My place of work is professional. Jeans are NOT an option. Closed toe shoes are the norm. But there is always that one rogue in the bunch. That one person who shuns society. That introvert that hates all that is decent and proper. We are never postive who that person is, they cover their hatred for society so well.
But you ask me, how do I know I work with such a person? Let me tell you how I know! THE PHANTOM TURD! Yes my friends, a random turd found floating alone in a toliet bowl. As if left by some miricle of nature. Some random act of God himself. But we all know God has nothing to do with this. It's horrific, it's scary, it's GROSS! Somebody, convinced themselves that leaving a random, lonely turd in the toliet would somehow be OK. That nobody would be replused and totally mortified at the near sight of this thing.
When I came upon such item, I believe a noise not normally found in nature came out of my mouth. I was shocked! Mind you, I always look at and in a toliet before using. Not too sure why I do, I just do. Maybe it is the countless things on the internet that suggests I may get bit on the ass at one point in my life. But the internet did not prepare me for a floating, phantom turd.
After my intial shock of seeing a turd that 1) wasn't my own or 2) that didn't come from my offspring. I spoke outloud, "oh, I'll get it".. in a tone reserved for most teenagers when asked to get something for you. I know nobody heard me, but I needed to express my disqust one way or another. Because, here is the deleima. I couldn't leave it there. If the next person that comes in and had seen me walk out, I would be forever pegged as the PHANTOM TURD BANDIT. Then I would forever be doing the "walk of shame" from the bathroom each day, and people, I drink a lot of water!
Now, I look around for any shifty eyes, or suspicious actions. I will locate the Phantom Turn Bandit and maybe give them a quick lesson in the art of toliet flushing!
-Katherine, AKA "TURD BUSTER"
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
It finally happened.
I have been married to the same man for over 15 years. For those 15+ years we have been given little to no notice to family functions. Usually, it's a passing word of mouth from one cousin to another. Maybe asking, "will I see you this afternoon for so and so's party?". For years, I have tried to give sublte hints, requesting an invitation to these family EXTRAVAGANZAS. I have gone out of my way to send personal ivitations to each and every family memeber when I have an event. ( thank you cards as well) Most of the time, my husband's family couldn't grab a hint if I hit them with it. I have even gone to the extreme of not showing up. The funny thing is, some of my in laws, think telling ONLY one person about their party, means the rest of us will some how telepathically know when and where to show up and why we are even there.
But, it finally happened! Yesterday, I recieved a cute little inviation inviting me to our nephews party. It explained, when, where, and what time. It was wonderful. I beamed with pride. The spelling was correct (more pride!), it was age appropriate. It was perfect!
Now, I have no more excuses. I guess I better go!
But, it finally happened! Yesterday, I recieved a cute little inviation inviting me to our nephews party. It explained, when, where, and what time. It was wonderful. I beamed with pride. The spelling was correct (more pride!), it was age appropriate. It was perfect!
Now, I have no more excuses. I guess I better go!
Sunday, July 19, 2009
If you want me to be there.......
Is it so incredible hard to give fair warning for a family event? I realize I won't be getting a formal invitation. I realize that I am probably one of the very last people on your list to be contacted. But giving me and my family a phone call in desperation that the "family event of the year" is happening in less then three hours and our being there is the very important, is just not right.
I wonder why my family acts so shocked when I arrive late and leave early? Are they that surprised I am not bringing any food to this function. Are they shocked when I don't help set up or clean up. I sure hope not. Because clearly everyone else got the memo to participate, just not us!
So going forward, if you want me and my family to be at any family function I am going to require some sort of notice. Our family is very busy! As all families are. Dropping everything we have to attend a party just isn't going to happen anymore!
( I will let you know how this works, August is a busy "family" month for us. Usually, we get a phone call at work telling us that there will be a family fiesta at 4pm that day! )
-Katherine
I wonder why my family acts so shocked when I arrive late and leave early? Are they that surprised I am not bringing any food to this function. Are they shocked when I don't help set up or clean up. I sure hope not. Because clearly everyone else got the memo to participate, just not us!
So going forward, if you want me and my family to be at any family function I am going to require some sort of notice. Our family is very busy! As all families are. Dropping everything we have to attend a party just isn't going to happen anymore!
( I will let you know how this works, August is a busy "family" month for us. Usually, we get a phone call at work telling us that there will be a family fiesta at 4pm that day! )
-Katherine
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Two for Tuesday
Well, so much for the dry spell!
Seems like many of my rude encounters occur while I'm driving. This is not strange as I live in Southern California, the mecca for terrible drivers who think they are all EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD drivers.
I have come to the conclusion that there is a big problem in this area, and that problem is the overuse of horns. Within 10 minutes I experienced this phenomena twofold today:
1. Driving to a fast food joint I frequent on my lunch break, I went straight through a green light. A car driving toward me on the cross street failed to stop at his red light, and was turning right just as I was coming at him. I would have hit him, and he clearly wasn't paying attention to me, so I honked my horn. He hit the brakes, then laid on his horn and flipped ME the bird! What the...?
2. Leaving said fast food joint, I note that a big SUV has parked next to me and I couldn't see around it. (By the way, thank you kind driver, for parking your monstrosity in a compact spot!) I waited patiently as a couple cars went by before I started backing out. I went approximately 1 inch before seeing another car coming. I then stopped. AFTER I stopped, the lady driving the other car honked at me. Um, yes lady, I saw you! What other reason would I have for stopping??
So please, let's all do our part to stop the madness, and only use our horns when absolutely necessary! They are not meant to be weapons or audible expressions of our frustration, they're just supposed to help keep you and your car SAFE.
-Kitty
Seems like many of my rude encounters occur while I'm driving. This is not strange as I live in Southern California, the mecca for terrible drivers who think they are all EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD drivers.
I have come to the conclusion that there is a big problem in this area, and that problem is the overuse of horns. Within 10 minutes I experienced this phenomena twofold today:
1. Driving to a fast food joint I frequent on my lunch break, I went straight through a green light. A car driving toward me on the cross street failed to stop at his red light, and was turning right just as I was coming at him. I would have hit him, and he clearly wasn't paying attention to me, so I honked my horn. He hit the brakes, then laid on his horn and flipped ME the bird! What the...?
2. Leaving said fast food joint, I note that a big SUV has parked next to me and I couldn't see around it. (By the way, thank you kind driver, for parking your monstrosity in a compact spot!) I waited patiently as a couple cars went by before I started backing out. I went approximately 1 inch before seeing another car coming. I then stopped. AFTER I stopped, the lady driving the other car honked at me. Um, yes lady, I saw you! What other reason would I have for stopping??
So please, let's all do our part to stop the madness, and only use our horns when absolutely necessary! They are not meant to be weapons or audible expressions of our frustration, they're just supposed to help keep you and your car SAFE.
-Kitty
Monday, July 13, 2009
One Good Turn Deserves Another
So, hubby and I are on a hunt for a new car. We don't actually need a new one, so our "hunt" is more like a "browse," but we're planning this road trip in a couple months and since my car isn't very comfy and we would eventually like a four-door anyway, we figured why not do some shopping now? So far it's been pretty fun.
Well, yesterday we were at a local dealership checking out the Pontiac G8. (It's the one with a Corvette engine, woohoo!) The sales guy was friendly enough, although his thick accent prevented us from understanding literally half of what he said, and we took it out for a test drive. When we got back to the dealership we wanted to know about GM's special deals, so we went into the sales guy's office, where he proceeded to hit us with the "hard sell." We told him pointedly 1. We're not buying a car today, and 2. We're not trading in my car. But he kept pushing, so we stood up and headed out the first chance we got.
(This is where the rudeness comes in.)
So I was of course already irritated, and we were walking rather briskly to make our escape, when this girl's cell phone rang. She was standing near the door with what looked to be her dad, and without even glancing at the two people booking it in her direction 3 feet away, she answered her phone while turning around to also walk out the door. Only problem was, she walked right in front of ME, making me stop in my tracks so SHE could push through the door, never once looking up. She quickly muttered an, "Oh I'm sorry," when I made an exasperated sound, and then continued talking on her phone. (Not bothering to hold the door, might I add.)
So I replied, loudly enough for her to hear, "Yeah, you are sorry," followed through the door right on her heels, and kept walking.
Maybe not my finest moment, but I can't say she didn't earn it.
-Kitty Get-Outta-My-Way VonD
Well, yesterday we were at a local dealership checking out the Pontiac G8. (It's the one with a Corvette engine, woohoo!) The sales guy was friendly enough, although his thick accent prevented us from understanding literally half of what he said, and we took it out for a test drive. When we got back to the dealership we wanted to know about GM's special deals, so we went into the sales guy's office, where he proceeded to hit us with the "hard sell." We told him pointedly 1. We're not buying a car today, and 2. We're not trading in my car. But he kept pushing, so we stood up and headed out the first chance we got.
(This is where the rudeness comes in.)
So I was of course already irritated, and we were walking rather briskly to make our escape, when this girl's cell phone rang. She was standing near the door with what looked to be her dad, and without even glancing at the two people booking it in her direction 3 feet away, she answered her phone while turning around to also walk out the door. Only problem was, she walked right in front of ME, making me stop in my tracks so SHE could push through the door, never once looking up. She quickly muttered an, "Oh I'm sorry," when I made an exasperated sound, and then continued talking on her phone. (Not bothering to hold the door, might I add.)
So I replied, loudly enough for her to hear, "Yeah, you are sorry," followed through the door right on her heels, and kept walking.
Maybe not my finest moment, but I can't say she didn't earn it.
-Kitty Get-Outta-My-Way VonD
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The Anti-Bridezilla
We are so excited to share our first Feature Writer post! Thanks, Allison!
(If you would like us to share yours, click the link to the right.)
I planned my wedding by myself. I didn't have many friends. My bridesmaids, such as they were, were my mom and two co-workers that I was sort of close to. I wanted to go to Vegas. Hubby and his mother wanted The Traditional Wedding. Even though I was paying for 90% of it myself, I didn't have the balls to stand up for what I wanted. I was effectively the Anti-Bridezilla.
Being corned into the Traditional Bride Role that I had never dreamed or thought about, I studied every etiquette book, read the insipid magazines, glossed over the websites declaring that it would be the most important day of my life, and therefore worth at least $20K. I was 21-almost-22 years old. I did not spend $20K. But I did eat Ramen noodles for an entire year so that every spare penny could go to this singular day.
To pat my own back, I did pretty well etiquette-wise. My only faux paus was that I ordered the wedding invitations without consulting anyone - because nobody wanted to help with anything else, so why would I start asking for help then? - and inadvertently left my future in-law's names off the invite. I didn't even want to put my OWN parents' names on the damn thing, it didn't occur to me how hurt my future mother-in-law would be. I absolved myself of that guilt during the reception when one of her closest friends came up to me, stone sober, and said "what a simple, pretty dress! Why, you can wear it again sometime!" Yes. Really. And suprisingly, that is not my etiquette-related rant of today.
Having taken the time to learn all sorts of crap that I wasn't interested in to begin with, I am deeply bothered when I receive wedding invitations that break every single rule. If I had to handwrite outer - and inner - envelopes for 200 of my mother-in-law's closest friends and relatives, everyone else should to!
That, however, is completely forgiveable in light of the Offense of the "Here's Where We're Registered" Notes. It truly does bother me to receive an invitation and open it to a confetti of those obnoxious little cards.
And finally, Gentle Readers, I am to my real rant: The point of having your wedding is not to receive gifts. The point is to share your committment, love, undying devotion, yadda yadda yadda to your future spouse with your family and friends. The gifts are a perk. As we've all learned from being employed, perks are not entitlements. If I am invited to your wedding and care enough about you to want to show support in the form of a gift other than cash, I ought to be close enough to you to know *someone* who can tell me where you are registered. (The concept of "registering" also bothers me, but that's a topic for another day.)
Perhaps I am not the best voice on this topic, having been fairly anti-wedding. I even refused a bridal shower because I hate attending them, so didn't want people to attend one because of me - and to feel obligated to bring a gift. The in-laws threw one for me against my will. And they all ended up fighting about it. I was wise for my 21 years; they should have listened to me.
The hubs thinks I'm a complete fuddy duddy about this, but it's who I am.
Don't Call Me Kate Either,
Allison
(If you would like us to share yours, click the link to the right.)
I planned my wedding by myself. I didn't have many friends. My bridesmaids, such as they were, were my mom and two co-workers that I was sort of close to. I wanted to go to Vegas. Hubby and his mother wanted The Traditional Wedding. Even though I was paying for 90% of it myself, I didn't have the balls to stand up for what I wanted. I was effectively the Anti-Bridezilla.
Being corned into the Traditional Bride Role that I had never dreamed or thought about, I studied every etiquette book, read the insipid magazines, glossed over the websites declaring that it would be the most important day of my life, and therefore worth at least $20K. I was 21-almost-22 years old. I did not spend $20K. But I did eat Ramen noodles for an entire year so that every spare penny could go to this singular day.
To pat my own back, I did pretty well etiquette-wise. My only faux paus was that I ordered the wedding invitations without consulting anyone - because nobody wanted to help with anything else, so why would I start asking for help then? - and inadvertently left my future in-law's names off the invite. I didn't even want to put my OWN parents' names on the damn thing, it didn't occur to me how hurt my future mother-in-law would be. I absolved myself of that guilt during the reception when one of her closest friends came up to me, stone sober, and said "what a simple, pretty dress! Why, you can wear it again sometime!" Yes. Really. And suprisingly, that is not my etiquette-related rant of today.
Having taken the time to learn all sorts of crap that I wasn't interested in to begin with, I am deeply bothered when I receive wedding invitations that break every single rule. If I had to handwrite outer - and inner - envelopes for 200 of my mother-in-law's closest friends and relatives, everyone else should to!
That, however, is completely forgiveable in light of the Offense of the "Here's Where We're Registered" Notes. It truly does bother me to receive an invitation and open it to a confetti of those obnoxious little cards.
And finally, Gentle Readers, I am to my real rant: The point of having your wedding is not to receive gifts. The point is to share your committment, love, undying devotion, yadda yadda yadda to your future spouse with your family and friends. The gifts are a perk. As we've all learned from being employed, perks are not entitlements. If I am invited to your wedding and care enough about you to want to show support in the form of a gift other than cash, I ought to be close enough to you to know *someone* who can tell me where you are registered. (The concept of "registering" also bothers me, but that's a topic for another day.)
Perhaps I am not the best voice on this topic, having been fairly anti-wedding. I even refused a bridal shower because I hate attending them, so didn't want people to attend one because of me - and to feel obligated to bring a gift. The in-laws threw one for me against my will. And they all ended up fighting about it. I was wise for my 21 years; they should have listened to me.
The hubs thinks I'm a complete fuddy duddy about this, but it's who I am.
Don't Call Me Kate Either,
Allison
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