Thanks For the Memories, Shoobies! (Not Really)

Finally!! They're gone!!! Most of them, anyway. The majority of the summer tourists have left the building. Praise whoever you usually praise when something good happens to you! I love September.

I realize the tourist trade is what keeps this tiny barrier island afloat but since I don't profit a penny from their infiltration I have no tolerance for their overpopulation of my town.

I will never understand the appeal of riding a bicycle down a heavily trafficked main street during summer vacation.Who thinks its fun to take a chance with one's physical well being? Not to mention the emotional toll being called "blood sucking Shoobies" (or worse) can take on one's psyche?  I can see the allure of riding a bike along the edge of the ocean on the boardwalk in the early hours of the morning. But not EN MASSE, which is the way it's apparently done if you're from Pennsylvania and your window of opportunity for bike riding is going to close on you by the end of the week. Or the end of your vacation. But how, in the name of all that is hokey, can you call riding on the boardwalk in the middle of a crowd of cyclists, drunk surrey cart peddlers, skateboarders, scooterers (a word I just coined) and a handful of the physically fit trying to run in and out of all the above FUN?

You know what's fun? YOU doing all that in your own town!

So, thanks, Shoobies. I went shopping today and it was pure bliss. No fighting with shopping carts randomly left in the middle of the aisle with the cart driver nowhere to be seen. No cacophony of screaming children, no prolonged wait at the cashier. Just a handful of  locals humming and grinning in a store that allows room to breathe.  Everyone is happy that you're gone. I'm not alone in my  wicked glee!!

I'm not sorry you're gone, Shoobs, but I will be very sorry to see you return next summer. So, for now, I'm going to fully utilize my town while you're still out of it! And just a little suggestion for next year: leave the friggin bikes HOME!

Til then.

A Rant Not About YOU WHO ARE HIDDEN FROM MY WRATH

I'm ranting here because, god dammit, everybody gets on my nerves.
Oh, no no no no no!! Not you. Come back here.
I'm talking about these people I can see and hear and god help them if I ever decide to touch them. Some days a healthy dose of Grey Goose is the only thing that keeps me out of jail.
There is a driver at my job who is on "light duty", (which is a euphemism for "I am a pussy") and is doing some kind of a first grade project for the DDS manager that involves the intellectually tiring job of putting a piece of paper into the automatic reversing document feeder (copy machine) and setting it to make 1000 copies. This guy is getting paid $13 an hour for this. Ok, not my busines, is it? That money is NOT coming out of my pocket, is it? No. So I need to mind my own business, don't I?
So, minding my business, I happen to walk past the copy machine where this guy is sitting on his ass waiting for paper to come out of the document processor. He looks up as I pass and says to my back: "Hey, Dory. Bring me two more packs of paper, ok?"
My ego has an ugly mood swing. I turn. I walk back to where he sits. I ask "Is your secretary off today?"
He gives me a throughly confused look and answers "you know I ain't got no secretary".
I say "exactly" and continue the march back to my office.
Ten minutes later, my intercom beeps.
"Yes?" I say in my busier than thou tone of voice.
"Where my paper at?"

Kristen Cheated!! What a Shocker!!!

Written for Group Blogging  Experience

What's so Unexpected?


So  Kristen Stewart cheated on her ugly ass boyfriend. And this is a shocking bit of news why? Was it really unexpected? From the moment TMZ or Perez or even the AOL news page announces a new celebrity coupling, isn't it just a countdown to who is gonna cheat on who? Seriously, there hasn't been an actual shocking "somebody did somebody wrong" story since Liz stole Eddie from Debbie. (and that was so long ago, most people have no clue what I'm talking about)

People who can easily afford to indulge their every fantasy, indulge them. Who wouldn't? Hasn't every little girl wanted to get married in a castle in merry old England? Especially the first marriage. That life long fantasy has got to materialize at the earliest opportunity. Who knows? There may only be a couple more chances to get the wedding right.

Even after the dream wedding and the fantasy honeymoon and the"baby bump" celebration, the Hollywood love birds manage to find other nests to roost in. No matter that the bird in their own nest is uncommonly beautiful, sublimely intelligent and impossibly talented, the DoDo in the nest across the canyon is looking pretty alluring. In Hollywood, the philosophy is: "if I see it and I want it, I must have it".  And so it goes.

The next thing you know the scandal rags in the grocery stores are shouting out  CELEBRITY X CHEATING ON CELEBRITY Y. And its supposed to be a be surprise?

What is really unexpected are the untold stories of longevity and fidelity in Hollywood marriages/relationships.

One of the most surprising of the long lasting show biz marriages is Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne. Seriously, who else could put up with these two? And for almost 30 years!!  Sharon actually STOLE the Prince of Dementia from his first wife. I'm sure whoever SHE was is thanking her lucky stars today!

The recently departed Andy Griffith and his wife Cindi were married for 28 years. They made the very smart decision to live in North Carolina instead of  Hollywood, CA so maybe that was a boon to this union. She was 30 years younger than Andy and that can't hurt, either.

Sheriff Andy has be bested by little Opie in the long lasting marriage arena. Ron Howard has been married for 36 years to his wife Cheryl. They married when Opie, I mean RON, was 21 years old and still bopping his way through "Happy Days". Happy Days indeed.

And People...are you all shocked that Bret Michaels and his girlfriend of 18 years have split? I guess if your mate were out looking for another mate on national television you'd finally get a clue, too.   The Rock Of  Love has crumbled. And the unexpected aspect of the situation is that she put up with him for 18 years.

Just a bit of memory

Life has been coming at me at warp speed for so long, I don't even have time to commit deliberate breathing. I keep walking into rooms only to leave again with no clue why I went there in the first place. But my memory comes in fits and starts and while I was pondering some car "troubles" I was having this week I recalled the first accident I ever had. I was 19, overconfident, and reckless. A really bad combination. Still, I don't think the mishap was my fault. 

My boyfriend at the time owned a diner and sent me to one or the other circles of hell to get him 50 pounds of snapper turtles. In his car. Which, by some unfortunate oversight, didn't seem to have a valid registration or insurance. Snapper turtles are a priority in the food world, but registration and insurance, not so much. 

So 50 miles away from home, on a semi-deserted back road that I cannot figure out how I got on, some guy decided to swing his car around and drive on the wrong side. My side. Head on!! 

I wasn't so reckless that I didn't attempt to get out of his way but as I headed to the side of the road, so did the guy.  So we sideswiped each other.


The moron who caused the accident, and admitted it, was ticketed and allowed to drive away. Because I was driving a car with no registration and no insurance, I had to leave the car and go with the nice officer who said he would find me a ride home.

"But officer! I have 50 pounds of snapper turtles in the trunk. I can't just leave them!!"

 Officer was a little skeptical as he ordered me to slowly move to the rear of the vehicle and open the trunk. There they were. Snapper turtles. Snapping. Officer tried to convince me I had to leave them but I had the best melt down in the history of melt downs. Even the police can't stand female tears. So, fifty pounds of living snapper turtles went into the nice officer's trunk and off we went.


 When we hit end of the line, another nice officer was waiting to receive me for another ride to the next stop. Officer # 1 forgot to mention to Officer #2 that there would be extra passengers to pick up. A very animated discussion ensued but in the end, the nice officers transferred my turtles to the trunk.

In all, there were three police cruisers that carried us from county line to county line and called themselves the "snapper patrol". Unfortunately, the snappers didn't survive the trip. I couldn't tell if they were shaken up by the crash, but I think the lack of air in the various trunks they rode in is what ultimately did them in. Poor things. (you can't see me, but I am observing a moment of silence for the creatures I inadvertently murdered. well, actually, they were going to be the soup of the day if they had made it back to the diner, but...oh, the humanity!)

The worst part of this whole ordeal was having to tell my boyfriend there would be no snapper turtles for snapper soup night.  He immediately broke up with me, fired me and banished me from his sight.  

I was 19. I was devastated. I walked home in tears wondering how I could have screwed up so badly. In an extreme pout I took to my bed and cried at the injustice of it all. But wait...my brain was starting to engage. How could this have been my fault when I was driving on my own side of the road minding my own business? It wasn't my fault. Damn Right. So why was I blaming myself?

As for the flipping turtles, if boyfriend had bothered to renew his registration and insurance, the snapper soup would be boiling in the stock pot and all would have been right in the world.  Also, not my fault!! 

At that point my blood was boiling. A temper my parents had tried to discipline out of me for so many years broke through and pulled me off my bed and right to the phone.  I dialed boyfriend's work number and when he got on the line I let him have everything my wounded inner child had been harboring for 19 years.
 

 When I was finished, I had a promotion, a raise, a new car, a paid 10 day vacation and a plane ticket to Florida!! Jackpot!!


And the best perk of all was that the gosh darn turtles were delivered to the back door of the kitchen from that day forward.

52 Weeks of Happiness - Week 2

 

http://leighvslaundry.blogspot.com/

My morning coffee(s) - The first thing each day that causes me to be wildly happy!!!

 

Click on  http://leighvslaundry.blogspot.com/ to see what makes our fellow (wo)man happy. And if you would like to share a picture of your happiness, leave your comment and your link in her blog so we all can see. 

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Hot Dog In The Morning

Breakfast food is just so mundane. Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Porkroll.  I like that stuff only when served in a restaurant. With a Mimosa. By somebody who is not me. I am not standing in front of the stove and cooking those items for myself. Cooking always leads to cleaning up and cleaning up leads to washing dishes and washing dishes leads to drying dishes and...you know the drill.

My favorite breakfast food is one that can be purchased, fully prepared, over the counter at the WaWa or Subway or some other very convenient convenience store. But my very favorite "on the go" breakfast is a hot dog. With onions and mustard and relish. At 8 o'clock in the morning!! From my local WaWa.

What the heck is WaWa, you say?? 

Click here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wawa_Food_Markets

Two things keep me from enjoying a frequent hot dog breakfast: 1) Not all WaWa's have their hot dogs grilling that early in the morning and 2) the little "situation" I have with high cholesterol.

So...the eggs and bacon and pancakes, etc. are pretty much off limits for me these days. And who cares? I have had a lifetime of those things. But, can one ever get enough of hot dogs in the morning? I feel so bereft in the absence of my beloved doggies and their accompanying condiments.

In fact, all of my fav breakfast foods are off limits. No Tuna Subs. No pizza. No Chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. No Philly Cheesesteaks. Add to that the no smoking rule my lungs have imposed upon me and the result is pretty bleak. I am forced to believe the old adage that everything I love is either illegal, immoral or fattening. 

(Sometimes all three at once) 

 

But that was not my predominant thought at the beginning of this tirade. I was focusing on breakfast hot dogs. Hot and juicy and riotously tasty. And just bad on every level of the food pyramid.  In fact, so bad that I should be embarrassed to admit that I am so enamored of them. Not. I sing their praises! I worship the ground they sizzle on. I drool at the thought of them. I fantasize taking a slow, savoring bite and swallowing with relish. Or just mustard. Whatever.

Give me hot dogs or give me death. Um, wait. Death is the reason I am avoiding my beloved hot dogs to begin with so...I guess this is goodbye, my sweet. Parting is not a "sweet" sorrow. It's just a sorrow. 

Mundane Monday

This is one little corner of my office building. Quite mundane, not very pretty, but if I need to sweep something or pick up a pile of dirt, or toss out an empty milk carton or put out a fire everything necessary is right there!!

 I will be looking for evidence of the mundane in other people's lives so if you wish to share: do it here!!