Now Hear This!

All you schlubs out there who are frantically trying to spend as much money as you possibly can before December 25….STOP. That’s right, I said stop.

You people are driving me crazy. All I want to do is take my little list out, do a little careful shopping, and go home. But no, that just is not going to be possible.

There must be some immutable law of the Shopping Universe that says when one person goes to the most obscure part of a store and stands by themselves, staring at one item, within minutes, four other shoppers will crowd around them as though there is a big sale in progress. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself. Pick any store you want. Go to the most obscure part of the store, say toothbrush holders. Now stand there quietly and stare intently at the toothbrush holders. You may draw three, you may draw four, but a group of shoppers will somehow be alerted in a covert manner and will make their way over to where you are and attempt to crowd you out of your “spot”.

Can anyone explain why it is that the simple “Excuse me” or “Pardon me” is rarely if ever used these days? I’ve decided that from now on instead of trying to telepathically interpret what the person staring at me wants me to do (move out of the way, tap dance, sing the National Anthem?), I’m going to either ignore them or smile at them pleasantly without speaking. They will have to say something to me before I move. I mean it.

Why is that if there is a shopping cart for use in a store that people glom on to the things and then walk all hunched over as though they are using a walker, and at a snail’s pace as well? Hey, move it or lose it!

And you adults with kids who are racing like gazelles through the store? Don’t blow your top when I tell those kids to “Hey, how’s about you guys slow it down?” You obviously didn’t think about the little old lady with the cane, or the elderly man with a hearing aid who can’t hear or see the tykes tearing around the corner. Even if they could sense the approach of the little Tasmanian devils, I seriously doubt they could get out of the way fast enough. Plus there’s that possibility that one or more of your progeny could round a corner and plant their face into the front of my shopping cart. Little things like that can sure spoil the day, you know?

Speaking of children, I’m glad you know their names. All of your co-shoppers know their names. But, your children must not know their names because they keep ignoring you no matter how loudly you shout at them! Are you sure you brought the right children?

Here is something else for you shoppers to consider. If you happen to hear someone ringing a bell and see them standing in front of a little red kettle, take a minute and put something in that kettle. Those folks standing outside and ringing those bells are not there to annoy you. They are doing their part to help others who may not even have enough to put food on the table. Drop something in those kettles every time you pass by and I guarantee it, you’ll feel less annoyed when you hear those bells ringing. You might even feel like smiling while you are doing all that shopping.

Is That Deja Vu I Smell?

Maybe I shouldn't do it but somehow, I'm finding it difficult to hold back. My Spidey Senses are a'tingling and with Christmas so near, that must mean something. I will explain.

Last year, I received as a Christmas gift, two ceramic chickens sitting on nests. One was a sugar bowl, one was a milk pouring thing. In addition, there was a yellow chick (salt shaker) sitting on an open egg (pepper shaker). Now, in the right kitchen, these would have been very quaint and sweet looking. Unfortunately, my kitchen was not the right one. I have no farm animal themes going on and never have. I know the giver meant well, but to open that on Christmas morning was just...typical.

Out of frustration, a little poem just bubbled up inside of me and I typed it and saved it. In honor of the approaching holiday, and in honor of all those who know where I'm coming from, I'm putting it here. I call it:

Ode to a Chicken

Chicken, Chicken...there you sit,
On a nest of fake straw, blankly staring a bit.
Not moving, nor clucking, just with an open beak,
That stupid mouth pours milk, my my, oh how chic.

I hate you, Oh Chicken, you make me so glum.
In truth I don't understand who, or why, you came from.
A thought from the heart, that's plainly so true,
But why was it me, who got this tacky doo-doo?

I guess I was doomed, from the first Christmas that passed,
A tradition was born, that would last, last, last, last.
No jewelry for me, no cds, or shoes,
Just granny panties, and bad books, stuff that gave me the blues.

Cheer up, I'm told, it could all be much worse,
Though I wonder just how, and I mutter, all terse.
I will have my revenge, and oh it will be sweet,
One day, I'll repay them and there will be no retreat.

Need a caftan, a turban, tacky shades and gold shoes?
Look out folks, 'cause that stuff's headed for you.
Just smile and say thanks, that's what I always said,
Even though my eyes were rolling back in my head.

Am I bitter, maybe a little, but then I've had reason,
For every birthday and holiday, it's been Bad Gift Season!
So good luck Chicken, and don't ever be afraid,
Compared to you as a gift, no bigger egg has been laid!

The End.

It's True...Some People Do Need Killing.

Having just read something over at one of my favorite places, Little Green Footballs, I had to rush right to my own spot and make a simple comment.

Someone posted a snippet of an exchange between a reporter and Rumsfeld (11-01-2001) where the reporter asked about the use of cluster bombs on al Qaeda and the Taliban. Rumsfeld's response made me want to stand up and cheer: "They're being used on front-line al Qaeda and Taliban troops to try to kill them, is why we're using them, to be perfectly blunt."

That's exactly right! Those people need killing and they need it bad. I've got a lot of respect for Rumsfeld for just coming right out and saying it.

As I said, LGF is one of my favorite places. I have registered over there and made one tiny post but I don't really feel comfortable jumping in because I don't want to mess up their dynamics. It is fun though to watch various trolls gnash their teeth and moan when they're taken to the woodshed, which happens on a fairly regular basis.

My previous blog entry was about fearing sleepovers with pre-teen girls. Well, I have learned to fear shoe-shopping with pre-teen and teenaged girls as well. Go on and add "clothes shopping" as well. I don't want them dressing like street walkers but that appears to be the going trend with clothing manufacturers. And, do you know how difficult it is to find a cute, non-slutty shoe for a 12 year old who wears a womens size 9?! Do you?!

At least we were able to score some acceptable chorus concert shoes last night. We went to The Mall but the shoes she wanted slipped on her narrow heels. Every other shoe she tried on was "too flat, no arch support", "too slippery", "too yucky", or "Ewwwww, Mom!". Finally, in desperation I pointed to a pair (on sale too!) similar to some she had for the spring. Aaaaaah, success. They rated well on her Style-O-Meter as well as the Comfort-O-Meter and as I said, they were on sale.

I like happy endings.

Fear Nothing

Except a bunch of pre-teen girls who are in your house for a birthday sleepover party. Them, you should fear.

Awww, not really. Sure, I'm feeling really tired right now because the girls were singing, dancing, jumping, giggling, yelling, squealing, running up and down the stairs, slamming doors, playing music, and eating anything that didn't move until about 3:00 am. But that's okay. Word on the street is that my kids have "the best birthday parties". All I have to say is I am very glad we bought a house with a full basement because it does provide a little noise buffer.

One guest had to leave relatively early because she had a basketball game. The birthday girl has one this evening herself. That should be interesting. She's looking a little peaked on the edges but an hour of running up and down a basketball court should just tip her over the line into a complete wipe out.

With all the cleaning and rearranging that I did yesterday to prepare for the party, plus enjoying the ruckus into the wee hours, I just may give her a run for her money.