Merry Friggin' Christmas

Jase and I are currently visiting family for the holidays. We braved the crowds on Christmas Eve to grab some last minute "staples" at the nearby grocery store. As Jase, my father-in-law, Doug, and I were hunting for parking spots, we caught a glimpse of why people bug me pretty bad sometimes (was that a little harsh?). We tried to get a picture with our cell phones, but all three of us failed. So, let me paint you a picture with words:
A middle-aged woman was unloading groceries into the back of her SUV. She had just finished putting the last bag in the trunk when the unbelievable occurred. Mind you, it was Christmas Eve--at a grocery store. "Crazy" does not begin to describe the hoards of people who were driving way too slow in the parking lot and/or standing in the middle of the aisle as if he or she were the ONLY one in the world. With that in mind, this gem of a woman had one hand to her left ear (clearly her conversation on her cell phone was way too pressing to allow her to put the dang thing down for two seconds. I'm thinking she was talking to one of two people: Santa Claus or Barack Obama). But it gets better...in her other arm was her precious pooch who I will call Larry. Larry was a dachshund that was dressed as Santa Claus. That's right. Good ol' St. Nick in doggie form. I wish you could have seen it. There was some serious slippage going on, and Larry looked as though he may fall through his considerate owner's grasp at any moment. But there he remained (because he had no choice), with what little dignity a dog can have with his legs dangling through the bottom of a miniature Santa suit (Side note:dogs should not be at grocery stores unless they are service animals. True or False? True).
The woman looked around and around, as if ready to flag down the first person she could find, as if she was seriously in peril. Why? Oh, because she needed to close the hatch to her car and clearly, her hands were otherwise occupied with more important things like a cell phone and a wiener dog. She was unable to perform the duty herself. So, she enlisted the help of a sixteen-year-old "cart/bag" boy, because it's his job, right? The boy looked less than enthused as he wheeled her empty cart back to the cart bin and she merrily went on her way, hatch closed, completely unaware of the backup of traffic she had caused. Merry Christmas, lady. I hope Santa brought you a big slap in the head...not really, that would maybe knock some sense into you and then I wouldn't have anything to write about. Until next time...and you better believe they'll be a next time ;)
Oh, and for a really great(and slightly cynical) post about Christmas cards/letters, see my favorite pharmacist's blog here: www.atoughpilltoswallow.blogspot.com

Come, Come Ye Saints...or Don't

My husband, Jason, and I are devout members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. That's right, we're "Mormons." In our faith, we dedicate our time and talents to the Church because it's the right thing to do, because we believe whole-heartedly in doing "good," because it feels great to do something for someone other than yourself, because that's what we learn at church (to serve others--by doing so, we are serving our Savior), and because (let's get real) we're secretly hoping for increased blessings from on High.

Jason joined the Church later in life, and to my complete amazement and admiration, has not faltered once in his Church service and testimony of the Gospel and Jesus Christ. This process has included him serving in some not-so-desirable positions such as teaching (and chasing) crazy seven-year-olds, and dealing with 11-year-old boy scouts. Yikes. And although my husband may lack skills in putting the toilet seat down, he makes up for it in the "Whining" department. In other words---HE DOES NOT WHINE. EVER. It has been a thrilling experience to watch him grow and serve as a real, live "Mormon" (he's better at it than I am, but don't tell him I said that).

Recently, Jase and I moved, and thus, found ourselves meeting at a new church building, at a new time, and with many new Mormons, and although I love my fellow Brothers and Sisters, they can be pretty weird (I can say that because I am one). Jason recieved a "calling" or volunteer position to teach a Sunday School class once a month...and to set up chairs every Sunday before church. This process involves getting to church 20 minutes early, and, you guessed it, setting up folding chairs in one room--simple enough, right? Teaching a group of grown men who have lived the religion for their entire lives would make anyone's palms sweat, especially a convert of only 3 years. But no, that hasn't really phased Jason...at all. What has got him worked up though? You guessed it--the chairs! Those darn folding chairs! Why? You ask? Well, let me tell you: Because people are selfish and ridiculous and I want flick them in the forehead somtimes.

This past week, Jason spent about 2 days, that's right, I said 2 days making phone calls to fellow church members to see if any of the men would take over his chair duty while we're visiting family. Mostly Jason just left a lot of messages and received no phone calls in return (typical). But there was one response that really got me going. You know when I said that Jason doesn't whine? Oh, well, I do. Oh, do I whine! I'm a master at it! And sometimes, there really isn't any other choice but to FREAK OUT about something or someone. This was the fellow church member's response to Jason's plea (ridiculous):

Church member (talking to Jason): "Um, well, I don't know. We don't really like to get the kids up earlier than they have to. And we don't like to take two cars if we don't have to, either. Yeah, so, I don't think so..."

Hmmm. Oh, really, Church member? Really? Yeah, I bet the early Saints of the Church didn't really want to watch their homes be burned to the ground, or walk thousands of miles in extreme heat and/or cold only to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley where they had to start from scratch, to build church buildings and homes and businesses with their bare hands...and that's if their hands hadn't been amputated from frost bite! I bet they didn't want to have to watch their kids starve or like to get them up early in the morning to bury their mother or father or sister or brother, either. Hey, Mr. Church member, I'm sure they didn't really like the fact that they had to leave nearly every earthly possession and suffer illnesses you and I know nothing of. Also, I bet those covered wagons and ox carts were real comfortable and warm and cozy, and it was just like driving a heated, upholstered car to church. Oh, wait. No. It wasn't like that AT ALL--AT ALL! Oh, and hey, Mr. Church member! I don't know if you knew this already, but we have one of the most incredible heritages as a religion, men and women who sacrificed EVERYTHING, and I do mean EVERYTHING, so that you and I could have a church building to set chairs up in. So, Mr. Church member, go ahead and stay home and don't come to church 20 minutes early to set up 50 folding chairs and don't teach your young children the value of service and sacrifice. We wouldn't want to inconvenience you. You big, idiot. Bless your heart, Mr. Church member, but in the words of Andie Anderson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, "I love you, but I don't have to like you right now." Sheesh.

Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Church member. I thought of one other person who probably did something for you that He didn't really "like" doing, but He did it anyway because that's the kind of perfect, loving person He was. I'll give you a hint. His name is contained in the word "Christmas" and his name isn't "mas." Just chew on that for awhile.

Merry Christmas! Until next time...;)

Picture Perfect

The following are actual pictures taken with my cell phone:

Rough day, huh, Tina?

And no...I'm not going to stop "worring" about my printing needs. Hmm...the irony...

Hmmm...

I was at Walgreen's two days ago. They had one of those makeshift "clinics" set up for Swine Flu vaccinations. I was perusing the "As Seen on TV" aisle when I overheard a conversation with an 80-year-old woman and one of the nurses at the check-in table. The dialogue went a little something like this:

Customer (as she is handing in her completely filled out paper work): What is this for?

Nurse (taking the clipboard from the woman): It's for the flu vaccine

Customer: The what?

Nurse: For the flu. You know, the N1H1 flu

Me (in my head): I could have sworn the "Swine Flu" was the H1N1...unless every single media source and newbroadcaster has gotten the letters mixed up until now?! And why wouldn't you just say the "Swine Flu," lady?

Customer: Oh, well, do you think I should get the shot?

Me (again, in my head): I thought you already handed in the preliminary paper work SO that you COULD get the shot?

Nurse: Well, it's up to you. It won't protect you from the seasonal flu

Customer: The what?

Nurse: The seasonal flu. You know, the regular flu.

Customer: What's the difference....

Me (in my head): I have to walk away before I pass out from frustration...

...and so I did. I walked away and left the two to continue their riveting conversation. And then I laughed (possibly out loud) because I'm a really mean person inside sometimes. Happy Holidays! And here's hoping you don't get the N1H1...Until next time ;)

Movie Morons

Here's the thing: No matter when, where, or why my family and I choose to go to a movie, we end up surrounded by idiots. It is a phenomenon. It never ceases to amaze me. Let's take for example yesterday. My mom, sister, and I have anxiously awaited the release of New Moon (like every other female in the world), say, since November 21, 2008 when we saw the first installment of The Twilight Saga (screams and squeals). I did my part to make this the most enjoyable experience EVER, even avoiding the midnight showing so that I would ensure a more "calm" crowd and decrease the chance of me wanting to punch somebody in the face. We bought tickets weeks in advance, and even had a designated "place holder" in line--please don't act like you don't know what I am talking about. We even scored a prime-timer in the parking lot. Our "seat scout" got us THE perfect seats, smack dab in the middle of the theater, not too close, not too far away (Thank you, Mom. You're the best). With our Diet Cokes, fabulous seats, and no warning signs of potential morons in sight, it seemed us Nelson girls had successfully outsmarted our typical movie-going luck. Sigh.

But of course, we were wrong. Just as the opening scene began rolling, two large women came shuffling down the aisle, bumping and tripping along the way, knocking over buckets of popcorn and obstructing the view of fellow movie patrons. And where do they sit? In the ONLY two empty seats left in the entire theater, right next to my sister, Michelle. Initially, it wasn't so bad, just annoying that they would dare interrupt the sacredness of New Moon by being late. But again, they lived up to the standard of incredulousness that plagues humanity. The woman sitting directly to the left of my sister was really a gem. The following is a list of her behavior throughout the movie:

1) She successfully unwrapped two individually wrapped Smarties packages after, oh, about 30 minutes of wrapper "crinkling." Congratulations, lady. You're obsurd. Seriously?! Seriously? Who eats Smarties anymore, anyway? Except to use them in an object lesson in Sunday School? Smarties are sick...and so are you, lady.

2) At one point, my sister glanced over (and by glanced I mean she was throwing fiery death glares), and this same woman was chugging Pepto Bismol from a bottle--literally, drinking swigs of it. What? Yeah, that's NEVER ok to do in public. And if you need that much Pepto Bismol, you probably shouldn't be in close proximity of other people, like you tend to be in a movie theater!

3) This is my personal favorite: Throughout the remainder of the show (after the dose of Pepto), this woman clicked and tapped her dentures together and by doing so, made the most grotesque noises with her mouth and lips you have ever heard in your entire life. She did this for the REST of the movie. I thought my sister might have a coronary, and subsequently, she left the theater at the end of the night with a kink in her neck after having to watch the film with her head on my shoulder to avoid hearing this woman's "mouth noises."

It's a darn good thing Michelle sat next to this woman because I may have had to be escorted out of the theater and missed my reason for carrying on these last few months (not really, but kind of). Let's just say it could be a long time before we head to the movie theater and pay to sit next to people that bring out the worst possible emotions in me.

The movie itself? Two thumbs up! And dare I say, worth the moronic behavior of Pepto Woman... Until next time ;)

A Few Things

1) Alex Trebek seems grumpy to me. He always makes these subtle remarks to Jeopardy contestants when they get an answer wrong (especially really obvious ones). Sometimes, I just expect him to laugh out loud or say, "No, you stupid idiot!" It's like he finds joy in watching them fail. That's just my observation, and I haven't decided yet if I can really blame him.

2) People should NOT have their dachsunds in their grocery carts at the store. Unless it's a service animal, I don't want it around my potential produce. Sick.

3) Does anyone else get a kick out of the TV show, Glee? It's catchy. It just is.

Whew. I'm glad I got all that off my chest.

Exhibit F

I was at Michael's the other day (you know, the craft store). I was standing in line waiting to make my purchases. This older woman strolls up behind me with a toothpick protruding from the corner of her mouth (say it with me now: "This is going to be good," thought I). What I mean by she "strolled up behind me" is that she basically stood on top of me, close enough to make me uncomfortable, a legitimate breech of my space bubble. I kept expecting her toothpick to poke me in the back of the head. Luckily, it didn't. That would be SO sick.

Anyway, there were about 5 or 6 people ahead of me in line and you guessed it--one checker. I was in no particular hurry, but apparently my toothpick friend was because after the words: "Only one checker?! You've got to be kidding me!" very publicly spilled from her mouth, she taps me and says: "Hey, why don't you go over there?" OK, lady. What? Go where?! Go stand at the next checkstand in a line that doesn't exist because there is NO checker?! What you should have said, strange lady was:"Why don't you just leave because you're in my way and my needs are more important than yours?" You're joking me? Or, no, wait. You're serious. You seriously want me to go away so that you can move one space ahead of me in line. How about NO! How about you leave me alone and don't tap me again just to make a ridiculous request to a complete stranger and while you're at it, take that toothpick out of your mouth! Grrr. Some people. I simply looked at her like she was crazy, and POLITELY said, "No, I'm OK here, thank you" (I bit my tongue in this particular instance), and she didn't bother me again. Strange...very strange. Until next time ;)

Exhibit E

It's Friday; and when it's Friday in the Nichols' household you can count on a few things: 1) The laundry basket is spilling over with dirty clothes 2) The fridge has somehow gobbled up the groceries I just bought and 3) The week's long worth of driving hither and thither has taken its toll on our handy-dandy Honda accord and the gas gauge needle has predictably tipped to the big, giant "E" on the dashboard. Thus, in my endeavors to be a really great wife, I typically spend my Fridays attending to the aforementioned list of "to do's" (i.e. laundry, groceries, and gas).

I was working on the latter portion of my list this morning when an older gentleman pulled up behind me at the gas pump. Initially, I thought he was going to pull around me to the empty space right in front of mine. Certainly, he wouldn't just park his car and wait for my gas pump when there were four other vacant slots at the Fred Meyer gas station. And then, I remembered I have to lower my expectations of people because he was doing just that. He wanted my gas pump! And he made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere! There he sat at pump #10, staring at me. Waiting. Waiting some more...perfectly content. I felt so much pressure to hurry! And then I thought to myself, "No! I was here first, old man! Get your own gas pump!"

Do you ever think that some people were placed on the earth just to try our patience? You know that movie The Truman Show? Like that! It's like the Lord is really just seeing how we will handle ourselves in certain situations, kind of like those stories of beggars or bums who are blown off by ordinary people like you and me, and then they end up being very prestigious and/or important individuals. Do we lose our temper? Roll our eyes? Curse under our breath? Shake our fists...or certain fingers? Guilty. Hmmm--The Rachel Show. A scary thought.

P.S. I thought of some of my favorite pet peeves (an oxymoron, by the way):

1) When almost-empty shampoo or soap bottles fall over in the shower...over and over again. Hate that.

2) When I'm trying to take x-rays on patients, and between "takes" they are flipping through a magazine. I have to "interrupt" them in order to finish my job. I had one lady the other day that wouldn't look up for me to place the film until she was done reading the sentence she was on. Hey, lady! Did you know you're at the DENTIST?! Where we take X-RAYS! The ONLY part of the appointment where we need your complete cooperation and participation?! Sheesh. Until next time ;)

Exhibit D

I'm a lucky girl. Why? Because Jason and I still go on dates a lot. Mainly because we don't have any kids yet, and we get bored staring at each other when we're home. We were sitting around at said "home" when the news announced that it was the opening night of the Spokane County Fair. It was fate. An hour an a half later, we were perusing hot dog stands, cotton candy machines, and bean bag booths (Seriously, though. Who can resist a big ol' elephant ear? Not me. No, sir).

As we were strolling through the blitz of fair food and weirdos, I noticed a couple walking about 10 feet ahead of us. They were about our age, and there was nothing particularly noteworthy about them other than the fact that they were in our direct path of where we were headed. Well, I underestimated these two...or should I say just the female counterpart of this pairing because almost as soon as I noticed their existence she paused and took the liberty of hawking a giant spit ball right on the grass/pathway...as in where people were walking...and eating (Mmmm)...and pushing their strollers. Charming. The couple then went on their merry way--I'm sure to use the bathrooms without washing their hands. Really, lady? Really? What a sicko. Why don't you just go roll around with the little piggies over at the Ag displays. I'm sure they wouldn't mind when you expectorate your lung butter, but as for me (and the rest of civilized society), I find it to be horrendous. Oh, and excuse me while I step over the little "treat" you left me and about 3,000 other Spokanites. That's all. Until next time ;)

Exhibit C

My hubby hates "Wally World." Hates it. Mainly because every time we go there we meet people who would, oh, I don't know, "make the cut" for the World's Most Obnoxious People. At all costs, when I am with him, we avoid the Super Store. The other day, for some strange reason, the stars had aligned just right and I found myself standing in line at, you guessed it--Wal-Mart. As I was unloading my "goods" on to the conveyor belt, I noticed someone whistling behind me. OK, let's get something clear: this was not just your typical cute, old man humming a tune. This was a full-blown, legitimate whistle by someone who obviously wanted to be acknowledged for his whistling "skills." I am not kidding. It was loud! So loud, that when Jason called me while I was standing it line, he could hear the noise and even asked, "What is that?" Being naturally curious (and let's face it, annoyed), I non-chalantly stole a glance at the culprit who by this time was whistling the full score to Beethoven's Fur Elise. Again, I am not kidding.

The "whistler" was even better than I imagined. Let me paint you a picture: Black denim jeans, white tennis shoes, white, long-sleeved, collared shirt, black leather vest, black leather gloves and sunglasses (not on his forehead...he was wearing them). Mind you, it was at least 95 degrees outside. He then proceeded to ask me, "'Scuse me, miss? Are those scrubs you're wearing?" to which I replied, "Why, yes they are" (I fought my urge to be a smart mouth and claim that they were my pajamas I had forgotten to change out of). We then had a very strange conversation about how his wife is a nurse and she collects fairies??? I packed up my cart, said goodbye to said Black Leather Whistle Man, and booked it to my car. As I was driving away, who should I pass smoking his cigarette with gloved hands? My friend, the Whistler. At least we know his hands were warm...in August. Strange. Very strange. Hmmm...Until next time ;)

Exhibit B

It's been awhile. Did you know that working full time takes up most of your day? It does. I forgot that, somehow. Anywho, on with the story. I was visiting my dad at his work the other day (he is a pharmacist). We were chatting in the little side room dubbed the "Patient Consultation" area. Really, it just consists of two office chairs stacked next to each other and a blood pressure machine. A phone call came in for him, so, as any good daughter would do, I waited patiently in my chair until my padre was finished.

As I was waiting, I noticed an older gentleman shuffling in my general direction with his grocery cart. His t-shirt read: "Property of My Grandchildren." You know that inner voice I get? It came back--and it said the same thing to me as last time: "This is going to be good" (I tell ya, I'm getting real good at detecting these people)! Well, it was good because the next thing I knew, the man had parked his cart full of groceries, and was slipping his arm into the blood pressure cuff machine that was within INCHES of my body. I thought he was reaching for my neck at first! It all happened so fast! It was a complete and utter invasion of my "space bubble," and if I were in elementary school again, I would have sent him an "I message" telling him: "Sir, I don't like it when you sit this close to me. Can you please stop?" Really, if I would have stayed where I was, our knees would have "kissed." But don't worry, I did what any of you would have done and hopped right out of that chair and bee-lined it to the pharmacy to get away from No Space Bubble Man.

I hope I didn't hurt his feelings (actually he was oblivious as most of these people are), but I just found it so weird that a complete stranger would have no second thoughts about practically sitting on another strangers lap just for a blood pressure reading. Couldn't it wait? I mean, really? One more lap around the store wouldn't have hurt him? Then he could have had all the time he needed to take that blood pressure. No?

I did get a picture of this fiasco with my cell phone (him sitting at the blood pressure machine and the vacant chair) so that I could show you all that there was, indeed, a breech of "space." However, my phone seems to have gone missing...again. Another day. But think of me the next time you're at your local grocery store and see one of those blood pressure machines...and then locate the closest chair and picture yourself in it. Would it be a "breech of space?" Weirdo. Until next time...

Exhibit A

I was walking to my car from Fred Meyer's the other day. With my groceries in tote, I noticed a woman pulling her cart between my car and the one parked next to it with what seemed to be great speed and poor control. She was headed for the "Return Carts Here" bin. I immediately thought, "This is going to be good."

Sure enough, this stranger didn't disappoint as I watched her drag the edge of the shopping cart along our bumper. It was an ugly sound, and an even uglier scene when she left several permanent scrapes. It gets better...the woman sees me approaching, ditches her cart, and without even a passing glance hops into the passenger side of her vehicle and speeds away with the help of her accomplice (husband)--ok, she didn't really speed away, but c'mon! Unbelievable. It's OK strange lady. We don't take much pride in our 1997 Honda Accord anyway. The dings and dents you left just give it that added character, along with the duct tape on our front passenger headlight. And really, I didn't expect you to make eye contact with me, let along apologize for something that was clearly your fault. With that being said, have a great day, Cart Lady...and remember, what goes around, comes around!

The Inaugural Post

It's true. I've started yet another blog--as if one wasn't enough to somehow satisfy my craving for attention (I'm kidding). However, this blog was born for one purpose and one purpose only: to chronicle my daily encounters with the world's most ridiculous people (and let me tell you, I've met some real gems). Before the shenanigans ensue, let me state a few things:

1. The older I get, the more I realize we are surrounded by less than intelligent people (this seems to be a unifying and universal experience among friends and family alike). On a daily basis, I (or my husband, for that matter) meet/cross paths with/drive behind at least one person who I just want to take by the shoulders and shake...hard. Sometimes I even want to use swear words, but refrain because as my mother would say, "I know better."

2. Please know that as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I whole-heartedly believe that God loves every single person perfectly and impartially. However, I also firmly believe that our loving Heavenly Father has a sense of humor and at times must look down at this vast planet and all its inhabitants and shake his head in disbelief as we exercise our agency. Am I right? Am I?

3. This blog is not intended to degrade or "tear apart" other individuals...just their behavior.

4. In no way do I intend this blog to be utilized as a pedestal or "soap box" (ok, maybe a soap box). I AM NOT PERFECT NOR DO I CLAIM TO BE. I do not look upon myself as "higher up" or "better" than those individuals I will relate stories about.

5. I love to laugh. I do it all the time. In fact, I believe this is why my husband fell in love with me. Sometimes, I think said husband and I laugh too much at some not-so-appropriate moments, but alas, that's why we're married...because we can laugh at life...together.

6. Please feel free to leave your own personal "encounters" with choice members of society in the comments section of each post. I'll re-post my favorite anecdotes for review by my readers (all 3 of you).

7. And yes, I am aware that I have too much time on my hands. Leave me alone.

8. People really are unbelievable sometimes, aren't they? I mean, really?