Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Things I'd Rather Be Doing, Right This Moment, Rather Than Be In The Office

Here's a list of unpleasant things I'd rather do than be in the office:
1. Gyno exam.
2. Mammo.
3. Having a (dental) crown prepped without novocaine.
4. Endoscopy.
5. Transvaginal ultrasound.
6. Uterine biopsy.
7. Thyroid biopsy.
8. Be under anesthesia for any, of an assortment of, surgery.
9. Home, removing my own plantars warts (yes, I did this as a teen.)
10. Home, manually disimpacting myself.

All ten of these things, as unpleasant as they are, are far BETTER than being in the office.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Shit My Husband Has Said To Me (Posted elsewhere, in 2007)

Knowing what esteem I hold Gandhi-ji, my husband, my Hindustani husband uttered this, and prefaced it with, “And let me paraphrase, Gandhi”:

Increasing Your Word Power: Boxitosis

An oldie but a goodie from my dad.

Definition: A condition of having offensive-smelling vagina odor; stinky twat.
Pronunciation: box·i·to·sis
[Origin: 2008; Modern English, "Box" (Colloquial, vagina) + -itus (Latin, suffix of v. action (prob. by analogy with spīritus spirit)]

My Shitty Neighbors: The Shrieking Lunatic Edition (or the BMW Bitch, for short)

With the exception of four owners (out of the eight) on our end of the building, I operate on the premise that the remainder of my neighbors do not exist, or are classified as "persona non-grata" due to their individual, unneighborly assholeishness. 

I'm going to have to work my way backwards and post a series of the "myriad of ways my neighbors suck." However, I'll start this series off with an interaction that happened JUST THIS MORNING, nearly an hour ago. 

10 p.m. in the dark of night, I pull into the south entrance to my parking lot and am executing a left turn to hopefully find the last spot in the lot (given the time of day, it's a crap shoot), only to have a BMW (which entered thru the north entrance) CUT. ME. OFF. to get what they presumed to be the last spot back by the dumpster, leaving me no recourse but to park between two rather large oversized trucks, both of which were parked on the right most and left most lines of their parking spots, respectively. I seriously wanted to go Tawandaaaaaaaaaa!! On that bitch. 

Pan forward to 9:25 a.m. today. I'm dressed for work, have my ID badge on, am lugging a load of laundry, my feed bag and tote bag, and CLEARLY on my way if not to work, but to someplace else, when a wild eyed lunatic approaches me. Without introducing herself (Hi, I'm so-and-so, from such-and-such unit in the same building), the interaction goes thusly:

Her: Is the office open today? 
Me: Why wouldn't it? (walk a few paces) 
Her: Can I use your cell phone? 
(I assess her as a lunatic, a lunatic who is dressed as if she went out for a run. Yeah. Let me give a stranger who RUNS my brand new phone, when I, very clearly, AM NOT A RUNNER.) 
Me: I don't have it on me. (walk a few more paces) 
Her: (getting even more agitated) I need to get a ladder so I can get into my condo. (I am still walking) 
Her: (doing her best, "I won't be ignored, Dan!!!" voice) Yanno, I'd help YOUUUU if the shoe were on the other foot. (in the back of my mind, I'm having a conversation with myself, "Is this really happening?" And thinking of course, of about ten different ways this could play out, all ten different ways end badly.) 
Me: First, I told you I don't have my phone on me. Second, I'm CLEARLY on my way to work. And THIRD, WHO THE FUCK *ARE* YOU? 
Her: (verbatim, shrieking it out) I AM NOT AN ANIMAL. I AM A HUMAN BEING!!! (Yeah, just like John Merrick, aka The Elephant Man. JUST. EFFING. LIKE IT.) 

So I get in the car, and the Maharajah starts railing me: 

Him: You picked a great day to socialize, when we're late for work. 
Me: THAT was not socializing. That woman is a lunatic. And before I tell you what happened, I already know you're going to be angry with me because I flat out refused to help someone. (I tell him the exchange w/the lunatic.) 
Him: You know who she is. She's the bitch with the BMW (now mind you, he doesn't even KNOW about how the BMW cut me off last night). How did she react when your phone rang? I called you to see what the hold up was.
Me: My phone didn't ring. Fortunately I have it on silent.
Him: By the way, did the big red truck park AFTER or BEFORE you came home last night? Me: After. 
Him: WTF. Why did you park here? And how the eff did you get out of the car? 
Me: It was the only spot left and I had groceries to lug inside, and oh, by the way… (I commenced regaling him w/the BMW cutting me off in the parking lot). So yeah, hilarious, isn't it? There she is demanding I do something to help, to be a good neighbor; however, most people would agree that cutting off a neighbor in a shared lot would not constitute being "neighborly." FUCK HER. 
Him: Fuck her! 
Me: I hate people. 
Him: Me too. 
Me: I love you have a great day, babe! 

And off to work we both go. 

Backstory: How did the bitch come to possess the aforementioned BMW? By successfully suing our condo management for one thing or another over the years. Yes, while she was awarded $$$ and bought the BMW with it, and insists on parking ASKEW, taking up two spots in an already crowded lot, her actions also have led to our maintenance fees GOING UP. Also? The only awareness I had of her before this little interaction, and beyond the BMW, was the fact that every time we walk past her condo, she's in there SHRIEKING like a lunatic to her mother, who is housebound and handicapped. End Note: Turns out the person she shrieks at isn't her mother, who I've come to learn has been long-dead, but is with whomever she happens to be on the PHONE.

Life Lessons I've Learned From Tony Soprano, #3

"When you're married, you'll understand the importance of fresh produce."

So Sayeth the Soprano,