...that any deviation from the very letter of the Bible is a sin and you should be ashamed. Or, my other favorite, just preachy, holier-than-thou posts about why you should do this and why you should think this, etc...That's akin to me making frequent posts about why you should like Obama and why I am the smartest for supporting Obama. It's not the forum, and it's not your place to lecture using scripture, which anyone can cherry pick, to support your viewpoints.
Speaking of politics, that's another strange battle I've picked. Yes, I worked for John Kerry. I didn't particularly support him wholeheartedly, but I would've worked for Justin Bieber against another term of George Bush. I supported and do support Obama, and yes, I do get a little irritated when people seem to expect him to be some type of Iron Man/Superman combo when he was handed the worst economy since the 1920s, is actually keeping his campaign promise of reforming healthcare, and suffered an awful environmental disaster under his administration. And I still wonder, did people expect him to swim down there and plug the leak with his body? Remember that truly stellar response from the White House to Hurricane Katrina? Yeah, me, too. So, if I were a smug Republican, I might rethink faulting him for an oil spill for which he not only wasn't responsible, but some of the criticism was based on him not going there enough. Oh...silly amnesiac GOPs, how many times did Dubya go to the Mississippi Gulf Coast or New Orleans and how quickly? And by the way, as a delegate of Mississippi, yeah, Mississippi's coast was destroyed, too. Whole towns were destroyed, in fact. I'm guessing because Mississippi isn't as cool or happening or culturally rich as New Orleans, that disqualifies the coast for any attention? Yahhh...okay
Anyone know where I can find a giant, inflatable gorilla? I need to know.
Saturday, October 02, 2010
More than a few of my least favorite things...an unloading, if you will
Either I have PMS or my adrenal gland is functioning at twice its capacity. I am annoyed. The stupidity of my fellow humans has reached an Orange Alert, and I simply have to get it out or the little vein in the side of my temple is going to burst.
1. To the lady that called me a heifer and hung up on me, because I wouldn't tell her that her soon-to-be ex-husband has every right to make changes to his insurance policy, as does she, and I can't limit either of their abilities to do so. This was a concern to her, as her husband keeps calling her and telling her he took her and her car off the policy, which he hasn't, and I briefly felt bad about, but as far as I'm concerned, I hope she gets picked up by the police and made to sleep in a jail cell that smells like pee for having no insurance. Cranky bitch.
2. Alabama and Auburn fans everywhere, in my face, with their stickers and their stupid car flags and their invasive questions at the grocery store, gas station, doctor's office, "You like Auburn or Alabama?" "NEITHER! It is conceivably possible that a person can exist quite happily without choosing a damn football team in the state of Alabama to support. If you ask me again, I will pee in your shampoo. I've done it before, I'm not scared." And I really want to suggest to the genius entrepreneur by our house who sells $5 Alabama t-shirts every melon farming weekend this shirt idea, "If you can read this, you probably don't give a shit about football in the state of Alabama."
3. People who will not control the volume of their voices in a work environment. I am this close from pulling a Tonya Harding on a couple of folks at work simply because I cannot even string a thought together when their nasally, completely fake and loud, I'm-in-charge-of-this-even-though-80%-of-what-I-say-is-incorrect, collectively, voices pierce and invade the inside of my head day after day after day. I am extremely sensitive to noises, I don't know why, in fact most of the time, I'm kind of deaf, but this has become a special, fun test that I fear is designed for me to end up in a straitjacket screaming for the lambs to stop and talking to an invisible gorilla.
4. People who are just dumb. I adore Facebook, but what I do not adore is being in touch with various people, most of whom I went to middle school with, who are so impossibly stupid, that I realize nearly immediately I should not have accepted their friend requests. If you don't know how to use proper grammar and punctuation, and you think it's cute to spell crazy with a "K," or just don't look at how you spell, period, you and I probably don't need to be friends. There are some people who will be friends, not just on Facebook, with literally anyone. They're so nice and sweet that they make themselves endure people who never saw the inside of a high school just to be polite. I am not one of those people. I've had simple acquaintances in the past, and I remember trying to make small talk, and their turning it into "Aw, shoot, you use big words, I don't know what you're talking 'bout," and me thinking..."ah, I think I can end this weak relationship without guilt..wheww."
5. Smitty yelling at the damn TV and me about football. The TV can't hear him, and I don't care. Just watch the game and leave me out of it. I'm not complaining that you're watching it, I just don't want to be drawn into your madness and clapping and hooting. He needs some male playmates. I just want to read People magazine and be left alone. And this entry is his own fault because he told me to shut up and go back to my little computer...so there, Fart Blossom....you asked for it.
Hopefully, that will relieve this shoulders at my ears thing. If I offended you, I really don't care right now...I apologize for nothing.
1. To the lady that called me a heifer and hung up on me, because I wouldn't tell her that her soon-to-be ex-husband has every right to make changes to his insurance policy, as does she, and I can't limit either of their abilities to do so. This was a concern to her, as her husband keeps calling her and telling her he took her and her car off the policy, which he hasn't, and I briefly felt bad about, but as far as I'm concerned, I hope she gets picked up by the police and made to sleep in a jail cell that smells like pee for having no insurance. Cranky bitch.
2. Alabama and Auburn fans everywhere, in my face, with their stickers and their stupid car flags and their invasive questions at the grocery store, gas station, doctor's office, "You like Auburn or Alabama?" "NEITHER! It is conceivably possible that a person can exist quite happily without choosing a damn football team in the state of Alabama to support. If you ask me again, I will pee in your shampoo. I've done it before, I'm not scared." And I really want to suggest to the genius entrepreneur by our house who sells $5 Alabama t-shirts every melon farming weekend this shirt idea, "If you can read this, you probably don't give a shit about football in the state of Alabama."
3. People who will not control the volume of their voices in a work environment. I am this close from pulling a Tonya Harding on a couple of folks at work simply because I cannot even string a thought together when their nasally, completely fake and loud, I'm-in-charge-of-this-even-though-80%-of-what-I-say-is-incorrect, collectively, voices pierce and invade the inside of my head day after day after day. I am extremely sensitive to noises, I don't know why, in fact most of the time, I'm kind of deaf, but this has become a special, fun test that I fear is designed for me to end up in a straitjacket screaming for the lambs to stop and talking to an invisible gorilla.
4. People who are just dumb. I adore Facebook, but what I do not adore is being in touch with various people, most of whom I went to middle school with, who are so impossibly stupid, that I realize nearly immediately I should not have accepted their friend requests. If you don't know how to use proper grammar and punctuation, and you think it's cute to spell crazy with a "K," or just don't look at how you spell, period, you and I probably don't need to be friends. There are some people who will be friends, not just on Facebook, with literally anyone. They're so nice and sweet that they make themselves endure people who never saw the inside of a high school just to be polite. I am not one of those people. I've had simple acquaintances in the past, and I remember trying to make small talk, and their turning it into "Aw, shoot, you use big words, I don't know what you're talking 'bout," and me thinking..."ah, I think I can end this weak relationship without guilt..wheww."
5. Smitty yelling at the damn TV and me about football. The TV can't hear him, and I don't care. Just watch the game and leave me out of it. I'm not complaining that you're watching it, I just don't want to be drawn into your madness and clapping and hooting. He needs some male playmates. I just want to read People magazine and be left alone. And this entry is his own fault because he told me to shut up and go back to my little computer...so there, Fart Blossom....you asked for it.
Hopefully, that will relieve this shoulders at my ears thing. If I offended you, I really don't care right now...I apologize for nothing.
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