Saturday, January 3, 2009

Just When I Thought I Was Out, They Dragged Me Back In

An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old one leaves.
-Bill Vaughan

So what kind of person watches three hours of the new 86 episode Sopranos collection and is fast asleep by ten thirty on New Years Eve? I'm hoping it is the kind of person for which only good things happen in 2009. 2008 was a year of mixed blessings and sorrowful goodbyes, but I'll leave THAT kind of reminiscing to the professionals. Me? I'd rather bitch about stuff.

For example: Why, pray tell, will a 12 year old complain and moan about cleaning his bedroom for THREE days when it would only take him One hour to clean it? And on what feng shui chart does any room NOT include the closet? Or is that only when cleaning aforementioned room?

Why is it not such a great idea to piss away money on Chinese Take Out at the mall when it is the money of my 17 year old we are talking about? Does the cash in MY not even going to the mall handbag self pro-create?

And what IS it about my dogs, that they only feel the need to throw up on the SAME day as I have washed the kitchen floors ---In fact within hours of having done so, (which by the way, was the first time I've gotten to those damn floors in about a month---The entire time of which all dogs were healthy as horses, darn it!)

Did I mention we got dumped on by the Satan of Snow again? (To view mysuestories love of snow, check this post No Business Like Snow Business). Yep, and my abominable, yet adorable honey was there to the rescue, spreading pounds of ice melt salt all around the porch steps in the front of the house, the side door to the mudroom, and the deck off the back kitchen door. So, needless to say, we did NOT slip and break our ever loving necks on the ice. But that is NOT what I'm going to tell the coroner when I kill everyone for tracking all that impossible to clean salt off the tile and wood floors! (I think they are all conspiring with the dogs!)

And as long as SOMEBODY is listening.....

Does anyone else have that one person in their office/life that is just blatantly unaware of personal space? I have this one person(?) in my office who is just always upclose and personal. And she cannot order from a menu until she reviews and challenges EACH AND EVERY other person's order. Then she will change her own order a minimum of three times. I kid you not. Then, when your food does arrive, she will insist on getting up close and personal with " What did you get?" , "How is yours?" . I tell, you, there are just some days you want to deck her! Ignoring this type of person NEVER works! Trust me. I've tried to the tune of Chinese food, Italian, and Mexican. It just doesn't go away. I eat like a prisoner, all hunched over and growling, just a little something I learned from my alpha male dauschund. A big attitude from a little source. All this does not make the dining ala desk a soothing experience, let me tell ya.

And exactly what is the age of belief for a parent when offspring ask to take a plate upstairs and permission is granted after an interrogation Guantanamo Bay has yet to think up. And upon swearing under God, Flag, and Country, said offspring assures this parental idiot who just WANTS to believe in SOMETHING/ANYTHING they say......that said dish (Exhibit A) will return to kitchen IN dishwasher within seconds of all food upon it being inhaled.
So, why, dear reader, why do I find myself even mildly surprised to find that same plate with most of the same food now glued to it two weeks later while cleaning out the bathroom linen closet? (Hey, don't ask me...maybe it had something to do with all those "If you're going to chew like an animal you can eat in the barn," threats as toddlers?--Something along the lines of "When eatting shit......???!?)

Well, I don't know about you, constant reader, but I'm going back to my 86 hours of Sopranos episodes. Carmella's eggplant would NEVER have ended up in the bathroom---at least not in it's uneaten form. And Tony and his friends? At least they put the enemy out of his misery quickly. Time to go to the mattresses.

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