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10.  You have stick figure family stickers in your back window.   Especially the ones that actually list out your family member’s names!  I mean, seriously.  Why not just give pedophiles a key to your house and your children’s school schedule?

9.  You don’t use your blinker when turning, or changing lanes, or merging.  Come on, people!!  It’s installed on every car for a fucking reason!  Use it!  I’m not saying you need to use it excessively (like when you’re already in a turn lane) but at least give me some kind of heads up that you’re going to cut me off.

8.  On that note… driving for miles with your blinker still on.  Fucking assholes.  Turn that thing off.

7.  You have a “baby on board” placard on your back window.  Do you really think I’m going to drive any safer just because you have a baby in your car?   People who have these placards on their cars usually drive worse than I do.

6.  You let your children slap hundreds of stickers on the inside of your windows.  Just disgusting.  Teach your children to have some respect, why don’t you?

5.  You have 30″ rims on your Buick LeSabre.  Really, I think the mental image I just provided says enough.

4.  Your month registration sticker is on the wrong side.  There’s a reason why it says “Month” on the left hand side and “year” on the right side of your license plate.   It’s like a convenient little fucking template.  USE IT!

3.  Your yearly registration stickers are stacked so that I can see the colors of the rainbow…

2.  You have so many bumper stickers on your car that I can’t tell what color your car is.

1.  You have balls hanging from the tow hitch of your truck/SUV/car.  Ew.  Just… ew.  If you’re thinking about hanging a set of brass balls from the back of your car, think about a rock hitting them at 65 mph.  Made you wince, didn’t it?  Yeah.  Just say no.

Have you ever had one of those moments… when you hear something so ridiculous come out of another person’s mouth that you have to replay it over in your head to make sure you heard it correctly before laughing uncontrollably?   I had one of those moments last night.

I am taking a painting class in college (basically) for shiggles and to keep my sanity since I’m also taking a Calculus class that (quite literally) bottles  my mind.  Yes, I wrote bottles not boggles.  Some people will get that… Anyway.  Last night in class, we were given the assignment to do a master copy.  We were to choose a painting (done by any artist, whether it was a local unknown artist or someone world renowned like Monet or DaVinci).  With this assignment, we were to learn about the techniques our artist uses – from their brush strokes to the materials they used.  Last night, were asked to sit in a circle and one by one share the painting we were inspired to paint along with the information about the artwork and the artist that we had learned.

One girl sat in the front of the class and showed her painting – it was a really beautiful portrait of two women, very dark background and all you could see was the women’s faces and their arms.  I can’t recall the name of the artist (frankly, because I really wasn’t paying that much attention), but what did catch my attention was this one guy with his hand raised.  Now before I tell anything more, let me say…  This is a weird kid.  Seriously.  The dood has pissed me off many-a-times because he’s just so clueless and ridiculous.  He’s constantly talking outloud in class (if you’ve read my blog or know anything about me, you’ll know this irritates the ever-loving-shit out of me), he always walks by my chair and kicks it as I’m trying to paint (can anyone really be that fucking clumsy?!?!) and as our teacher lectures, he sits and shakes his leg uncontrollably (so much that once our teacher asked him to get up and move away from him because it was distracting.)  So… back to this idiot.  He raises his hand and says, “I have a question.”  This is new – so far, no one has really spoken up to ask any questions.  (I’m guessing because no one really cares all that much, but I digress.)  Our teacher gives him the opportunity to ask his question and he says (and I shit you not), “Was this painter a feminist in a past life?”

Even now, I have to stifle my giggles.  He seriously asked that.  There was a collective pause in the classroom, and I could see my teacher even trying hard not to laugh at this guy.  I mean for fuckssake.  This is a PAINTING class, not a lecture by Miss Cleo or Sylvia Browne!  I seriously have to give the girl showing the painting credit, because she wasn’t snarky in her response to him.

I certainly would have been!

I had the unfortunate opportunity to deal with the morons Wally-World calls their “Pharmacist” and “Pharmacy Technician” today.  I’ve been using their Pharmacy for the past year and a half, and to be honest… it’s really been nothing but issues since the beginning.  But, since Tarjay’s closest Pharmacy was close to 20 miles away, I tried to suck it up and stick with Wally-World for the cheap prices and convenient location.

But let me back up.  For a while, I was taking 3 medications for my heart condition, and 2 medications to offset side effects from one of the heart meds.  I had finally had enough of my body reacting poorly to one of the meds, so (with the approval from my doctor) I came off that med.  (Which meant that I no longer needed the other two that offset the side effects.)  So of course, I go into Wally-World a couple of months ago, and I only filled two.  While I was there, I requested that they cancel the others as I wasn’t taking them any longer.

So of course, I went in yesterday to fill my prescriptions.  And who was behind the counter, but this one fucking idiot who I shit you not looks like his momma not only hit him with a stupid stick, but an ugly stick too.  Everything seemed to go smoothly, for once I thought they didn’t fuck up my prescriptions or put them back and make me wait for 45+ minutes to have them refilled.  Boy, was I fucking wrong.  They handed me my two prescriptions, and I left.  As I got home, I opened one of the bottles (so I could take them), and what do I see?  The wrong fucking pills.  More specifically, the heart meds I requested to have cancelled TWO FUCKING MONTHS AGO.  Needless to say, I was pissed the fuck off . But I had to go to school, so I decided to wait until today to go back and (kindly) tell them how fucking stupid they were and make them fix my order.

As I walked into Wally-World this evening, I had to say to myself, “Now, be calm and they’ll help you….” I walked up to the counter and who did I see?  The fucking idiot.  Great.  Just great.  Alright, I thought.  I can do this.  So when the idiot said, “Pick up?” I said no.  I (calmly) told them that they gave me the wrong prescription yesterday and (as I cannot take it any longer), I needed the other one that they didn’t fill.  The fucking idiot waddled his way back behind the counter and started typing on his computer, then started talking to the “Pharmacist”.  As his dumb ass came back over to me, he said, “We can’t take returns”.

Um, did you not fucking hear what I said?  YOU FILLED THE WRONG FUCKING PRESCRIPTION!  ::deep breath:: So I replied, “All I need is my other prescription.  I requested two months ago that this particular one be cancelled.  I need the other one.”  Fucking idiot said, “We can’t take returns”.  What the mother fucking fuck, dude?

Let me fucking tell you, shit hit the fan.  No amount of yoga breathing helped me here.  My Italian/Scottish roots showed and I got pissed the fuck off and I let the idiot have it.  Now, let me also say… It takes a LOT for me to not only get pissed, but for me to yell at someone… in public.  I have worked in Customer Service for over 10 fucking years.  I know what it’s like to be someone’s punching bag.  But… after all the shit this idiot has put me through in a year and a half… straw broke the fucking camel’s back and I let loose on his dumb ass.  Of course, because I’m starting to yell, the “Pharmacist” comes over and keeps reiterating that he can’t take a return.  So I keep reiterating that they filled the wrong prescription and that I’m a HEART PATIENT and this is my medicine!  I told them that I had requested that the old one be cancelled two months ago, and this asshole had the audacity to argue with me that I didn’t cancel it.

Oh no you fucking di’int.  Gloves are off now, bitch.  If I knew who had been stepping on the Wally-World floor, my shoes would have come off too.  This so called “Pharmacist” had the fucking nerve to tell me I was wrong.  That because I took it home, I have to not only pay for THEIR mistake, but I have to pay for my new prescription too.  Wait one fucking minute here.  You’re telling me that because I had the NERVE to TRUST that my PHARMACIST gave me the correct prescription, that I am WRONG and I have to pay for THEIR MISTAKE?!

I swear, I felt my blood pressure increase to dangerous levels.  I even had a heart rate monitor on…  I should have looked at my heart rate and shown this motherfucking-son-of-a-bitch just what fucking with a heart patient will do.  I mean, what if I was taken off this medication because it could be deadly to me?  What if I took it without realizing that it was incorrect?  They’d have a huge fucking lawsuit on their hands.  I don’t believe in trying to squeeze money out of people, but holy fucking fuck.  This was just WRONG.  I knew at that point that I wasn’t getting anywhere with this so called “Pharmacist”, so I told him that I didn’t fucking care what he did with the medicine, they could keep it and I was going elsewhere.

Never in my life have I seen so little professionalism.  Especially at a place that could seriously harm a human being if the job is done incorrectly.


The Sasquatch

The story of my life.  I’m 5’2″ and whenever I go anywhere (and I mean ANYWHERE), Amazonian people stand (or sit) in front of me!  Seriously, it never fails.  So the other day, we went to the movies to see Act of Valor.  As we’re sitting in the theater, I get a glimpse of a tall (and I mean fucking tall) guy walking up the stairs.  All I can think is please, PLEASE don’t sit in front of me.  As you can guess, The Sasquatch sat right the fuck in front of me.  To make matters worst, dude had the biggest white guy fro I’ve ever seen in my life.  As Sasquatch/Vanilla Fro sat down in front of me, my mother leaned over to me and while giggling said, “Scrappy”.  As if my dog had ever been that scruffy!!!!

Soon after Vanilla Fro sat down in front of me, we discovered that he probably hadn’t washed his fro in at least a month.  Every time this motherfucker shifted ever so slightly, his stench would waft up into our noses.  Then Sasquatch started to twirl his hair.  His motherfucking giant fro-y hair.  I think this son of a bitch had restless leg syndrome, because in between twirling his hair like a little girl he kept fidgeting in his fucking chair.  Each time Vanilla Fro Sasquatch moved or twirled that disgusting mop of hair, my mother would giggle.  Which would throw me into a fit of giggles.  I was so afraid I was going to snort while laughing.  It was bad enough that we were watching a serious movie, but to snort while laughing at Vanilla Fro Sasquatch?  Yikes.

When the movie The Vow came out, I knew that I’d either be seeing it alone or with my mom/girlfriends.  I knew there was no way in hell that my boyfriend would see it with me because Channing Tatum stars in the movie… and he HATES Channing Tatum.  Quite possibly, his favorite movie scene ever is when Channing Tatum’s character dies in Haywire.   But I digress…

So I took my mom to see The Vow this past weekend and as the movie started, my mom leaned over to me and said, “So who is the actor that he hates again?”  I pointed at the screen and said, “That guy.  Channing Tatum.”  Mom was silent for half a second before saying, “Now why wouldn’t he like him?  He’s adorable!”  I really had to control my giggles here before saying, “Um… mom.  I don’t think that makes a difference to him.”

I think there’s a meme floating around Pinterest that says, “If I woke up from a coma and Channing Tatum said he was my husband, I wouldn’t complain.”   ‘Nuff said.

Say What?

Here’s a little something I’ve been waiting to write about for…  a while now.  As Sophia on the Golden Girls would say, “Picture this…”  (Though, Sophia’s stories usually occurred in Sicily in the early 1900s, my story happened in September of 2010 here at home in California.)

When I moved back home from Colorado, I took the first job that was offered to me.  I had no experience for the job, but my Microsoft Skills (and a good word from an old friend) got me in.  Let’s face it, I was thrilled that I wouldn’t be penniless (or without medical insurance) after I moved home.  Shortly after I started, I had a conversation with my boss via IM.  We were chatting about our personal lives, getting to know one another (which I appreciate, because too often work is just… work.)  She was telling me about how she has 5 children (she’s my age), and that she’d always wanted to have 5 kids by the time she was 30.  She had three children into her mid-twenties and as luck would have it, before she turned 30 she became pregnant with twins.   She asked me if I had a family… or any kids.  I said no, that not only did I not have children, I couldn’t.  I briefly explained that I was born with a heart defect and that pregnancy would put too high a strain on my heart, and though doctors have said there’s a possibility that they could support my body through pregnancy, that’s not a risk I am willing to take.  So as I was chatting on about my defect and the things my Cardiologist talks to me about, my boss said, “You put too much faith in doctors.  I put my faith in God.”

Dead. Silence.  I think I even sat back in my chair and re-read those two sentences.  Did she really just say that to me?  I… put… too much faith… in DOCTORS???  Are you fucking kidding me?  Now, I’m not going to sit and argue about religion or faith.  Not to anyone reading this, and certainly not to my brand new boss.  So I didn’t say a word.  I think she regretted what she said to me soon after she wrote it, because (to her credit), I did get an apology that that wasn’t appropriate to say during working hours.  But, still.   I wonder what she’d say today if she found out she had said that to an Atheist.

The Annoying Girl

Traditionally, this section of my blog is for my crazy dating stories, but someone so epically ridiculous came around, that I had to change the category name from Misadventures in Dating to Misadventures in Life.  Behold the story of The Annoying Girl.

This semester, I’m taking English at my local community college.  Bad enough as it is that I have to take an English class, there’s an annoying girl in my class.  I never realized that a single person can turn into the bane of my existence in such a short period of time.  The Annoying Girl is constantly talking out of turn and taking subjects waaaay off topic.  Our English professor is quite obviously passive aggressive, for he chooses to ignore her loud outbursts of insanity and only once asked her to raise her hand before speaking.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think she had an extreme case of Tourettes.  (Though, I think a more accurate definition of her issue is diarrhea of the mouth.)  For a few weeks, I said nothing, attempting to be the adult in the situation.  Then my annoyance slowly morphed into moderate dislike, causing me to say snide things under my breath, give her stank eye and sigh heavily (you know how us girls do that).   However, my moderate dislike was thrown into extreme hatred overload on Tuesday…

The class was paired into groups, and each group was given one class period to give a presentation and “teach” the rest of the class about a portion of the book we’re reading.  And wasn’t it just my lucky fucking day that The Annoying Girl decided to show up to class last Tuesday when my group was to give our presentation.  Before we presented, our group agreed that I would speak for the majority of the period because of my supreme wit and my incredible ability to banter with The Annoying Girl (plus, I love to talk).  The presentation started, and sure enough The Annoying Girl decides to spew her nonsense, to which I eloquently bantered back and forth with her dumb ass.  The kicker was, the end of our presentation was dedicated to playing a game of Jeopardy!  With just the mere mention of a game, The Annoying Girl kicked her obnoxiousness into high fucking gear, by yelling out the answers without being called on, shooting her hand as high in the air as her arm would allow it while saying, “Ooh, ooh!”.  Are you fucking serious?  Are we in fucking Kindergarten or are we in College?  As many times as I could, I told The Annoying Girl to chill the fuck out and for shitssake, give other people a fucking chance to participate.  This bitch turned into a mix of Hermione Granger and an excited fucking puppy.  I thought at any given moment either her head was going to explode or she was going to pee on my fucking shoe.   Not only was I not able to get her annoying ass under control, our Professor didn’t even try.  The presentation/game ended up running twice as long as we expected because her ridiculous ass wouldn’t shut the fuck up.  I could see all our other classmates fuming from her ridiculousness…  It took everything I had to leave my earrings and my shoes on and not give her the beat down she so desperately deserved.

I didn’t think I could get any more pissed off than I was at that moment… until today.  The next group was responsible for presenting today and I stayed as quiet as I possibly could even though I could feel my temperature and my blood pressure rising with every syllable that came out of her mouth.  It wasn’t until she went so completely off topic that I finally exploded.  The group presenting was talking about the media’s role in war and one of the girls presenting gave movies as an example and mentioned the movie Battle: LA.  The Annoying Girl (I shit you not) spoke up and said, “I love LA, what a beautiful city”.  I fucking lost it.  I said (hella loud) “That’s not on topic”.  I finally got passed the point where I could calmly and quietly speak my opinions.  I raised my hand, as slowly as possible because I was afraid that if I made any sudden movements, my anger would kick into overdrive and I would find myself beating the ever-loving snot out of The Annoying Girl.  As I opened my mouth to give my opinion, I said (snidely), “Getting back on topic…”  And of course, what happened?  That bitch didn’t fucking keep her mouth shut – She tried spouting off more nonsense about how she was ON topic.  Bitch, please.  How can you fucking tell me you’re on topic when you’re talking about how you love LA because it’s beautiful?  No one fucking cares about what you think.  Of course, me being as pissed off as anyone could ever imagine said as I glanced at her, “Can I finish what I was going to say?”  (While thinking, “Bitch, don’t fucking interrupt me again”).  She had the fucking NERVE to say, “Look at me when you’re talking to me.”  Oh no, you didn’t just say that to me.  So I turned, again, as slowly as I could and said (even slower, in case her dumbass couldn’t comprehend the words I was saying), “Will you let me finish?”  I think as I was turning my head back to the front of the class where the presenting group was standing, my thumb ended up brushing my nose twice.  Oh, you know how I did it.  Like I was ready to throwdown.  It probably took me the rest of the period to stop shaking in anger from that single confrontation…

After class, she got up out of her chair and started walking towards me as I was putting my stuff back in my bag… My imagination was shoved into high gear and all I could think was that one of us was going to end up with a black eye and I hoped to hell that it would be her.  Though, all I could imagine was that scene from The Wedding Singer when the old man tried to hit Glenn, missed and said, “I used to be much stronger…”

Get this.  She said, “I wanted to apologize for my rude behavior”.  Of course, I’m still steaming so I said, “From when?  Tuesday or today?” (You’re goddamn fucking right I said that).  She replied both then tried giving me some excuse about how she gets a little excited when she plays a game.  (Ya think?)  As much as I tried to be the better person, I couldn’t help saying, “You know, we’re in College now, it’s time to act like an adult.  The game was supposed to be fun, and you ruined it for the whole class.  It wasn’t fun for anyone.”

Me: 2

Annoying Girl: 0


Age… Part deux

You know you’re getting old when you find yourself bitching about the way kids these days lay the passenger seat of a car all the way back.

Are they taking a nap, or what?!?!

Getting Lucky

While making my dinner tonight… I got lucky. Not in the sense that you’re thinking (get your head out of the gutter… hell, who am I kidding? That’s where mine is!) I was making a chicken quesadilla, loaded with a shitton of salsa (which is krista speak for about a quarter cup). As I was putting the jar of salsa back in the fridge, the bottle of red wine I keep above my fridge decided to scoot itself off the edge of the refrigerator…  Instead of the bottle hitting the counter and shattering into a million pieces and splattering red wine all over me, the bottle landed square in the middle of my quesadilla, projectile launching the shitton of salsa all the fuck over me, the floor, the stove… basically covered every square inch of my kitchen.

So there… got lucky. Only had to wipe the launched bits of tomato off my clothes instead of throwing the fucking red wine stained clothes away.

Maybe I should stick to white wine…  Just in case.

The Clingon

I very briefly “dated” (I use the term dated loosely) this guy that I worked with. We went out together for dinner on Sundays after work, and always with his kid.  Real kiddy type stuff like Chuck E Cheese and the zoo.  We ended up going to see a concert together (I had two tickets and the friend I was originally to go with had a family emergency – so I invited him in her stead.)  That was the night that he materialized a “relationship” between the two of us in his head.  This guy’s idea of a relationship equals calling the other person a gazillion times a day, and texting between phone calls.  OME – if I would have answered the phone EVERYTIME he called, I would have needed a new minutes plan!  (Thank goodness I have unlimited texts!!)  Sometime before the crazy started, he had invited me to tag along to Vegas with him (business trip for him, and I had planned on driving from Vegas to LA to see my grandmother).  By the time the trip came around, he was driving me INSANE, but I’d already promised my grandmother I was coming to see her, so I couldn’t back out of the trip!  Once we got there, though, I couldn’t get away from him FAST ENOUGH!!  I had to make a quick trip to Wally World (which we passed on the drive in) and he wanted to go with me!!  WTF??!  To Wal-Mart?  Can I NOT do ANYTHING on MY OWN?!?!  JesusFUCKINGchrist!  I would only be gone like 20 minutes, and trust me, I really needed that fucking time to myself after a 10 HOUR CAR RIDE with the crazy clingon!  Oy!

This guy was a stage 5 clingon!!  He wouldn’t ever leave me ALONE.  He’d text me all day long, and when I wouldn’t respond right away, he’d call me.  I told him that I just wanted to be friends, but he never really got it.  He texted me asking me out for Saturday night, to which I told him I had plans (I did), then asked about Sunday night, again I told him no.  THEN he says “Well, I probably know the answer to this question, but what about tonight?”  OMG, are you freakin’ kidding me?!?!  If you know the fucking answer, why bother even fucking asking?!!? Why is it, a man can get away with not answering his phone, but us women can’t?  We end up trying to ignore guys that are more needy than a newborn baby!!!  It took all I could manage to not tell him to stop being a child.  When he showed up at my work on that particular day (the three phone calls in three hours day) I had to take him outside and be a bitch by telling him I wanted to be friends.  Then he has the NERVE to get pissed because I was “breaking up” with him on his birthday.  OMFG.  First of all – It’s not breaking up if WE’RE NOT TOGETHER, second of all – it wasn’t his fucking birthday, it was Halloween and his birthday was a few days before that.  Seriously – At least I cut the umbilical cord after his birthday and not on the very day of his birthday.  I do have some tact, apparently.

I should have told him I was moving to Yeomen.