I Know, Right?

Ball Beeotch

2011-09-01T17:32:00.000-07:00

Holla! So, apparently I took a break from this thing. But, boy, do I have a story for you. It's so good that I'm still fuming about it nearly 6 weeks later.
I was at the gym working on my bod a while back (laughs). I had been using one of those giant exercise balls for some dumbbell flyes in the main part of the gym--you know, where all the beefcakes grunt and make me feel uncomfortable. Said ball "belongs" on a homemade PVC pipe shelf at the complete opposite corner of the gym. I'm sure the set-up is very similar to your friendly, neighborhood gym. So, you get the idea...
Now, before you read on, please understand one thing about me: I pick up after myself. And I never expect other people to do so--unless you are my husband. But you are not. So, don't even worry about it. So, I started to walk the ball back to its "home" when a thought came to mind: "I should just leave this here. There are always people bringing these things to and fro and/or looking for one" (I happen to be one of those people). So, when I finished with my set, I tucked the silver bouncy ball in the corner of the gym away from anyone or anything, but in plain sight so that those other gym patrons could use it at will.
BIG. MISTAKE.
About 15 minutes later, I see this woman approaching me--but for the record, she looked like a man--and yes, it makes me feel better to put other people down. I've seen her a million times before. She brings her two daughters and screams at them the whole time to lift more, run faster, and be better. They always have looks on their faces that scream "Help me." It's no surprise that both girls are incredibly obese (And the Mother of the Year Award goes to...).
Anyway, I recognized this lady from a specific incident months before where she rammed right into my legs while I was doing sits-ups. She just looked at me when it happened. She didn't apologize, smile, or even fake a wince like "I'm sorry." I got the feeling it was intentional. A real winner, she is.
As she approached me, I didn't quite know what to expect. I tore my ear buds out of my head and heard the following:
BB: "Are you done with that silver ball over there?" (It was more like a statement. Not a question).
Me: "You mean the one on the other side of the gym?" (I genuinely wanted to know. I figured she was asking if I was done with it so that she could use it).
BB: "Yes."
Me: "Yea. I'm done."
BB: "You need to put it away."
Me: Blinking. Stares. More blinking. Was she the Equipment Police? Seriously. Who put her up to this?
BB (sensing the conversation wasn't going as she anticipated): "It's proper gym etiquette."
Me: More blinking. More incredulous stares. I can't believe this lady. Rage starts to boil up in my blood. And then she follows it up with one of these...
BB: "I'm just trying to be nice" as she throws her hands up in the air as if to say, "I'm doing nothing wrong her. It's YOU that has the problem."
Me: With the nastiest glare I think that's ever shot from my two eyeballs, I cock my head to the side and hiss "Thanks for informing me." I know! SO hardcore, right? Geez (I thought of SO many other things to say later that night...hate that!).
BB then gets mad when she realizes I'm not going to listen to her because a) she's not my mother b) she's not my mother and c) she's not my mother. And seriously? Who was I hurting by putting that stupid ball in the corner of a room? I can see it if it was rolling around, begging for someone to trip on it. But it wasn't. With her hands on her hips she tears across the gym in a huff, picks up the ball and brings it all the way over and places it on the PVC pipe shelf. She refuses to speak, look or make eye contact with me. That's right. Step off.
And. here. we. go:
Really? Really, lady? Did you really watch me (creepily) for the past 20 minutes to see if I was going to put a bouncy ball away? What's it like in your world? It must be nice being able to do whatever you feel like without stopping and thinking about what comes out of your mouth or how you will be perceived. What do (or don't) you have going on in your life that you feel compelled to control complete strangers? You have a sickness. I am sure of it.
Hey, lady. If I would have had it my way (and acted on impulse like you seem to think is appropriate), I would have slapped you right on the cheek with an open fist and told you in a very loud tone, "No! That's rude! You don't talk to people that way. If you have a problem, get an employee to intervene. It's not your dang job to monitor the equipment at the gym!"
And for the record, I am well aware of proper gym etiquette. Like when you're done using a bench or mat, it's typically understood that you wipe your nasty pool of sweat from the leather so the next big bum can use it. That's funny. Were you not aware of that? Because I've watched you abandon ship on several occasions and leave your bodily fluids for other people to discover. Why don't you take that giant ball and shove it. OK, lady? And the next time you need to talk to me, don't. Stay away. Stay far, far away.
And when you run into people, you should say you're sorry.
Oh, and hey, "I'm just trying to be nice."
Jerks.
I feel better now. You?

You Know What Bugs Me?

2011-03-28T14:58:00.000-07:00

1. People who don't pull through to the next pump at the gas station.
2. People who don't hold the door open when you're clearly headed in right after them.
3. People who almost T-Bone you because they were cutting across the parking lot and driving entirely too fast.
4. People who don't brush their teeth, but expect me to clean up after their garbage mouth. I'm a hygienist! Not a maid.
5. People who stand in the middle of the aisle with their grocery cart (they usually are doing one of two things: talking on their cell phone or taking WAY too long to decide what it is they want). Move your stupid cart! You're not the only one in the world!
6. People who drive in the fast lane while talking on their cell phone. This translates to slow driving in the fast lane. Get out the way! Get out the way!
7. People who you think are your friends, but then aren't. That always stings a little.

What I'm saying is, people bug me. Until next time ;)

Top 10 Dental Do's and Don'ts

2010-12-16T17:39:00.000-08:00

*Disclaimer: This post is directed to the morons of the world. Not my lovely and respectful readers :)

1. Never EVER grab your hygienist's hand as he or she is working in your mouth. Let me tell you why.

a) Remember...you're not the one holding sharp instruments. And I'll bet if you tick your hygienist off, he or she could "accidentally" end up nicking your lips, teeth, cheek or tongue--or worse, all of the above (not really...well, OK. Maybe). Don't push us, people! We're uptight enough as it is!

b) It's flat out rude. You might as well say, "I don't believe you're doing a competent job, so I'm going to take it from here. Your years of training and knowledge mean nothing to me." Seriously, forget the gritty water in your mouth. You will NOT die if you can't have it suctioned immediately. Trust me. Your hygienist is working on getting your mouth cleared of every single speck of grit, got it?

c) It's just demeaning and unnecessary. Period. I had a patient grab my wrist today and yank it to her mouth. My gut reaction(s) was to scream, cry, and gasp all at the same time. I can't explain it. It's just how you feel when some one unexpectedly and forcefully grabs you. She's lucky I didn't sock her.

2. Swallow your spit. You will not die if you swallow a smidgen of the saliva that pools in your mouth as we are cleaning your teeth. You swallow roughly 2 liters of the stuff ever day. Just because you're lying back in a dental chair does not automatically mean your brain to gullet mechanism is severed and that you need our assistance in helping you rid yourself of your own body fluids. We do all we can to make you comfortable, but we are not going to swallow the junk for you. Oh, and none of this pointing frantically to your mouth with a look of utter disgust on your face. We're gettin' there. I assure you, we are well on our way with "Mr. Thirsty Straw." Give us .5 seconds. Puh-leeze.

3. When we take your blood pressure, don't say things like, "Oh, well it's never been that high. It's your cuff. It must be broken. Those things are never very accurate." I assure you. It is not the cuff. It is you. It is your blood pressure. We are trying to do you a service by screening you from a potential silent death. Throw us a bone and at least pretend to be concerned.

4. Stay wide open. Try as best as you can to stay open wide. The mouth is the world's tiniest cave with lots of nooks and crannies to navigate. The wider your mouth stays open, the more we are able to see, the less pain we are likely to inflict, no? And resist the temptation to move your lips around while you're being rinsed, as well. If we need you to move any part of your mouth, we'll tell you so.

5. Although well-intentioned, try not to assist us in our efforts to floss your teeth by pushing your lips around. Truth be told, the tongue and lips can be very strong. After all, they are made up of muscles (creepy and a little weird). But we know what we're doing when it comes to flossing your teeth. If you're trying to help us out by pushing the floss out, it ends up being a battle for us to get it to where it needs to go. Just play dead. That is the best way.

6. This is a biggie: Don't look at us in the eyes when we're cleaning your teeth. This sounds like common sense, but you would not BELIEVE the amount of time I spend avoiding people's soul-searching stares. Ew. Please. I'm begging you, avoid eye contact when we're inches from your mouth.

7. For the love of heaven, brush and floss before you come to your appointment. Yes, floss. As in the white stringy stuff you stick between your teeth?!

8. When we say, "Turn toward me" or "Turn away from me" we mean "Turn toward me" and "Turn away from me." Not "Turn 1/32 inch toward me" or "Turn 1/32 inch away from me." Don't be shy. Turn that head of yours! All 14 lbs. of it. A good rule of thumb? When the hygienist says, "Turn toward me," make like you're going to lie on your ear that is closest to him or her and then tilt your chin up in the air. And as always, open wide.

9. Three words: Please & Thank You

10. Be honest. Your swollen, bleeding gums is a dead giveaway to the fact that you're not flossing. Don't insult me by telling me you are, in fact, flossing. In doing so you are forcing me to tiptoe around the fact that I don't believe you. Capeesh? (Thank you, Uncle Jesse).

Love,

Your Friendly (But Slightly Peeved) Dental Hygienist

Now. Who wants me to clean their teeth? Ha. Ha. I'm betting I'm not going to get many takers...Until next time ;)

Quote of the Day

2010-12-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

Patient: "Are we almost done?"
Me: "Yes. We are almost done." But what I REALLY wanted to say was this: "Yes. We are almost done, but you can't be seriously asking me that as a 26-year-old operating room technician and grown woman. You assist surgeons through hours and hours of surgeries at the hospital (many of them probably very goopy and gorey operations, no less) and you are seriously going to throw the "Are we almost done?" line at me? Sheesh. Lady, you're making me lose my gusto for my job, for dentistry, for life. I feel myself caving in to the low expectations I refused to have for people--at least up until now. I have concluded that the lower my expections are for my fellow man and/or woman, the better off I am. You just aren't disappointed as easily, no? Expected the unexpected, I say! But what really sealed the deal and made me want to use my shoe to boot her bum out of my chair is when she said this:
Patient: "If you can't tell, I hate the dentist. It makes me nauseous."
Me: "Yeah. I get that a lot." And then I thought about the four hour "blood clot" surgery she assisted with. To each his (or her) own. Until next time...;)

Ticket to Ride

2010-10-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

The following is a "ticket" my mom received after parking at Green Bluff this past weekend (a very busy, and very crowded venue with little to no parking). Mind you, this is not a real ticket left by a legitimate authority figure. No, no. This ticket was left by some moron who felt that my mom had parked inappropriately (she wasn't, she took pictures with her cell phone and we all agreed she commited no parking crime). What really amazes me is that someone out there in the universe took the time and thought to draft this thing up, and has the nerve to leave it whenever, wherever he/she feels like it. They carry these things around with them! Then again, I am taking the time to blog about it. So, the question is, who is the one that needs to get a life? Don't answer that...Anywho, enjoy the verbage of this unbelievable gesture captured in paper form. It pretty much speaks for itself--loud and clear, no less:

Rectifying Birds

2010-10-11T19:10:00.000-07:00

They tried to warn me. At the staff meeting this morning. Yup. They tried. About what, you ask? Oh, that my ten o' clock patient was a real doozy. I believe the exact word used was: "Crotchety." Awesome. Those crotchety people are my absolute fave. In fact, I prefer them. NOT. I used to fret and stew over difficult patients--you know, the ones with a reputation in the dental office. The ones that only require a mere mention of their name and the whole office shudders and then gives a collective, unspoken nod of understanding. I would anxiously watch the clock until the dreaded hour came when I would have to see Mrs. Stuck Up or Mr. Jerkypants. It was like a ticking time bomb. Dread. Absolute dread. I've now learned that there is nothing I can do from stopping these people from coming through that front door and into my operatory. It's like Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds." They'll find you--anywhere. And when they do, they pick and peck apart your sanity. It. Is. Painful. Today, he found me. And I'd even been warned.

I brought said "doozy, crotchety" patient back to review his medical history in a separate consultation room. First, he told me I had the wrong patient pulled up on the screen. Hmm. I doubt that there is another patient by your first and last name, sir. What? Is there another patient in this office who just happens to be taking the EXACT list of medications you claim to take? Does that patient miraculously have the same birthday and physical ailments you do, too, including (but not limited to): an appendectomy at the age of 14, a hernia, glaucoma, high blood pressure, hives/rash, gout, arthritis, and difficulty breathing, sir? I sincerely doubt it. I really do. But, if so, then that would be a freakin' miracle, wouldn't it, sir? So, let me just pretend to check to make sure I have the right "John Doe" when I am 110% positive that I do. You know how I know this? Because I'm not an invalid.
It gets better. Mid-sentence he interrupts me and as if I have earmuffs on he yells: "I'M HERE FOR A CLEANING."

I paused. I blinked. I looked him in the eye. And then I punched him in the face. OK. I didn't do that. But you better believe my fist thought about it real hard. Nothing would have given me more satisfaction than to have knocked number 9 from his maxilla (the only front tooth left dangling--and I do mean"dangling"). But instead of throwing down, I smiled, warmly (emphasis added), and simply stated, "Right. That's what we have you down for" (&*%^$@).

After we made it through our FIRST 3 MINUTES of the appointment, I escorted him back to my operatory, or as I like to call it, The Serenity Room. That's a story for another day and time, but let's just say there is a giant picture of a beautiful island oasis and I pretend I am there with Edward Cullen (I mean, my sweet Jason) most days instead of scraping "sugar bugs" and sucking spit from people's rotten teeth. As I was pathetically attempting (and failing) to make conversation with my favorite patient in the whole wide world, he looks at me, and again, spits out another interruption: "You talk too fast."

Again. The trembling fist. I jammed it into my pocket. I've worked TOO hard to lose my license now! He will NOT take this from me!

Me: "Yeah. And I mumble, too. My husband tells me all the time."

And here it is, the line of the day, quote of the year, word of my lifetime. You ready?

Mr. Crotchety: "You need to rectify that problem."

More blinking. And then do you know what I did? I laughed. Out loud. I laughed for two reasons: 1) Because I haven't heard the word "Rectify" for at least 2 years and had forgotten completely that it existed and 2) because that's what people do when they are in shock. Their comprehension drains from their head to their toes and then sputters out in the form of laughter. Un-freakin-believable. My response?

"Oh. Right. I'll add that to my list of things I need to do to improve myself. There's just SO many."

Does it go without mention that he had one of the nastiest mouths I've ever seen? That he doesn't floss and brushes maybe once a day? Do I really need to tell you that he acted shocked when I told him his teeth were loose and that they were going to fall out of his head? And that I literally had to hold them stable with my fingertip while I scaled them? Does it? Well. Now you know.

After he left, my front office manager came back to talk to me. I thought, "Oh, no. Here it comes. I'm going to get it." But do you know what she said to me: "YOU, young lady, have a huge fan!"

What?! NOOOO! I NEVER want to see him again! Ever (that's why I scheduled him with the other hygienist who happens to be in Hawaii for his next cleaning. You snooze, you lose!). That's right. Mr. Crotchety wants to see me next time. What have I done? I should have punched him. I should have! But like I said earlier, he would have found me anyway. I'm a magnet for those kind of people. It's the Lord trying to teach me patience and me just not getting it. Or blatantly refusing to. Birds. They're everywhere. I'm going for the right hook next time. It's my only defense.

Illiterate

2010-10-03T11:40:00.000-07:00

My cousin, Brad, took this picture with his cell phone. It's not great quality. But this is what it says: "Non-Fiction Picture Books." Hmmm. I had no idea that "Where the Wild Things Are" and Dr. Seuss is now considered non-fiction. I guess you learn something new every day!

Dead Head

2010-09-29T19:54:00.000-07:00

Quote of the day: "Are you going to get my WHOLE head numb?!!!!!!"

(If it means you'll shut up, then the answer is a big fat "yes").

I Forgot That I Was the Stupidest Person in the World

2010-09-22T16:58:00.000-07:00

I've decided that old people (like really old people) are either the best thing in the world or the worst thing in the world. There is no middle ground with them. No gray area. They either exist to melt your heart or make your life completely miserable. Today, I dabbled in misery. An 88-year-old patient told me the following:

"You couldn't possibly understand."

*"You have that thing set up wrong" (in relation to my ultrasonic scaler). Me and my five years of university education are not even going to go there. After all, monkeys could scrape teeth, right?

*"I don't have time for xrays. That's just one more thing to tack on to my schedule." Because 88-year-old men who require rides to and from their dental appointments have SO much to do during the course of the day.

*"You be nice to your Grandfather. When you call him, don't talk to him too long. You'll bore him." I am NOT making this up!

*"I don't want a lecture about any of that stuff" after I simply asked him when he would like us to reschedule him for his next recare appointment.

*"I've been eating a lot of beets, and carrots, and beans." Hmmm. I hadn't noticed. Gag.

Oh, and don't even worry about the fact that I sucked up not one but TWO of his snot rockets with my high vac suction. I'd rant and rave about it all if it weren't for the fact that it is so darn sad. It is what it is. Oh, and I never want to be that old. Ever. But if I am, I want to be a "melt your heart" kind of old person. Until next time...;)

Warm Fuzzies

2010-08-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

One of advantage of my job? I come in contact with eight or more complete strangers on a daily basis and get to freely pass judgment about them in my head. Sound harsh? Well, you can judge me then. Because c'mon! We all do it. And it's better than passing judgment out loud because that would cause all sorts of problems for my employer. Let's be real, the longer I work in my field, the less apologetic I get about the opinions I form of crazy people I encounter and their nasty mouths. Their wacky behavior shouldn't be something else I have to worry about, at least, that wasn't in the job description when I pictured myself running around in matching scrubs and my hair in an up-do six and a half years ago when I began this journey as a dental hygienist. There are countless times over the course of the work day when I am utterly flabbergasted by something someone does or says. And only one word comes to my mind each and every time over and over and over again: Why.

For example, it always blows me away when patients ask for recommendations regarding how to improve the health of their mouth. I am overly eager to open that little compartment in my brain labeled "Dental Hygiene" and share my wealth of knowledge. I did pay a good chunk of change to learn what I now know. And that little compartment in my head just about busts at the seams and screams "Open me! Share me!" And so when a patient actually expresses interest, my response is often one that is excited. Yes! Yes, Mrs. Jones! Let me tell you what you can do to reverse your gingivitis! I would love to do that for you, Mrs. Jones!

And then I proceed to recommend a Sonicare toothbrush to Mrs. Jones, because, after all, her two daughters have one. Surely they wouldn't mind their mother purchasing her own toothbrush head to snap on to the body of their brush and have at it all in the name of good oral hygiene. But do you know what Mrs. Jones does with my recommendation? I'll tell you what she does. She basically tells me to "Shove it" when she says: "Oh, well. The girls keep the Sonicare in a different bathroom downstairs so I can't use it."

Hey, Mrs. Jones. Seriously, why don't you take your right hand and give me a good whack in the nose. I'd prefer an actual slap in the face to your whipping with words. Because I don't understand you. Are you truthfully and honestly telling me as an adult woman with two children that you are incapable of walking down a flight of stairs to save you the expense of purchasing another Sonicare toothbrush and possibly hundreds of dollars of dental work in the form of non-surgical periodontal therapy and future osseous surgeries? Are you that dense? I'm thinking that you are because you JUST ASKED ME WHAT YOU COULD DO TO REVERSE YOUR GUM DISEASE AND I TOLD YOU SO WHY ARE YOU NOT LISTENING TO ME?! *Side note: You can't reverse all kinds of gum disease, but that's another subject for another day and time. Do you think I like to hear myself talk? (Don't answer that husband of mine). Good heavens, woman! You making me crazy!

And then I go home. Home. A place where you can relax and eat and laugh and rest and enjoy things that are normal. And I flip on the tube and this is what I find.

All kinds of crazy up in here! A Santa Snuggie? Really QVC? It hurts my heart that you thought this was a good idea because every time your pretty lil' models do a twirl in that hideous thing, I mistake it for the ugliest moo moo I've ever seen in my entire life. But then it trips me out because I think it really is Santa for a split second and I wonder if my mom and dad really didn't tell me the truth about him after all, but then the pitch woman completes her twirl and I am back to where I started where I see a young attractive female and not some 300-pound man with a round belly and white beard. It's just. plain. wrong. Also, that thing looked like it would fit Santa six times over. So is our country now promoting obesity in our make-believe characters, too? If so, this is no longer an epidemic but more along the scale of a pandemic now that it has reached the scope of the North Pole. And we should be seriously concerned. And I'm sorry, but people who call into QVC to commentate on Santa Snuggies have reached on all-time low in their life. Period. Jason and I did get a good laugh out of the whole experience, though. You know the kind that makes your soul feel better? Those are the best. I guess there is a need for crazy in this world after all. Until next time...;)

The Impatient Patient

2010-07-28T19:36:00.001-07:00

My first patient this morning went a little like this (no, a lot like this):

Me: "Good morning, Mrs. Doe (don't worry, not her real name--no HIPAA violations here). Thanks for coming in bright and early to see us. We're going to start out with a panelipse xray this morning."

I then proceeded to escort Mrs. Doe to the pano room (this is the xray that goes around your head).

Me: "OK. I'm going to need you to remove your glasses and earrings."

Mrs. Doe: "ALL of them?!"

Me: "Yes. All four of your earrings (two in each ear) and your single pair of glasses." Of course, I did not say this out loud. I should probably make every effort possible to keep my job. But, boy, did I think it! And then I let myself carry on a pretend conversation in my head just for kicks and because it made me feel better about myself. It went like this:

Mrs. Doe (or shall I refer to you as Mrs. Don't),

Clearly you must have known some things were going to be required of you at this dental appointment (i.e. opening your mouth, carrying on a conversation or two, sitting still while I "clean" your teeth). Surely you removing four itty-bitty earring posts and a pair of glasses can not be THAT much of an inconvenience to you. I promise I'm not trying to swipe your gross earrings and granny glasses. I will give them back. And if I don't, then you can pitch a fit about me making you take them out. Now, just hand over the goods before this turns ugly (Yeah, right. I'm a lot of talk).

Some people. I swear. Why can't they just be perfect like me? (Sarcasm--and lots of it). Until next time...;)

Dear American Teenager,

2010-07-13T18:24:00.000-07:00

Your fashion trends are becoming absurd. I came across these today at the mall:

...and then I wanted to throw up. Has "fashion" really stooped to this level? Seriously? Has it? By far, these are the most hideous things I have ever seen, and this particular store was marketing these things as "shoes," as in for people to actually wear on their feet. They are a cross between a full gold crown, elf slippers, and oompa-loompa garb. Gross. Really, really gross. And sorry if you, the reader, have these so-called shoes. I never meant to step on anyone's "toes." Or did I? I did. Because no one should own these. Except for maybe the mayor of Whoville. And I mean that. Until next time...;)

You're Not Funny

2010-06-21T20:02:00.001-07:00

I was at work today. Because that's what adults do (or so I'm told). I was working on a gentleman who was not so gentle at all, or rather, his words weren't gentle. He kept saying every two minutes"Are we done yet?" like it was the funniest and most clever thing he's ever heard. And like it was cute. Hey, hot shot. It's not cute. It isn't. It bothers me. Because I have a job to do. Because you don't understand what it's like to have to do something that majority of the general public has come to dread. Because you've already made it clear by your complete lack of dental hygiene that taking care of your teeth is not something you put very high on your Priority List in life. And answer me this, of the two of us in this room, do you honestly believe you're the one that wishes "we were done?" No. I am the one that desperately wishes "we were done" so that I wouldn't have to clean out that 8 mm pocket on the distal of 30 that's packed full of pus and last night's dinner. Got it? So, how about you zip it and let me do my job so I can stop courtesy laughing at your ridiculous and unoriginal "joke." Bless your heart.

And speaking of food, what is it with people thinking it's OK to come to the dentist with a mouth jammed full of their last meal? I mean, c'mon! I went to clean a lady's teeth today, and as I am looking around in her mouth, I noticed these orange, fleshy things caught between her teeth--all of them.

Me: Did you have cantaloupe before you came to your appointment today?

Patient: Oh. No. I had a carrot and some orange juice after I brushed my teeth.

Oh. OK. Wait. No. Really? You picked the two things out of thousands of foods that are infamous for getting stuck between teeth and you eat them AFTER you brush your teeth before coming to the dentist? Stringy carrots and orange pulp. Seriously. What a genius. Hey, I have an idea lady. I think we have some chicken in the break room. I'll just go stick it in a blender and let you mash on that for awhile so that I can pick it out from between your teeth, too. Sound like fun? This same patient went on to ask me about "grills" and how much they cost. Lady. No offense, but you do not fit the demographic description for a "grill." Case closed. Period. The end. So, don't even worry about it.

My sister-in-law texted me the other day. She lives in Boise. Her text said this: "Rachel. I just went into the public bathroom at work and a lady was in the stall talking on her phone! I immediately thought of you." I really hope Ashley thought of me because of my blog, and not because she grouped me among people like Bathroom-Stall-Chatty-Cathy? No, no. I'm pretty sure it was because of my blog. Right, Ash? Ash? I asked her if the lady at least washed her hands. But Ashley didn't stick around to find out. Good call, Ash. I wouldn't have, either. And you contacted the right authorities: Me.

Until next time...;)

Accolades--D.C. Style

2010-06-02T19:21:00.000-07:00

This post is dedicated to The Rosenbaum and Nichols' families:

My husband and I recently returned home from a trip to the east coast. We spent the week in and around the Washington D.C. area. It was great. It really was. But, may I just say that prior to our adventure I was convinced that most of the world's "crazies" were packed into the upper left hand corner of the United States (i.e. Washington State). WRONG. Dead wrong. There are plenty of obnoxious people residing on the opposite side of the good ol' U.S. of A. Like I've always speculated, idiocy is a pandemic! Let me elaborate (because you know I'm gonna):

1) This is crazy man number one. We encountered him on our very first ride on the Metro system into The "District." That's right, a bunch of white, sheltered west coasters riding a big subway for the first time and this guy shows up. I spent majority of the trip looking straight ahead as to not draw any attention to myself (or my family). I wasn't convinced that he wasn't hiding a pistol in that Mickey Mouse Fantasia-style warlock cap. Oh, his sign? He was protesting the border scandal that is currently causing all sorts of chaos in Arizona. Although, we couldn't be sure because he had "border" spelled as "boarder." So, he could be protesting the skating industry for all I know. Makes more sense with his clothes and all. Personally, if I had my own protesting sign, it would be arguing his fashion crimes: white socks with "man-dals," Joe Boxer smiley faces underpants worn OVER shorts, and his tie dyed t-shirt. Also, that may or may not be a Cabbage Patch doll head or a mop hanging over the top of his sign. We never could decide (remember, we were too busy pretending not to stare).

2) My sister-in-law and I counted not one, but two, women wearing at least 4 inch heels as they were touring the sights and sounds of our nation's capitol. Incredible. There they were, hobbling along, clearly in pain as their strappy stilletos dug deep into the tops of their feet. But who cares? They looked good, right? Ladies, let's be real. Nothing looks more ridiculous then when trying to be fashionable rather than practical especially when your surroundings were screaming "comfort" and "functionality" rather than "fashion." I should know. I used to be one of you. You and I both know that your feet do not FEEL good even though you think they LOOK good. Your feet are bleeding for pete's sake! Arlington National Cemetery does not care if you have stilettos on. Most the men are buried in the ground anyway, and I'll guarantee you they're laughing at you from their graves. Bless your hearts.

3) This next story is my favorite of the week. On Wednesday of our vacation, we crowded onto the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland to watch the ever-so-entertaining Blue Angels fly (along with thousands and thousands of other people). It was hot. Scratch that. It was sweltering. Humid. And have I mentioned it was disgustingly hot? I have very fair skin. A friend of mine once called my complexion like that of skim milk. Nice. So, naturally, I had an umbrella up and around me to shade my poor white body from burning, or worse, tanning. That's when I felt it. A tap on my left shoulder. I turned around to behold a woman screaming over the noise of the flying jets. "Do you think you could put your umbrella down? It's blocking the view!" Oh, the view? You mean the one straight up in the sky thousands of feet above the silhouette of my umbrella? You mean the hoards of people standing in front of you (many of which also had umbrellas) and the two giant trees along the bank of the river weren't already blocking your view? Oh, it was solely my umbrella stopping you from enjoying the show? Well, in that case, let me say one thing: Get over yourself. And, I have a suggestion. How about you take a half a step to your left and magically, your problem (i.e. my umbrella) would no longer be your problem at all. This same lady was later heard excitedly saying, "Oh! This is my favorite formation!" Lady, be honest. How many times have you seen the Blue Angels? Weirdo. And next time you ask me to move it, you're going to get a big, fat "NO!"

4) Picture this. A big family (in every sense of the word) sitting atop a double decker tour bus, tearing pages from their tourist maps and letting them fly off the back of the bus over and over again because, after all, it's hilarious, right? Go, America! Idiots.

5) Foreigners. I have mixed emotions about them. My husband has always jokingly called me Hitler, although it's not funny anymore ever since we visited the Holocaust Museum on our vacation (and in fact, I never did find it all that funny in the first place). But I do have a problem when people from other countries come to our Capitol and don't listen when the tour guide says, "Pictures of the Pentagon are prohibited at this stage of the tour." And then I look over to see a french woman doing what? That's right. Taking pictures of the Pentagon at this stage of the tour--over and over again. Hey! Lady! I don't care if you ignore tour guides in your own country! But listen up when we say you can't take pictures of the Pentagon! Got it?! It has to do with a little something known as September 11, 2001. Sheesh. At first, I thought it was because she didn't understand any English. And, then I knew it was because she didn't know any English. Point proven.

6) And if you thought my last story was harsh, just take a gander at the photo below and you'll know I am not opposed to taking criticism myself. That's right. My brother and sister-in-law snapped this picture. That's me (the oblivious looking one on the left) and my hubby (the really oblivious looking one on the right). If you look closely, that little blue handicapped sign above our heads reads: "Priority Seating." Of all the seats available for us to choose, we picked those two. 'Nuf said. Oh, and we laughed pretty stinkin' hard when we realized what we had done. Until next time ;)

Dear Morons (not MORMONS, M-O-R-O-N-S) of the World,

2010-05-13T17:52:00.001-07:00

You suck. No, really. You do. You know how I know this? Because I deal with you people every single day. And dare I say, it's making me a little stir-crazy? Like that time today when I was driving to pick Jason up from work, and I looked in my rearview mirror to behold one of your kind throwing a fistful of garbage out his window like it was rice at a wedding. Seriously, dude? It hasn't been cool to litter since like 1996. And if I hadn't run the risk of driving into the ditch while trying to grab a pen and McDonald's receipt off the floor of the car so that I could write your license plate down, I totally would have reported you to Al Gore--or at least the police!

Or like that time this week at work when I took your blood pressure and it was too high and another one of you said, "I'll just go down to the blood bank and donate a pint. That always brings it down." OOOHHH. Right. Until your body does it's job and produces more blood to replace the old blood and then your poor little blood cells are again left to find passage between your veins and arteries that are clogged with lard and sodium.

Or like the time this week when pulling out of our apartment complex, one of you pulled up behind us, honked your horn, and mockingly flagged us on to turn left. OH! Is that what we do after four lanes of traffic have cleared? We actually carry through with the manuever our left blinker was signaling by jerking the wheel to the left? DON'T you dare give me that stupid thumbs up sign, Mister Neighbor! Because I KNOW for a fact you freakin' don't mean it, you big impatient idiot.

I have to go. My face is getting warm. And I'm hungry. But this isn't the end. I'll be back with more tongue lashings. Is there no accountability anymore? Sheesh.

Warmest Regards,

Rachel

Triple Threat

2010-05-07T14:54:00.001-07:00

The idiots are out in full force lately! I think this means the world is going to end soon--or something.

Story 1: I was perusing the shopping racks at Kohl's the other day with my mom (surprise, surprise) when the large Diet Coke I had downed at lunch hit me. I sped to the bathroom upstairs, flung open the door and looked to the first stall for relief. Now, typically I don't go for the first stall. I'm not sure why. I just don't. The second or third always seem like the obvious choice, but for some reason on this particular day, the first stall was calling my name. But before I got too far I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized somebody was occupying the first toilet. I'm not sure what made me pause--divine intervention, perhaps--because it was dead quiet and up until that point, I thought I was the only one in the bathroom. On the contrary! As I passed the stall (and I assure you I was NOT intentionally looking, OK?!), I noticed the "occupant" clicking away on her cell phone. That's right. There she sat, pants down, chillin' with her cell phone in hand, TEXTING on the toilet in a Kohls bathroom. Seriously?! No, really? Are you for real right now? She was. She was for real. SICK. I just did my thing and got the HECK out of there. As my very Caucasian husband would say, "Girl! You trippin'!"

Story 2: What is it with people NOT driving the speed limit?! I mean, really. They're either going Mach 5 or slow as molasses. And usually they have "Jesus Fish" on their tailgates and/or beanie babies on their front dash. I assure you, Jesus wants you to drive the speed limit! And it gets even better when these really efficient drivers "drift" into your lane, forcing you to make an emergency pull to the very outside of your lane to avoid getting hit. And all the while, they are completely and utterly oblivious! This happened to me today on my way home. A beanie-baby loving motorist began the drifting pattern, and before I knew it, I was yanking my wheel so she wouldn't clip the front end of my car. As soon as the cloud of cuss words (you know, like "Dang it!" and "Oh, my heck!") and mean remarks dissipated from my mind, I scooted past her, throwing death glares. And guess what? This fine citizen quickly climbed my ranks of "valuable" members of society when I realized the source of her distraction--she had headphones dangling from her ears. That's right. She was listening to music via headphones as she was driving. Hey! Lady! That's illegal! You know, like "against the law!" Now get out of my way before I yank those stupid things from your head! Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Story 3: I was at one of my favorite stores earlier today. I was in the jewelry department when I noticed a mother with her 3-year-old daughter. 99.9% of Mom's attention was diverted toward the jewelry selection in front of her, but the little girl seemed innocent enough. She wasn't going to get into any trouble like most 3-year-olds, right? Wrong. Just then, said little "angel" girl stuck out her right arm and basically bulldozed one of the jewelry tables, knocking metal hooped earrings and pearl necklaces all over the tile floor. THIS caught mom's attention--but only long enough for her to look up at her daughter, look down at the mess she had made, turn her back and walk away, daughter in tow. Awesome. Way to set an example for your kid, mom. Don't worry about the mess. No, really. I'll get it. Or I'll get one of the minimum-wage employees to pick it up because that's why they make a whopping eight dollars an hour. And I'm sure your sweet little girl won't think anything of her behavior. In fact, I KNOW she won't think anything of her behavior. I bet it won't be long until she finds something else to destroy, something that's DOESN'T belong to her. That's why society is so screwed up lady, because people like you reproduce over and over again, and the pattern for dumb continues it's inevitable course. Oh, and Happy Mother's Day to the World's Sharpest Mom. Blah.

Twihard

2010-04-23T18:36:00.000-07:00

The following is a picture I took in the car while waiting at a stoplight:

Man or woman? Man or woman? It doesn't matter. Clearly "Twilight mania" transcends gender. Right, husband?

Shut Up, Lady

2010-04-22T17:21:00.000-07:00

7 AM is too early to see other people, let alone complete strangers. My first patient of the day must of known this because she was pushing ALL the right buttons--and I'm not talking about the ones that make the dental chair go up and down. I'm talking about my buttons, my "feisty, make-Rachel-grumpy" buttons. I wasn't going to write another "dental post," but people never. cease. to. amaze. me.

As the story goes, I was finishing up the cleaning on my first patient this morning. Mind you, she had already loudly articulated how much the x-ray sensor had cut into the bottom of her mouth when I was taking bitewings on her (as if I did this on purpose. Hey, lady. I got it! You ain't the only one who complains about this. Believe me, it's a dead and beaten horse). Also, this particular patient must have gone through her makeup drawer prior to her appointment to find her lip gloss that was the consistency of peanut butter (I think just to spite me). Because I just LOVE it when I get ooey-gooey gloss all over my gloves and consequently, everything else. That's right, lady. Lay it on thick. Thicker next time!

So, it shouldn't have surprised me when this patient said the following to me (key word being "shouldn't):

Me: "OK. I'm going to polish your teeth now."

Patient: "Ugh. FINALLY."

OK. Listen here, peanut butter lips. You've been lying in the chair for maybe--MAYBE--20 minutes, 25 minutes max. I highly doubt your comment of "FINALLY" was necessary as if you'd been imprisoned for thousands of years and you were lastly granted your long-delayed freedom. And, really? I mean, really? Is it THAT awful? Is it? Don't you expect to kind of lie in a dental chair for some period of time when you come to the dental office for a dental appointment. After all, that's why it's called an "appointment" because it is an "appointment of time!" What I really wanted to say to her, you ask? Something along the lines of "Shut up and just let me work" or "My sentiments exactly." But I didn't. Because I would have regretted it. Right? I would have regretted it? Hmmm...

Needless to say, I finished polishing Miss Naysayer's pearly whites and sent her on her whiney way. Boo wah.

Until next time ;)

Here, There & Everywhere

2010-03-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-18T18:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-18T17:39:00.000-07:00

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"

2010-03-08T18:03:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-04T19:21:00.000-08:00

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 ;)

Dear Creeper Sitting in the Corner of the Gym,

2010-02-26T16:25:00.000-08:00

I did not notice you--at all. Until I was walking to grab my jacket to leave. I had a sneaking suspicion you were trying to talk to me, although I could not hear you through my wickedly awesome mix of workout tunes (*side note: why is it that people try to talk to you when you clearly have music blaring in your ears? It's beyond me). Either that or you were mouthing the words to a song while staring straight at me. I removed my ear buds just in time to hear you say to me: "Are you calling it quits?" Me, feeling a little befuddled (and cautious), simply stated, "Yep. I've had enough for today" to which you replied: "Yeah. It looked like you were working pretty hard." Mr. Creeper Man, please allow me to review the questions that then ran through my mind after your last observation/statement:

1) How old are you?

2) Where did you come from?

3) How long have you been sitting there?

4) More importantly, how long have you been watching me?

5) Do you come here often? If so, remind me to avoid you at all costs.

6) Why are you just chillin' on the incline press machine?

So, forgive me, Mr. Creeper Man for hurriedly grabbing my things and walking away from you (and by walking I mean running). And you'll understand why my car keys endured a death grip on the way to the parking lot. I'll have you know, Mr. Creeper, that I would have stabbed you between the eyes with them if it came to that...you know, like I see in all the movies.

Here's hoping I never run into you again at the gym (or have you watching me from afar unknowingly).

Sincerely,

Rachel

Dental Don'ts...To Be Continued

2010-02-16T18:20:00.000-08:00

I've been seriously slacking! I don't know why. There are always ridiculous people to write about. Take today, for example. I am a dental hygienist, and in my line of work, I end up seeing some really disgusting things, things I won't describe to you for fear of making you nauseated. But today, a particular patient taught me (and now you) 2 behaviors NOT to do while seeing your dentist and/or dental hygienist. Mind you, this list is endless and I am only touching on the "tip of the iceberg."

1. We use an automated blood pressure cuff at our office to check each patient's blood pressure. On this particular patient, the cuff was not registering. I tried again. No dice. After the third attempt, I was ready to give up when the woman said, "Do you want me to just take off my sweatshirt?" I replied, "Sure, although sweatshirts usually don't get in the way." Before I knew it, this woman had stripped her arm out of her sleeve to reveal--NOTHING. As in there was no shirt or tank top or other article of clothing under the sweatshirt. There she sat, in her bra, belly bulging, white, bright, and covered in things I hope to never see on my body. Immediately, I had that conversation with myself (in my head, of course) It went a little something like this:

Rachel, remain calm. Do not try and understand why this woman feels OK with stripping down to her bra in a dental office. Do not act like it's a big deal even though every fiber of your being is telling you to look the other way. Do not attract attention to your operatory, and thus, alert the rest of the dental team to complete and utter confusion/shock. They will think that this was your idea if you do that! Just take the blood pressure and get the woman to put her freakin' sweatshirt back on. And remember, you are stronger for this!

2. Believe it or not, we made it through the cleaning, the exam, and all other festivities of fun that go along with a trip to the dentist. Prior to dismissing this same patient, I offered her a fluoride treatment to which she obliged. As I was preparing to place the foam fluoride trays in her mouth, she paused and looked straight ahead, as if needing a second to herself. I, too, then paused...and waited. With mouth wide open and me halfway reaching to squish the trays into place, she BELCHES. OUT LOUD. LIKE THIS: (think of the grossest burp you've ever heard). She then looks at me like, "What are you waiting for?" Clearly, she was ready for her fluoride treatment. Remain calm, Rachel. Remain calm. Deep breaths...no! Don't do that! You'll smell her disgusting burp! Just run...leave the fluoride to fend for itself. And save yourself...

OK. It wasn't THAT dramatic, but next time you go to the dentist, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT...

a) remove your clothing for any reason other than to be resuscitated by emergency personnel

b) Burp in the hygienist's face (or any other staff member for that matter)

Full Of It

2010-01-08T15:41:00.000-08:00

This week has been a jackpot for idiocy. I almost have too many stories to count. I picked my favorite three for your enjoyment (I told you I was full of it). I'll save the others for a rainy day. Sound good?

I had a doctor's appointment this last Monday. As I was waiting to be seen, I noticed a couple sitting across from me (pictured below). Frankly, it was hard not to "notice" them seeing as it was a small waiting room and we were the only patients there. The office had placed a small glass dish full of candy on the coffee table (you can actually see it pictured in the right hand side of the photo), and the woman helped herself to a piece. No big deal. Nevermind the incredibly loud mouth noises this woman was making. Smack. Suck. Slurp. Click. Again. And Again. And again. As she finished her delectable treat, she proceeded to dig out the remains from the crevices of her teeth using her fingers (OK, OK we all do this. Sometimes, it's just necessary, no?). But--and it's a big BUT--most of us do NOT then proceed to the front desk of a physician's office and sign papers with a pen that, more than likely, other people will be using that day.

Forget about it, lady. Seriously, don't sweat it. I personally don't mind unknowingly using a pen that has somebody else's nasty mouth germs all over it. Who cares about hand hygiene anyway? Probably just really uptight people like dental hygienists...and moms. It's not really necessary. That hand sanitizer sitting on the counter top was probably just for show, anyhow. But just a heads up, lady--most considerate people wash their hands after having them in or near their mouths (that goes for other orifices of the body, as well). Oh, and hey. I just thought of a great word to describe you, dirty hand lady: GRODY (P.S. I haven't used that word since 5th grade).

Story Numero Dos. I was driving to work yesterday. There is a prominent intersection in Spokompton that gets a lot of traffic. At that intersection sits a big, large, bold sign that states, "DO NOT BLOCK INTERSECTION." But by "DO NOT BLOCK INTERSECTION" do you think they really mean "IT'S OK. BLOCK THE INTERSECTION IF YOU WANT TO" ?. Hmmm. That must be it because the lady in the Ford Taurus next to me was...you guessed it...blocking the intersection. I slowly rolled past this woman as the light turned green, my gaze thick with scrutiny. But don't worry. She was doing something TOTALLY important. She was texting--with both hands. Question: What are you using to operate your vehicle, lady? And yes, that honking is coming from the line of cars behind you because green means "go" in this country. As I looked closer, I felt a wave of relief when I realized she was using her knees to guide the steering wheel. Duh! Why didn't I think of that?! I could have been texting while driving this whole time! Another thing that was awesome? There was a baby car seat in the back. Pure genius, this woman was. Pure genius.

Last one--for today. My sister is coming home from the Mayo Clinic after spending a week there. I stopped in at the dollar store to pick up some helium balloons as a "Welcome Home" treat for her (Who doesn't love a giant bouquet of balloons? Ooh, I do). The store was packed with women who had penciled-in eyebrows and screaming children. As the sales clerk was helping me with my selection, we both heard a loud "Ahem" from the check out counter behind us followed by a tapping and clicking of some sort. We turned around to see what I thought to be a fellow customer, repeatedly tapping her rings on the counter top to get the sales clerk's attention. The sales lady gave me a torn look to which I replied, "Go ahead, I can wait." She then headed over to the check stand where I heard the "tap-tap" lady state, "Is this bugging you yet?" as she continued to beat her ring-adorned fingers against the counter top. I wanted to chuck the first thing I could find at her and yell, "No! But is sure is bugging me!" I refrained. And then it got even better when I realized that this annoying woman was not another customer. Oh, no. She was another employee at the store who happened to be on her break and had some purchases to make. And by "purchases" I mean she bought one freakin' greeting card. Is that card for me, rude lady? Is it an "I'm sorry" note for dragging your fellow worker who was obviously in the middle of helping a customer? Is it? I sure hope it is because I can't believe you right now. Clearly, you "don't get it." Clearly, you don't understand the employee-customer relationship. Clearly, you're obsurd, and I want to take that greeting card and crumple it up. Crumple it up real good so you can be annoyed by me so you know how it feels! Enjoy your freakin' lunch break, lady. I'll be here--waiting--for the next available employee, and it better not be you.

Unit G5

2010-01-01T12:41:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, my mom and I made a shopping trip to Costco for some Holiday "goods." As usual, my dear, sweet husband opted out of the shopping trip, and remained contently at home watching the Gonzaga basketball game. Go Zags! (They lost that game, FYI). Anywho, we (as in my mom and I), swung by to pick Jason up on the way home so that we could head back to my parents' for pizza and movie.

While waiting patiently in the car-emphasis on the "patient" part, we noticed some headlights pull up behind us and stop. Now, if we were sitting at, say, a stoplight, this would not be unusual at all. In fact, it's expected for another driver to line up behind you and wait until the light turns green, right? But in an apartment complex parking lot, it seemed a bit strange. I re-positioned my car closer to the curb just in case and then I waited, expecting her to drive past us, because that's what you do when you're in a car---you drive! Clearly, this woman had plenty of space to manuever around us and get to where she needed to go. Surely she wasn't actually waiting for me to move my car completely so that she had maybe two more feet to work with.

You know that thing that happens when you're so sure of something, and then that "something" turns around and slaps you in the face and tells you you're dead wrong and the unbelievable is actually happening? And you're left to try and figure out what really is going on? Well, that happened to my mom and me when we realized that this woman, was in fact, trying to make a statement by staying parked behind me until I moved COMPLETELY out of her way. That's right. After about 30 more seconds of her staying parked behind us, she began to slowly pull forward. Before she even pulled up beside us, I could feel her dagger stare in the back of my head, and I wanted to throw up on her on she drove slowly by and shot us the sourest look I may have ever seen. Don't worry--I fed her one right back (I have a few of those up my sleeve. Just ask Jase). But this woman was relentless, even turning her head as her car moved forward. She looked a little like that scene from The Exorcist with her head all turning around to keep the gaze. The nerve! And I'm pretty sure at that point both my mom and I were gasping out of shock and muttering things like, "Oh, no she didn't!"

It gets better. This woman then pulls into one of the assigned parking spots. You know what that means, don't you? She is our neighbor!! She gets out of her car, locks her door, all the while not taking one eye off of us. She walks to her door, opens it, goes in, takes one last creepy peek at us through the window, and then shuts the blinds! What?! Are you serious, Unit G5?! Are you? I'm sorry that my car parked in front of my house would ruin your entire life! What can I do to make it up to you, G5? Please tell me because I will quickly do whatever it takes to make it right, and by "quickly do whatever it takes" I mean "Yeah, right! Because you are ridiculous." I WAS thinking about bringing over a plate of cookies, but maybe instead, I'll bring you over a giant air horn and a middle finger for you to use. That just seems way more appropriate. I'm going to go take a deep breath, G5. And maybe, just maybe, we can settle this in the parking lot. Until next time...;)

Merry Friggin' Christmas

2009-12-26T09:16:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-21T21:15:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-21T21:10:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-12-11T09:52:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-21T09:54:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-13T20:22:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-10T16:13:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-18T17:24:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-12T18:15:00.001-07:00

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

2009-09-05T22:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-26T18:59:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-18T09:34:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-17T19:13:00.000-07:00

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?