Things I Don't Understand-the Saga Continues

I had originally planned to come on here and rant a bit about something. But then that turned into a couple of somethings. And then I just decided that perhaps my rantics would be better suited to a Things I Don't Understand post. And since I haven't posted in awhile (which has nothing at all to do with laziness, I assure you), I bet you are simply chomping at the bit to read all about my daily confusion, aren't you?

So I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. Off we go with list of many things I do not understand...

Why the pump thingamajig (it's a word, I know it's a word, you can't tell me that it's not a word) in my bath products is never long enough to reach the bottom of the bottle. In the name of all that is good and Holy, why oh freaking why isn't the pump thingamajig long enough to reach the bottom? Do they really want us to have to remove the pump thingamajig every single time we need to get shampoo or conditioner out of the bottom of the bottle and shake it out?! Or maybe they just have not yet heard of quality control. Or maybe, just maybe, they really want us to just get so pissed while we're in the shower that we throw the bottle away and buy a new one? Yeah, that sounds about right. For the same reasons they want us to Lather, Rinse, and Repeat: TO MAKE MONEY. Capitalism, at its finest.

Twist ties on bread bags. What genius decided that it is a good idea to close a bag of bread or buns with a wired tie that you have to repeatedly twist, or untwist as the case may be, to get it open or closed. It's. Not. Fun. Like, at all. And you don't even know what fun is until you go to defrost a bag of buns in the microwave, conveniently forgetting that there is a metal twist tie on said bag of buns. And need I say it? It does not play nicely whilst in the microwave.

And speaking of microwaves, I do not understand why sometimes...

Morning People. Seriously. Just stop.

Why the post office lies. At least sometimes. I found a "Final Notice" in my mailbox the other day, for a registered mail small package. That wouldn't be so surprising if I'd actually ever gotten ANY prior notices before the "Final" one. And I watched the mailman put the notice in my box and then walk away--while I was home. Did he knock at the door? No. So I called the post office and asked how this could be--how could I be getting a "Final Notice" on something when I'd NEVER gotten any prior notices?! Their reply? "You should have gotten two prior notices." And yet, I didn't. Even though I was home every day prior to that, following the notice I'd seen online a week earlier showing that my package was "out for delivery." Hmmm. 

And if I hadn't called the P.O. at 4:45pm--only moments after I'd witnessed the mailman putting the "Final Notice" in my box and walking away without knocking--my package would have been returned to its sender the very next day. Yet the post office continued to repeat that I "should have" gotten two prior notices. Yeah well, I DIDN'T! Nor did I receive any knocks on the door when those two prior notices were supposedly delivered to request my signature. 

Advanced Quantum Mechanics. Just sayin.

Why anyone would have the desire to become a proctologist. Does it pay the most or something?

And finally, why some people are obsessed with Damon Salvatore/Ian Somerhalder.

I mean, some people are really obsessed with this gorgeous man and his hotness and acting abilities. No one I know, course. But there are people. You know. Just people. Typing this. Out there.

Yeah, so, the confusion continues. Carry on.

Things I Don't Understand 1-24

It's time to purge again, folks...to unburden myself from the random and yet utterly annoying Things I Don't Understand as I encounter them in my day-to-day life. So pull up a chair, if you're not in one already, and let's have a little looksee, shall we?

People who park their carts at the store in the middle of the aisle, then walk to look at stuff on one side of the aisle, effectively blocking all traffic in either direction until they're finished. I mean, seriously? Why must they do this? WHY?! I swear sometimes I just wanna ram my cart into their cart so freaking bad and scream as I get past them, "just take your cart with you, for the love of God!" 

Parents who let their children turn around and stare at you while you're eating in a restaurant. Yeah, your child might be cute and all, but do I want to stare at him/her while I'm trying to eat? No. There's this thing called manners. You should maybe learn them and then share them with your child. Just sayin.

Men whose jeans are way too tight. Because. Ew. And because you really might want your sperm at some point later on.

People the Hubs who watch certain movies Transformers over and over and over again and yet complain when you want to watch a movie that you've seen before. If I want to watch Pitch Perfect for the 24th time, then the person who's seen Transformers 37 times should not be asking, "haven't we seen this before?"

Rampant misuse of the apostrophe. My big pet peeve here is when people put an apostrophe on plural words. It's maddening, I tell you, simply maddening. So hopefully this will help those of you out, who are sometimes in doubt, about how to use an apostrophe.

And lastly, I really do not understand telemarketers. In this day and age, with all of our technological wonders, why can we not put an end to telemarketing? It baffles me. And I have a personal and poignant message to the select callers that seem to call my home repeatedly, either daily or multiple times per week:

That's all the things I don't understand for this week, folks. Have a fab weekend. :)

5 Things I Don't Understand About the Hubs

Let's face it: there are a LOT of things I don't understand about the Hubs. About men in general really. But that's OK because, you know, ignorance is bliss and all. But sometimes I get to thinking about things the Hubs does, and I just feel compelled to turn it into a blog post for a small but undoubtedly hip portion of the whole world to see. And maybe some of you will be able to relate. And then we're like...bonding. Or something.

So here are 5 things I don't understand about the Hubs.

Why does he put his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor before he showers--when the laundry room is but a few wee steps from the bedroom? I mean, he can literally take 3 steps from our bedroom door to the laundry room door--and just another 2 steps to hit the laundry basket. Why is that so difficult? He does usually get it there eventually, but sometimes the clothes sit there for quite awhile. Taunting me. It's like he knows I have just enough OCD tendencies that I'll be forced to pick up the dirty clothes and make that laborious-five-step trek to the laundry room on his behalf. It's dark. Sinister really. Like some evil Jedi mind trick or something.

Why must he use multiple napkins at every single meal? I can get by with one napkin--or even no napkins most of the time. But him? No way. He always uses more than one napkin; usually three or four. And I just don't understand the need for that many napkins. Seriously. How many trees must be sacrificed on a daily basis all in the name of him wiping his face 133 times per meal? One. Is. Enough. Just put the napkin down, fella.

Why must he wear socks to bed? I'll never understand this. He says he doesn't like the feel of the sheets on his feet. And no, it's not the sheets--because he's done this with every single set of sheets we've ever had--no matter the cost of them or the thread count. And what's worse is, he frequently gets hot and/or sweaty in the night--fall, spring, summer, winter...makes no difference. I tell him it's because of the socks. The socks trap heat in. He doesn't believe me, of course. But no matter, I just don't understand the whole smother-your-feet-with-socks-in-bed-and-get-all-hot-and-sweaty thing. I'd never wear socks to bed. Unless...

Why does he sneeze through his nose? He's always done this for as long as I've know him. It's one of his greatest mysteries. I don't understand how or why he does that. It's not...normal. We've debated about this for years, to the point where he even asked the doctor about it, who said it was fine that he did that. It may be 'fine,' but it is not normal. I've told him before (not that he remembers) to look at babies and children sneeze. How do THEY do it? Through their mouths--like A-CHOO. Why? Because that's N-O-R-M-A-L. It's automatic. We don't have to stop and think about it, it just happens that way. From. Birth. But not with him, no. And I'm sorry, it's just weird. Whenever I see him do it, I'm just...

And finally (at least for today), Why does he use sour cream on his baked potato whenever we eat at a restaurant, but when I have sour cream at home he never uses it? It's just not logical.

But hey, my mental confusion about the Hubs has at least allowed me to use Michael Jackson and Spock Reaction Gifs in the same blog post. So really, it's all worth it in the end. Right?

Things I Don't Understand - Bathroom Edition

For whatever reason, there seem to be some Things I Don't Understand today. This isn't shocking, of course. It is just my way. And as is also my way, lucky you, I'm going to share with you these things I don't understand, all related to things in the bathroom.

Why does Shower Gel expire?  Seriously. What's in that stuff that makes it expire? And what happens if I take a walk on the wild side and use the shower gel after it expires? Will I get a rash? Will it burn? Will I sprout horns or webbed feet and become a genetic mutation of my former Tinalicious self? 

  

Why do the blades in my razor rust? Isn't that just trouble waiting to happen? I mean, if I cut myself with my razor, and if I haven't, say, had a tetanus shot in awhile, couldn't I, like, get lock jaw...and die maybe?! Think about it.

Why am I the only one who realizes that the toothpaste tube should be squeezed from the bottom? I'm right, right? Or is there something wrong with me? Hmm.

Why the Hubs can't see a crooked bath mat. Dude. If I can see that the bath mat is crooked, then HE can see that the bath mat is crooked. This is not rocket science, fella. And no, it's not saying more about my OCD tendencies than about his ability to rectify stray bath mat problems. Sure it does say something about my OCD, but that is not the point. No. It's not. I just think it's logical enough to figure out: if you move the bath mat from its original anally-aligned position, then you are perfectly capable of moving it back.

Even though I'm the one who almost always has to replace the toilet paper roll, why do I still forget to check the status of the roll before I sit down to do my business?

If I'm at home, this isn't as big of a deal. I mean, who hasn't done the penguin walk with their pants down around their ankles to go fetch another roll of TP? We've all done it. But what about when the roll is empty and you're in a public place? 

Anyhoots, I think that's enough pondering of the great mysteries of things I don't understand--the bathroom edition. All this potty room talk is making me have to pee.

Befuddled Blog Post

I thought I'd start September with a cleverly named blog post. I challenged myself to use a word in the title that I had not used before, and "befuddled" fit the bill, so there you go. It's a good word, no? And it aptly lends itself to my mood and should serve to set the tone for this entire post about the many Things I Don't Understand for today. So let's get right to it, shall we? Come on, don't try to mask your enthusiasm.

First, I don't understand Hoarders. Not just the show, which is a never-ending lesson in redundancy (let's face it, it's the same show every week, where only the faces and location have changed), but I mean, the hoarders themselves. I can't wrap my brain around how someone can literally amass mountains of clothes, household items, trash, animal feces, and/or other piles of poo in some form, and NOT understand that they have a slight problem. Or if they do understand, they get pissed when they have to start getting rid of their crap. Heaven forbid you throw away that empty toilet paper roll--Lord knows how much sentimental value you must have attached to that. Not trying to sound harsh, because I really do feel for those people. But I will never, ever, understand them.

Some other randomness of things I don't understand...

19 Kids and Counting. Seriously. Don't get me started.

Toddlers in movie theaters. I mean, really?

Cowlicks. OMG (and I don't wield those OMG's haphazardly!). I have one, my daughter has one, and my poor grandson has one. They both blame me, of course. But who am I supposed to blame?! They are stupid cranial annoyances with even stupider names. Cowlicks. As if it's not bad enough to deal with on my head, I have to feel like I've been licked by a cow too.

White clothing that cannot be bleached. WTH did they do to it to make it non-bleachable? And WHY?!

Why Heidi has to introduce the judges on every single episode of Project Runway. Come on, Heidi. Those of us who have watched the since the beginning know who the judges are, and the newbies really don't care.

Rubber testicles that guys hang off the back of their pickup truck. Dude, you're not fooling anyone. We know yours aren't that big, and the fact that you hang them there for all to see pretty much tells us all that you're probably coming up short in that area. Is that really the message you wanna send?

Why The Boob Lady (a.k.a. Giada, a Food Network chef), pronounces all of her food words with an Italian accent...but speaks normal English for everything else.

When Facebook friends post something that says you should post it as your status for an hour, to support some sort of "cause," and then basically infer that you're scum if you don't do it. Exactly how is my posting a paragraph of text doing anything for anyone on any day by any stretch of the imagination? And if you're my "friend," why are you trying to shame me into doing something in the first place?!

The God channel on TV. You don't get bonus points for watching it, you know.

And finally, neighbors who let their dog crap in my yard. My dog is dead, so I know he's not crapping there. So they shouldn't be surprised when I lose it at some point and start throwing all that crap back into their yard where it belongs.

ABCs of Baggy Pants

Obviously, there are many Things I Don't Understand. That's a given. But one thing that really gnaws on my nerves is baggy pants on guys. It's so annoying. These guys have what I call the ABCs: Ass Butt Crack Syndrome.

I mean, seriously. WTH?!

Baggy pants do not a fashion statement make. And surely Coco Chanel would agree.

I know I may be old. And I don't exactly keep up with the fashion trends of the day. But I mean, come on, people. What is cool about your exposed underwear? Or worse yet, in some cases, your butt crack? It's NOT cool! It's not, I tell you.  It's weird. It's sloppy. And it's ass-inine.

Let's face the fashion reality that even un-trendy old gals like myself can understand: baggy pants are S-T-U-P-I-D! They don't make you cool. They don't make you hip. And I can prove it.

Exhibit A, Elvis: Cool King (Never wore baggy pants!)

Exhibit B, James Dean: Cool Rebel (Never wore baggy pants!)

Exhibit C, Johnny-You-Wish-You-Were-This-Cool-Depp (Oozes cool even when he's a pirate and doesn't wear baggy pants!)

If that's not proof enough, answer me this, guys. Are you trying to hide something? I mean, back in the day, lots of men used to wear tight pants. And their tight pants, you know, showed stuff. And people thought it was just so tacky to just flash your jewels, so to speak. But at least we knew they had some jewels then. With baggy pants who the hell knows? So are you trying to just disguise the fact that you are, um, short-changed in the jewels department? Because honestly, that's what I think when I see baggy pants on a guy--he has to be hiding his shortcomings.

Newsflash, guys: girls like to see the shape of your ass; they don't want full view of your underwear. And they certainly don't want to walk beside a guy who is so "cool" that he has to hold up his pants while he walks. As if. 

Girls want a guy with SWAG. Not bag or sag. And if you have baggy pants on you cannot have SWAG. E-V-E-R.

Things That Make No Sense Today

Do you ever just have one of those days where a bunch of things you see, read, do, and/or hear just don't make much sense? Today is one of those days for me. So, unlucky you, you get to read all about the random Things I Don't Understand today. Brace yourselves. I feel a little case of TMI coming on.

First, I'm eating ice cream. This is not exactly a revelation. But I don't eat ice cream very often, because it tends to give me something that rhymes with the fits. I'm kind of lactose intolerant and/or suffering from IBS and/or suffering from Colitis, which actually is a form of IBS, I think [but I'm not a doctor, so let's not get picky on this point].

But regardless, I try to avoid dairy products as much as possible--but sometimes, what can I say, an ice cream just sounds good. So, even though I've had something that rhymes with the fits all day long, I'm sitting here throwing all caution to the wind and eating ice cream, regardless of the potential consequences. Makes no sense.

Also,  I was watching TV earlier while cooking dinner--and yes, I have a TV in the kitchen, which I bought "for the Hubs," but which also happens to benefit moi (I'm not stupid, after all). And The Barefoot Contessa was on.

No, not this one...

This one...

She's one of my favorites on the Food Network. Ina is a great cook, has a fabulous home, and some really hot male friends to boot.  I'll let you decide which of those things interests me the most. But anyhoots, I tuned in just as she said the following (or something to the effect thereof):

"Somehow I got left responsible for making breakfast. Not sure how that happened."

Um, hmmm, let me think on this for just a second, Ina. Could it be, yeah, because you're the Barefoot Contessa maybe?!

Seriously, what kind of question is that for a chef to ask? Makes no sense. And I really don't understand.

And then there was something that my sweet niece posted on Facebook today.

"If you believe in God, re-post this! Please don't ignore, you are being tested, for it says in the Bible: Deny me in front of everyone, and I will deny you in front of my Father...97% of you won't post...will you? I did."

Love my niece but I'm sorry, that made me literally laugh out loud. My simple reply to that was this:

Somehow, I think God is too busy to read Facebook.

Honestly, I cannot stand things posted on Facebook or on Tumblr (I have 2 Tumblr blogs, BTW) or Twitter or anywhere else, where the post is asking--or demanding, as the case may be--that you re-post something, and if you don't then you're some sort of bad person or something bad will happen or whatever it is. It's ludicrous. And annoying!

Sorry, but I don't believe God reads Facebook. But even if he does, I don't think he's using Mark Zuckerberg's billion dollar baby as his means of testing people's faith. Somehow, I think he has better ways of doing that, and far better things to do with his time. One can only hope. Could I be wrong? Sure. But it still makes no sense.

6 Random Things

Not that I sit around pondering these kinds of things very often, nor do I have a true need for any sort of explanation, but I thought I'd just share a random list today of Things I Don't Understand.

1. Music on Websites and Blogs. This really confuses me, and it's freaking annoying to boot. The other day I was blog hopping, since I had work I didn't want to do nothing better to do, and I had about 15 different tabs open in my browser. And then all of a sudden music started playing. FROM 2 OF THEM! So there I was clicking on tab after tab after tab, trying to find the source of my irritation, so I could close the offending tabs.

I just don't understand people's desire to play music on their site. Do they think that we don't have our own music? Do they think we need to listen to their music in order to get something out of their website or blog? Or do they just enjoy irritating the crap out of surfing strangers and sending them on their merry way?

Newsflash to the music players of the world: if we want to listen to music, we will listen to our own! And um, if your goal is to drive people away from your website or blog the moment we arrive at it, well then, great job, and carry on.

2. The Hubs' Movie-Viewing Habits. I love my man to death, but seriously, he makes no sense sometimes. I will come into the living room and see him watching a movie on TV that we own on DVD. Now had I asked him to watch that on DVD, he would have sighed or let out an disapproving grunt. And yet he will watch it on TV. With commercials.  I truly don't understand that.

And on a side note, if he's channel surfing and comes across the Transformers movie, he will stop and watch it. Every. Single. Time. Even if it's half over.  Even if he just watched all or part of it three days prior. And um, hello? We own that DVD too. SMH

3. Parallel Parking. I mean, for real. Do I need to elaborate? But I will just say that I think parallel parking was invented by men. To torture women. And old people.

4. Why Women Squat in Public Bathrooms. The Squat. This vexes me. In theory, women squat to avoid sitting on someone else's urine on public toilets. But am I the only woman on the planet that realizes that the only reason urine gets on the toilet is BECAUSE YOU SQUAT?! Yes, girls, I believe that's what we call irony.

5. Why Bags of Chips are Only Half Full. Why can't they just make the bags smaller? Or here's an idea: put more chips in them! It's not rocket science, people.

6. Why People Ask, "How Are You?" Just think about it for a minute: when you ask someone that question, do you really, really want to know the answer? I mean, let's say someone is getting over the stomach flu and their dog ran away and their grandmother died and they're about to go into bankruptcy, do you really want to know that? No, of course you don't. You just want them to say, "I'm fine," and then go along about your day, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil they might be suffering at any given moment.

Which, if you think about it, is why Facebook is so successful. Someone can pour their heart out in their status, and you don't even have to reply. You can just "Like" their status. So, maybe instead of asking "how are you?" we should just Facebook each other face-to-face. One person can say, "Hello" and the other can just say, "Like" and thus bypass all the verbal feigned interest in one's personal well-being.

But Heaven forbid we let Facebook de-personalize the art of  one-on-one conversation, no?

Have a super Saturday, gang.

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.

Can You Hear Me Now, From Aisle 5?

Is it just me, or is there a new breed of shoppers at the local grocery store? You know the ones I mean, right? They're pushing their cart, they're grabbing some Funyuns, they're changing their mind about their bologna, and shoving it onto a shelf next to the paper plates while making sure no one is watching...all the while chatting incessantly to their BFF...on their cell phone.

Since when did talking on the phone while grocery shopping become the chic  thing to do?! As if dealing with self-involved shoppers who drive their cart down the aisle like they're the only ones in the entire store isn't bad enough, no no. Now we have to put up with them screeching and hollering into their cell phone to boot. And are they blocking your access to the Pop Tarts? Well, uh, sorry, you're going to have to hope and pray for a dropped call before it would even occur to them to get out of your way.

Whatever happened to the good old days, when going to the grocery store meant that the rudest thing you had to put up with was someone who was willing to arm wrestle you for the very last package of Buy One Get One Free 12 Roll Packs of toilet paper? Those days are long gone, my friend. Yesiree. Now they'll not only arm wrestle you, but they'll give the play-by-play of the whole scene to that BFF on the other end of the phone call, and they'll be referring to you in less than flattering terms, as if you aren't even standing just twelve inches away from them while they do it.

Don't get me wrong, I think cell phones are great. And I will admit to having called the Hubs a time or two from the grocery store, asking if we need one gallon of milk or two. But I sure as heck don't spend countless minutes chattering on and on about mindless drivel, completely oblivious to my own volume level, and all at the expense and annoyance of the rest of the shoppers, who clearly just want to get their groceries and go home.

Seriously. What is wrong with people? This is one of those things I really don't understand. If you want to chat up your best friend while shopping, here's an idea: bring them with you! Get in some real, quality, one-on-one face time, and get your shopping done all at the same time.  {They call that multi-tasking, I believe.} And then the real bonus is, the rest of us won't have to hear you yelling into your cell phone, to your BFF, "Can you hear me now, from aisle 5?!"

Typos, Price Tags and Elephants, Oh My!

Just some more random things I really don't understand...

Typos in books: Isn't it someone's job to make sure that doesn't happen? I mean, they get paid for that, right? So basically, they are getting paid to make mistakes. Um, where can I sign up for that job?

Non-Removable Price Tags: I cannot stand when I buy something that I can't get the price tag off of. What genius thought it was OK to stick a giant price tag on the cover of a book with adhesive so strong you could more likely permanently glue an elephant to the underside of a 747 than remove the sticker from the cover of a book? Someone needs to talk to the dang Post-It Notes guys and see what glue they're using. Sheesh.

Celebrity Sex Videos: What is it with celebrities and their sex videos? Doesn't being a celebrity kind of imply that you are one of the people that should never make a sex video?! And considering how quickly videos go viral on the Web, that should be a little bit of a wake-up call to the wanton celeb porn stars out there. Does their fame and money really impair their judgment that much? And do they really have nothing better to do? Maybe someone should just write a celebrity manual.

Rule #1: Don't make a sex video.

Rule #2: If you do make a sex tape, don't complain when it hits the Web and the evening news. (You're famous, what the hell did you expect?!)

Rule #3: Apologize to your mother when you break Rule #1.

Tabloid Journalism: Isn't that an oxymoron?!

Pop Up Tape: Really now, pop up tape? Come on, people. Have we gotten so lazy that we can't even tear off a piece of tape from a roll dispenser? Heaven knows it takes an incredible amount of physical strength and exertion to tear scotch tape! Don't strain yourself or anything.

And finally...Frozen Dinners: Just the idea of them boggles my mind. They're basically leftovers that have been frozen and thrown into a cardboard box for the enjoyment of those with clearly discerning palates. I know a lot of people who won't touch leftovers, but who love frozen dinners. What the heck is the difference? Oh yeah, you have to buy the frozen dinners.

This is what our society has evolved to, folks...being able to enjoy a frozen dinner while reading a book filled with typos and a torn cover,  created after you've spent an hour trying to remove a price tag that's been affixed with super glue, and having to repair it with your handy dispenser of pop-up tape; afterward, you can catch up on all the literary masterpieces to be found in your favorite tabloid, which will surely also provide you with the website link of your favorite celebrity sex video.

God I love this country. ;o)

Random Things I Don't Understand

This is just a list of random Things I Don't Understand.

The TV Show, Operation Repo.

Are we so hard up for new reality TV shows (because obviously, there aren't enough of them already on the air) that we need to watch a show about cars getting repossessed?! It's the same show every time, only the faces change: weird repo folk go to repossess some cars; car owners who haven't made their payments get pissed off; car gets repo'd anyway. Uh-huh, yeah, that's must see TV.

Why men can go around with their shirts off and that's legal, but if women do it, they'd get arrested.  

Now let my clarify by saying, I don't want women to be able to run around topless (though I'm sure most men would like that). But I don't understand the sexist law that allows men to do so with no fear of consequences. Most men should not be topless anyway--it's just not attractive, nor is it necessary! Is it really so unbearably hot that they can't tolerate a sleeveless shirt like we women can? Puhleaze. Put on a freaking tank top and get over it already.

When it became acceptable to go out in public...in pajamas.

Every time I turn around anymore, I see folks at the grocery store, at the video store, at the mall, you name it, wearing every manner of slumber attire. What is the deal here? Is it so much work to just throw on sweats and a t-shirt, if nothing else? Or do they think that we're too stupid to see that they're actually in their PJ's? Or maybe, just maybe, they think they're starting a hot new fashion trend? OK, unless you're 3 years old, it ain't cute, people. And it's the exact opposite of a fashion statement. Act like a grown up and get dressed.

Weight loss infomercials in the wee hours of the morning.

I was up at like 4am recently, and I was amazed at how many infomercials were on focusing on weight loss. They were on a disproportionately large number of channels. Infomercials about diets, exercise machines, pills, you name it. So my question is this: do they really think that fat people have nothing else to do at 4am? Or perhaps they think that fat folks crawl out of bed at that hour, to grab an early snack and maybe watch TV at the same time? Or do they just think that fat people only watch TV in the wee hours of the morning? I just can't figure that out.

Email hoaxes that never die.

I swear, it never ceases to amaze me how many times the same email hoaxes keep circling the planet over and over and over again, and how it's possible that anyone has the nerve to forward them to all their friends, let alone believe what's in them. You know the ones that tell you...your deodorant will cause cancer; your cell phone number is getting released to telemarketers; the Neiman Marcus cookie recipe; the guarantee of hundreds of dollars for forwarding a stupid email to ten of your closest friends. I've gotten these emails at least a hundred times each, along with almost every other stupid email hoax that's ever seen the light of day. And why? Because some poor sap out there is forwarding the same email that ten of his closest gullible friends did, and their friends did, and so on, and so on, and so on. WAKE UP, WORLD! 99.9% of the crap you read about in an email is just that, crap! And the only reason it keeps resurfacing (some of it for over a decade!) is because you send it to all your friends instead of doing the only thing that should ever be done with it: DELETE IT!

OK, so there are my random things I don't understand for today. And now there is a cup of coffee with my name on it and some real work to be done...after I delete a bunch of bogus emails.

Things I Don't Understand About Men

I'm an educated person and I'm reasonably smart, but there are still plenty of things I simply cannot wrap my brain around. So I thought I'd get Tinalicious and add a category to the ole blog called Things I Don't Understand. And this post will mark the first installment in my perhaps futile attempt at understanding. Today's topic: Men. And these are in no particular order. I'm not going for rank and order here...just going with the proverbial flow.

Why do men hock up phlegm? And furthermore, how did they learn such a disgusting habit? I mean, really, do their dads pull them aside at a young age and teach them how to do that? Or are they genetically predisposed to such an excess of phlegm that it results in them hocking up those snotty wads? I have never once hocked up a loogie in my entire life. I can barely imagine it, let alone actually do it. Gross, man. Gross.

Why must they flip channels on the TV....so freaking much? The Hubs does it ad nauseam during every commercial break. And the hilarious part is, he will flip and flip and flip so much, that he will forget what channel he started on to begin with, which results in more flipping in order to find it! Commercials are annoying, I get that. But why is it so hard to just sit there and wait for the show you're watching to come back on? Or how about taking a potty break or grabbing a little snack? Better yet, grab me one! My theory? Commitment Rebellion! Makes no difference if they're in a committed relationship or not; either way, they want to rebel against commitment whenever possible, even if the behavior is completely subconscious! Think about it: if they flip the channels, they aren't truly committed to the show they were watching--it gives them a sense of power freedom to flip through all 108 channels, even if they forget what they were watching in the process. And they avoid using turn signals for the same reason; Heaven forbid they should change their mind at the last minute...and have to turn the signal off (Lord knows how strenuous that would be!). And they sure can't allow their driving to be controlled by a commitment...to traffic laws.

Why can't they leave the thermostat alone? In my mind, the thermostat only needs two settings: 65 degrees in the winter (for heat) and 73 degrees in the summer (for air). If it were up to me, there'd be no changes and no in-betweens. The Hubs--like many men I know--has different ideas. The same guy that can work outside in 10 degree weather without ever getting chilled has to come home and wanna crank up the thermostat because he's cold. WTH? He's also the one sitting around in just a bathrobe or cotton pants with no shirt. Ummm....PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! And hey, grab me a snack while you're at it...and leave the thermostat alone. Sheesh.

I'm sure I'll continue on this topic again in the future. There are so many things I don't understand about men, but my brain is turning to mush and needs a blogging break. One can only be so thoughtful and witty when the eyelids are winning the battle with the brain. G'night, all!