Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Good gracious, Martha!





October 15, 2009

Martha Stewart, have you lost your mind, woman?

This is SO WRONG.



It reminds me a lot of the baby lobster costume.  At least the head is not coming out the butt end this time.

But, seriously, Martha Stewart?  If you made this hideous costume for your precious child, what do you do with it?  Just leave the kid lying on the table?  I mean, good grief!  You can't take Junior anywhere in the car, and he doesn't look like you could even pick him up.  The aerodynamics are all WRONG.

I am shaking my head at you Martha Stewart.  Blecch.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Germs ARE the Enemy

August 20, 2009

Last week the kids started school. By Friday, Luke was sick with a sore throat. Sunday night Emma started complaining of her throat hurting. Monday night I was stricken with the sore throat virus. Today Jason is also home sick with the evil bug. Five days at school was all it took for the whole family to get sick. Awesome.

For the most part, the kids are better. Jason doesn't think he has as bad a case of it. As is my custom, I took the virus and ran with it. I had to go to Dr. Sinus today because the stuff coming out of my nose had taken on some shades of Christmas-time.

The great thing about Dr. Sinus is that you don't have to have an appointment. There weren't that many people in the waiting room when I got there, and there weren't too awful many cars in the parking lot, so I knew it probably wouldn't be that long a wait. I was kept entertained by a cute little girl who asked, no, demanded to know the names of every person in that room. (Her name was Marley. She was almost 3.) Every one that came in was required to have a conversation with Marley. She made sure of that.

Maybe I'm weird this way, but before I go to the doctor's office, no matter how sick I am, I take a shower, get dressed, and even put on make-up. Today it was mostly just concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes and powder to hide how red my nose is, as well as mascara and lipstick, so that I didn't look completely dead.

In contrast, I saw not one, but TWO twenty-something year old women in the waiting room wearing their pajamas. One was decked out in matching Tweety Bird lounge pants, shirt, and fuzzy black slippers. The other was slightly more conservative, but was obviously wearing jammies. When did this become acceptable? Yes, I will admit to dropping the kids off in the mornings at school wearing jammies (only last year--I've managed to dress every morning so far this school year), but I have never set foot out of the car in them, much less gone to a doctor's office or anywhere else in public. I could see it if they were so stricken that they had to make an ER visit, but if they are well enough to drive themself to a doctor's office, it seems to me that they could've, at the very least, put on sweats and tennis shoes or flip flops! The fuzzy slippers sent me over the edge. If Marley hadn't been asking me (for the 3rd time) what my name was, I totally would've laughed at the Tweety-bird-and-fuzzy-slipper wearing-girl.

Later I went to Wal-Mart to pick up some ingredients for vegetable soup for tonight's dinner. I remembered that Emma needed new socks, so I was browsing through the sock aisle when this man comes at me on a motorized scooter. I kept edging to the left to try to keep from being run over when I saw a woman on a scooter coming at me from the other side. I don't know if they expected me to levitate or continue our game of chicken, or what, so I quickly manuevered through them to keep from being Wal-Mart sock aisle roadkill.

While I'm on that subject, since when did everybody think it's okay to use those motorized scooters? It used to be that you would only see people with major ailments, like a broken leg or foot injury, or an elderly person using them. Now it seems like some of the people I see on them are just lazy. They drive to the chip aisle and then hop off and walk with no difficulty over to the Cheetos and Fritos, then hop back on. It seems to me that the door greeter should screen these people like the government does for disability to determine whether or not they are eligible to use the motorized scooter.

So, here I sit with my box of kleenex (second one in 24 hours), my antibiotics for the sinus/ear infections, and my decongestant. Do y'all know how under-rated breathing really is?

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

REALLY, Martha Stewart?

July 21, 2009

To make myself feel more inadequate in life, I subscribe to Martha Stewart's "Craft of the Day" Newsletter. I can't say that I have made even one craft that she's sent to me. Most of them don't even register with me as being necessary or even that interesting to me.


Until today.



Behold:"Dog Clean Up Bags.
Add some fun and fashion to everyday dog-cleanup bags."

REALLY, Martha Stewart?

A decorative poop bag? To make matters worse, she expects me to use an iron to make this. I don't even use an iron for its intended purposes, much less to make a cutesy bag for hauling my dog's handiwork.

Sorry, Tootie. It's not happening.

Monday, July 06, 2009

A Bathroom Rant


July 6, 2009

(If this is your first time at my blog, I'm sorry. They aren't all like this, I promise. If you are a repeat reader, y'all know a girl's gotta rant sometimes. Welcome back!)

You never really appreciate your own bathroom until you've used someone else's. Or more specifically, a public bathroom.

As we traveled a couple of weeks ago, I was struck by several details that were thoughtfully added or were mysteriously absent in public facilities. (When traveling with a 6 year old boy who is on the Great North American Bathroom Tour, you see a LOT of bathrooms.) This is my somewhat comprehensive list of what I saw:

1. Door Locks--These should be mandatory. Strangely, they were conspicuously absent from many stalls I visited. Mall/restaurant/gas station owners--I besiege you. Do NOT neglect to replace these if they break or fall off. It is no fun to "hover" above a toilet (And there went most of my guy readership...) and try to hold the door shut simultaneously. I think I may have permanently injured a muscle I didn't know I had.

Duct tape is never an acceptable medium for locking a door. I wish I didn't have to type that.

Also, the door locks that stick need to be replaced. You know you've been there. That split-second feeling of panic when you turn left, then right, then left again...and it won't open. The thought goes through your head, "I'm going to have to crawl under." And if you are like me, you'd rather die than touch a public bathroom floor. Just fix them.

2. Toilet Paper Dispensers--Look, we all know that you've got to have toilet paper in a stall. That's not even up for discussion. The problem I have is when you need to obtain paper from one of those stingy dispensers. You go to roll some off, and it gives you 1.5 sheets. I'm not Sheryl Crow. I'm gonna use me some tp, okay? We are all better off for everyone using more toilet paper. (Sorry, trees.)

Anyhow, I hate it when I need the paper and have to fight with the dispenser for 5 minutes to get 6 squares. I mean, by then, my calves and thigh muscles are pretty much shot from the hovering (And there went the last guy that thought it was safe to hang around). I can't stay in there holding the door shut with my other hand much longer, people!

3. Hand Dryers--As a germaphobe of a very high degree, I appreciate the concept of hand dryers. I still would rather have a paper towel to open the door with when I exit, so I don't have to touch the handle after Nasty Nellie just walked out without washing. (I DIE!) My problem with the hand dryers comes in the form of the jet-engine powered dryers. They look all practical and innocent hanging over there on the wall under the "Employees Must Wash Hands" sign. You walk up, unsuspecting, and present your dripping hands to be gently dried. All of a sudden, you realize you are not in a bathroom--you are standing behind a jet that is, at present, taking off! Look out! It blows your flesh backwards off your hands into little rolled-up windblown dunes on your wrists. The sound alone is enough to cause an 8 year old girl to go running out of the bathroom screaming. (Of course she touches the Nasty Nellie fouled door handle on the way out. Sigh.)

4. Super nice restrooms are rare--I was in the Dillard's at Pier Park in Panama City, FL when the extra-large bottle of water kicked in. I walked in the bathroom and did a double-take. Surely, I had walked into the president of the company's facility! I was surrounded by granite counters, clean tile floors, and opulent fixtures. A nice public restroom? What an oxymoron!

5. Stall cracks--That just sounds wrong. Again, for the nice people who "maintain" (such a strong word) public facilities, please consider the width of the cracks between the stall wall and the door. If I can, from my hovering position, glance up and see somebody full-on looking back at me (without their face at the precipice of the door, mind you), please, please do something about this issue.

Duct tape could be useful here.

And y'all? Don't look through the door cracks. That's not cool. It's one thing to see if there's somebody in the stall, but it's a whole other deal when you try to figure out if you went to elementary school together.

6. Door signs--Always a good thing to have the doors clearly labeled to prevent any confusion about who goes where...I'm all about that. I agree that printing the signs in Braille is also a fine idea. BUT, when you computer-print a paper sign that says "Men" or "Women" with the paper-printed Braille underneath and laminated, then you are nominated for FAIL of the Year. I'm just sayin'.

7. Don't GO there!--Okay, I gotta ask. Is there a secret society of icky people that go around doing their thing in the potty and leaving it without flushing? I mean, I go in a big bathroom with 10 stalls. I pick the 4th one from the door. I open the door and draw back in horror at what "surprise" awaited me, unflushed. I quickly make my way to the 6th door (because there's no way I'm going in there and flushing that, and the 3rd and 5th doors are too close to what's in there!), and it seems as though that person might have gone stall-hopping in their pursuit to make me die from a germaphobe inflicted heart attack. What's up, y'all? Flush it!!!

What have you seen? Good or bad, I can take it. (As long as I don't have to touch it, it's all good.)

p.s. I added this to a blog carnival at Weight..What?: Check it out!