Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A typical conversation around my house. Me, cracking up at myself... Charlie, bringing me back down to earth.
Me: (Throwing Charlie a pair of his work-out shorts.) "Here, put these in your drawer."
Charlie: (Joking, in an over exaggerated child-like voice) "No!"
Me: "Not the mama!" (I start cracking up at my own joke... Like, laughing hysterically.)
Charlie: "Wow. You really have your giggle box turned on."
Me: "Come on. That was funny! You know, from that show, Dinosaurs?!"
Charlie: (Nodding his head disapprovingly.) "I didn't think it was funny back then... And, I don't think it's funny now."
Keepin' it real.
Monday, June 20, 2011
As if the title of this blog needs any explanation.
Ok, so, I left off with me waiting in the ATL airport for my flight to Tucson. Waiting in line, a single dad with his 7 year old son are waiting in front of me. Dad turns around, looks (a little too long) at my feet, moves his eyes up to my dress, my necklace, my hair... Then he looks me in the eye and says (with a creepy "I'm channeling Don Johnson with my highlighted hair" smirk), "Someone is all color-coordinated - jewelry matches your shoes and nail polish - gold and teal." I am stone-faced right about now because I dont even know how to respond to this. What does that even mean? Why are you gawking at me like a piece of lunch meat? I shyly smile (unappreciative) and act like my nose itches, showing my wedding ring. This apparently works. "Don" turns around without saying a word. Score.
Attention Passengers: What happens on the plane does not stay on the plane.
This is a very full flight and I have an aisle seat. I am Zone 1... we load on the plane first. I sit down, place my purse and carry-on under the seat in front of me, buckle up, and begin to examine each person boarding the plane, wondering who my seat partners will be. "Please don't let it be him" and "Oh no, not her". Sometimes by looking at people, you just really know who you *don't* wanna sit by. I am in full on mouth-breathe right now. An older, and shorter, white-haired man with jeans, a button up, and a blazer starts loading his carry-on in the compartment across from me. He looks like a Professor. He is not my seat partner but he is my aisle partner. The Professor drops something. I assume his knees don't bend because when he stoops over to pick it up, his rear end is literally in my face, (I am not even kidding). It's all of .2 cm from my mouth. I could have licked his jeans without moving. I make a face and lean away. I was appearing obviously disgruntled to the other passer-by's. Professor Butt-in-my-face finally takes his seat. By the time we are ready for lift off, I have my seat partners, a larger greasy couple, who apparently hate shoes. As soon as their butts hit the seat, off came their shoes. I am very annoyed at this; no one wants to smell your feet. We are all sharing the same little bit of recycled air here. Have some decency. I look around, and I notice most people near me now have their shoes off. What is the deal with this?!
The flight begins. Not long after take off, drinks and snacks are passed out, and the movie starts. We are watching "Just Go With It", with Jennifer Anniston and Happy Gilmore. The movie is quite funny, by the way. I am busy shoveling down Reese's Pieces when a stench grazes my nostrils. (I forget to breathe through my mouth after a while.) I am convinced my aisle neighbor, Professor Butt-in-my-face, has crapped his Depends. I do a quick glance over to him. He looks very uncomfortable... Confirming he is the culprit. The air finally clears... Well, as clear as it's going to get on a plane. My shoeless seat neighbor has taken over the arm rest completely and fallen asleep. I don't like to touch the bare skin of strangers (or strange people) so I am leaning into the aisle. I now know what my Charlie means when he says to me, "You look like roadkill when you sleep."
After the flight attendant slams me in the funny bone (which is not funny at all) with her drink cart, I decide leaning toward the aisle is not an option. So I force Roadkill to move her arm.
Trying to get focus back on the movie, I turn the volume up on my head phones. Mid Reese's Pieces mouthful, I see a movement in my peripheral vision. I glance over the aisle to Professor Butt-in-my-face just in time to see him lift his butt off the seat a little, and start fanning his crotch with the Sky Miles magazine.
Oh. My. Gosh. Is this real life?!
It didn't take long for the stench to reach air and wreak havok. I didn't even have time to swallow my Reese's Pieces and start my mouth breathing. I don't know if this man is nervous on the flight or if he ate dead bodies for dinner, but this has *got* to stop. The stench was so thick it must have aroused my shoeless arm rest hogging neighbor, because she immediately started coughing. Great. Not only am I surrounded by butt-lifting pooters, but shoeless hacking coughers.
Remind me to drive next time.
After a while the air somewhat cleared but as soon as it did, my neighbor started her coughing again. For the rest of the flight, both neighbors decide to work in shifts... pooting and coughing.
The pooting and the coughing has nearly drove me to drinking. I am in full on "counting mode" now. Counting everything I see as a means of calming down. This continues most the flight.
Once we land, I grab my bags and stand immediately ... I give my aisle partner a "don't even think about getting off before me" look and he allows me to go first. There was no way I was standing down-wind of the Professor.
I find baggage claim and I find Rebecca waiting on me. After loads of hugs, lots of loud giggling and laughing, I begin to warn her of my plane partners. Looking around, we realize we are the only ones laughing and having a good time. Everyone else looks miserable and tired.
We grab my bags and head out the door to her car. Chatty and giggly and telling stories, I have no doubt we were just as annoying as as the 30 teens.
Just as the airport doors open, a cool dry desert breeze hits my face... I inhale and pause, taking it all in. I think to myself,
"We're not in Louisiana anymore, Toto."
Saturday, June 18, 2011
So I am on this little vacation, compliments of my stud, to visit one of my besties who moved to AZ. This is not my first time to Tuscon. I was there about 8 years ago for barista training. More on that another day.
I must first let you in on a little secret. My husband does everything for me. "Put your bag here." "Get out your ID." "You'll need to take off your shoes."
Sounding ridiculous enough? Yeah, I am pretty pathetic. I don't know if it's that I subconcienciously (I actually spelled that right the first try!) like him "taking care of me" or that I am too ADHD to know what the heck is going on or about to be going on. Either way, the thought of traveling in an airport, knowing I have to be somewhere by a certain time sends me into a tizzy... It gives me high anxiety. I am constantly repeating in my head my next move... Planning my exit off the plane and trying to remember my terminal number. I am stressing so much, to the point that the man sitting closest to me on the plane made a comment on how quiet and serious I looked. Enough about my idiocy.
I am lucky enough to have no one sitting in front of me... Or beside me... Or behind me... However, I am unlucky enough to have the only seat directly next to the rest room. Yeah, I got the stinky seat. So not cool. When I saw the extremely large Samoan man, with a very nervous look on his face making his way to the back of the plane, I just *knew* this was going to be bad. Very bad. So bad that I had already planned my counter attack: complete humiliation. At first, I would (loudly) knock on the door (because it's all of 16 inches from my face). If this dude does the unthinkable this close to my face, I will ask him (loudly) to do a "courtesy flush". I have no shame.
If that doesn't work... Well, I haven't gotten that far... I was just hoping that would work.
Lucky for me he just needed to do #1.
Which brings me to pet peeve #537: Hearing Other People Pee. Freakin' grosses me out. Especially hearing a man pee. I know they are peeing from a much higher point than women (since we sit). So, I naturally, assume it is splashing everywhere. Thinking about that big Samoan man splashing his urine everywhere made my my skin crawl. Literally, I had goose bumps.
As we are descending, my iPod starts playing a 90s hit by Boyz II Men, "End of the Road". Now this might be a little humorous, and a little scary at the same time... But when you throw in extreme turbulence, this becomes downright frightening. Not funny, at all.
It's about then that I was wishing I had paid the $7, and a thumb, for that glass of wine.
We finally land in ATL and my fears of "being lost" (R.I.P.) deminnish. I actually know my way around this place. I have flown several times and often from ATL. I recognized little stores, and found the signs pointing me in the right direction. Score. I found my terminal. After that, and a brief encounter with a shuffling creepy old man admiring (a little too long) my feet, I stopped, bought a water, some trail mix and a magazine for entirely too much money.
Once I was in my terminal, I found a nice cozy spot away from most of the other people on my flight. Confession: I don't generally like other people I don't know because I am afraid of what they might smell like. I usually hold my breath or breathe out of my mouth (looking like roadkill, or Napoleon Dynamite) when near strangers.
Seated, I decide to read and snack. A few mins later, a group of about 30 teens, all wearing the same polo style shirt, surround me. 30 chatty teens, each constantly "one-upping" the other with lame stories about "Me and Cameron did that..." or "My darling horse..." Someone, save me.
I finally tuned them out enough to read my Glamour magazine, with Blake Lively on the cover. Love her. A family of four decides to take the only empty seats near me... Right beside me. The daughter is eating the nastiest smelling food... I swear it smelled like death. Even breathing through my mouth I could smell the nastiness. I contemplated telling her I was allergic to stink, and asking her to move. As I finish the article on Blake, I turn the pages, skimming for the next big read, when all of a sudden, I hear stinky-food-eater's mom talking about the flight being delayed. Great. I look outside and it is raining so hard, i cannot see the plane parked less than 50 yards from the window. Then about 15 mins later, the airport worker person announces our flight has been delayed... But not because of rain. The plane just landed from Dominican Republic, and the plane must first be cleansed. Do huh?! Is this a joke? Does that mean this plane is that nasty?! I swear, if I get some nasty swine virus or bird flu...
(to be continued)
Friday, June 17, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Wasps have infested the eve of our home, making it miserable to play outside. Well, the heat makes it miserable, the wasps just put you on edge. Let's just be completely honest. I am looking for any reason to play in the refrigerated air.
At dinner the other night, I made a request of my husband, "Please kill them as soon as possible, no matter what you have to do."
That prompted a few questions from Lake, such as, "What are you going to do, Daddy?" and "How are you going to kill them?"
Charlie likes to joke with Lake, so he came up with a few scenarios on his "plans" to take care of the wasp problem.
Charlie, plan #1: "Well, I have a couple of ideas. First, I think I might catch one wasp, and tell him he needs to tell his friends they need to leave, or I will have to kill then all."
Charlie, plan #2: "If that doesn't work, I am going to catch two wasps. I will hold one wasp hostage, and tell the other, I will let his friend go once they all have left."
Lake's response: "I have an idea. Why don't you catch two wasps. Kill one, and make the other take the dead wasp back to the others?"
Touchet, Lake. Touchet.
Lake is leader of the Tee-ball Mafia.