#@*^!

Due to my slow internet connection making the screen jump when  thought it was fully loaded, I accidentally deleted the post about my sister's baby that is due in July.

This is one time I REALLY wish I wasn't striving for a PG-13 rating, because an F-bomb would be so satisfying right now.

I'm also feeling rather rotten this afternoon, which contributed to the whole fiasco.  So I will rewrite it when I'm not. 

Cheeky

What I saw in the mirror this morning.

If you're middle-aged and you've been sick, nobody walks up to you and asks how you're doing; instead, they say "What happened???"  If you're sick or overtired, you look sick or overtired.

In four days of having a cold, my cheeks have grown thin and gaunt yet my butt is exactly the same size it was a week ago.  These are two facts I deeply resent.

Pet Peeves: English Language Edition

Occasionally, even the most relentlessly goofy old maid will feel a few too many little annoyances and end up crabby as hell.  So here, as a sort of pressure valve, I shall share, in no particular order, things -- usually written, but sometimes spoken -- that bug me. 

• Disregarding punctuation is not freeing us from tyrannical constraints.  It is making it very difficult to understand the most simple written communications.  I'm thinking, specifically, of the apostrophe, which in certain instances can help me to understand if you possess something, if someone else possesses something, or if there are more than one of something.  "My nephews," "my nephew's," and "my nephews'," for instance, do not all mean the same thing.
• "Ironic" does not mean "funny and intellectual."  So if I don't laugh at your joke, saying "I was being ironic" will not convince me that the joke was sophisticated and therefore hilarious.  Ironically.
• "Mantel" and "mantle" are not variant spellings of the same word.  So if I read "I lit four big candles on my mantle" I think "that's got to hurt."  Because in my mind, you're wearing your mantle; however, I suppose you could have put it on the ground and then lit the candles.  (See?  I feel better already.)
• "Flair" and "flare" are not variant spellings of the same word, either.  Of course, if you write that you lit candles on your mantle to give it some flare, and then go on to tell me about the cute firefighter you met during the ensuing blaze, it all makes sense.
• The phrase "I'm a positive person" does not mean the same thing as "I'm a better person [than you are]."  No really, it doesn't.  Look it up.

Whaaaaaat?

Conceive of my shock, Gentle Readers, when I was on the phone with the Army Dude this morning, chatting of this and that, and the Army Dude said "Chanel?  Who's that?"

It was a few moments before I regained my powers of speech.  I then explained to him, in the politest tones I could muster, who she was.  He replied "Oh, right.  An old dead lady."

An old dead lady?  Next he's going to tell me that Gene Kelly isn't really my boyfriend. 

I haven't been this upset since my sister started wearing legwarmers.  I need to lie down on my chaise longue with a cold compress on my fevered brow, a cup of tea, and Young Men In Spats.

Pet Peeve

Dear Veterinary Clinic Staff:

This is a cone.

Image: Allposters.com

This is an Elizabethan collar.  Please update your terminology accordingly.  Thank you.

Hugs,
Maria

[Gentle readers, my cat had some routine surgery to remove benign growths on her ear and cheek.  In person she looks like she's gone a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson on a day when he was in a biting mood, but rest assured, she is fine.]

Supposedly About Fall Fashion (But Really Just General Crankiness)

Lately, I feel like I'm living in a world gone mad -- to the point where I'm almost afraid to open my browser in the morning and see what the day's headlines are. At times like this, you'd think that reading fashion magazines and websites would be to my weary soul as chocolate is to PMS. But you would be wrong.

Maybe it's because I recently looked at a book about fashion from 1909-1939, in the introduction to which Diana Vreeland gushed about how "everyone" was chic and happy and full of fun until World War II came along and wrecked everything. Because, as everyone knows, World War I and the Great Depression were both freaking blasts.

These days, Vreeland's successors at Vogue are desperately begging people to buy something, anything, by basically throwing a lot of crap at the wall and seeing what sticks. Which is fine, I guess, since it means there are lots of choices out there -- but most of them aren't very good choices.

Take the coat above, by Rick Owens. The style is timeless! You can see paintings from the Middle Ages where figures are wearing something similar, that's how timeless it is. And it will look ever-so-chic until... well, until December 26th, to be precise. And then you might haul it out of the back of the closet next year if you're invited to a Star Trek-themed Halloween party.

Or maybe I'm just cranky because last night on Project Runway the contestants were given the challenge to dress stiltwalkers (that would be performers who walk on stilts, not really tall hookers) and then those who made costumes -- as opposed to outfits for gigantic elderly secretaries -- were penalized.

I'm telling you, the world has become a crazy place.

Don't Judge Me

I was talking with a co-worker yesterday, who said "It's important which college you go to because people judge you based on things like that." At first, I thought it she was talking about job interviews. But no, she was talking about social situations. She went on to say "They judge you about everything -- where you went to college, where you live, how much money you make..."


I looked at her with my patented quizzical puppy expression, head cocked to one side, and said "You socialize with people like that voluntarily?"


The older I get, the less patience I have with people whose entire social agenda entails proving that they are better than someone else. I also have no patience with people whose favorite topic of discussion is whoever is not there to defend herself, people who manufacture drama, those who have to control the behavior of everyone around them, or who don't read. I can't stand people who are humorless and boring (be one or the other, but for God's sake don't be both).


This, my friends, is why I rarely leave my house -- and when I do, I choose carefully. Because I don't want to bring up the length and severity of my menstrual cycle to shut up a dude who is an obnoxious know-it-all, but I will. In fact, I feel it's my duty.


I'm turning into an obstreperous old bitch, aren't I?

What The HELL Is That?

Those were my exact words, gentle readers, when I looked out the window yesterday morning and saw the ground covered in snow. Snow! On November 8! I took it hard.

I know I live in the Frozen North. Snow comes every year whether I like it or not. But it's not supposed to be winter yet. No, no, no, no, no!

Apparently, snowy weather brings out my inner two-year-old. Fasten your seatbelts, my friends. If this keeps up, we're in for a bumpy NaBloPoMo.

A Letter To Female Tourists About Traffic Safety

Listen:

I'm as sorry as I can be that I got in the way of your need to drive on the wrong side of the road, run stop signs, or push your way into traffic. You do all of these things, then scream and rant and beep your horn at me because I am following the rules of the road. This must stop.

After a long day at work, the very last thing I need is to be screamed at by a bleached blonde in a Mercedes or a bottle redhead in some giant SUV. I suggest you go back to your tacky-ass condo that you've decorated with lots of money and no taste (and where I'm pretty sure the carpet doesn't match the curtains) and think about what you've done.

And while you're thinking, remember this: honey, I have issues and I might cut a bitch.

We Are ALL Busy: A Rant

I want to call a moratorium on using the phrase "I'm so busy" as an excuse for rude and selfish behavior. I'm thinking of the person who shows up without an appointment (that I have repreatedly asked him to make) and wants my help RIGHT NOW because he's "so busy." Never mind that I am answering a 6-line telephone, working on four spreadsheets on two computer screens, getting the boss' coffee, troubleshooting the fancy-pants moody photocopier, and carrying on a hilarious conversation with a friend via email about how she should break up with her boyfriend by posting it as her Facebook status.


I'm thinking of the friend who keeps making lunch dates and breaking them at the last minute because she's "so busy." Or the person who chronically shows up hours late for everything. Or the woman in the twelve items or less line at the grocery store who has 20 items and then keeps everyone waiting while she goes back for one more (she's in a rush). Or the people running stop signs all over town because they have somewhere to be.


Here's the thing: everyone's busy. Do you know anyone who isn't? I don't. For the love of God, just tell the truth: you overscheduled yourself; or you bought a PDA so you could get super-organized and you have no flippin' clue how to use it and lost all your PD; or you woke up with a four-alarm hangover this morning and getting to the point where you felt like you might live put you two hours behind; or you are truly, honestly sure that the world revolves around you, and if your every need is not catered to, the galaxy will explode.


Seriously. I don't want to hear that excuse again unless you really are a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest - in which case, I want to see the official ass-kicking contest rules, pictures of the event, and medals won, if any.


Rant over. I feel better now.

Do Not Irritate A Peri-Menopausal Woman

An email I sent today to Find A Green Business.net (which, FYI, I do not work for a green business):

Not only have your employees repeatedly harassed me via telephone, your "Quality Control Manager" (and by that I mean "rude jerk") threatened this morning to "have someone call me every day" until I comply with your update. Since then I have received two more calls. I've already updated the entry! Stop harassing me or I will report you to the RI Better Business Bureau, the RI Attorney General's Office, and any other law enforcement agency who will listen.

I DO NOT WORK FOR YOU AND I AM NOT REQUIRED TO UPDATE SQUAT FOR YOU!!!!!

DO NOT CALL XXX-XXX-XXXX EVER AGAIN!

Yours in Christ (and by that I mean "drop dead"),


That's right - I have a computer and a temper and I'm not afraid to deploy either one.