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Random Rantics and Murphy’s Law

Just some things I feel like ranting about…things you can probably attribute to Murphy’s Law, or something equally as sinister.

Why is it that as soon as you finish spending over an hour shoveling your sidewalks, driveway and patio areas, it starts snowing again…and even harder than it did before? And you know darn well that if you had waited to do the shoveling, it wouldn’t have snowed again at all. What is that about?

I hate washing my car because doing it myself is a giant pain (so I don’t) and going through the car wash is so, you know, strenuous…or at least expensive. So I don’t do it often. But when I do, you can bet your bottom dollar–or mine, more like–that it will rain within a half an hour. There are 365 days in a year, and I probably get my car washed on 3 of those days. You’d think that the odds would be a little bit more in my favor. Come on, Mother Nature, show some pity!

Why can I go the whole day sometimes without the phone ringing, but then as soon as I sit down to eat dinner, that damn phone will ring. And who is it? A telemarketer, of course. You know what, Mr. Too-Lame-To-Get-A-Real-Job-So-You-Harass-Folks-On-The-Phone-Instead? Interrupting my dinner, which I have so carefully and almost lovingly prepared for the Hubs and myself, and pissing me off in the process, is not really the best way to get a potential commission.  Here’s an idea: how’s about you give me your phone number, and I’ll call you back when you’re at home eating? Better yet, how about I wait until you are nestled in your comfy bed, sleeping off the remnants of the crappy karma that your job generates on a daily basis, and then I call you, eh? A-hole.

How come people have to put music players on their websites? Do they really think I enjoy surfing, landing on their site, and then having the c-r-a-p scared out of me by their music as it comes blaring out of my speakers? Just because they like the music, does not mean that everyone else will.  And I personally do not like the sticky goo that now covers my monitor, caused by the too-numerous-to-count times that I have been jerked out of my seat at loud website music, resulting in the uncontrollable projectile spitting out of my  favorite beverage. {OK, there’s not really goo on my monitor, but there could be. And my point is still valid regardless. } Here’s a tip to all the annoying website music lovers out there. You can listen to music without making us listen to music. You don’t have to hijack our speakers and bombard us with your favorite ditties (did I just say, ditties?!).  Just turn on your stereo or ipod, or flop a CD into your computer.  Turn it up. Go crazy. But leave the rest of us to listen to our own music, if and when we choose to. Our PC monitors  will thank you.

And one more for the road…not only does this one baffle me, it seriously makes me question the future of humanity. (All right, I might be exaggerating, just a little.) One of my husband’s business bills came the other day; it’s for a credit card on which he purchases materials for customer jobs. Nothing amiss, just a typical bill, or so I thought…until a few days later, another something arrived in the mail from that company. Inside were the coupons that were mistakenly left out of the invoice mailing, along with a letter explaining that they’d apparently neglected to include their regular coupons with their monthly invoice.  So let me see if I have got this straight. They generated and printed a letter, stuck it in an envelope, along with the missing coupons, and affixed postage and sent it on to us with their sincerest apologizes for this incredible oversight on their behalf.  Apparently the crappy economy isn’t affecting those idiots at all. How much did it cost, I wonder, for them to send out this missing coupon mailing to who knows how many people? Guess I see now where our credit card interest is going. Sheesh.

Here’s to you, Murphy, or your evil twin, as the case may be.

Tina Siggy

The Germ Factory

Once I get about this far into Winter…you know, when it’s so cold outside that even the inside of the freezer feels like a trip to the Bahamas (OK, so I’m exaggerating)…I start to become obsessively-compulsively aware of what a giant germ factory we live in.

Germs are flying, floating, and crawling everywhere this time of year. If we’re not trying to prevent them, we’re either trying to battle them with every manner of pharmacological warfare at our disposal, or we’re on the ever so prolonged road to recovery.

I admit it: I have issues with germs. But my personal pet peeves about germs and bacteria have less to do with the little bugs themselves, and more to do with people’s ignorance about how to prevent the spread of their nasty germs to the rest of us innocent bystanders. It never ceases to amaze me how people wantonly infect perfectly healthy friends and strangers alike, simply because they are too stupid or too apathetic to prevent it.

Here’s a perfect example. The Hubs and I went to our favorite Chinese Buffet this evening for dinner. I’ll admit, I tend to avoid buffets this time of year for the very reasons noted above. I mean, if you really stop and think about the number of germs that are lingering on the buffet utensils alone, it would be enough to make you stay home. (Or, at least, it should be.)

Just picture if you will the person who was down with a nasty, gut-wrenching two-day stomach virus–who couldn’t even keep down a glass of water up until 8 hours ago–cruising through the buffet tables in front of you, touching every single utensil as he fills his plate. Do you really want to load up your plate using those same utensils? Is the all-you-can-eat fried rice really that important to you?!  And will you still think so when it’s coming back up tomorrow? I think not. (BTW, this is precisely why I travel with anti-bacterial sanitizer, and I use it liberally when I eat at buffet places; it may not be fool-proof, but it’s better than nothing.)

And then there’s the lady I observed at the buffet this evening. She had a full plate in her left hand, and was getting another plate to fill. She looked at the 6 stacks of plates. She took her right hand and rubbed it around the surface of the plate on the first stack. But she doesn’t take that. No, she repeats this plate-rubbing on the top plate of the next stack. She did this three times, until she finally found a plate that was acceptable. WTH?! Not only do I wonder if she was sick yesterday (I guess the people who ended up taking the plates she touched will find out soon enough), but I am willing to bet that this twit is also a habitual  double-dipper at parties. Chips and Dip, anyone? Sheesh.

The simple truth is that probably half of the people who get sick each year, if not more, could avoid the illness all together with just an ounce (hell, even an iota!) of prevention on the part of the folks who go around carelessly infecting the rest of us.  So here are a few tips on how to keep your germs to yourself. And if you already know these things, perhaps you should share this blog post with those who live in the land of infectious ignorance and bacterial bliss.

  1. Wash your hands. Seriously. Germs can’t swim, so drown the little suckers. It’s the one form of murder that is totally acceptable, and even encouraged. Use soap, warm water, and do it for 20, count ‘em, 20 seconds! You should be washing for the amount of time it would take you to sing the entire “Happy Birthday” song. Go ahead and sing. Get your groove on. No one’s listening.
  2. Cough and sneeze into your elbow. Yes, I said your ELBOW. If you use your hand, you’re gonna touch something, and probably before you wash your hands. And I don’t want it to be my hand that you’re touching, or my coffee mug, or my door handle! But if you do use your hand, see #1.
  3. If you are sick, STAY HOME. Clearly you did not wash your hands enough and you got somebody else’s bug, so stay home and keep your germs to yourself.  And I prescribe some chicken soup, and one complete viewing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. That ought to make you feel better in no time.
  4. If your kids are sick, then keep them home too.  Do you want the next epidemic in your child’s school on your shoulders?! Of course not. And while they’re home, this would be a good time to practice hand-washing and the proper form of  coughing and sneezing.
  5. Don’t touch your face. This is an important one, and all too often overlooked. Germs get into your system in one of three ways: your eyes, or your nose, or your mouth. If you touch a germ-ridden surface, and then, say, rub your eyes, or scratch your nose, or (ew) lick your finger…what’s going to happen? Anyone, anyone, Bueller?  Yeah, I think you get the idea.

While I do accept the fact that I cannot prevent all illnesses, it sure as hell won’t be for lack of trying.  That doesn’t make me a germ-o-phobe, as much as some people might like to think. Frankly, if that were true, I wouldn’t even leave my house. I’m simply cautious, for one very simple reason: I DON’T LIKE BEING SICK! Do you? I didn’t think so. So I arm myself with my arsenal of preventive wisdom, and a little hand sanitizer, and I greet the world each day saying…

Welcome to the Germ Factory.

Grocery Store Goob

Ever have repeated run-ins with one major goob while at the grocery store? You know the kind I mean…kind of stupid, kind of oblivious, kind of really super annoying?! Apparently, goobs are in their element at the grocery store, and it’s just my luck to have run into one during a quick jaunt to the corner market today.

First, he nearly nicked me with his cart, because apparently, my wide frame was outside his range of peripheral vision and he couldn’t see me, being all of 16 inches away from him. No apologies from the goob once he realized his faux pas either. Typical.

Shopping Cart

Then, a few aisles down, I see a shopping cart sitting unattended in the middle of the typically-too-narrow grocery store aisle. It was positioned cockeyed in the center, so that there was no room for anyone to maneuver past it. And just as I’m wondering to whom the aisle-blocking barrier belonged, I look up to see Mr. Goob, standing ten feet away, perusing the chips and dip selections. He was completely oblivious to the fact that three people had to change course to bypass his basket blockade; either that or he thinks he owns the store and can park his cart wherever he pleases. Either way though, he’s still a goob for having left it there in the first place.

I finished grabbing my goodies for the taco dinner I had planned for this evening, and headed for the “express” lane, which we all know has about as much validity as “fast food” does at the drive-through. But anyhoots, I get in line, look up, and guess who’s ahead of me? Uh-huh: good ole Goob. Does he bother to place the plastic bar behind his order to separate it from mine? No. But what he does do is become fascinated with the credit card swiping machine, and the fact that it is on a base that can spin all the way around. He looks befuddled as the cashier (stifling a chuckle herself) explains to him that it swivels so that she can see it, to assist customers if need be. Sheesh. It’s not rocket science, fella. Neither is the fact that he has to sign the machine for his pending credit card purchase, which seems to really confuse him. But he manages to close the deal and be on his merry goob way.

Finally, thinking I am free of the whole goob experience, I get checked out and head to my car…but not before the goob manages to speed past me in his circa 2002 Pontiac Grand Prix in the parking lot, and a little too close for comfort in doing so.

Reasonable Facsimile of the Goob's Car

Reasonable Facsimile of the Goob's Car

What is WITH this goob anyway?! Pedestrians have the right of way, last time I checked, and he in no way made any effort to yield to the pedestrian (me, of course) in his path. And thus, that annoying idiot went from goob to A-hole, in my book, in one swift shot!

He turned down the same row as my vehicle was parked in, just as I was unlocking the driver’s side door. I glanced at my car, a 2007 Pontiac Grand Prix, and then back at his, and I had to laugh. All I could think was, yeah, Goob, this is what a REAL Grand Prix looks like. Immature, I do confess. But hell, what else have you got when your opponent is a grocery store goob? If nothing else, I left there knowing that my Grand Prix could kick his Grand Prix’s ass. And that he would always, forever more, be a goob.

My Grand Prix

My Grand Prix

Now I’ve gotta cook some tacos!

Category: Rantics  Tags: ,  One Comment

A-Choo

Yes, I’m sick. I have a nasty, unwelcome cold (yeah, like a cold is ever welcome!) that has rendered me absolutely useless, whiny, and annoying to everyone around me for the past four days. OMG, FOUR DAYS? If I’m only at day four–and feeling worse rather than better, that means this will not be a quicky seven-day virus. No no, oh joy of joys, this will likely be a ten-day reign of infectious terror that will ravage every cell in my aging body. A-choo.

OK, so I’m being a tad bit melodramatic. It’s just a cold, right? It could be worse; it’s not like I have the Swine Flu or something. But man, what is it with colds? Shouldn’t there be a bodily limit on how many colds one has to endure in their lifetime? If there were such a limit, surely I’d have met mine long ago, after catching most of my daughter’s colds, my husband’s colds, and the colds of many a sneezing/germ-spreading student when I was a teacher for a decade! I’ve had more than my fair share of colds in my forty-two years, if I do say so myself. Sniffle.

Think about it: doctors say that there are over 100 viruses that cause the common cold (which, just FYI, is why it’s not possible to cure a cold…because it would be impossible/impractical to diagnose which virus a person is infected with at any given time); they also say that the average person gets up to 4 colds per year. So with that bit of enlightened medical insight, shouldn’t I have had every single cold virus possible by the age of 30…at the latest?! Yeah well, so much for statistics. They should revise that to say that the oh-so-lucky-few-and-far-between get 4 colds per year…the rest of us get screwed. Cough.

And what is it with cold medicines anyway? Why can’t they make one that actually works? My left nostril is so plugged that I’m getting a migraine trying to breathe through it, and there is no decongestant that works for me. Yet it says, right on every decongestant box I’ve ever read: temporarily relieves nasal congestion due to the common cold. Do they really expect us to believe that it worked on the lab rats, but it’s not gonna work on us? Or is it just one big pharmaceutical lie…something those drug-makers sit around laughing about at our snot-nosed expense? Sniffle.

But puh-lease don’t tell me to breathe through my mouth. There is nothing worse than the duty breath and chapped lips that result from breathing through your mouth. Like it’s not bad enough that I’m sneezing every five seconds, blowing my nose enough times to single-handedly keep Kleenex in business for the next 40 years, and snoring loud enough to wake the dead (and The Hubs!). Yeah, I really want to have breath that smells like poo and cracked lips to boot! I think not. Hack.

I just want to breathe, people. Is that asking so much? I’ll tolerate the lethargy and nose-blowing, and the occasional coughing. I’ll even put up with the incessant sniffling. But just let me breathe–through both nostrils! Seriously.

A-choo.

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