Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Waiting on Other People TOO Long Makes My Face Go :(

So I'm sitting here waiting for our new breakfast table to be delivered. The furniture people called yesterday and said it'd be between 2-5.

I can't stand that. When I make a Dr. appointment, do I tell them that I'm going to show up between 2 and 5? No, I show up when I freaking say I'm going to or I get bypassed AND charged! Double SUCK!!

If I decide to fly, does the plane wait on me to get there between 2 and 5? No, in fact, your ass better be in that seat with your crap stashed and your seat upright and tray table locked ten minutes before departure time or your plane leaves. And if you make it on the plane, everyone stares at you like you're an A-Hole because you're stashing your crap in a hurry and even though you're in 5C, the only available overhead space is in row 32 and even then you're banging it in. Here are the people you have pissed off so far due to your tardiness (even if it's not your fault)
The Gate Agent who just took your seat away and was about to assign it to someone else
The standby passenger who feels like you robbed them (even though it was your seat) and the 32 other passengers who are on standby as well who don't care that they have no prayer of getting on this flight, it's fun to focus your anger and the Gate Agent is full of prozac and valium. Yelling at her won't matter. Dont ask me how I know.

So then you GET ON the plane, and the flight attendant is glaring at you because you should have been there on time and she doesn't get paid til the door shuts. She knows there's no where to put your bag, but she'll let you go jack around in row 32 because there might be room for one of your mittens there. When you can't smash your bag into the overhead,everyone on the plane is rolling their eyes and now you have pissed off the ramp guy who already shut the plane, he got done all early because he worked efficiently and now you , have cut into his union mandated break time.
Don't you dare voice that opinion though because now the Gate Agent is about to get written up if she doesn't put you on the plane and shut that door it's on her, and if you cop and attitude the flight attendant will remove you and it's too late to put another standby passenger on so if you get upset and the flight attendant feels threatened, is on the rag, or just feels mean (some are like this, not all) then the gate agent has to walk down the jetbridge with you and the standby who was maddogging you is really pisesd now because they know the plane is driving away with an empty seat. You WASTED that seat, you a-HOLE! Meanwhile, the standby decides to get angry with the Gate Agent and she has to call a supervisor, and that takes 20 minutes to diffuse because pissed off airport people are like contained beasts and have nothing else to do but vent, so the Gate Agent gets written up AND misses her break because YOU DID NOT SHOW UP ON TIME

Am I exagerrating? I mean right now, yeah. I'm surprised you even followed me this far, but it's IMPORTANT to be on time. It's rude not to be. So howcome I have to wait until 459 to get my stupid table and I really wanted and planned to be somewhere less fun. OF course the time I count on it being late because it always is, and I duck out from 2-4, I miss the delivery. They can't call me, they leave a note that's polite but it's really telling me shame on me. IF I spent enough money to have something giant delivered don't I get at least a courtesy phone call?

Oh by the way these delivery douches just called now and said they'd be late, which makes me late to the place I wanted to be at by now. Good thing my sweet husband saved the day and is coming home to take the delivery.

I hate late without a phone call. A phone call at the eleventh hour usually doesn't count. IF you were running late all day then you should have informed me.

Ok.

Rant over, now Im gonna go play.

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Monday, October 10, 2011

Today's Blog Sponsor - Dead Squirrell


I'm really upset because I hit that sweet cute little squirrel today. Squirrel looks better as SQUIRRELL to me, so I am going to be a rebel and spell it the way I want so I don't have to go back and correct stuff.

I didn't actually hit that squirrell in the picture, actually, becauase if I did, you could accuse me of driving and taking pictures, which, this time I was not doing and therefore I would deserve all this guilt I have. But no, that's just a google image and the squirrell I took out today wasnt eating a peanut.

It was just standing there. Like some asshole squirrell telling me to bring it. It didn't even move and there was oncoming traffic , and there was nothing I could do and then there was a soft thud under the tire and the undercarriage of the car and it kinda got flung to the side a little and I parked the car and I felt so bad I was going to wrap it up in a little whatever the hell was in my trunk and take it to the vet because I felt so bad seeing his squirrelly little face and then BAM I hit it! I couldn't bear to have his cute face in my nightmares as being the one responsible for ending him so I pulled over and that was a really really bad idea because now I have a worse visual to deal with at night. Not worse than spiders though because I'm all about spider smashing. Sorry, I know it's not fair, God's creatures and all, whatever. That spider was coming right for me!! SMASH!!!

Ok so anyways, you can tell by how all over the place I am that I'm still pretty traumatized. But now the image of squirrell smash is in my head and I dont' even want to go to sleep now.

I vented on twitter and I processed my thoughts. Is there a squirrell heaven? Can squirrells recognize and miss each other? Do you think that squirrell had squirrell babies?

The responses I got were reassuring. Here are a few:
v6flatb3d Mark Castator:
@ShannonDRauch A squirrel is just a rat with better marketing. #BushyTail

FerLaurent Fernando Laurent
@ @ShannonDRauch He's going to be in a better place rite now. This happening was on his track.

kc9cgj Matthew Hartman
@ @ShannonDRauch There's a heaven for all critters. It's called Disneyland.

@ShannonDRauch happened to me once too - little guy fell out of a tree. #sosad

doubleyounow doubleyou
@ @ShannonDRauch #ofcoursethereisasquirrelheaven


So, I felt a little better, and then I took a bath to decompress. I made the water as hot as I could tolerate it, and then I got way too hot and had to jump out and pass out on the fan all nekkie like always because that's really bad for my blood pressure but I never seem to learn my lesson.

A silver lining for today was that when I turned the bathwater on, the sprayer didn't hit me in the face. The cleaning lady was here today and she uses the sprayer attachment on the bathtub paired with scalding water to wash it and she always leaves it on spray position so that when I take a bath to destress, I end up getting more pissed off by a scalding spray to the face. I never learn. Today, she left it in the off position. So either she remembered or she didn't clean the tub as diligently, but I appreciated not having to hold my face yelling the F word while my husband laughs at me and asks me why I never learn.

In other news, I have decided to pretend that the squirrell was flipping me off, calling me fat and mooning me, and he deserved to get hit. However, this isn't really working because I have the urge to name him Peanut which is making this even more personal.

RIP Peanut the Idiot Road Scuirrell 2011ish-2011
(insert picture of squirrell flipping me off so I dont feel as bad)

Do you think if there is a Squirrell heaven that Peanut forgives me? I'm such a bad person!! (sob) (running off)

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Thursday, October 6, 2011

This is going to be me one day.




Good morning everyone! Well, it's like 1pm but that's ok!!

I often ask this question when I do interviews for whatever article I'm working on for whatever publication.

"At what point did you know that you'd made it"

I think it's only fair that I share this with you.

I felt like I'd made it when I finished therapy after a really heart wrenching divorce.

I knew I'd made it when my new husband said "He Did" and he kissed me with this dramatic dip and then my dad danced with me at my wedding the way I'd always thought I'd been screwed out of by my prior bad decisions.

Every time my kids tell me they love me, it confirms "I made it". However, if there is a picture that you want me to paint, here is my glamorous version.


When I am driving an Austin Healey Bug Eye Convertible (I'll take any color but I really want Candy Apple Red or Sky Blue in that preference) with the top down, flowy scarf on my head (Sky Blue in my vision) with oversized glasses and bright red lipstick a la Grace Kelly is when I will be the star of the painting in my mind that will express to the world that I am a somebody and "I did it" whatever "it" was that day.

I already have a convertible mercedes, and sunglasses, and lipstick, and a scarf, but I want the OLD FASHIONED car, perfect blue scarf and lipstick and I will not put it all together until the car manifests itself. It has to be an Austin Healey Sprite because it looks like a smiling happy face from the front. That is all. And I want a hot air balloon ride too.

That's just me though.

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Sunday, October 2, 2011

Things I learned In Tennis Today

A warrior yell and a cute skirt don't magically make you good at tennis.

You shouldn't wear makeup tones to compliment said cute tennis dress because you get really, really, freaking sweaty. ESPECIALLY if you are a tennis virgin like me because you end up chasing the ball around more.

Yelling "I got it" is really just self positive reinforcement. I don't actually have it.

Making contact with the ball is a good thing. Even if it is in self defense, fear, or accidentally.

If you do make contact, "Nothing but Net" isn't a good thing unless you are playing basketball, and yelling that victoriously makes you a tool.

The silver lining is that we are in New Canaan (where The Stepford Wives was filmed) and my friend has a tennis court in the back yard of her castle.

Dr. Pepper is a good rehydrant though.

Love from New Canaan.

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