Here, There & Everywhere

People are ridiculous in all sorts of places. It's an epidemic.

At restaurants:

Real or Fake? Real or Fake?

At the airport:

Hey, lady! Your backside is falling out of your pantaloons! And no, they aren't making out, but that would have been great!

On the road:

See that little blue car? Mr. Car refused to pull forward--maybe he thought there wasn't enough space? There is clearly PLENTY of space! Because Mr. Car would NOT pull forward, he caused a 20 car back-up. Dope.

Until next time ;)

Get A Little Closer

No, really. Get a little closer, white car. I don't think the black car's driver can see the whites of your eyes yet.

Dental Don'ts...Continued

Some of you know (and some of you don't) that I work for...shall we say...less than the "ideal" employer (this is putting it politely). I would like to illustrate how I came to this conclusion about my dentist-boss (*names have been changed to protect the innocent):

Today, Heidi* was assisting my boss in placing some fillings in a patient's mouth. As he was placing flowable in the proximal box (a fancy way of saying he was placing the filling material), the tip to the flowable syringe popped off, oozing gooey flowable everywhere into the patient's mouth. This is a problem, sure. A pain in the tush, yes. However, I don't think it warranted my boss then taking said flowable syringe and chucking at the garbage can with all of his might. Because--guess what--he missed. And the syringe went ricochetting off the counter top, off the wall and hit the patient in the face. AWESOME. Way to handle yourself, Mr. Boss Man. Way to show professionalism and poise in a stressful situation. Way to throw a freakin' hissy fit like a five-year-old. Answer me this, sir. Really?! Are you serious? Oh, you are. Just like every other member of humanity when I ask them the same stinkin' question. But wait...it gets better (That's right, you didn't think it could).

My boss then made a real jerk out of himself when he became frustrated with the saliva ejector, ripped it from the corner of the same patient's mouth and hit the patient in the face AGAIN. What?! No, you didn't, Mr. Boss Man. Oh, you did? Un-real. Un-freaking-real.

You want to know the real kicker? The coup-de-grace? The icing on top? The cherry and all that jazz? The patient was a nurse at Sacred Heart Hospital in the Psychiatric Ward. She may or may not know something about bedside/chairside manner. Agree or disagree? Oh, the irony!

You know what they say, Mr. Boss Man. What goes around, comes around--so you best be on the lookout flying composite syringes and piss-poor attitudes. Until next time...;)

"Butt-Munch"

Remember when "butt munch" was the offensive word to call your friends and/or siblings when they were getting on your nerves? Or was it just me? Anyway, now that I've grown older (but not always more mature), I try not to use the ridiculous phrase for a few reasons. First, it's stupid. Second, it's gross. Third, I'm too old. Fourth, it doesn't make sense. Or does it? I was eating lunch with my mom and sister at a local sandwich shop last week. We spotted the following spectacle:

Mmmm. Y-U-M. What a delicious sight to behold as I stretched my mouth around my Western turkey sandwich with no mayo and provolone cheese. And you know what popped into my head as I was trying to prevent the image from being burned on the back of my eyeballs? That's right. The 'ol trusty and oft-abused insult of "Butt Munch." Needless to say, I only took about 3 bites of my sandwich. My "munchies" were squashed by this young woman's complete inability to cover her tush. 'Scuse me, miss? Is that Reach Clean-Burst Cinnamon-flavored waxed dental floss hanging out of your pants? Oh, no? It's not? Say what? OH! It's your thong! I was mistaken. I apologize, but by "apologize" I mean I don't apologize at all. I think that you should do us all a favor and become more aware of what hangs out of your pants, especially in an environment where food is served. Also, do you think you could please cover up said bum crack? Or I might just have to call you a "Butt Munch" behind your back--and actually mean it. Until next time ;)

Lard Legs

I was perusing the mall the other day with my favorite person on the planet--No, not Edward...or Tim Riggins. Jason--I was walking with Jason. I just talked myself out of stopping to get a Cinnabon when I looked up to see this:

Dearest readers, please tell me what is wrong with this picture. No, really. Give it a shot. Give up? Welp, let me tell you what's wrong with the picture. Oh, where to begin?! How about the fact that no living person would or should fit into a pair of leopard print skinny jeans if the freakin' mannequin can't even fit into them. I once heard that if mannequins were real people, they wouldn't be able to menstruate or stand up straight because their bodies would be so disproportionate (or was that Barbie?). Either way, it doesn't matter because I seriously want to talk to the employee who put this little ensemble together, took a step back to admire his or her work, and said to themselves, "Yeah, that looks totally great...and totally natural." And then I want to slap that person in the head. And I just LOVE the fact that the pants are SO tight that they literally cut of the mannequin's remaining leg structure. Maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe that's actually paint on those mannequin legs, like a really abstract, weirdo "masterpiece" of fashion. It's set-ups like these that make every female in America take a hit on their own self-esteem. As I sheepishly looked down to behold my own ginormous thunder thighs and cankles, I thought to myself, "I must suck as a human being or I am getting old because this is the most ridiculous thing I have beheld since walking past the teenager in the pajama bottoms and pink Ug boots." That's right; I think of run-on sentences in my head all the time...

So, you know what I did? I went a bought that freakin' Cinnabon and I ate the whole stinkin' thing. And I hope all that gooey butter and high-calorie sugar when straight to my butt and legs and stays there forever so I never can even THINK about fitting into (or hating myself for not fitting into) something that would suffocate a toddler--or in this case, a mannequin. Clothes that are too tight for a mannequin? Seriously, America? That's new low, even for us.

Until next time ;)