I've never been too crazy about heights, and thanks to my father's forwarded e-mail, I was about to have a heart attack in the comfort of my own home as I contemplated THIS job:
Showing posts with label things I probably shouldn't do. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things I probably shouldn't do. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Perfect Gifts for Parents You Don't Like
If you really want to get back at someone you don't really like, there are a few things to add to your Christmas list for their toddlers.
What about Hungry Hippos? Guaranteed to make more noise than you would take in at a heavy metal concert. The banging plastic parts on marbles is deadly, perfect for parents on your shiter list.
A close second is the good 'ole ant farm. I always wanted one of these, but everyone with any sense knows that a release is in the cards. At some point that baby is busting open and shedding tiny marching bodies everywhere. Before it happens, parents will go to bed knowing there are hundreds of ants in their home every night, wondering if tonight is the night when the great escape will occur.
Fish are good too--just one more thing for the parents to take care of.
Let's move onto just about any musical instrument for toddlers. It's not that music isn't fabulous for youngsters, but when they don't know what they're doing and are just at the pouncing and shaking stage, a nice junior keyboard can drive the parents mad. Along the same lines--karaoke machines for kids. Pretending you're loving that singing adds a terrific dimension to the torture.
A giant soaker water gun is one gift item I'm pretty sure was given to D-Man in his younger years by people who hated me. You see, when it's you, Husband and one little guy...and you have a giant soaker water gun in the equation...there are two people in the line of fire. One of them is yours truly. So yeah, I'd add the giant soaker to the top of your resident evil list.
After experiencing a number of these gifts first hand, I'll tell you that presents for boys and girls can also be nice treats for your senses if you have parental revenge on your mind. If you do like the parents, however, remember that anything you buy for that special kid will have a direct impact on the mental well being of his mom and dad. I'd go with socks, a nice stuffed animal, legos or erasable crayons if you want to preserve the integrity of your adult relationships.
What about Hungry Hippos? Guaranteed to make more noise than you would take in at a heavy metal concert. The banging plastic parts on marbles is deadly, perfect for parents on your shiter list.Fish are good too--just one more thing for the parents to take care of.
Let's move onto just about any musical instrument for toddlers. It's not that music isn't fabulous for youngsters, but when they don't know what they're doing and are just at the pouncing and shaking stage, a nice junior keyboard can drive the parents mad. Along the same lines--karaoke machines for kids. Pretending you're loving that singing adds a terrific dimension to the torture.
A giant soaker water gun is one gift item I'm pretty sure was given to D-Man in his younger years by people who hated me. You see, when it's you, Husband and one little guy...and you have a giant soaker water gun in the equation...there are two people in the line of fire. One of them is yours truly. So yeah, I'd add the giant soaker to the top of your resident evil list.
After experiencing a number of these gifts first hand, I'll tell you that presents for boys and girls can also be nice treats for your senses if you have parental revenge on your mind. If you do like the parents, however, remember that anything you buy for that special kid will have a direct impact on the mental well being of his mom and dad. I'd go with socks, a nice stuffed animal, legos or erasable crayons if you want to preserve the integrity of your adult relationships.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Busted by Hallmark: Inappropriate Language
Wow, Hallmark. Are you serious? You rejected my personalized message on the e-card I wanted to send? Thanks for setting me straight.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Cupcake Fight
I recently discovered a little cake shop near my office called Cakes by Ron. Holy cow. They are to die for. But I was good. I brought back a chocolate chip cookie sandwich one for my co-worker and a variety for the fam. Husband loved the peanut butter cupcake and part of the triple chocolate cupcake which was mine, but I must point out, I was generous enough to share.
I would love to pop up a photo of that beauty, but we ate it before I thought to take a picture.
Husband recently celebrated his birthday, and since he hates cake (yes, but does like cupcakes, which he insists taste different), I got him this lovely creation from Pastry Art:
So back to the point of this post, a few nights ago a Cupcake Fight ensued in our home. There was part of the giant tart from Pastry Art left and one strawberry cupcake from Cakes by Ron. After a healthy dinner (I swear) D-Man asked if we could cut him a piece of the tart. He then said, "Actually no, I'd like that strawberry cupcake."
- Husband: "No. That cupcake is mine."
- D-Man: "But you offered it to me yesterday, and you ate the other cupcake."
- Husband: "That was yesterday. You said you didn't want it. And I want it today."
- D-Man: "But that's not fair."
- Husband: "I'm a pretty generous person. I give things up when I can make someone else happy, but I'm not going to give this one thing up. Is this really worth getting all upset over?"
- D-man: "Yes, it is. That cupcake should be mine."
Friday, June 25, 2010
Sweet Putayta Bird
I felt terrible. Absolutely terrible. Yet I did laugh. And regrettably, I just don't have a photo of the painting that led to these two very different reactions.
My grandfather had quite an interesting art collection. He loved color--bright color. And he had quite a few large colorful paintings. On a visit to Mother's house not too long ago, I discovered a particularly unattractive painting of his in her living room. She was studying it, trying to figure out where to hang it. She was very fond of it.
But you see, the subject of the painting was two parrots. It was one of those paintings with a blank background. The birds had parts of them well-defined and the rest still looked more like sketches. My issue was that the body of the largest most obvious bird looked like a giant sweet potato. Once I saw it, that's all I could see.
So I mentioned it to Mom. And began to laugh. Dad agreed that it looked like a freaking sweet potato. And before long, Mother was more than agitated. "Thanks," she said. "You ruined it for me." (This is in a deep Southern accent.)
That was back in April.
The sweet potato bird came up in conversation again this week. "Where'dya put that painting?" I asked her.
"On the street. I put it on the street. You ruined it for me. I couldn't get over the putayta. Thanks a lot."
Okay, okay. I'm a horrible jackass. But it made the whole thing even funnier. But I feel bad. It's still funny. That painting was probably worth millions. But it ended up on the curb. Wonder where it's hanging now...and how long it will take them to see the sweet potato.
My grandfather had quite an interesting art collection. He loved color--bright color. And he had quite a few large colorful paintings. On a visit to Mother's house not too long ago, I discovered a particularly unattractive painting of his in her living room. She was studying it, trying to figure out where to hang it. She was very fond of it.
But you see, the subject of the painting was two parrots. It was one of those paintings with a blank background. The birds had parts of them well-defined and the rest still looked more like sketches. My issue was that the body of the largest most obvious bird looked like a giant sweet potato. Once I saw it, that's all I could see.
So I mentioned it to Mom. And began to laugh. Dad agreed that it looked like a freaking sweet potato. And before long, Mother was more than agitated. "Thanks," she said. "You ruined it for me." (This is in a deep Southern accent.)
That was back in April.
The sweet potato bird came up in conversation again this week. "Where'dya put that painting?" I asked her.
"On the street. I put it on the street. You ruined it for me. I couldn't get over the putayta. Thanks a lot."
Okay, okay. I'm a horrible jackass. But it made the whole thing even funnier. But I feel bad. It's still funny. That painting was probably worth millions. But it ended up on the curb. Wonder where it's hanging now...and how long it will take them to see the sweet potato.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Did I Ever Do Anything So Stupid?
Probably. And thankfully, I erased it from my immediately accessible memory.
Teenagers: they are treasures but do the dumbest crap just to impress their peers. I remember feeling my own obnoxiousness when I was that age and hated it--especially in the younger teen years. I didn't enjoy middle school or much about my part in the whole spectacle of it.
I laughed hysterically when a sweet co-worker emerged from her computer this Tuesday morning to tell me about the misgiving of supervising her young teen and 3 of her closest friends for 20 hours over the Memorial Day weekend.
One of the girls--thankfully not hers--has a reputation for "acting like a dork," a behavior that is evidently magnified when she's around more than a couple of people.
This time, co-worker walked out the back door to find her tied around a thick tree trunk with the other 3 girls pouring soda and emptying Pixi Sticks on her to "see if she would attract ants."
Nice one.
Isn't it easy to laugh at someone else's kids?
What stupid things did you do for attention at that age? Do tell, as they say in the South.
Teenagers: they are treasures but do the dumbest crap just to impress their peers. I remember feeling my own obnoxiousness when I was that age and hated it--especially in the younger teen years. I didn't enjoy middle school or much about my part in the whole spectacle of it.
I laughed hysterically when a sweet co-worker emerged from her computer this Tuesday morning to tell me about the misgiving of supervising her young teen and 3 of her closest friends for 20 hours over the Memorial Day weekend.
One of the girls--thankfully not hers--has a reputation for "acting like a dork," a behavior that is evidently magnified when she's around more than a couple of people.
This time, co-worker walked out the back door to find her tied around a thick tree trunk with the other 3 girls pouring soda and emptying Pixi Sticks on her to "see if she would attract ants."
Nice one.
Isn't it easy to laugh at someone else's kids?
What stupid things did you do for attention at that age? Do tell, as they say in the South.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Big Headed Fools
I'm over people with big heads. And God knows, there are enough of them in this world.
Yes, we know that most of them are just trying to compensate for small appendages or insecurities, but it gets annoying. I'm sure you agree that having a big ego is way different than having confidence.
Suzicate had a great conversation about this recently on the Water Witch's Daughter.
Confidence is that inner knowing which allows you to move forward, believing that you're something special, but no more special than any other human being. A big head, on the other hand, screams out "I deserve to be served first," or "Get out of my way, you underlings," or "I am sooo much more intelligent that all others living and breathing on planet Earth. And all of those who have ever lived and breathed on the planet."
Where do I encounter these people? I see them in politics. (What's new, right Gropius?) I see them at flashy fundraising events. And I encounter them in professional situations where they behave without integrity or thanklessly demand that their emergency "need" becomes mine--not caring about my schedule, priorities or timing.
I think most people--maybe more than we realize--are good at heart, genuinely care about others, and think they're no better or worse than the next woman. But every now and then, the ones with big heads announce their presence at unexpected times and fill me with a sense of disgust. I know I should feel compassion for them, but most of the time, it's hard because I know they make life difficult for others.
Here is what's interesting. Eastern religions tell us that ego is just as much about the person who believes he/she is less than deserving as it is about the big headed fools walking around. Why? It's still the ego that's at risk when we fear failure itself or fear looking badly in front of others.
Now those are things I can identify with to a greater degree. So I am just as much of a big-headed fool as the next person. It's all about constant self improvement, yes? No matter how critical I am of the BS in the outer world, an internal focus always reigns me back in to my own shortcomings.
Hoping my own big head can take a long walk on a short pier.
Yes, we know that most of them are just trying to compensate for small appendages or insecurities, but it gets annoying. I'm sure you agree that having a big ego is way different than having confidence.
Suzicate had a great conversation about this recently on the Water Witch's Daughter.
Confidence is that inner knowing which allows you to move forward, believing that you're something special, but no more special than any other human being. A big head, on the other hand, screams out "I deserve to be served first," or "Get out of my way, you underlings," or "I am sooo much more intelligent that all others living and breathing on planet Earth. And all of those who have ever lived and breathed on the planet."
Where do I encounter these people? I see them in politics. (What's new, right Gropius?) I see them at flashy fundraising events. And I encounter them in professional situations where they behave without integrity or thanklessly demand that their emergency "need" becomes mine--not caring about my schedule, priorities or timing.
I think most people--maybe more than we realize--are good at heart, genuinely care about others, and think they're no better or worse than the next woman. But every now and then, the ones with big heads announce their presence at unexpected times and fill me with a sense of disgust. I know I should feel compassion for them, but most of the time, it's hard because I know they make life difficult for others.
Here is what's interesting. Eastern religions tell us that ego is just as much about the person who believes he/she is less than deserving as it is about the big headed fools walking around. Why? It's still the ego that's at risk when we fear failure itself or fear looking badly in front of others.
Now those are things I can identify with to a greater degree. So I am just as much of a big-headed fool as the next person. It's all about constant self improvement, yes? No matter how critical I am of the BS in the outer world, an internal focus always reigns me back in to my own shortcomings.
Hoping my own big head can take a long walk on a short pier.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Making Your Mark with Big Pranks
For whatever reason, most adults do not enjoy---or find acceptable---even the most thoughtfully crafted, well-meaning prank. That's unfortunate. I often dream about how to creatively get a surprise out of someone without actually causing any harm.
It's just so easy to imagine how nice a steaming pile of excrement might look in a certain locale. Or how funny an anonymous e-mail containing some speck of racy information could be to a certain deserving individual.
...Hmmm, maybe those aren’t pranks but something else more sinister?
It's all about how you brand it, right? Not so with me. I always got busted for anything. The little mischievous behavior I engaged in, I got called out for. It just works that way with some people…and for whatever reason, that includes me. Call it instant karma.
Growing up, I was always amazed at how our asinine neighbors got away with bloody murder. One day they ran around the house and coated every external doorknob with Vaseline. You obviously didn't see the slime coating until you’re reached for it. And sadly, we opened more than one door before conducting a full environmental scan. (Think about it…you’re just so angry after the first one, you run the next with such a mad eagerness to get inside you do it again. I'm sure you could hear "Goddamn it!" several miles away.)
On another occasion, the oldest and most physically unattractive of the three boys (who was in high school at the time) came to the door offering a plate of crackers to my mother. They were filled with a mysterious paste--toothpaste to be exact. Did we try one? HELLO. Of course not. it was just a little too suspicious. I did give the boy credit. It was probably all he could do to arrive with a serious expression of heartfelt kindness.
To this day one of the few things I regret in life is not carrying out a full fledged assault on those boys. The good side of that is that all 4 of us--the 3 neighbors and me--are still alive now. And tomorrow is another day--another chance, if you will. A chance for a big prank, nearly twenty years later.
It's just so easy to imagine how nice a steaming pile of excrement might look in a certain locale. Or how funny an anonymous e-mail containing some speck of racy information could be to a certain deserving individual.
...Hmmm, maybe those aren’t pranks but something else more sinister?
It's all about how you brand it, right? Not so with me. I always got busted for anything. The little mischievous behavior I engaged in, I got called out for. It just works that way with some people…and for whatever reason, that includes me. Call it instant karma.
Growing up, I was always amazed at how our asinine neighbors got away with bloody murder. One day they ran around the house and coated every external doorknob with Vaseline. You obviously didn't see the slime coating until you’re reached for it. And sadly, we opened more than one door before conducting a full environmental scan. (Think about it…you’re just so angry after the first one, you run the next with such a mad eagerness to get inside you do it again. I'm sure you could hear "Goddamn it!" several miles away.)
On another occasion, the oldest and most physically unattractive of the three boys (who was in high school at the time) came to the door offering a plate of crackers to my mother. They were filled with a mysterious paste--toothpaste to be exact. Did we try one? HELLO. Of course not. it was just a little too suspicious. I did give the boy credit. It was probably all he could do to arrive with a serious expression of heartfelt kindness.
To this day one of the few things I regret in life is not carrying out a full fledged assault on those boys. The good side of that is that all 4 of us--the 3 neighbors and me--are still alive now. And tomorrow is another day--another chance, if you will. A chance for a big prank, nearly twenty years later.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Big Side Effects
Why thank you very much. I'll take my allergies, insomnia and erectile dysfunction. Not that I have any of those. It's only 1:23 a.m. and I'm writing a scheduled blog post to cover a ridiculous situation I got myself into: blogging about "big" everyday for one month But seriously...
I've just heard 4 commercials for prescription medications in less than 40 minutes.
Here's a small example: "In patients with depression, Lunesta may result in increased depression and increased risk of suicide." Let's see...get a decent night's sleep or kill yourself? I guess if you aren't getting your z's, you could actually want to die. Looks like either way, you're headed down the road of wanting to end your life.
Love the commercials for a medication treating something so minor that you could actually live with relatively inconvenienced, but the pills themselves can result in increased risk of heart attack, stroke, bleeding from your irises, the Ebola virus, swine flu, wanting to eat your own fingernails, etc. Crazy.
Now what about the side effects that worsen the issues that the medications are supposedly treating? "Pristique can increase suicidal thoughts and behavior" in certain individuals. It's a freaking depression medication!!!
When I was experiencing severe issues with vertigo, a potential side effect of all the suggested medications was dizziness. Nice.
My personal favorite is the ED medication commercial that loudly points out (during prime time tv, I might add) "if you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours, seek immediate medical attention..." or something to that effect. Well no crap.
First of all, thank you very much for making it even more difficult to watch tv with a 13 year old. When I was his age, all I had to worry about was a commercial for tampons coming on. And secondly, I just can't imagine it would be too terribly comfortable walking into the hospital with an obvious, um... Just fill in the blank.
Now totally seriously: I really don't think we need commercials about prescription medications innundating us from all fronts, except for the obvious funny-value. The pharmaceutical companies are already crossing the line in our doctor's offices. Isn't that enough?
I've just heard 4 commercials for prescription medications in less than 40 minutes.
Here's a small example: "In patients with depression, Lunesta may result in increased depression and increased risk of suicide." Let's see...get a decent night's sleep or kill yourself? I guess if you aren't getting your z's, you could actually want to die. Looks like either way, you're headed down the road of wanting to end your life.
Love the commercials for a medication treating something so minor that you could actually live with relatively inconvenienced, but the pills themselves can result in increased risk of heart attack, stroke, bleeding from your irises, the Ebola virus, swine flu, wanting to eat your own fingernails, etc. Crazy.
Now what about the side effects that worsen the issues that the medications are supposedly treating? "Pristique can increase suicidal thoughts and behavior" in certain individuals. It's a freaking depression medication!!!
When I was experiencing severe issues with vertigo, a potential side effect of all the suggested medications was dizziness. Nice.
My personal favorite is the ED medication commercial that loudly points out (during prime time tv, I might add) "if you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours, seek immediate medical attention..." or something to that effect. Well no crap.
First of all, thank you very much for making it even more difficult to watch tv with a 13 year old. When I was his age, all I had to worry about was a commercial for tampons coming on. And secondly, I just can't imagine it would be too terribly comfortable walking into the hospital with an obvious, um... Just fill in the blank.
Now totally seriously: I really don't think we need commercials about prescription medications innundating us from all fronts, except for the obvious funny-value. The pharmaceutical companies are already crossing the line in our doctor's offices. Isn't that enough?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Big Trouble
When I was almost 16, my parents went out of town for a couple of days and left me at home with 13 year old brother. To cut to the chase, the two of us ended up in a bit of a disagreement, I locked him out of the house, and he punched through the glass panels on either side of the front door.
Neighbor called the parents, and I ended up...er um...being told I must remain inside until they returned the next day. Justifiably, they were pissed that they could not leave town for a rare excusion without having this sort of drama from two supposedly responsible offspring.
Of couse in my mind, I had great reason to lock younger brother out of the house. Further, I already bought tickets to the Eric Clapton concert that night. So HELLO, I wasn't going to remain inside. Please.
I went to the show and made no secret about it. And that, my friends, resulted in the ultimate pronouncement: "Thou shalt be grounded, including on your 16th birthday."
What sort of big trouble did you get into as a teenager? And now? Are you a trouble maker, or a peace maker...or perhaps a bit of both?
Neighbor called the parents, and I ended up...er um...being told I must remain inside until they returned the next day. Justifiably, they were pissed that they could not leave town for a rare excusion without having this sort of drama from two supposedly responsible offspring.
Of couse in my mind, I had great reason to lock younger brother out of the house. Further, I already bought tickets to the Eric Clapton concert that night. So HELLO, I wasn't going to remain inside. Please.
I went to the show and made no secret about it. And that, my friends, resulted in the ultimate pronouncement: "Thou shalt be grounded, including on your 16th birthday."
What sort of big trouble did you get into as a teenager? And now? Are you a trouble maker, or a peace maker...or perhaps a bit of both?
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
So Industrious
I amaze myself. I can accomplish tasks like no one's business, build a base of blog posts from now through eternity, form an army of lists, rid my house of even the most miniscule dust mite, and do just about anything I set my mind to...when there's something else I should be doing that I don't want to do.
For the love of Pete, is it POSSIBLE for me to avoid working on this presentation any longer? It's not that I hate the thought of doing it. I enjoy the subject matter and have had a blast giving a similar presentation multiple times. But every time I do it, I tweak it, add more, take away some and customize it a little for my audience. Like a good little marketing girl.
But the truth is I'm getting sick of it. Maybe not sick of it. I'm just tired of obsessing over whether or not it will be new and exciting for each audience. You know how it is when you become insanely familiar with something. You assume everyone else is too. My biggest fear is presenting something that everyone already knows, thus making myself a bore and wasting everyone's time.
There's also the fact that when I come home from work, I don't want to work anymore. I know I'll change my mind like tomorrow, when I'm obsessing over something different. But sometimes I really yearn to leave the job at work. I suppose I can do that. It's just a matter of mental self-control, right?
Husband just said "I'll bet if we got a padded toilet seat, you'd spend all of your time in the bathroom. You would have a nice, soft space for your computer activities and could stay in the bathroom all the time." Nice, Husband, nice.
How do you balance your work and play? Do you obsess over weird things?
For the love of Pete, is it POSSIBLE for me to avoid working on this presentation any longer? It's not that I hate the thought of doing it. I enjoy the subject matter and have had a blast giving a similar presentation multiple times. But every time I do it, I tweak it, add more, take away some and customize it a little for my audience. Like a good little marketing girl.
But the truth is I'm getting sick of it. Maybe not sick of it. I'm just tired of obsessing over whether or not it will be new and exciting for each audience. You know how it is when you become insanely familiar with something. You assume everyone else is too. My biggest fear is presenting something that everyone already knows, thus making myself a bore and wasting everyone's time.
There's also the fact that when I come home from work, I don't want to work anymore. I know I'll change my mind like tomorrow, when I'm obsessing over something different. But sometimes I really yearn to leave the job at work. I suppose I can do that. It's just a matter of mental self-control, right?
Husband just said "I'll bet if we got a padded toilet seat, you'd spend all of your time in the bathroom. You would have a nice, soft space for your computer activities and could stay in the bathroom all the time." Nice, Husband, nice.
How do you balance your work and play? Do you obsess over weird things?
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Things I Feel Guilty About Hating
Doctor's appointments. Car maintenance. Trips to the grocery store.
My goodness, what the hell is wrong with me? I have access to health care, transportation and food, and I dread the very vehicles that allow me to thrive as a free and healthy individual. It's terrible and I'm working to change my perspective on it all.
Yes, I'm one of those people who believes that once you buy a car, it should give itself oil changes, change its own tires, you know...anything that might need to be taken care of after 8,976 miles.
Today's short visit to the Honda dealership wasn't so bad. I was carefully anticipating that moment, however, that we all know will come. The tech appears in the waiting room with a clipboard and a look of seriousness to explain an additional $300 service I need to add to the oil change. Oh, okay! I don't think so, buddy. But thanks anyway.
In a way, it's frighteningly similar to the doctor's office. Although my true hatred of the doctor's office began with the start of annuals, it didn't help a few years ago when I went in and had a nurse freak out on me. I'd always had very low blood pressure. That was before the craziness of family, intense work and volunteer life overtook me. So I went in for an annual several years back and sat down for the mandatory blood pressure check. Here's what happened:
Nurse: "Um. This can't be right."
Me: "What?! What?!
Nurse: "Uncross your legs, maybe that will help."
Me: "Is something wrong?"
Nurse: "Hey, Betsy...could you come in here and do this reading for me?"
Me (freaking out): "Could you PLEASE tell me why you're freaking out?"
Nurse: "Your blood pressure is REALLY high."
Me (thinking): "You are a complete and total idiot. You should work in a place where you have no human contact."
So it turned out by THIS time, after all of this unprofessional BS, my blood pressure was really high. Of course.
It wasn't high enough to be on medication, but I still get full of anticipation about what my blood pressure could be everytime I go in. We'll see tomorrow morning. I, um, posponed my appointment by like 6 months.
Terrible, I know. Too bad I can't postpone grocery shopping that long.
And really, I am grateful everyday for the opportunities I have for such gifts in my life.
My goodness, what the hell is wrong with me? I have access to health care, transportation and food, and I dread the very vehicles that allow me to thrive as a free and healthy individual. It's terrible and I'm working to change my perspective on it all.
Yes, I'm one of those people who believes that once you buy a car, it should give itself oil changes, change its own tires, you know...anything that might need to be taken care of after 8,976 miles.
Today's short visit to the Honda dealership wasn't so bad. I was carefully anticipating that moment, however, that we all know will come. The tech appears in the waiting room with a clipboard and a look of seriousness to explain an additional $300 service I need to add to the oil change. Oh, okay! I don't think so, buddy. But thanks anyway.
In a way, it's frighteningly similar to the doctor's office. Although my true hatred of the doctor's office began with the start of annuals, it didn't help a few years ago when I went in and had a nurse freak out on me. I'd always had very low blood pressure. That was before the craziness of family, intense work and volunteer life overtook me. So I went in for an annual several years back and sat down for the mandatory blood pressure check. Here's what happened:
Nurse: "Um. This can't be right."
Me: "What?! What?!
Nurse: "Uncross your legs, maybe that will help."
Me: "Is something wrong?"
Nurse: "Hey, Betsy...could you come in here and do this reading for me?"
Me (freaking out): "Could you PLEASE tell me why you're freaking out?"
Nurse: "Your blood pressure is REALLY high."
Me (thinking): "You are a complete and total idiot. You should work in a place where you have no human contact."
So it turned out by THIS time, after all of this unprofessional BS, my blood pressure was really high. Of course.
It wasn't high enough to be on medication, but I still get full of anticipation about what my blood pressure could be everytime I go in. We'll see tomorrow morning. I, um, posponed my appointment by like 6 months.
Terrible, I know. Too bad I can't postpone grocery shopping that long.
And really, I am grateful everyday for the opportunities I have for such gifts in my life.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Watchin' Out for Yourself: Women & Safety
So I was trying to be playful with my recent Publix Predator post, spreading the annoyance about a senior widowed grocery store bagger who was over eager for human affection from customers. Turns out, many of you didn't think it was so funny. It's very sad, but very true--we really have to be careful to avoid something terrible happening to us or to someone we love. Husband is always on my case about being more alert, and I should be more vigilent for sure.
Thought I'd post a list of links I found about various safety topics that you can use for yourself or share with your wife, daughters, sons and others in your life. They're not just for women.
Thought I'd post a list of links I found about various safety topics that you can use for yourself or share with your wife, daughters, sons and others in your life. They're not just for women.
- How to protect yourself in a parking garage, from the Florida's State Attorney General's office. Some of these tips are unrealistic, like always walking with someone, but most are great reminders. You'll find other tip sheets for self-protection on this page as well.
- Warning signs of domestic violence. This is great direction from Safe Place and Rape Crisis Center's website. They're located right here in Sarasota and provide an incredible service for so many women in crisis.
- Tips and advice for avoiding dangerous situations outside of your home, an excellent compilation from safetyforwomen.com.
- Identity theft face off. This is a cool quiz I found on the Federal Trade Commmission's website that tests your knowledge of identity theft. We've had presentations about this at work, and it's frightening to think of how someone can so easily ruin your credit, charge up all sorts of debt, and you can end up having to pay for it all. If you don't want to play the game, look at this FTC tip sheet for preventing identity theft.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Please Tell Me I Didn't Do That
Did you ever hit that "send" button and then think, oh crap, oh no, please tell me I didn't just send that? Did you ever do that three times in a ROW?
I'm sparing the details, both because what's left of my ego can't handle to have this incident immortalized and because the details are boring. Let's just say that I sent several versions of something that had teeny tiny mistakes in it. Mistakes that were sent to someone very important. Mistakes that I would think "What the hell is wrong with that girl?" if I was on the receiving end. Mistakes that would never exist period if I hadn't been trying to work while still sick and while 2 other people were in my office asking me questions. Mistakes---okay you get it.
So I feel like a complete and total idiot. I'm trying to figure out how to repair the receiving party's now-tainted-forever professional opinion of me. I never make mistakes like this and now I did it not once, not twice, but three times in a freaking 15 minute time frame.
I would like to...
...Yet sadly, that will do nothing to undo the damage of today's "send" trifecta. Oh help, gods of forgiveness. Give me a pass on this one?
I'm sparing the details, both because what's left of my ego can't handle to have this incident immortalized and because the details are boring. Let's just say that I sent several versions of something that had teeny tiny mistakes in it. Mistakes that were sent to someone very important. Mistakes that I would think "What the hell is wrong with that girl?" if I was on the receiving end. Mistakes that would never exist period if I hadn't been trying to work while still sick and while 2 other people were in my office asking me questions. Mistakes---okay you get it.
So I feel like a complete and total idiot. I'm trying to figure out how to repair the receiving party's now-tainted-forever professional opinion of me. I never make mistakes like this and now I did it not once, not twice, but three times in a freaking 15 minute time frame.
I would like to...
- Crawl in a hole in a deep cave somewhere and hibernate until this has been forgotten (will that day come?), or
- Move. Yes, maybe I can move. I've always wanted to live in Ireland.
- Become a permanent resident of the space station. I have to go back to school and get my astrophysics degree. Hmmm...I need something much more immediate.
...Yet sadly, that will do nothing to undo the damage of today's "send" trifecta. Oh help, gods of forgiveness. Give me a pass on this one?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Your mamma said so
I just learned today that a friend literally poked a hole in her eardrum with a Q-tip.
Aside from my obvious concern for her, I am deeply disturbed. For there is nothing Gropius enjoys more than a good 'ole Q-tipped ear. The warnings are clearly marked on the packaging, plus it's one of those things your mother always told you...not to do.
I'm afraid this could also mean that listening to too much very loud music at one time in my life could account for at least some of the ringing in my ears. And that reading too often in poor light because reading in dim light is just more calming may--just may--have something to do with my ongoing denial of an eye exam for some sort of spectacles. I'm too young for that!!
The fact that I have now come down with the full blown crud being shared across offices, towns and states is no doubt a direct result of not doing the right self-care things. Yep. Mother called it a couple days ago. My sinus cavities are clogged with virusly mucous, the type of cough you never want to hear from someone next to you interrupts otherwise calm moments, and I can't even taste the brownies I am foolishly continuing to eat.
One of these days, Gropius and all the other grown kiddies out there will learn to listen to their mammas. Meanwhile, will someone pass me that Q-tip?
A funny quote in closing...
“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful.”
Aside from my obvious concern for her, I am deeply disturbed. For there is nothing Gropius enjoys more than a good 'ole Q-tipped ear. The warnings are clearly marked on the packaging, plus it's one of those things your mother always told you...not to do.
I'm afraid this could also mean that listening to too much very loud music at one time in my life could account for at least some of the ringing in my ears. And that reading too often in poor light because reading in dim light is just more calming may--just may--have something to do with my ongoing denial of an eye exam for some sort of spectacles. I'm too young for that!!
The fact that I have now come down with the full blown crud being shared across offices, towns and states is no doubt a direct result of not doing the right self-care things. Yep. Mother called it a couple days ago. My sinus cavities are clogged with virusly mucous, the type of cough you never want to hear from someone next to you interrupts otherwise calm moments, and I can't even taste the brownies I am foolishly continuing to eat.
One of these days, Gropius and all the other grown kiddies out there will learn to listen to their mammas. Meanwhile, will someone pass me that Q-tip?
A funny quote in closing...
“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful.”
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