Category Archives: Uncategorized
Looking For the Helpers
Like so many others yesterday, I watched the tragedy in Boston unfold on the news – standing with co-workers in the lunchroom, mouths covered in horror, heads shaking in disgust, eyes tearing up in sadness at yet more lives lost and damaged beyond repair. The act of one person ruining the lives and hopes and dreams of so many. What was supposed to be a triumphant celebration of achievement, a joyous occasion of accomplishment shattered by unspeakable violence. More questions of what can we do, more fear of where we can go, and more disgust at the actions of cowards. Our country mourns yet again; this time with another city, with another demographic, over another type of violence.
I think any writer with a modicum of a platform, no matter how small it may be, would be remiss in not addressing this attack on some level. The part I need to address is hope. Yes, hope. Since the advent of social media, anyone with access to the internet can voice their opinion publicly, can share their thoughts and feelings and words. And so very much of what I saw on Facebook and Twitter yesterday was, for the first time in a long time, simply support. From tweets simply reading, “My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone involved in the tragedy in Boston,” to statuses sharing from all over the world, “NY Loves Boston,” “Dublin’s Heart is With Boston,” to pictures of the Boston skyline, to entire articles depicting the emergency personnel and civilians alike running toward the injured instead of away from the chaos.
The helpers. The picture and words I saw the most yesterday were that of the beloved Mr. Rogers, who said this, “Always look for the helpers.” What phenomenal advice. Look for the helpers. Look for the ones who are doing what they can to make a horrible event bearable. There were so many yesterday. The exhausted runners who should have been celebrating the culmination of years of hard work with an ice bath and a chair continuing to move, to push wheelchairs and help people up and give blood. The people of the city of Boston opening their homes and hearts to those stranded in a strange city that had just been attacked, no questions asked. The restaurant owners giving out free meals without regard to their bottom line. Google setting up a site to help frantic family members find their loved ones. The emergency personnel; the doctors and nurses and fireman and police and EMT’s and servicemen who have dedicated their lives to helping being put to the ultimate test and stepping up once again. The list goes on and on.
Smartphones make it almost frighteningly easy to immediately share pictures and videos without censure; many of us saw some raw video footage of people with limbs blown off, puddles of blood, and tearful horror within minutes of the explosions. But so much of what I saw yesterday gave me hope. These videos were unscripted; this was real life and real reactions, and so much of it showed helpers. These are real people. This is the real world we live in. In the midst of explosions and terror and unknown, these were real people that did everything they could to help. And that is what our country is made up of. Helpers. We’ve shown it over and over and over again, in New York and Pennsylvania on that dark day in 2001, in Newtown just before Christmas, in Boston yesterday, and countless other times; there has always been more helpers than evil. There has always been more love than hate. We just need to remember it.
There’s many who will say I’m being naive, that I’m trying to find the rose-colored lenses for a pair of broken glasses. I’m okay with that. Because I’m right. I may not always remember it, but we’re surrounded by helpers. Try using my rose-colored glasses – you’ll see it too. Instead of the sadness of the homeless person on the corner, you’ll see the helper who drops a quarter in his cup. Instead of the frustration of a crowded bus, you’ll see the helper give up his seat for a tired mom. Instead of anger at being stuck in a long line, you’ll see the helper patiently counting out change for the elderly person at the front. And instead of pure evil in a time of terror, you’ll see the helper in not only the people in Boston that physically risked themselves, but in the millions of us around the world who did what little we could to show our support. To help.
Mr. Rogers was a smart man. Always, always look for the helpers. They’ll be there.
We’re with you, Boston. Kudos to all of your helpers.
Bucket List for the Insane
A friend of mine recently posted on her Facebook page, “Skydiving!!! One more thing to mark off the Bucket List!” and for some reason, it stuck with me. I love the whole idea of a Bucket List. Things to do before you die, things to strive for, places to go. It’s a great idea. It gives us a sense of purpose; it helps us give our lofty dreams some sort of structure. I started thinking, “Hmm, what would be on my Bucket List?” I did some Googling – is that a word? It should be – and stalked some other people’s lists and oh, holy baby Jesus, you people have some GOALS. Hiking Everest and ziplining in the Everglades and saving starving children and starting charities – amazing. My list? Not quite so lofty. And even as I wrote mine down, my mind immediately came up with 400 reasons of why that particular idea was the dumbest one I’d ever had.
But I’m not giving up. It’s my Bucket List and I can do with it what I want. So I still wrote out my list, and then let the rational part of my brain yell at the hopeful, creative side. The result is that now I think maybe not everyone needs to make a Bucket List and some of us should probably just be happy for every day that goes by in which we don’t get hit by a bus or shit on by a pigeon.
Courtney’s (Sort Of) Bucket List
Volunteer at an Animal Shelter
- Thought: I love cats! I have time! Ever since my stupid Potato cat went missing and I visited every shelter in the south suburbs looking for him, my heart breaking at these poor kitties in cages, I have wanted to volunteer and spend time loving on these neglected animals.
- Counter Thought: Are you even serious right now? First of all, at that one shelter you went to looking for that idiot cat, there was a fucking PIG there that had just had babies. Can you see yourself caring for a PIG, Courtney? Think about it. Also, remember that one time you went to the pet store when you had PMS and almost came home with an ugly dog, even though you don’t even like dogs all that much? Let me paint you a picture of how this ends – you, fourteen cats, and a piglet. Alone.
See the Northern Lights
- Thought: That would be so amazing to see. I hear Alaska is a great place to see them – I could kill two birds with one stone! I mean, who ever goes to see Alaska? Plus I’d see the amazing lights!
- Counter Thought: You know what else is in Alaska? A raging drinking problem. And darkness. Given your love of beer and the fact that not seeing sunlight for more than 48 hours makes you homicidal – this is not the place for you. Any lights you see are likely going to be hallucinations. Why don’t you try for an eclipse or super moon here in your home state, yeah? We’ll get you a telescope or something.
Live in a Continuously Organized, Orderly Space In Which the Corners of Baseboards are Always Clean
- Thought: This isn’t impossible. My mom does it. My sister does it. It’s likely just a simple system – a routine I need to get into. I bet if I do a complete overhaul, I can keep everything spic-and-span and never have a heart-stopping panic attack again when someone drops by unexpectedly!
- Counter Thought: Really? It’s just a routine you haven’t quite picked up in the past 20 years? Sure. I wasn’t going to do this, but let me remind you of what happened last week. Remember? DO YOU?? You got a new towel off of the shelf and then had to take a whole new shower after using it because it was covered in cat hair. Why don’t you concentrate on never, EVER letting that happen again before you start scrubbing baseboards with a toothbrush.
Do One of Those Walks/Bike Rides For Charity
- Thought: Why not? I could help people and get exercise all in one. It looks like such a rah-rah good time, and for such a good cause!
- Counter Thought: Are you even fucking kidding me right now? You bribe people on a weekly basis to go places for you so you don’t have to walk up your stairs more than twice a day. Also, not to be the bearer of bad news, but giving up cigarettes did not magically take 50 pounds off of your frame, give you the gift of balance, or shrink your giant head so that it will fit in a normal-sized bike helmet. This one’s a super nice idea, but let’s keep it on your level. Try a nice short walk at a local high school – I know you, you’re going to sign up for that 3 Day Walk and you know damn well you don’t like to do ANYTHING for more than 45 minutes at a time and you’re simply setting yourself up for disappointment.
There was more, but one can only imagine what my subconscious revolted with when the word “Skydiving” crossed my mind, so I had to stop because I was hurting my own feelings. Regardless, I still think it’s a good list and am standing by it. What’s on yours?
It’s Still a Bucket
The Best Social Media Arguments Against Gay Marriage
For anyone who may have missed the memo, today the Supreme Court heard arguments regarding Proposition 8, marking what I hope will be the beginning of a historic turning point in our society. Never is social media so prevalent than when a hot-button issue is raised, and today was certainly no exception. Facebook “turned red,” in support, with hundred of thousands of supporters changing their profile picture to a red equal sign, and Twitter’s hashtag of #gaymarriage was certainly the most trending topic. It’s no secret I’m a supporter, and after coming across this fabulous post I wanted to add my own two cents to some of the arguments that popped up across various social media websites throughout the day. Mostly because dumb people are funny.
***If you don’t agree with gay marriage, you probably want to just stop here. You’re certainly entitled to your opinion, but I think it’s stupid, and that’s the nicest way I can say it.***
From an article in Nacogdoches County, Texas
“A marriage is between a man and a woman and they’re trying to take a situation that doesn’t constitute marriage and have rights on that,” said Shelia Anthony.
- Well that there’s a good sentence, ain’t it Shelia? I like that nowhere here is there any reasoning, supporting argument, or sentence structure. And that her momma apparently couldn’t spell “Sheila.”
“If you were to put men on one island and woman on another island eventually the world would die off,” said Ethan Yates.
- Yes, and if you put cats on one island and dogs on the other you’d have two islands with only cats and dogs. And if we ran out of water, we’d also die. And if dinosaurs came back, we’d probably die too. And if a meteor hit Earth, again, DEAD. Also, in your particular situation, if we put men on island and “woman,” on another island, which actually means only one woman, that would just be cruel and unusual punishment. But assuming you meant all the women in the world on one island and all the men another – hey Ethan? We fucking discovered Earth was round, we discovered electricity, we invented the internet which allows your dumb opinion to be read by hundreds, we have people in SPACE; I guaran-goddam-tee the men and women would find each other’s island. Also, kudos on coming up with a realistic situation that totally translates well to your strong argument against gay marriage.
Here are some comments from Yahoo! users in response to this article regarding today’s hearings.
“People, you are all missing the main point!! Thje The only reason participants in marriage, (traditional marriage,) were given certain “rights” was because they provide the best environment in which to raise children. It IS that simple! Laws on inheretence inheritance, hospital visitation, etc., can be changed but the fundamental privaleges privileges of marriage should be reserved for marriages consisting of one man and one woman because that is what’s best for the children that might be created. Same-sex marriages do not provide the same benefit to society and thus should not be afforded the same privaleges privileges. It IS that simple.”
- Now that we’ve fixed your grammar and made this an almost coherent paragraph, I’m kind of too tired to point out that if I had to guess, while I’m sure you believe your spawn are the greatest benefit to society since your husband Jimmy Bob was created, they’re probably going to grow up to be assholes. And I can point out about four hundred marriages off the top of my head that are surely of ZERO benefit to society. All of Rush Limbaugh’s (traditional, sacred, marriages) come to mind.
“Gay marriage should be handled at the state level. If you’re gay and want to get married, move to a state where it’s legal. If you don’t agree with gay marriage, move to a state where it’s illegal. Simple as that.”
- Interesting. I would imagine there were a lot of people back in the day that said the same thing about segregation, women’s rights, and interracial marriage. Don’t say it’s not the same thing. IT IS THE SAME THING.
“And GOD said, though shall NOT sleep with another man. Case closed.”
- I’m ignoring the fact that this guy got the verse completely wrong. His misguided point comes across and it’s my favorite. The old standby that every opponent of gay rights ultimately falls back on, seeing as they don’t have any actual reasoning behind their ignorance. The Bible also says if a woman isn’t a virgin when she is married she can be stoned to death. It forbids tattoos and rounded haircuts, folks. I’m not saying the Good Book isn’t good; however, the possibility that it’s slightly outdated in some respects really needs to be considered.
Which side do you want to tell your grandkids you were on??
Why Are You Doing This To Us, Rihanna?
These probably fall under the “Privilege, Not a Right,” category.
These make me sad, and mad. Sad because I actually think they’ll catch on, and mad because I’ll never be able to wear them.
And Sometimes, I’m the Idiot Everyone Wants to Punch
As anyone who has read this blog knows, a good portion of it is dedicated to venting about people that have shown some sort of incompetence. Whether it’s in line at the grocery store, on a crowded bus, or on my computer or television in the form of “news,” and “celebrities,” pretty much everyone I have any sort of contact with who isn’t one of my immediate friends or family is a fucktard in my mind.
Although I spend a lot of time seething over other’s idiocy, rest assured, I’m hardly sitting on some high horse. I mean, this morning, I went to put on my rainboots as I was determined not to fall on my ass yet again and found a dollar bill, three bottle caps, and two crumpled up drawings of clowns that appeared to be in jail jammed in the foot. Despite not having children to blame this on, I wasn’t surprised. So believe me, my glass castle shattered some moons ago. Despite this, I still have no problem calling out the general public on their inadequacies and dumbfuckery at the grocery store or on the bus. However, I’ve had a few incidents in the past week or so which have me think that perhaps I’m being a tad judgmental. And that sometimes? I’m the fucktard.
Incident #1 – Dominicks.
Earlier this week, I made my daily stop to Dominicks after work. There appeared to be four thousand people in the store, and the lines were already about 15 deep. I got hit with a cart, blocked by a trio of elderly ladies debating the merits of their yogurt brands, accosted by someone posing as a medical professional who wanted to check my spine, and almost exploded from holding in profanity whilst waiting for the cutesy couple in front of me to figure out how to pull a produce bag off the roll. (Hint – it’s not by standing there and giggling, “OMG! I ripped another bag! You try!” “No, you try! You can do it!.” So very much hate.) By the time I got to the end of the line behind 17 people waiting for the self-checkout, I was already kind of crazy and spent the next 15 minutes in line cursing each and every one of my fellow shoppers. I was seething at the inefficiency and sheer stupidity of these folks who were holding up the line. Tapping my foot, rolling my eyes, sighing huffily – the whole nine yards.
Until I got my own dumb ass up there, scanned my container of soup (one of the main reasons I still frequent Dominicks is they have the most amazing baked potato soup on the planet,) a six-pack of Miller Lite, a roll of toilet paper, and some cat food. It was right about here that I realized I had eight singles in my purse, along with a whole mess of quarters. Now, not only am I that person holding up the line, but I’m paying for the saddest combination of items ever WITH CHANGE. And then? I ran out of quarters. So if I was looking for a lesson in humility, I certainly got it while digging for sixty more cents in my purse while everyone behind me tapped their feet in exasperation, rolled their eyes, and mentally called me a pathetic jackass in unison.
Incident #2 – CTA Part One.
The CTA has done everyone a big favor since the new year in raising their prices on one-day, three-day, and seven-day passes. And by “done everyone a favor,” I really mean bent them over without consent, lube, or dinner. Without going into all of the math, it is no longer economically efficient for me to buy a seven-day pass and instead makes more sense to buy ten dollar CTA cards every couple of days. Which means, of course, with me being me and whatnot, I occasionally find myself near running to (fucking) Dominick’s before work once a week because I forgot my pass is no longer valid. Earlier this week, I got on the bus, put in my card, and got the hateful message that there was only $.75 on my card. Once again finding myself digging around for change, I assumed the bus driver would do what every other bus driver does when the person is short, which is either wave them on or let other, better prepared folks board while I got my shit together.
But if that had happened, it wouldn’t be my life. So instead, the bus driver just sat there while I dug around frantically for my wallet – and isn’t it always the case that the more you’re in a panicked rush, the more shit you drop? Seriously, normally I can reach in my purse without looking and find my lighter, keys, and phone within seconds – leaving everyone waiting behind me in literal freezing rain. After I’d dropped my lunch on the floor, pulled out a tampon wrapped around my headphones, and mistook a quarter for a penny, I finally had enough to carry on and began walking through the near empty bus while other passengers boarded. And apparently said bus driver really had it in for me, because as soon as my last quarter passed through, everyone else jumped on the bus and she immediately slammed on the gas. At which point I dropped my lunch a-fucking-gain and was too afraid to bend over and pick it up while the bus was lurching to and fro, then caught my foot in the plastic bag it was in and nearly gave someone a very unwelcome lap dance.
Incident #3 – CTA Part Two.
I get out of work at 5:30 every night. From there I catch the Blue Line at Clark/Lake in order to catch my bus. For those unfamiliar, the Clark/Lake stop is a relatively busy one, as every other train line save the Red Line stops there. In addition, 5:30 is somewhat of a turning point – it’s not necessarily considered “rush hour,” anymore, so if you miss a train by 30 seconds, you may be stuck waiting for another 12 minutes listening to the guy play the buckets and desecrating some classic Temptations hits. The Blue Line train also runs to the airport, so quite often I’ve found myself behind some clueless tourists who are trying to pull their giant luggage through the turnstiles. (Another hint – it ALWAYS gets stuck. Always.) While I’ve certainly been frustrated by this, I will honestly say I never get mad at the tourists, because they don’t know any better and I do not forget that not long ago I was right there with them, terrified and confused by all of the people rushing by me.
That being said, I have often become apoplectic with the girls carrying giant gym bags, the sales guys in suits and backpacks standing at the turnstiles and just waving their wallet in front of the sensor despite it CLEARLY NOT RECOGNIZING THEIR CARD, the vagrants trying nine different cards that they’ve found on the ground, and the folks that get up to the turnstile and then begin searching for their pass, holding up the rest of the line for us savvy travelers. All of that being said, I have to wonder what names I was called today as I bopped up to the turnstiles with my headphones, singing along to Tiffany, when my card wasn’t accepted. No worries, I took it out, waited a beat, then tried to put it in again. No dice. Wouldn’t even go in the slot. Waited another moment – not noticing the security guard trying to get my attention as I was too involved in my music – and tried again. Nothing. Now, I’m irritated, and at the same time I look up to get the guard’s attention, he taps me on the shoulder. Exasperated, I turn around – with headphones still on, mind you – and make a “WHAT?” gesture. He points at my ear and I yank a headphone out, all, “Yes??” ”It’s upside down, ma’am.” Me. (And I’m embarrassed about this, honestly.) ”What? I can’t hear you.” ”Your card. You’re putting it in upside down.”
Well, shit.
I wonder how many people are telling stories about the dumb blonde they got stuck behind this week?
Dammit.
Three People That Should Have Kept Their Mouth Shut
I really wanted to title this something more angry, (Three People That Should Be Shot Into the Sun was a frontrunner,) but I took a step back and tried to remember that one of the reasons I love my country so much is that we are all protected by the First Amendment and everyone is entitled to their opinion. No matter how much someone’s opinion makes me want to kick them in the shins, no matter how much I disagree, no matter how fucking wrong and ignorant they are, no matter how much they make me fear for humanity – they are entitled to their opinion. That being said? These people might want to reconsider theirs.
For the full perspective, please read the full article. It needs to be noted that the school itself, including its principal and administrators, are NOT in favor of this joke of a prom and instead welcome all students, regardless of sexual preference, to the actual dance and are not budging on the issue. This “Traditional Prom,” which would only include male/female couples and would ban homosexuals, has been developed by a select group of students, parents, and this fabulous teacher that everyone would obviously want to have. And by “everyone would want to have,” I mean OH SWEET BABY JESUS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS WOMAN IS AN EDUCATOR. Ms. Medley has certainly come under the most fire for her comments, and I would almost feel sorry for her if she wasn’t such an idiot. In an interview, Ms. Medley compared her LGBT students to her special needs students, that she “cares” about her homosexual students despite not believing in homosexuality, and my personal favorite, responded “No,” to a question regarding whether homosexuals have a purpose.
Really? Are we not in 2013? I mean, I’m not a moron. I realize that we have a long way to go before there’s true equality and so on and so forth. But the fact that this woman, who is a teacher, who should be a CHAMPION of those that society shuns, can say with a straight face that she cares about all of her students while actively judging them astounds me. How much would you like to bet she also has strong opinions about her black students, about her overweight kids, about her goth kids, about her artistic students? I mean, she certainly SEEMS well rounded and not at all condescending, but – oh wait, no she doesn’t.
Rex Reed and His Insightful Comments about Oscar-Nominated Melissa McCarthy.
Despite a deep-seated love for both Jason Bateman and Melissa McCarthy, I haven’t yet seen “Identity Thief.” The movie itself might suck, I don’t know. But Mr. Reed’s comments about Melissa McCarthy are, in short, disgusting. The review seems to be an almost personal, vitriolic assault on McCarthy, calling her, “tractor-sized,” “a hippo,” and “obnoxious and obese.” I’m going to skip over the obvious, which could include things like, “Rex Reed is a complete dickhead,” “Rex Reed needs a fucking full-length mirror if he’s going to throw stones at people about their looks,” and “The females in Rex Reed’s life are probably super proud of him.” Instead, I say for one, I surely hope the fabulous Melissa is laughing all the way to the bank, as the movie was the highest-grossing yet this year and she has that whole Golden Globe/Oscar thing to fall back on. Two? I’m glad that the response has been overwhelmingly negative towards this narrow minded prick. I hope that the lesson that comes out of this is that, regardless of size, if you are awesome at what you do and work hard at it, you will be embraced in a positive manner and hopefully rewarded. I hope the other lesson is that if you’re a mean-spirited jerkface, people will eventually stop liking you. You’re losing the internet, Rex Reed.
So Pastor Alois Bell of the Almighty Church of Jerks that Shouldn’t Go Out To Eat, during a trip Applebees a few weeks ago, thought that if their large party split their check, they could sneak around the mandatory 18% gratuity on large parties. This is a common tactic among people that suck at going out to dinner, and as a former waitress is one of the several things that made me want to take a hostage after several hours of fetching water for a party of ten. Her waitress for the evening was not fooled by the ruse and added the 18% gratuity anyhow. Pastor Bell wasn’t having it, and scratched out the TWENTY NINE CENT tip, scribbling “I give God 10%, why do you get 18?”
Well, Ms. Bell, let me tell you. Because I? Have been running around like a fucking maid for you for the past two hours. I am in the position of depending on high and mighty jerks like you to pay for my rent and groceries. Which is why I ran around like a maid for you for the past two hours. I took all of your orders, I brought your drinks, I remembered who wanted medium and who wanted rare, I kept your glasses filled, I cleared your plates, I walked each and every person in your party through the menu because IT’S VERY CONFUSING, being Applebees and all, I explained your desserts, I found a vegan entree, I unearthed the special dipping sauce you like, I wiped up the sticky fucking mess the children in your party threw on the floor, I boxed up three bites of a cheeseburger for you to take home, I made fresh coffee because yours “tasted old,” I reheated your bread, and I split your fucking check eight different ways. And I did it all with a smile. For TWENTY NINE FUCKING CENTS. You know why? Because I take my job seriously, as demeaning and demoralizing as it can be. You can give God whatever you want, and bless you for it. But I’m pretty sure He would want you to give your waitress TWENTY NINE CENTS for waiting on you hand and foot all night. Also? If this is truly your belief, why are you angry and embarrassed about it now that someone other than your lowly waitress is aware of it?
***Edited: It appears I was incorrect in the tip amount; it was actually $6.29. Point remains the same.***
In short – yes, everyone’s entitled to their opinion and beliefs. And yes, I recognize the irony of writing an opinion piece on other people’s opinions. To quote one of my favorite movies ever, “Opinions are like assholes, honey. Everybody’s got one and everybody thinks everybody else’s stinks.”
What’s yours?
How To (Not) Be an Adult.
Ever have one of those days where, right in the middle of something, your brain is all, “What in the fuck is WRONG with you? How do you even manage to remember to put on pants?” This can’t just be me, right? Other people have to have those moments where they think, “Hmm. I’m not sure what choices led me to this exact moment, but I definitely regret them at this particular juncture in my life.” I’m going to assume that this is true for everyone. However, it occurred to me when this thought jumped into my subconscious several times in the same evening that perhaps I need more adult supervision.
A Night in the Life of the Eternally Perplexed.
- First thought upon entering the house (and turning all of the lights on,) is “Dammit! I forgot cat food again.”
- Spend a few too many minutes wondering if cats can survive 12 more hours without food. Strongly consider filling the dish with treats and seeing what happens.
- Flash forward to trying to clean up cat vomit with toilet paper because I also forgot paper towels and head back to the store-that-shall-not-be-named.
- Ponder the effectiveness of “Stop Only if Pedestrians are Present,” signs in the middle of Chicago Ave.
- Decide with certainty signs are NOT effective after nearly being knocked airborne by a bitch on a scooter whilst crossing said street.
- Check weather report – you will not fool me tomorrow, Mother Nature!
- Seriously, who fucking loses a pair of winter boots? Especially someone who only owns one pair?
- Oh, remember when you didn’t feel like changing your shoes at work the last time it snowed and nearly lost your toes to frostbite? Check under your desk, smartypants.
- You will not fool me Mother Nature, but apparently you will win. Again.
- Hmm, what’s for dinner?
- Well, not whatever was in THAT container. Let’s just put that right back where we found it, shall we?
- Hey, leftover garlic shrimp and pasta! Surely my husband hasn’t been looking forward to this all night!
- Hmm. Not quite enough for the pastatravaganza I was hoping for. I know, I’ll add some more noodles and saute some garlic and onions to add!
- Let’s just move this plastic plate to this OTHER burner, out of the way.
- Singing along, “He was a Skater Boy, said see you later boy!”
- I miss Avril LaVigne.
- Wow, this onion’s taking a long time. Hope the garlic’s not burning.
- FIRE!! PLATE ON FIRE!!!
- Do we have a fire extinguisher?
- OF COURSE YOU DON’T YOU FUCKING IDIOT! YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A FLASHLIGHT!
- What’s that type of fire you can’t throw water on??!!! Is it a stove fire?
- I have flour! Should I throw flour on it?
- GREASE FIRE, DUMMY. THROW WATER ON IT.
- Hmm. That sort of worked.
- MOVE THE TOWEL.
- More water. It’s working!
- Holy shit, plastic burns quick.
- GET. A. BIGGER. RECEPTACLE.
- “The fire’s out, kitties! It’s safe now!”
- I loved that plate.
- Pretty sure those noodles are ruined. Let me just throw them in the leftovers anyway.
- Well, now everything you were going to eat is ruined. Dipshit.
After cleaning up all of the water I had tossed around the kitchen in my manic firefighting attempt, I had a beer and went to bed. Sometimes, you just have to give up and start over tomorrow.
I’m guessing it’s safe to say that tomorrow isn’t holding a lot of promise of normalcy, either, but I’m sure going to keep trying.
If anyone is surprised it was a Christmas plate, I can’t believe you read this far.
Common Courtesy for Ducks. (And People.)
Not long ago, I was standing in my kitchen, cutting some plastic rings from an empty six-pack in half, when a friend asked me, “Um, what in the fuck are you doing?” Surprised at his surprise, I answered, “Well, I’m cutting these so the baby ducks don’t get strangled by them! Don’t you do that?” In response to his blank stare, I continued, “Seriously? Didn’t you ever see that horrible commercial where those poor ducks had these wrapped around their necks because they get in lakes and stuff from the garbage? They get stuck and DIE! It’s horrible! I always cut them.” After a longer, blanker, but markedly more concerned stare, I was all, “What? Why would you want baby ducks to die? It’s not hard. It only takes a minute and hey, I’ve saved a duck.”
After the above exchange – in which I learned everyone I know apparently doesn’t give a SHIT about baby ducks – I started thinking about other common courtesies I engage in that others apparently don’t. My conclusion? Either I’m too nice or everyone else is an asshole.
Holding a Door for the Person Behind Me.
As long as I can remember, this has pretty much been de riguer for any situation. If you open a door and someone is following, unless it’s a mugger, you hold the door. You don’t have to roll out a red carpet and bugle, but giving that person the option to not have a door slammed in their surprised face really is the polite thing to do.
Apologizing After Accidentally Injuring Someone.
I’m one of those idiots that will apologize to a door if I accidentally bump into it. If you body check me into a post trying to get on the train, the words “I’m sorry!” will jump out of my mouth faster than my brain can reconcile that I was not the one at fault. I do realize not everyone is like this. However, if the situation ever arises in which you accidentally (I hope) knock a can of Spaghettios onto someone’s head at the grocery store, I have to believe it should be the norm to apologize. (Yes, that happened to me. Yes, it really fucking hurt. And yes, I called the lady that did and then sauntered off a whole lot of bad, bad names. In my head.)
Be Responsible for Your Pets’ Behavior.
Yes, my cats are assholes. Yes, they’ve sent a few folks to the hospital. However, I warn people that they are assholes. “Oh, cute kitties! Hi Kitty!” by newcomers receives the response of, “Yeah, she’s cute. But she bites. Hard. And scratches. Until she draws blood. Please don’t touch her.” If your dog gallumphs up to me, delightfully sniffing at my crotch, I’m going to assume he’s friendly. A simple, “He’s not really a people person!” or the like would be a fabulous warning that the cuteness my brain thinks is a nice doggy actually wants to eat my head should I try to pet him.
Letting Someone Cross the Street in a Torrential Downpour While You Are Cozy in your Vehicle.
I am perhaps a bit biased on this one, as Mother Nature is having some sort of bitchfit that she’s taking out on Chicago. There is simply no dressing appropriately for this bipolar attack of weather. Yesterday, I wore my big heavy rainboots and rain jacket and by the time I got home I was sweating like a whore in church and cursing everything I could think of. Today, I refused to be tricked and 45 seconds after I got off the bus, my toes were frozen and I was slip-sliding my way on a sheet of ice across the intersection. An intersection at which I had the right of way, I might add. So the multiple cars – at a stop sign – who honked at me as I skidded across the street were just being mean. You’re in a car, you jackhole. You think I wouldn’t rather be in a car than ice skating across Chicago Avenue? I bet it’s warm in there. I bet you wore socks. I bet snow didn’t just get in your contact and blind you midstep. (Bad, bad moment. I’ve feared for my life only a few times. This was one of them.) Long story short – your moment right now is MUCH BETTER than mine. No need to add insult to near-certain injury.
Thoughts? Am I naive to expect such things? It seems basic to me, but sometimes I wonder if there’s people out there all, “Look at this idiot who keeps smiling at everyone! Hey, Corky! Not everyone’s your friend!”
I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m probably not changing this late in the game. And to those that do think that – start being nicer. STOP KILLING BABY DUCKS.
What? Why do you want me to DIE??
Oh Yes, This is Happening Right Now.
Some of you may have heard in the past few days that there’s been a pretty amazing concert announced in the Chicago area. Facebook and Twitter has blown up with people near apoplectic with excitement for July and one can only imagine how they’re going to wait six more months.
That’s right, New Kids on the Block, 98 Degrees, and freaking Boyz II Men are coming to the Allstate Arena!!!! The Package Tour!!! I can’t even believe it!! (Wait, did you think I was talking about Pearl Jam at Wrigley? You should probably stop reading now cause you most likely don’t like me anymore.)
I’ve been a diehard New Kids fan since my tuba-playing elk days, and despite my friends and family making decidedly more pointed “suggestions” that perhaps I don’t need to advertise this fact as proudly as I do, I am so very excited about this concert. In addition to my favorite boy band ever, NKOTB – seriously, Boyz II Men?? I mean, who doesn’t have great memories to one of their songs? Admittedly don’t know much 98 Degrees as I was too busy drinking at fraternity parties in college when they were popular, but I’m confident I will love them.
So last night, I was home alone again and decided the best way to spend my evening was to watch “The View” on which this heartstopping announcement was made. i found a 30-minute video on YouTube and settled in for happiness. Below are the thoughts that were swimming around and slamming into each other in my head as I watched. If you’d like to follow along, feel free. Here’s the video. And please don’t put me in a straitjacket. At least not before July.
- Well, Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s still annoying as fuck.
- aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh I still love you Donnie!!!
- But what’s with the glasses, man?
- Why is the audience filled with desperate looking old girls?
- Dammit. That’s EXACTLY what I look like. Potato! Get me a beer!
- OMG! Nick Lachey is still super cute. I miss “Newlyweds.”
- Although, God, that bitch was dumb. I wonder how often Nick wanted to smother her with a pillow but couldn’t because of the cameras?
- Struck with a memory of an argument in which I defended Jessica, stating, “When you’re that pretty, you don’t have to be smart.” Mentally kick self repeatedly in head.
- OOOOHHHH I loved that song!! They used to play it at the bar!!!
- Wait, New Kids came before Boyz II Men? How old am I?
- I’LL MAKE LOVE TO YOU, LIKE YOU WANT ME TO!!
- Didn’t there used to be four Boyz? Did one die? That’s super sad.
- Ah, answered. He just left the group. Smart move, dummy. They probably won’t make any money on this tour. Glad he’s not dead though.
- I don’t want to hear about you giving your kids bottles backstage, gentlemen. You’re supposed to be sexy.
- Wait. I guess if I had kids that might be considered sexy.
- Dammit, again. Potato, beer me!
- Did Drew Lachey beat out Joey McIntyre on Dancing with the Stars? Why didn’t I watch that show again?
- Shut UP, Elizabeth. God, you’re irritating.
- Seriously, what grown woman actually believes her husband has never looked at porn?
- A really, really naive one, that’s who.
- OH-OH-OH-OH-OH!! THE RIGHT STUFF!!!
- I never did get that dance down.
- “That’s cause you’re disturbingly uncoordinated. You can’t even walk down the stairs without a handrail, spaz. Remember when you almost killed all those people walking to the Blue Line cause your shoe was untied?” (That was my subconscious. She’s an asshole with an excellent memory.)
- Heh. They said “Package.”
- I STILL LOVE YOU DONNIE!!! SEE YOU IN JULY!!!
So yeah, I know it’s not groundbreaking, Grammy award-winning music. And I know I will be mocked mercilessly for the next few months for being so excited. But it makes me happy. All of that being said, I WILL name my firstborn after anyone who can score me good seats to this show,
Also – aren’t you glad you don’t live in my head?
Seriously, how cute are we? I’ve had that shirt since 1989. And it still fits! (Sorry, 11 year old Courtney. But we’ve already established you were a hot mess.)
Just Stop It, Facebook Friends.
I love the Facebook. Love. It. It’s where I get a disproportionate amount of my news, catch up with old friends, find out what my peeps are having for lunch, and find the best videos of cats. I am, without question, guilty of checking in most places I go as though no one can get through their day without knowing I’m at the Fifty/50 Club, overstating my cats’ importance in the universe, and occasionally posting pictures of my dinner. (Which I will defend. I challenge you to not see a picture of my fabulous pot roast without wanting some for yourself.)
That being said, waking up this morning to 57 updates about how cold it was kind of made me want to punch things. I know it’s cold. I live here too. So do 97% of your friends. They all woke up to the same weather outlook on their phones – hardly any need to post a picture reminding everyone how everything on your body is going to freeze immediately upon stepping outdoors. Yes, it’s zero degrees. If it were July, or perhaps we lived in Texas, this would be news. Being that we live in Chicago and it’s January, I feel as though telling everyone it’s cold is akin to posting, “Hey, it’s morning! The sun came up again.”
Those aren’t the posts that make me crazy though. (Mostly because it’s entirely possible I’ve done it in the past. But no more!) These are the ones that make me want to turn off the internet forever.
So Sad Right Now.
- Said status is usually followed by multiple inquiries as to the poster’s mental health and wellness, which is then followed by the original poster responding with something super cryptic that gives zero information. What?? What’s wrong? First of all, you’ve piqued my interest, which I have to believe was your intent. Now I want to know how to proceed. Do you need consolation? A hug? Thoughts and prayers? A swift kick in the ass? Do I need to send flowers? And most of all – WHAT HAPPENED, DAMMIT???
Great news!!! Can’t Tell Anyone Yet but Yay!!!
- You dick. Everyone thinks you’re pregnant, FYI. And when you aren’t, and you follow up with something like, “We’re moving!” we are disappointed. If you can’t tell your good news, it isn’t good news yet.
And Then I’m Going Here, and Then Here, and Then Here, and Finishing Up Here.
- My life is boring enough, thanks. I don’t need to follow along with your mundane-ass errands, each of which you will check in from. You made it to Whole Foods? Awesome! And here I was sitting on pins and needles wondering if the traffic was going to put a dent in your timeframe.
If This Page Gets 10,000 Likes, This Child Will Get to Ride a Unicorn. TO THE MOON.
- There is plenty of good that can come from Facebook viral campaigns and I do not mean to detract from that; I have surely been known to post something on the long shot it will make a difference. But snopes.com exists for a reason, folks. That girl Penny has been missing for like four years. It’s not an Amber Alert anymore. “Post this if you want to erase cancer! ABC Company will donate $1 for every like!” No, they won’t. But they now have 200,000 people following their page. Is there a word for slimy marketing? Because that’s what this is. Stop feeding the bear. Please.
Have I ever been guilty of irritating, irrelevant posts? Absolutely. I’m not excluding myself from the above criterion. But I’m relatively sure we can all agree that if you don’t care that I am on my way to grocery shop, chances are I don’t give a fuck that you are either. Let’s make a conscious effort, shall we? Saw someone tightrope walking an electrical wire across the street at 8AM? Pictures, please. On your way to the gym? Not interested.
What status updates make you want to quit the internet?
