I See Your Barf Bag and Raise You a Bloody Napkin

Did you hear about the woman who was forced to stay on a flight for 10 hours while sitting next to a corpse the entire time? If not, you should read it here.  Her story reminded me of my story that, although it did not involve a corpse, came pretty close.

I am actually referencing # 11 on this list.  It was on a flight back from #1 on that same list.  My coworker and I were on a return flight from Vegas. We were in a three seat row with I on the end, my coworker "S" in the middle, and unknown passenger by the window.  At first, it started off fine. One of our seminar speakers sat down. Boring as he may have been, it would have made our flight a lot more bearable if he had stayed put. Unfortunately, he was traveling with his wife and wanted to sit next to her. So, when her seat mate showed up, I asked if they could switch seats, being the nice person that I am. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 1.

New guy immediately sat down, put his head against the window and passed out. He reeked of alcohol and looked disheveled.  S was not amused. We took off and all seemed to go well although we kept a worried eye on Drunk Guy. Within 20 minutes, Drunk Guy jumped up, yelled "I HAVE TO GO TO THE RESTROOM" which spurred me into such immediate action, I spilled my drink.  He then proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes in the bathroom banging around.  S was SO not amused.  

He came back, sat down and grabbed a barf bag.  I warned S. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 2.  She basically started sitting in my lap in order to avoid being thrown up on. While this was occurring, I realize Drunk Guy has a bloody nose and is wiping it with the barf bag.  I immediately tell S to watch out for wayward body fluids. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 3.  Now S is over my lap and in the aisle declaring that she cannot and WILL not sit next to the guy. They have to move him to some other part of the plane. Panic has set in.

After assuring her that there was no secret place on the plane to put a grown drunk man, I come up with a solution - we switch seats.  All this does is manage to calm her growing panic. However, we spent the next three hours half perched in our seats looking warily at drunk guy expecting the worse.  Any idea how uncomfortable that is? Hugely.

Good news! Drunk guy never puked next to us. In fact, he never moved again.  Bad news! He continued to bleed all over himself until such time as I offered him a napkin. He was down to wiping it on his coat collar.  Sexy!

I learned a lot that flight.  First class is always a better option. You might still have a drunk as a seat mate, but you will have more room. Also, know your coworkers and their phobias before you go on 3 hour plane rides with them. 

I can only hope Drunk Guy learned something too.

Doubtful.



 

How YOU Doin? And Other Creepy Things to Say to People

Remember when Joey from Friends would say this all the time and the girls would fall for it, but when other every day people said it, it sounded creepy? Or when men 20 years later still try to say it? Or when I just used it in my title?

So creepy.

That is not the only way to be creepy, however.  I recently found out that I am quite capable of being unintentionally creepy. Unfortunately, I found this out at the office.

You see, we had a bunch of new people start recently. I decided to be proactive and introduce myself to them as I encountered them as no one seemed to be walking them around for introductions.  So I walked up to a young lady, roughly 20 or so, and intended to say "nice to meet you" and "welcome aboard."  Instead, the following occurred:

Me: Hi! I don't think we have met. I am me.

A: Hi. My name is A.

Me: NICE...

Me: Welcome aboard.

You know what a dragged out NICE sounds like without a "to meet you" after it? CREEPY. Even I was creeped out! Yes, I even unintentionally creeped myself out.

I quickly tried to explain what I was trying to say and thought to myself that it wasn't at all as bad as I imagined.  That is, until one of my support staff said "Well, THAT was creepy."

Signing off as the unintentionally creepy stalker person at work,

 

Girls Just Want to Put Their Foot in Their Mouths

Is anyone watching the show Girls on HBO? No? You should. Like right now. Stop reading this blog, go on demand it and you will be caught up in no time.  Seriously. They are only half hour episodes (in HBO land, that is roughly 22-27 minutes).  Once you are done, report back here immediately and go on to the next paragraph.

Okay. Caught up? So Girls is an awesome show mostly because it is awkward. At first B made fun of me for watching it. Then he declared the main character "awful." Now he deserts me in mid conversation to "go watch an episode of Girls." Yes, I can hear him laughing all the way upstairs.

You still haven't watched it, have you? Shame.

Watch this clip:

and this one:

Well, I had my own Girls moment the other day at work.  I will let you be the judge:

Girls episode:*

Guy: Open your eyes...surprise! 

Girl: Gasp

Guy: Do you like it? (pointing to lack of hair on his head)

Girl: No, I don't f'g like it! It looks like $hit!

Guy: I did it for Cathy.

Girl: Who the f$ck is Cathy?

Guy: The woman at work who has cancer.

Girl: Oh, great! Now I look like the a$$hole.

Dani's life:

Dani: G, what happened to your hair?

G:  I shaved it on Friday.

Dani: Oh, good. I thought you were going to tell me you had cancer cause you look like you have cancer.

G:  Actually, my friends and I all shaved our heads for our friend who has cancer.

Guess who looks like the a$$hole now?

 



*Sadly no clip for this awesome scene can be found.


**B also says the main character, Hannah, reminds me of him.  To which I responded: 
Me: Gasp!
Me: Wha...?
Me: How?
Me: Wha...?
and he responded:
B: See above story.

I May Have Heels and You May Be Closer But I Will Win

Not everything in my life is a competition, however, I will admit that sometimes I see a competition where none exists. At other times, I create a competition that might not otherwise have been there.  For example, the other day I had to go to an ATM by our house on my way to court because I have to park where they only take cash. Again with the cash only! I never have cash.  So, anyway, I pull up to the corner bank in a dubious area and ponder parking in the fire lane since it is a walk up ATM and the parking spots are about six feet away. Since this bank was near where I got a ticket last year, I decided not to take my chances and park legally.

Into the first parking spot I went. Just as I was turning my car off, this minivan pulls up and parks in the fire lane. The van is a mere two feet from the ATM and I am pissed! Because of my good citizen ways, I am going to have to wait for another person to use the ATM.

Unless I beat them there first, that is.

Just as the guy was getting out of his car, I was out of mine and running in high heels and a suit.  I jumped a curb, ran through some grass and some bushes and got to the ATM in time. I resisted the urge to yell out "FACE" or some other sort of "nah nah" sentiment and hurried my transaction along.  I turned to find the guy leaning against his car.

Guy: You beat me.

Me: Yes, but you got that awesome parking spot.

Guy: But you are wearing a nice suit.

Me: Touche

Okay, I didn't actually say that last thing, but he did compliment me on my suit. I only slightly felt like an ass.  I also felt like an Olympic athlete.

Then I went to the car to catch my breath.

Poka to You, Poka to My Sanity

The building where I work houses a variety of different ethnic groups and we constantly hear a billion languages being spoken at once. This is particularly true on the floor my office is on as there is another business there that is quite large and employs a good number of people.  We will hear them in the hall on their quick 5 minute breaks speaking Chinese, Spanish, Russian and some other ones I probably could not identify.

So when I was in the bathroom yesterday, I was not surprised to hear two women speaking to each other in Russian.  However, I did not expect a voice from the stall next to me to demand from her stall that they entertain her by providing Russian words:

Russian ladies: {speaking Russian I do not understand}
Stall lady:  Say "Goodbye" in Russian!
Russian ladies: {more Russian}
Stall lady: SAY "GOODBYE" IN RUSSIAN
Russian ladies: Poka
Stall lady:  GOODBYE, say it in Russian
Russian ladies: POKA
Stall lady: What?
Russian Ladies: POKA
Stall lady: Huh?
Russian Ladies: It is easy, poka, P-O-K-A
Stall lady; Poka?
Russian Ladies: Yes
Stall lady: Well then POKA
Russian Ladies: Poka to you

Poka indeed.  I am pretty sure their next word the said as going out the door was Russian for fool.*

*That's "durak" people. Spelled phonetically of course.
**The More you Know...

I Think This is My Floor, Even if it Isn't.

Guess where I am? Why, yes, preparing for another trial. Not like I didn't just have one last week.  Not like this trial isn't practically the same trial from last week.  

Man I am tried.  

Until this trial is over, I leave you with another court related story.  This one from about a year ago. Yes, I am THAT behind in my post writing.

So I was in an elevator at court, the same court I will be in this week, when a guy gets pushed onto the elevator with a bailiff. There is already one bailiff on the elevator, I notice.

I sense trouble.

A couple of floors later my friend gets on the elevator. I tug on her sleeve so she moves behind the troublemaker.

A couple of floors later a THIRD bailiff gets on the elevator.

Then the trouble starts:

B: You are leaving the building

G: No I'm not. I got business here.

B: I don't care what you got, I am making you leave the building.

G: MAN YOU CAN'T DO THAT.

B: YES I CAN. AND I WILL. YOU ARE LEAVING. YOU CAN SAY WHATEVER YOU WANT.

Me: Can we discuss this on the ground floor?

G: I know what this is.

B: CALL IT WHATEVER YOU WANT, YOU ARE OUTTA HERE.

G: I know what you are.

B: I really don't care what you think I am.

G: I know what you are.

B: Whatever.

G: You are jealous.

I know what you are thinking. What in the hell were they even talking about? I have no clue. I think there was about to be some accusations of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other ism you could think of by G.  However, I am fairly confident that no matter what was going on, the bailiffs were NOT jealous of G.

I was just glad to be outta there myself.

Crime Watch Wednesday - You Can't Ring My Bell, Even If I Asked You To

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us yet another tale of a suspicious man that turns out not to be all that suspicious after all.  It was just about this time last year that I brought you the story of the man who thought he was going to be murdered because someone had the audacity to ring his bell?  This one is even worse, folks.

A woman reported a suspicious looking man possibly attempting to break into her house around lunch time. She told police that he was knocking on her door and she was afraid that was the gateway action to actually breaking in. When police responded and demanded identification from the man, it turns out he was the woman's insurance agent and was there for an appointment that the woman had just made the day before. His story was confirmed with the woman. There is no indication as to whether she actually purchased insurance that day.

I know I was harsh on the first guy last year. Ignore your doorbell, no one is murdering you and so on. This woman?  She made an appointment THE DAY BEFORE.  Since she made the appointment, I can only assume she knew WHAT TIME HE WAS COMING. Therefore, she should have know the man KNOCKING ON HER DOOR was the guy SHE INVITED OVER.

Maybe I am asking for too much here?

Also, I have never had an insurance salesman even offer to come to my office let alone my house. I remember one time I had to sign some official paper crap (seriously not even necessary) and they wanted me to drive over an hour on my "lunch hour" to their office. Um, hi! I am your customer.  Could you perhaps do something to accomodate me?

Yep. Still bitter.

What Happens If You Unfriend Your Only Friend? Are You Friendless or Are You Free?

I heard somewhere that today is National Unfriend Day or something. Facebook users are supposed to pare down their friend list and get rid of the unnecessary bulk.  This topic is extremely timely as I have found that I have recently been defriended by a few people.

Now, I do not particularly care if someone defriends me. Except maybe my mom, although she is not on Facebook.  Okay, maybe my brother, my husband, my best friend, that would be sad.  Random people that I reconnected with, but haven't really talked to much? I take no offense.  Time is short. Life is hard. Facebook is full of posts.  Although in my defense, I don't post a lot. Wait. Maybe I am boring people?

In any event, I typically only notice I have been defriended when it is someone that posts a lot and then all of a sudden they stop.  No, they didn't stop. They are still posting endlessly on Facebook, I just don't get to see it.  On to the next 100 posts from friends and family.

But you know what is strange? When you get defriended by someone who only has one friend on Facebook - YOU.  Seriously this just happened to me. Actually, I don't know when it happened because you are not exactly notified when your friendship has been deactivated.  I will pretend it just happened.

So, I am going through my old facebook messages and I find one from this friend that I invited to Facebook. That's right, he wasn't even on Facebook until I came calling. Better yet, I was his only friend. That was a bit strange.  You know what else is strange?  He would post things to his wall, news articles and tidbits and I realized, as his only friend, he was posting directly to me!  Was I supposed to comment on every thing he posted? Why did he think I wanted to read articles from the Wall Street Journal? Was he trying to tell me something?  I guess now I will never know.

You know what is stranger? He is still on Facebook. Without any friends.  Yes, I have been defriended by someone who would rather have no friends than be my friend.  It is like he is the king of Facebook, but he doesn't have any subjects.  

Facebook = bringing people together, tearing them apart, and killing all self esteem.

Now who can *I* defriend??

I See Your Quarter and Raise You a What the Hell Just Happened?

Getting through the security lines at the courthouse is always an adventure. There is one particular court that is always changing the rules - keys out, keys in, no cell phones, who cares about cell phones, feel free to bring your bayonet in by all means.  There is also no telling as to what will set the metal detector off except that it undoubtedly will not be metal.

So it was no surprise that we were waiting there, me and 20 other people, stuck behind a lady that basically had to undress to get through.  I could sense some annoyance coming from behind me, but I decided to focus on my own annoyance instead. First mistake.

As soon as the woman in front of me was cleared and before I could even think to take a step toward the detectors, a woman behind me practically barges her way through me to get into line.  My usual decorum evaporated:

Me: "Oh, EXCUSE ME!

Lady: "What?"

As I stand there with my arms open wide and about to shout "what do you think", she points to the ground behind me and says "There's a quarter."  

Here's where I would tell you that I retorted with a "Nice try old woman. Don't try to distract me with shiny things.  I don't need money that bad" while pushing her out of the way and running through the metal detectors screaming "I am coming your honor."  Sadly, that did not happen.

What happened? I was totally caught off guard and turned to find that there WAS a quarter there on the ground. I then wondered why there was a quarter there and how she knew there was a quarter there and if she was a member of MENSA.  Meanwhile, she was through the detector and off like an apparition.

That is, until I caught up with her on the elevator and she proceeded to answer her cellphone like this:

I AM ON THE ELEVATOR IN COURT AND I CANNOT TALK RIGHT NOW SO I WILL HAVE TO HANG UP, BUT WHY ARE YOU CALLING?

Luckily, I got off one floor after the phone call came in and before I totally lost my hearing.  Later when I relived this event with those that I work with, I could only think of one thing:

I really wanted to pick up that quarter.

Crime Watch Wednesday - Pump Up the Jams, Turn Off the Cats

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us the tale of someone who was fed up with being awoken at 5:30 a.m. every day, and we are not talking about B.

A woman contacted police at 5:30 a.m. to report loud music that she believed was coming from the newspaper delivery person's vehicle. Sure enough, the police responded in 15 seconds and found that it was indeed the newspaper guy's car. The suspect was very sorry.

Maybe the lady could have just asked the newspaper delivery person to turn down his radio? She was already up.  You know, lady, the police have better things to do than ask a guy who is rightfully regretful to turn down the tunes.

For example, perhaps the cops could take care of those crazy street cats that are always tearing it up around midnight while I am just falling asleep. You know the ones I thought were going to get Brad? I am pretty sure if I approached them, they would just claw my eyes out.

Or what about the two dogs behind us that bark for hours on end. That is fun at 7 am. On a Sunday.  THAT IS MY DAY OFF PEOPLE.

Or what about the three cats I have in my house that occasionally act like street cats downstairs while I am trying to sleep and although I have visions of things shattering all around the house, I am too tired to get up and yell down "KNOCK IT OFF!" which never works anyway.

Or the bad karaoke singers who decided to sing show tunes just as we were going to bed at 11:30 p.m. one night?  We had to shut our window on a nice balmy summer night.

What is my point? I will tell you.  The newspaper delivery man is on your block for maybe five minutes tops.  Street cats? They fight ALL NIGHT LONG. It's their gig. Grumpy dogs? HOURS.  Inside cats that think they are streetcats?  A good half hour or more.  Crazy karaoke singers? I don't know, I shut the window.

In the time it took you to make that call, you could have just thrown a pillow over your head and gone back to sleep.  Or I don't know gone to work, like the delivery guy who is trying to earn a living to support his family or his drug habit. Doesn't matter.

Your far more annoyed and less sleep fulfilled neighbor,

Reunited and It Feels and Tastes So Good

B and I weren't the only ones that were happy to have Brad home. Jersey and Brad like to pal around even though it inevitably ends with Brad's head in Jersey's mouth or Jersey chewing on Brad's ear. Until that point, though, it is love.

I submit the following evidence. These pictures were taken after I told Jersey to leave Brad alone and then a few minutes later discovered that she had "trapped" him under my desk:

One of my favorite pics:

And this one:

By now Brad was purring away:

He could feel the love:

And right about here is where it all went downhill:

Until that point, though, it was love. Just like every morning when we wake up and go downstairs, Brad appears in a flash, rubbing against Jersey, wanting to love her, loving their daily reunion.

Speaking of reunions, I had my high school reunion this weekend. I won't even tell you what year. Let's just say it wasn't a single digit. The closer it got, the more I contemplated not going. After all, I knew most of what was going on in everyone's lives via Facebook and the people that I hung out with weren't going to be there. But B said it would be good for me to be social. Please. What does he know? 

What can I say about reunions? Some people grow up and a very large group never change. Some people still feel rejected despite the fact that they are a fully functioning adult, other people just don't care. The best part by far was watching a group of grown ass women shaking it to old school rap like Too Live Crew. As I said to B, "can you imagine if a current sophomore from my school wandered into this room right now?  That girl would say 'what is with all of these old chicks'?"

The other best part? The food. We love food. There was a strolling dinner featuring an Asian fusion station that was fantastic. I think that is all I ate. I also tried the Caprice salad station but it is a little hard to fashion a salad like that on a plate. It just looks like you are eating a piece of cheese on a tomato with random olives. Or so says B.

Can you believe that the planning committee is already talking about the next reunion 5 years from now? Ugh. One girl at the party remarked "it seems like we should be old but I don't feel old" to which I responded "that's what old people say."

I wonder if I will even get an invite.

Now That I've Got You on the Hood of My Car, Isnt iPod a Funny Little Word?

I recently won an iPod touch in one of the contests I entered.* Unfortunately, it was the exact same size as the one I already have. When it came, though, B thought it was a good prize and even high-fived me. I asked if he wanted it and he replied with a limp "I guess."

Later that week, I brought it up again because I only wanted to give it to him if he was actually going to use it. Otherwise, I could upgrade my Mom's pod or give it to someone else. So, at dinner, I ask him if he would really use the iPod and then it happened. The word "iPod" seemed completely alien and foreign to me.

Me: Isn't iPod a strange little word?

B: I don't know. Sounds about right to me.

Me: I don't know what happened. It just sounds WRONG to me. Before I felt that way about the iPad, but somehow that seems normal to me.

Don't you hate when that happens? A word you have been using for years, decades even, sounds completely alien to your ears in an instance? Please tell me this happens to other people and I am not just slowly going crazy.

In any event, on the way home, before discussing the lyrics of Little Red Corvette, we nearly hit a woman jogging. As B pondered why people jogged in the street, I pondered why people wore iPods while doing so.

Me: Be careful! That lady is going to run right out in front of us.

B: You would totally gasp if we hit her.

Me: Yes, I would. Yes, I would.

Me: Then you know what I would do?

B: What?

Me: I would say "Why in the hell are you jogging in the STREET?"

Me: and then "Also, why would you wear an IPOD while doing so?"

Me: and "Isn't iPod a funny little word"?

B: I bet she wouldn't find it funny.

Me: No, she wouldn't. But I sure would.

I wonder, had we hit her, would we have made the Crime Watch Chronicles? What would the catchy title have been? "Jogger is Singing a Different Tune after Being Hit by Vehicle She Couldn't Hear?"

Isn't tune a funny little word...

Crime Watch Wednesday: Ring My Bell at Your Own Risk

Remember the last time I posted a Crime Watch Wednesday? My OWN Crime Watch Wednesday that never made it into our crime watch chronicles despite how amazingly hilarious it was? Well, yes, I am still bitter. Why? Because instead of my awesome misdelivered package/horror story/the call is coming from ACROSS THE STREET debacle, the chronicles have just chosen something utterly stupid.

Now I know you are asking yourself - "Really? How could someone calling the cops over a misdelivered package with the recipeint's phone number on it NOT be the dumbest thing ever to call your town's cops about?" Well, readers, let me introduce you to the guy who doesn't know what a doorbell is for:

A local resident recently called the police after someone rang his doorbell. He told police that he was not expecting anyone and, thus, he found the ringing of his doorbell to be a huge breach of security. Apparently the alleged perp a/k/a person ringing the doorbell had not received the resident's security policy. The man was also disturbed because it was 6:00 pm and past his bedtime. Before calling the cops, the man was nice enough to send his son outside to see if there was a burglar or murderer out there. However, no one was seen. The police also attempted to locate the doorbell ringer with no luck.

Someone rang his doorbell. HIS DOORBELL. Why else would you have a doorbell? Hell, if you are expecting someone, then you could just open the door when they arrive with no need for a doorbell. DOORBELLS ARE FOR STRANGERS TO ALERT YOU THAT THEY ARE ON YOUR PORCH. Generally, they mean no harm to you. In fact, I would venture that someone that wanted to hurt you would probably not be so brazen as to ring your bell.

In other news, you are a terrific parent sending your son out there to explore what you feared. You are an even better citizen for sending our police out there to locate this dangerous perp. We can all sleep better tonight. And by tonight I mean at 11 pm. That is when it is really dark.

Dear unknown scared man: the next time someone rings your bell, ignore it. Or, if the noise scares you, disable it. That is what we did.* We have no idea who is on our porch and we like it that way.

In other news, who didn't think of this song when they read this post?

*Actually ours has never worked. Then again, we have never tried to fix it, have we?

And Then the REAL Dani Came Out

I have been at the new office for just over 6 months now. I may not have told you I got a new job, but I did shortly after I had my gallbladder removed. I love the new office and the people I work with, which is always a plus. I do miss some of the people that I used to work with, but we try to stay in touch.

Anyway, as those of you that have had more than one job know, when you start at a new place you tend to be quieter, more reserved at first. The same is true of me. Although right now I know some people reading this are probably screaming "LIAR" at the screen. I said MORE reserved, not totally reserved. Later, though, at some point, you feel comfortable enough and the real you comes out. That happened to me with my new colleagues just the other day.

I went to lunch with three other female attorneys. There was a wait and we had to give our to the host who said it would be a 10-15 minute wait. Then a party of 3 came in and gave their name. Then a part of 2 came in and the host SAT THEM AT A TABLE FOR FOUR. So I started to get a wee bit irritated. Then the host took 4 menus and put them at a table of four without taking anyone there. I looked at a woman in the party of 3 and said "is he seating invisible people now?" She just shrugged while also looking perplexed. The host then came over and SAT THE PARTY OF 3 that came in after us. I truly thought my head was going to explode! The minute he came near me, I lunged toward him with my finger out and growled "I ASSUME we will be seated now." My coworkers were shocked and amazed. The host? Not so much. Do you know what he said?

"I already have a table for you."

Um, where would that be exactly or do we have to psychically find it I wonder? He then points at the table where he put the menus. Now how in the heck were we supposed to know that we were to sit there when the HOST did not seat us? A woman from my office asked "are you going to walk us there" at which point I muttered "apparently NOT" and led the way to the table.

That, my friends, is the real Dani.* She's back. She's bitchy. And she's been storing pent up rage and incredulous disdain for MONTHS.

Watch out.

*Actually, it is Stage 1 Real Dani. Stage 2 would probably have involved another head explosion after the host pointed to "our table" and perhaps some cursing. Okay. Definitely some cursing. Stage 2 has not yet been revealed.

Who Doesn't Like a Side of Stalker with Their Compliments?

Sometimes people like to compliment you. Sometimes people like to sexually assault you. Sometimes the line between the two is awfully blurry.

Take for instance a couple of weeks ago when I stepped on to the elevator. There was already a a man on there. I smiled politely then went to my corner of the elevator.* That is when this occurred:

Man: You look nice.

Me: Thank you.

Man: No VERY nice.

Me: Thank you?

Man: I mean VERY!

Me: Um, okay...

Man: Not just normal nice.

Me: ?

Man: More than average.

{Doors open}

Now, at first, I thought this man was really nice. However, the more intense he got, the more concerned I became. I was not quite sure how to handle it. As we only had two floors to go down, I knew that we wouldn't be in there together long and I did not want to escalate the situation. So I simply smiled and said thank you as many times as I could muster. Once we reached the main floor and the doors opened, he was greeted warmly by the security guard and the janitor. That made me feel a bit better as at least it wasn't a stranger off the street.

After telling that story to a few people, it was mostly forgotten until I was leaving work one day recently and passed by the elevators on my way to the bathroom. That is when I noticed I was walking right by that same man, but on my floor this time. That is when this occurred:

Man: ....Class

Me: You have a class?

Man: No YOU have C-L-A-S-S

Me: Um, okay. Bye.

Look, I am a girl and I like to be complimented. I like to be told I look nice, even VERY nice. And it is nice to be told I have class, whatever that means. However, it is not nice to feel potentially stalked and/or that I am about to be subjected to stranger danger at any minute. So, gentlemen please note - when giving a compliment, be sincere, thoughtful and NOT CREEPY.

Meanwhile, I will be carrying mace.

*It is perfectly acceptable to go to a corner of the elevator if there is just you and another person on there and you are only going a couple of floors. However, if you think that at any time the elevator will be crowded, always stay up front, preferably by the emergency button. Find out why here.

If You Don't Cooperate, I am Sending the Lion After You

We are in the waiting room for blood draws only.

You are in your dress pants, dress shoes and undershirt, having already removed you dress shirt, suit jacket and top coat in anticipation of having your blood drawn.*

So when the nurse comes to the door and calls you name, you look more than a little bit foolish when you look up and answer "What?" as if you have no clue why she is there.**

On another note, is a sexy lion costume really appropriate for a doctor's office or any office for that matter?

Halloween brings out all of the freaks.***

*I typically do not completely undress to get blood drawn from my ARM, but that's just me.****

**The appropriate response is to smile and/or say "yes", as you get up and move toward the nurse. It is not proper to just sit there with your newspaper saying "what" repeatedly. Take note half dressed man!

***Or is that a full moon? I can't keep this straight.

****I also do not get undressed in common waiting areas. Again, that's just me.

Flashback Friday: The Dating Blues

Recently a woman went on the date of her life. Not in a good way, however. You see, at the end of the date, the guy asked for her car keys because he forgot his wallet and he took off with her car. Carjacked, robbed and stood up all on the same date. Isn't that something? It was the talk of all of the radio stations around here and the DJs asked for callers to give their best "worst date" story. That is when I remembered this:

Flash back about 6 years ago. I was headed out of town to a legal conference with my boss. You will remember him from here. Anyway, at these conferences, vendors would wine and dine us. This time was no exception. One of the vendors set up a dinner and conference at the House of Blues. Sounded like it would be a fantastic time. My boss thought it would be better if I had a date. I really didn't care one way or another, but didn't mind a little adventure. So he called an attorney who he knew in that city and arranged for one of his associates to accompany me to the dinner and a show. We talked before I headed out of town and he seemed normal enough. He was an attorney - meh, but other than that all was well.

On the night of the dinner, many of the attendees and the vendors knew about this setup so all I hoped is that it would not be awkward*. Soon enough he showed up, we found each other and proceeded on our "date." He was nice enough, average looking. During dinner we had some conversation, but mostly it was group conversation. It was a really nice dinner - steak, seafood, appetizers. I recall at the time the talk around the table was about The Passion of the Christ as it had just came out. My date was Jewish. However, I did not sense any uneasiness on his behalf.

Around 10:30 or so, we all headed down to see the concert. I grabbed us a table with some of the other attendees. Then my date said he had to go to the bathroom and would be right back. After he left, I turned to say something to one of the guys at the table when I realized:

...he took his jacket with him...

...to the bathroom...

that man was NOT coming back. I was flabbergasted. Heck, if he wanted to leave, all he had to do was say it was late, he had work, fake a phone call, yawn a lot, but to PRETEND to go to the bathroom never to return? This was an adult!

So I tell the guy at the table what I suspect to be true. Then the vendor host walks by and asks where my date is, so I tell her too. They assure me he will return. No. Nobody takes the coat with them to the bathroom.

He never returned.

I got stood up in the MIDDLE of the date. Classic.

The next day I told my boss who promptly asked what I had did to cause such a thing to occur. Right, because I totally deserved to be left in the House of Blues like that.

I stood my boss up for dinner that night.

What comes around goes around.

*Right now, B is reading this and saying OCKward. He thinks that is how I pronounce it. Now I insist on only pronouncing it with a British accent.

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: Take a Bite Out of This!

This week's crime watch chronicles bring us the tale of the utility worker who couldn't run fast enough:

A utility worker was bitten by a large dog while performing his job. The worker was approached by the dog in the driveway of a home. When the dog didn't like the worker's reason for being there, he bit him. The owner of the house, home at the time, refused to respond to the worker's screams for help. Luckily a nearby neighbor came to the rescue with peroxide and a bandage. Sadly, the neighbor did not have a rabies kit nearby. When questioned by the police, the homeowner claimed that it was not his dog and he did not believe the dog had actually bit the man and the dog was on a leash at the time. The police witnessed two puncture wounds on the worker. The police also noted that the dog was on a very long leash that allowed the dog to walk down the driveway and approach those in the neighborhood. Charges are pending against the dog for assault and battery and against the homeowner for being a bad neighbor.

Hmm...maybe I made that last part up? The point is, your dog, or the dog you were watching, BIT someone. The dog punctured the man's skin while roaming on its very long leash down the driveway. The least you could do is offer some assistance to the man. I know you are afraid of being sued, but pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away.

When I was a young teen we had a crazy dog aptly named Bandit*. This dog was NUTS. She would climb, not jump, but CLIMB our chain link fence to get out and run the neighborhood. Her favorite things to do? Chase cars. And not just like in the cartoons. She would chase a car, get IN FRONT OF IT, make it stop and try to bite its bumper. I cannot tell you how many times in my life I spent chasing that dog. In a car. That's right. She would only come back to you if you drove by, she chased you, stopped you, you opened your door and then she jumped in happy as a clam.** Despite her insanity, she loved everyone (except the Rottweilers across the street and small kittens or puppies) and never bit anyone.

Until she bit someone, that is.

At that time Bandit was older and couldn't really jump or climb the fence. She really didn't have the energy to chase cars either. Thus, she was able to spend more time in the backyard without our fearing we would need to grab our car keys at any minute. There was a young boy next door that would pet her and talk to her and she would lick him. One day, we decided to put Bandit on a leash in the front yard while we were on the porch. Like the owner above, it was rather a long leash but it did not extend past our front grass. At the time, I was on the porch. The young boy from next door ran past Bandit and screamed a little "you can't catch me" song and Bandit caught him. And bit him. She was old and cranky.

Now, unlike the guy above, I did not deny what happened. I jumped up, made sure the boy was okay (he had a scratch and no puncture wounds), went and got his mom and explained what happened and apologized. All was well. We did not get sued, Bandit's leash got shorter, and our neighbors still liked us.

Lesson: Apologies, peroxide and a bandage go a long way.

Denial fools no one but yourself.***

*When my Dad first told me we were getting a dog, I wanted to name her Scruffles. I was 13. Too old to have thought that shit was cute. Lucky for Bandit, she looked like a bandit. Lucky for me too as I cannot imagine running through the neighborhood yelling SCRUFFLES.

**This was not good because Bandit would get into anyone's car that opened their door. One day I was chasing her and someone tried to take her. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let them. They had no clue what they were getting into. RIP Bandit.

***I am so deep and profound. I also sound like a fortune cookie. One of those bad ones that tell you proverbs but not your FORTUNE. Grrr.

Things I Learned Today and Other News...

Well, those of you that follow me on Google Reader just got a surprise post that was a bunch of crap and incomplete sentences. Now YOU learned something today. Yes, I email myself half completed thoughts and sentences and then I spin brilliance from those words. And by "brilliance," I mean the following:

Here is a brief synopsis of my day, what I encountered and what valuable things I learned that I need to pass on to you if you are going to make it in this world:

~Yellow cupcakes with rich chocolate frosting makes 9 am at the office on a Monday 1000% times better.

~Squealing like a little girl, clapping your hands and declaring it the "best Monday EVER" because of said cupcake makes the chance of a huge raise 1000% less likely.

~Men exiting their cars at truck stops will burp. Loudly. Said men may then look at you to inquire as to whether (a) you heard that and (b) if you think it is sexy. I prefer to deny both.

~Truck stops that look like a Trader Joe's inside equals my idea of high class peeing on the road. It may even tempt me to buy a scratch-off lottery ticket and dream of being a millionaire to spend all of my time in Trader Joe's.

~Having an abundance of scratch off tickets in your purse while being searched at the courthouse will cause the officer to give you a crazy look somewhere between "we are all normal and one" and "you are one of THOSE crazy people." Then the officer will say "I hope you are not one of those crazy people that scratch these right there in the store" thereby securing the fact that he thought of you as the latter and not the former. You decide now is not the time to point out that you are not that person since the lottery tickets are NOT SCRATCHED. Oh and why are you still hand searching purses in this century? Haven't you heard of xray machines? All the cool courts have them.

~If you are at a bowling alley bowling with small children and have the chance to partake in bumper bowling - beware! If the bumper becomes dislodged DO NOT attempt to fix it yourself. It could result in a severed pinkie finger. At least it did in the court case today. Do you really want to have to file a lawsuit for your missing finger and gross me out in the process? Let the pros do that. And by pros I mean the 20 year old boys they pay $6.00 an hour to rack shoes. They obviously know what they are doing.

~A cupcake, truck stop, lotto ticket, severed finger and burping man already makes this week better than last week when I got someone fired* and made someone cry** all in the span of 5 days.

~Fall is here. Actually, it feels like winter, but I do like the colors:

Yes, I take terrible pictures while driving. What do you expect? I am supposed to be DRIVING.

This one was better. I love red trees. And red bushes. B - you need to get on that. Thanks.

~If you want your Halloween decorations to freak me out, do not put up a skeleton, or the grim reaper, or a witch, or Jason or Freddy. Just put up a normal scarecrow but HAVE HIM TURN AWAY FROM ME:

Blair Witch anyone?

So disturbing.

*I did not, in fact, get anyone fired. Yet I got blamed for it.

**I did not, in fact, make anyone cry. I also got blamed for that. Two for two!