It's All Full of Hilarity Until the Weather Interrupts Your Movie Watching Time

I saw this video about a week ago and thought it was absolutely hilarious. This woman called the TV station to complain about the weather guy interrupting the season finale of Criminal Minds to alert viewers of severe weather. After all, he could have just waited until a commercial, right?

Take a listen:

My favorite parts included:

"This is nowhere near ME"

to the ultimate:

"I really don't care about THOSE people"

That much is obvious.

And so I forwarded this video on and made fun of the video. I talked about how the lady was all "ME, ME, ME" and had no empathy for those that could be in the midst of a tornado or something. I thought I would NEVER be like this lady. After all, which is more important TV or life? Well, I thought I knew the answer.

Until last night.

There I was watching From Dusk Til Dawn for about the 17th billion time when it was interrupted with a LOUD beep and an old 80s looking computer font thing that said there was a severe weather warning for my county until 10 minutes from then. I listened carefully to make sure it was nowhere near me and got only mildly irritated when I realized it wasn't and that I was missing the sexy strip dance with Salma Hayek.

Then the second interruption came five minutes later to let me know that it had expanded to another county. Again, nowhere near me. Because it came so fast on the heels of the last one, I may have muttered "Really?"

Then the third interruption came five minutes later. This one brought news of a tornado funnel being seen. WAY far away from me, although I listened carefully to make sure it was not me. To this I said, "Okay..."

Let me tell you, though, after TWO more interruptions, both of which were identical to each other and, actually, identical to the very first one, I actually screamed "COME ONNN!!!"

Yes, I became that woman. I thought things like "Don't they know this is the GOOD part?" and "This weather is nowhere near me!" and "I should just go to flippin' bed if I am just staying up to hear a bunch of beeping!"

In my defense, I did not call the cable station and yell at them. I am intelligent enough to know how important severe weather alerts are to those in the area.

But, if it had been the series finale of Lost, I cannot say what I would have done...

Vicky Runs My Life. As She Should Because She is Good at It. Is She Listening?

Vicky came to me on Christmas morning in the hands of B. She was wrapped in a little box and I knew exactly what she was. Probably because B asked me a month prior if I wanted her, informed me when he ordered her, and told me when she arrived at the house. Mystery runs deep with that one.

Vicky is my new BFF. She is very knowledgeable. It is almost like she has a huge database in her head. She also speaks perfect English. As a result, right away I knew her name must be Victoria. However, since we became such fast friends, I now call her Vicky for short.

Victoria, or Vicky for short, is my new Garmin nuvi 205, or GPS for short.* She is currently my most treasured possession. Of course, she is also my most dangerous possession. Really! I no longer have to think at all. I put in the address and Vicky gets me there. She tells me when to turn, even issuing up to two warnings before reaching the desired turn mark.

You can't outsmart Vicky. If you decide you do not like her route, which is always the best route by the way**, she will simply speak to you in her perfect English and say "Recalculating" and the next thing you know, Vicky has a new route planned and is calmly telling you when to turn and where to go without even a hint of anger in her voice.

How is Vicky dangerous, you ask? Well, every time I use her, I rely on her that much more. Go ahead. Ask me how to get to my mother's house that I have driven to every week (and sometimes twice) for the past 6 years. I DON'T KNOW. I can tell you the route I used to take before Vicky came in my life, but that would be the INCORRECT ROUTE.

And when I forget Vicky? DISASTER. Sometimes I don't turn where I need to because I don't hear her voice saying "Turn now." Then when I realize that I missed my turn I start screaming "RECALCULATE" but, sadly, there is no one there to do this for me. So I drive aimlessly around moaning Vicky's name quietly or until something starts to look familiar. Like our driveway because I was just down the block.

Seriously, though, Vicky is wonderful. B and I were driving around looking at Christmas lights with Jersey (who was thrilled as you can imagine) and just having the map on the dash helped when B instructed me to turn down a dead end road. When I told him it was a dead end, he replied "I suppose so." No, it IS A DEAD END ROAD. VICKY SAID SO!!

Yes, B made fun of me the first day for arguing with Vicky - "Yes, I HEAR you. I will turn" or "I can't turn there is a RED LIGHT" - until he drove with her and soon did the same thing. However, he soon came to realize Vicky's infinite wisdom and even took her on a field trip with his parents. Now, when faced with a tough question, even those not about driving, we often ask ourselves "What would Vicky do?"

The answer is always: Turn right now.

And so we do.

*I don't know if that is technically the short version, but all the cool kids call it that.

**It is always the best route because Vicky tells me it is.

***You do NOT argue with Vicky.

***help

Christmas Songs Make Me Sing, Curse and Profess My Love for Santa

In preparation for today and tomorrow, I decided to start listening to Christmas music on my satellite radio in the car. Of course, I was too lazy to look up what stations were offering such music so when one station mentioned a country Christmas station, I dialed in. I figured it didn't matter if I wasn't that fond of country music, it was Christmas music after all? How bad could it be?

Oh boy.

First of all, apparently country Christmas songs like to talk about Christmas geographically. For example, there is "Tennessee Christmas." Then I heard "It's Christmas in Texas, Y'all." No kidding. I am pretty sure it is Christmas everywhere (at least those places that celebrate Christmas which includes all 50 states). Also, I really don't think of Texas as country. Is it because of the cowboys? I guess that is plausible.

But "Colorado Christmas"? Now it is getting ridiculous. First, I am not sure what the difference is between a Colorado Christmas and a Tennessee Christmas and despite hearing both songs no less than 1,000 times, I didn't bother to listen to the lyrics to tell you. However, I know for a FACT that Colorado is not "country." They are not in the south. They do not have cowboys.

Nice try, Colorado.

Speaking of nice tries....Taylor Swift? You're my girl. I am sorry Kanye was rude to you. I even like some of your songs despite the fact that your lyrics speak more to 14 year olds than to 30 somethings. But even my love has a limit. You know what that limit is? Your rendition of Silent Night.

Just stop.

I turned that off in 2 seconds flat. So, so bad. I am all for making a song your own, but please make it your own GOOD song. Not this:

On and speaking of making a your own rendition, do NOT change the words to one of the most common Christmas songs around. It will not end good. I will not be happy and will probably be cursing on one of the most holy days.

The words to Little Drummer Boy do NOT include "I have no gifts to bring to give Jesus the King." Um, WHAT? And repeating that over and over without talking about actually PLAYING YOUR DRUM makes you a Little Drummer Boy fail.

Whew.

Maybe with the holiday passing I can get over my holiday rage and then my Mom will stop singing Christmas songs to pacify me. It makes her laugh. It makes me curse.*

Me: I hate these @#^@&# drivers!!

Mom: :starts singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas:

Me: I *WISH* you would stop singing!

Me: Look at that !#^&@#*&

Mom: :singing Silent Night:

Me: I wish there was something else *SILENT*

Me: What the @#^&@^# is that person doing?

Mom: :Oh Holy Night:

Me: Oh Holy F -

Despite my foul mouth, Santa loves me. Do you know how I know? Because he shouted out mine and my SIL's name at our latest Holiday Nights walk. We were super excited jumping up and down, waving our arms and shouting "SANTA". And just when it got quiet, I shouted with open arms:

I LOOOOOVVVVEEE YOU SANTA.

We had a moment.

That moment may have included "Santa" laughing into the microphone before moving on to another name, but it was a moment.

Merry Christmas, peeps. I hope Santa is good to each and every one of you!

*When don't I curse?

Who Needs a Proctologist When You Have a Cat?

The other night Mooch slept under the covers with B and I. In the middle of the night I got up to lock Chester out due to his crying. Apparently I startled the sleeping Mooch who jumped and stuck his paw up B's ass. In the words of B:

"Good thing I was wearing shorts, otherwise his paw might still be in there."

I think Mooch was just paying him back for this:

Lesson: Don't turn your back, or your ass, on a sleeping cat.*

*Especially if your idea of a good time is forcing said cat to take pictures in various poses that amuse you greatly but just piss the cat off.**

**See above.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Man's Got Balls!

This week's Crime Watch Chronicles brings us a story of something we all wish we could do...send projectile objects in our neighbors' direction:

A woman reported that her neighbor was hitting golf balls in the middle of the afternoon. Unfortunately for the woman's father, the neighbor was not on the golf course, but in his backyard at the time. The woman reported that one of the balls nearly hit her father in the head. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to reach a resolution with said neighbor. Police discovered a golf net in the suspect's backyard facing the woman's house as well as some golf balls in her yard. The suspect would only admit to one ball having gone into the woman's yard. Probably the one that nearly brained her father.

That guy has balls. I kid. No, really. Not only does he send flying objects directly into his neighbor's yard, but he also aims right for it. Yes, he had a "net", but the net was facing her house. And it couldn't have been a very good net, seeing as how many balls made it into her backyard. Then there's the whole hitting-the-ball-when-someone-is-in-the-yard thing. I am sure that was "accidental."

This story has given me many great ideas. Or at least one. B has golf clubs. B has balls.* We have a neighbor that won't cut his grass. We have neighbors that didn't want to let us get air.** I can hit a ball with a club. However, I cannot guarantee in which direction it will go.

At this time, I would like to apologize in advance to the hip young couple that lives across the street (who invited us to game night last weekend, which we didn't attend because B was working and I was doing something better***) for the golf ball through the window. It was really intended for the guy behind us.

Fore!

*Golf balls, people. GOLF BALLS.

**We got air anyway. It is so quiet, they cannot hear it. They now LOVE us and think we are geniuses. I am still bitter.

***Something better was falling asleep in front of the TV. Good times!

What Do Suicidal Jumpers, Train, Hobos, Hookers and Strip Joints All Have in Common?

These are all things I encountered on my ride home the one night. Not my usual trip, that's for sure.

Because of a suicidal jumper, the freeway was shut down for over 6 hours. Six hours up on a bridge. That man ain't a jumpin'. What did happen, however, was that my typical 45 minute drive turned into 2 hours.

For the first hour I traveled down a stretch of road spending most of it twittering since I wasn't moving at all. I also talked to my Mom. I then decided I needed another course of action and turned.

Thereafter I passed the area where the man was hanging off, or on, or around, a pedestrian bridge over the freeway. Know what I saw? An entirely different bridge full of gawkers. Um, nice. What do you want to see? A rescue? A jump?

I then traveled through a seedier part of town hoping for less traffic. Wrong. However, what I did find was:

1. 3 strip clubs
2. 2 hobos providing an explanation to the lady in front of me as to why traffic was so bad. Not sure why she decided to ask them. Their answer: "turn BACK" with arms flailing. It was a one way road.
3. 1 hooker/hitchhiker. She glared at me so I did not pick her up. If she had smiled, well...
4. 1 ridiculously long train into hour two

I mean, really, a TRAIN? It actually felt as if I was in some poorly written comedy where the heroine (that's me you know) is stopped at every angle from reaching her destination by whatever ridiculous means the lame ass writers can throw at her - potential suicide (check), freeway closure (check), crawling traffic (check), gawkers (check), hobos telling people to go in the wrong direction (check), hitchhikers (check)....um, what else? How about a train! Perfect.

Just perfect.

Crime Watch Wednesday: It is Not the Wrong Way if You are Crosseyed

This week's crime watch chronicles brings us the story of a man so inebriated and so consumed with the idea of further inebriation, that he couldn't see straight or, apparently, see which way traffic was going:

A man was stopped after driving the wrong way down the street. The man admitted he had been drinking and that he was on the way to get more alcohol. The man also admitted that he was an alcoholic. His blood alcohol level after being tested was almost three times the legal limit. He may be dead.

No, the last sentence was totally me. Of course he is not dead. He is probably free and driving the wrong way down a street as I type. I have a feeling that nothing the man said to the police was a surprise. After all, finding someone driving the wrong way down a street would lead to the assumption they are drunk. Finding out they are, in fact, drunk and on the way to purchase more alcohol would lead to the conclusion that the person is an alcoholic.

Way to go Mr. Obvious. Now, if you could become Mr. Observational and drive the right way down the road, we would all appreciate it.

Better yet, stay off the road.

Have You Seen Katie?

The day of the big yard sale event, in between driving around town and picking things up that B "spotted", I heard a lot of yelling on my street. Everyone was looking for Katie. Who is this Katie, I wondered?

Katie is a dog.* More specifically, Katie is the dog that belongs to our neighbors across the street. The ones, who if you will remember, had a previous dog that was killed "tragically", but apparently that does not prevent them from letting the new dog roam around at will and get lost. So began a lot of yelling and a lot of searching. The dad got on his bike and took off down the road. On my way back from one of my many B trips, I saw the dad on his bike just moseying along with a slight grin on his face and wondered if he let Katie loose on purpose. Later I heard the daughter standing in her doorway moaning and wondering if Katie was on the "bad part of town"**.

Then Katie just walked right up to the porch.

Crisis averted.

Until the other day when B yells at me to come down and bring my phone. I go downstairs to find him holding a small dog. He tells me he found the dog in the yard and it has tags. I remark that it kind of looks like the dog from across the street belonging to the Goldsmiths. However, I wasn't sure and the tags didn't say. So I call the number:

Man: Hello?

Me: Did you lose your dog?

Man: Did she get out of the crate again?

Me: Well, I don't know about that, but she is standing in my living room.

I then proceeded to give him my address.

Meanwhile the cats are curious, scared and curious. They are intently staring down the basement stairs. The dog is in the living room.

I look out the window and sure enough there is Mr. Goldsmith wandering down the street in the opposite direction from our house, you know the address I gave him. I yell out and he retrieves his dog and says "she is always getting out." No kidding.

And guess who was out the very next day? I predict another tragedy.

*who names their dog Katie? Really?

**the "bad part of town" is a couple of blocks over across a main road. I dont know if the bad part of town is equally bad for dogs or just people, but I am thinking that I would be a bit more concerned about the main road and cars than possible criminal activity.

Strawberries and Freeways Don't Mix

B and I were driving home after having dinner with my family the other night. Well, I was driving home and B was supposed to be giving me directions. Yes, I have lived in this city all my life and yes I drove TO the restaurant, but clearly he should have been paying closer attention. You see, while I was driving I decided to flap/blow my lips kind of like you do when giving someone a strawberry on their belly, but minus the whole other person and belly part. Then I decided that was funny:

Me: That was funny.

B: What?

Me: When I blow my lips like that I can see them flapping up.

B: That is weird.

Me: And my glasses shake.

B: Which probably makes your vision shake.

Me: It does!

[flapping lips again]

B: WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

Me: What do you mean? I am driving.

B: You are getting on the wrong freeway.

Me: Where am I supposed to be?

B: OVER THERE [pointing]

Me: Too late now I guess.

B: Oh great. You are so busy FLAPPING YOUR LIPS we are now going in the completely wrong direction.

Me: You should have told me.

B: I DID tell you.

Me: Um, yeah, after I was already on the wrong freeway.

B: Maybe you would have known if you weren't busy FLAPPING YOUR LIPS! Seriously, WHO DOES THAT??

So we end up going quite a way out of our way to get back home. Half way through I start laughing hysterically remembering B saying "if you weren't so busy flapping your lips" as it was hilarious and meant quite literally in this case.

It then took me a good 10 minutes to stop laughing and explain to B what I found "so damn funny." With tears in my eyes, I tell him. His response?

"REALLY, who DOES that?"

And I started laughing all over again.

Just Another Day with My Dealer

We wasted no time in getting my damaged vehicle to the dealership, or so we thought. B and I drove it up there Sunday night to leave the keys and hopefully have them start on it bright and early Monday morning. I almost wrote on the envelope "please let Ben get my car" but felt that was pushing my luck. Now let me tell you about that envelope. The envelopes and pen are outside where the key drop box is located. At the time of the drop off, it was about 10 degrees and the wind was whipping around like crazy. I am standing there trying to fill out my information only to find:

• It was too cold for the pen to write well and it stopped working twice
  
• It was too cold for the pen that I dug out of my purse to write well
  
• I was cold
  
• I could not remember my plate number and had to walk back to my car to look it up
  
• It took three pens to write everything down
  
• When I was done I realized that the envelope was sealed shut, possibly due to the weather, and I had to start all over - GRRRR
  

When I was finally done, and after B snidely remarked "write a novel why don't you," we were off happy in the knowledge that we were proactive in getting the car fixed. B assured me that the dealer would call me the next day and handle everything. After all, that's what happened in his experience.

Not so much for me. When I next talked to B at 11 am the following day, I noted that no one from the dealership had called. I decided to be proactive and call them. As I was googling the number, I realized that there was a special body shop and collision department. I then realized that my car was left at service. According to their website there is one mile between the two, however, I surmised that the entire mile is the dealership because it is quite large and surely Service would have gotten my car down to Collision, right? Wrong.

I call Collision and reach a woman who sounds like she smokes Marlboro Reds every 5 minutes only to be interrupted by shots of bourbon. We discuss:

Me: Hi. I want to know if you have my car. I left it at the dealer last night.

Woman: No [sounding surprised] I don't have it!

[Apparently they must not have received any cars because I never really identified my car besides what I noted above.]  Anyway...

Woman: Is it drivable?

Me: Yes, I drove it there and left it at Service with the keys in the nightbox.

Woman: We are in Collision.

Me: I realize that now. However, at the time I did not think of that and left it at Service. I figured they must have driven it down.

Woman: Is it drivable?

Me: YES. I drove it there and left it there. It only has a dent in the rear.

Woman: We don't have it. Are you sure Service would know it should come to us?

Me: Well I did write "In an ACCIDENT, DENT in rear, call for INSURANCE information." You think that would be enough for them to figure out.

Woman: Where did you leave it?

Me: In the drop off area, right in front of the box.

Woman: Is it easy to spot?

Me: It is RIGHT in front of the box with three other cars, first in line. Can't really miss it unless you are not looking.

Woman: Well, we don't have it but I can call them and see if they have it.

Me: Thank you.

About a half hour later I receive a call from Ben:

Ben: Hi. We have your car here in Service.

Me: Thanks. I left it there by mistake. It should be in Collision.

Ben: So I am reading this right, you were in an accident and want it fixed?

Me: Yes, please.

Ben: Okay, but you left it in Service.

Me: I am aware. It was a mistake. Meant for Collision.

Ben: Okay. We will try to get it down there.

Try? TRY? How hard is it to get a car that is DRIVABLE down to an area that is a mere mile from you and in which the entire mile is YOUR DEALERSHIP. I know you have couriers. In fact, those couriers drove me ACROSS THE STREET last time to get my rental. Try? I know you can do it.

And they did. Marlboro Bourbon lady called me an hour later to say that she got it. 

In their defense, I should have perhaps known I needed Collision and not Service. However, in my defense, I do not make it a habit to visit Collision and since my car is drivable, it really shouldn't have been a problem.

I had high hopes for my BFF Ben. Sigh.

In other news, that little fender bender is resulting in an entire new hatch and bumper. Luckily I have the best insurance company around and my deductible was waived and they timely got an inspector out there so the dealership can move on ordering parts.

Yes, they have to order parts.  This could take a while.

I need another Ben.

*I really cannot spell drivable. Holy cow.  Thanks spell check.

Oops I Did It Again!

Well, maybe not me, but the lady behind me.  Another accident~ she smashed all up in my car. While I was stopped at a light and after she had stopped FOR THE SAME LIGHT.  Goodness.  Remember when I thought it was kind of amusing to be rearended because it wasn't my car? Not so funny when it is your car.

I was coming home from my Mom's house all happy and free, enjoying the last couple of days of my vacation.  I exited the freeway, got all the way over into the right lane and stopped behind a van with a trailer attached.  I stopped. A full stop.  A I-had-to-wait-at-least-two-minutes-before-the-light-changed stop.  The lady behind me also stopped for the same amount of time.  The light turned green and everyone around us started to move except the guy in the van with the trailer. I lifted up my hand to tap my horn and...

BAM!

The lady behind me plows into my vehicle.  After my head bounced off the back of my head rest for the second time in a month, I wonder how the hell she had hit me with such force having been STOPPED and all.  Then realizing I was sitting there in drive without braking, I pulled over to the side of the road, got out and saw a big ol' dent in the back of my vehicle at the hatch. She was driving an old Dodge pick up - all metal. I was driving my new Ford midsize SUV - all plastic.  She asked if I was okay and apologized and then suggested we go to the police station. Sounds good. I call B on the way who thinks I should get her license number in case she splits. Of course I am in front of her (which probably isn't a good idea given the situation) and cannot see it. However, she follows me to the police station without incident.  We arrive and so does her husband in another car. They must live nearby because he pulled up simultaneously. I don't know why she called for back up as I was smaller than her and never even raised my voice.  Whatever makes you happy.

We get to the police station only to find that we are at the wrong one.  Off we go to another police station. I call B to tell him.  This time I follow her and her husband follows me. And yep, he almost rear ends me on the way there. How would that be for some irony? Rear ended by the husband of the lady that rear ended you on the way to the police station to report that accident? Luckily that did not occur as I really wasn't in the mood for irony.

At the police station, she proceeds to apologize about 5 more times.  The cop asks what happens and she immediately says "I hit her."   Yeah, what she says.  The cop asked if we were stopped. I respond "I was stopped...." and she says "you had that guy with the trailer in front of you" as if that explained anything.  I know what happened. Everyone went but trailer guy including lady behind me, apparently flooring it, because she wasn't paying attention.

We then all troop out to the vehicles to survey the damage. I notice a piece of something on my bumper. Picking it up, I notice it is metal and does not appear to be from my vehicle.  I go to the front of her vehicle where her and her husband are looking at their damage (a totally smashed grill and possibly a smashed radiator) and ask "is this a piece of your car?"  It was. She took it.  When she looked at my damage, I stated "it's a dent."  She quipped "it looks expensive." Yes, I am sure it is.  Isn't it always?

B surveyed the damage when I brought it home and said "that's quite a dent."  Yep, it looks like I get to visit good ol' Ben at the dealership again. Hopefully he can get this repaired as well as he got the fluid leak repaired.

Starting 2009 off with a bang over here...

Where's Waldo

Here is a real conversation that was overheard in my place of employment the other day:

L and J are talking at L's desk...

L: So where is Vermont? Is Vermont in Connecticut?

J: Um, no, Vermont is Vermont.

L: Huh?

J: It's its own state.

L: Oh, yeah.

Now, it is hard to read a tone of voice, so let me tell you that the last comment of "Oh, yeah" was said in a way that made it quite clear that L had no clue what J was talking about.

No, I do not work at an elementary school. These are professional or semi-professional people in an office setting. And they have an education and degrees! Scary, isn't it? I will be the first to admit that my geography skills have been lacking since I studied the maps, states and capitals in grade school, but I am pretty sure that I would never mistake an entire state for a city! Then again, New York is both a city and a state. I wonder if L knows this.

Perhaps that is where the confusion lies.