Fearlessly Happy

Determined to be happy whether I like it or not

My parking brings all the guards to the yard

Clearly this means that my parking was so memorable that the guard on duty couldn’t resist the urge to leave me a compliment in the form of a note on my windshield. Imagine my delight when I was walking towards my car after leaving work and noticed that my car was the only one with a white paper on it. I knew I had done something right.

Proper etiquette and shit

This thought pretty much sums up my entire work week:
 

A story of betrayal and bodily fluids

Is it just me or is there a sense of betrayal felt when you walk in to order your morning coffee and see different baristas behind the counter? How can I trust these novices to take my coffee order? They don’t know me. They don’t know the precise coffee to milk ratio that I like, or just the right amount of whip cream to put on my coffee. I was standing in line waiting to place my order and all I could think was that no one informed me that this change was going to take place, they didn’t even ask me how I felt about it. These impostors with their bright smiles were acting like they had always been here. Smiles, by the way, that were obviously fake because no one that has to wake up before seven in the morning to go to work can be that happy.

And just when I thought that this coffee run couldn’t get any worse, I notice a slimy, white splatter on the floor beside a woman that’s in front of me in line. As I am trying to do some detective work to identify the gooey substance, I assess this woman who has a baby hanging in front of her in a baby carrier. The baby is facing outward. I notice some of the white gunk on the baby’s foot. At this point, my flawless investigative skills helped me deduce that the goo was baby puke. I decided to inform the mother of her baby’s recent offense and I guess she reacted how parents normally do in these situations. She put a face of utter disgust, nodded and said “I know.” She knew. Her baby puked and she didn’t even attempt to clean it or cover it with napkins. She decided that the best thing to do was to walk right past it and order her coffee. She started walking away once she received her order and then, as an afterthought, waved in the direction of the puke and told the barista “my baby threw up there. can you clean it?” and left. Did I mention that she left and didn’t bother cleaning her child’s foot? That’s when I realized that baby carriers or slings or whatever they’re called are genius! If your kid pukes, it lands on the floor or the person in front of you. As long as it doesn’t land on that hot new outfit you’re wearing, who cares? If she was really thinking she would have put the  baby in the  carrier on her back, that way the puke lands behind you for other people to deal with, you never even notice it happened so you’re not grossed out by your offspring’s bodily fluids and there’s less of a chance for you to step on it.

The other thing I took away from this was that that baby has some crazy puking etiquette. She did her thing while we were all standing in line and no one noticed. No fussing or crying, she kept it classy. Other babies can learn a thing or two from her.

Promiscuous toddlers and the parents they shame

This post by one of the bloggers I’m obsessed with reminded me of an incident that happened during a party and the awkwardness that ensued.

I was talking with my cousins and a couple of friends over drinks on my sister’s couch. The house was filled with people entertained in their own conversations when my sister’s friend comes over with the tale of how she found her two-year old son locking lips with my niece of the same age. At that point I may or may not have turned to my niece and said something like “you just met him and you’re already kissing him? You don’t know where he’s been, you could have caught something.” My niece was looking back at me with a confused look as if asking “what’chu talkin’ bout Willis?” I was mid-chuckle when I noticed that the looks on some of the faces of the people within earshot mirrored that of my niece. I guess STD jokes about toddlers are not considered very funny even when there was obvious sarcasm involved. You know who especially didn’t find me funny? The mother of said toddler. Awkward… Honestly, I just think she didn’t want her son’s promiscuity out in the open. I can respect that, no one likes to air out their dirty laundry.

How did I go from trying to show my  niece the importance of safety when interacting with the opposite sex to looking like an ass. Granted, STD talks may not be age appropriate for a two-year old but it’s never too soon to start talking about these things! Or so I thought. I don’t know, there’s no manual on what not to say to children, is there? So I must rely on my common sense and I don’t know where that thing is, it keeps getting lost.

All in all, lesson learned. Not everyone is going to get my humor and that’s okay, I don’t expect them to. This also shows that it’s probably a good thing I don’t have children of my own depending on me for guidance of any kind.

The cookie ninja

I was running some errands the other day when I came upon this:

I was confused. I did a double take and sure enough this thing was real, it even had an official city seal on it. Someone please tell me exactly what this defender of the peace in this smart car is supposed to keep safe? And what happens during a high-speed chase? I tried to think of a possible scenario in which he would show up to fight some injustice and people would take him seriously but I came up empty. So maybe we can write an inappropriate job description for this Public Safety Officer that is fitting for the official vehicle he has been assigned. I’ll start it off, feel  free to add your own:

Patrol the perimeter around the vault where Girl Scout cookies are kept to ensure their safety from any potential robbers. They are kept in a vault right? Well maybe he could just be in charge of the Tagalongs and Do-Si-Dos not the Thin Mints, those things are like crack and there’s no telling what lengths some people would be willing to go to for a box.

Your turn.

Shit got real: Frosty Style

At some point in our lives we have to ask ourselves how far we are willing to go for our favorite food. We need to be self-aware and mentally prepare ourselves for a situation in which someone is standing in between us and our favorite mouth-watering goodness so that we can react in a not-so psychotic way. Please, I beg you to heed my warning because you don’t want to get caught hungry, placing an order at the fine dining establishment of your choice when the poor unsuspecting soul on the other side of the drive thru window does not give you your order in a timely manner.

Case in point, the Frosty Lover at the Wendy’s drive thru. FL was given his four frosties and asked to park on the side to wait for the rest of his order. Apparently his order was going to take some time to be ready and they wanted to take care of the other customers in line. All was right with the world when all of a sudden FL decided that he had waited long enough and most importantly, his frosties were melting. The fucking horror! His priorities were obviously in order when he decided he would not stand for melted frosties. Imagine my delight when I pull up to get my order and this man storms out of his car and proceeds to lose his shit in the middle of the parking lot. Shit officially got real. He complained to the Wendy’s employee about his delayed order but most importantly he got within inches of the cashier’s face and screamed “NOW MY FROSTIES ARE MELTED. MY FUCKING FROSTIES ARE MELTED. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MELTED FROSTIES?” All this in the Wendy’s parking lot. Clearly, he was not prepared for such a situation. This is why self-awareness is so important you guys. A frosty had the power to reduce a grown ass man to a spastic douche. This could have all been avoided had he equipped himself with the appropriate coping mechanisms for this type of atrocity. He further proved he wasn’t thinking straight when he accepted an offer for some fresh frosties. You know those guys all took turns in the back mixing in their bodily fluids to those frosties to get back at FL for that scene he pulled.

The only good that came of this situation was that it served for some great entertainment for myself and all the other patrons watching in fascination. Wendy’s also came out a winner here because it made me want to order a frosty myself. If a man is that passionate over something and willing to fight for it, that must be a damn good frosty. Just saying.

What have you done during a hunger rage?

Catching cheaters one panty at a time

Dear incredibly brilliant people at Infidelity DNA,

This is an ingenious idea and I want to thank you for offering this much-needed public service. You are giving people the opportunity to sneak around and steal their partner’s old, crusty underwear and send it over to your lab where you determine if the dried up layer of gunk on said underwear is someone else’s love juice. So you test the undies, check for semen or DNA and then let me know if it belongs to my husband, me or some floozy he was cavorting with. That cheating bastard never stood a chance. Wait, how did this become about me? Anyway, my point is that it really doesn’t get any better than this. Oh wait. Yes it does. You manage to provide this entire service for the nominal fee of $595!

Now, before I ransack my hamper looking for my husband’s dirty boxers, I have three questions for you:

1. What if the crud on my hubby’s boxers is mayo or some clam chowder that he spilled because he was being particularly clumsy and managed to get some inside his boxers? And if that’s the case I will need to have a serious talk with that motherfucker because who in the hell spills clam chowder in their boxers and why was he eating clam chowder with no clothes on? But I digress. My point here is, will you give me my money back if the stuff in the boxers is just some old chowder?

2. Who was it? Which one of you came up with this idea? Which one of you knew that there are a shit load of paranoid people willing to go the extra mile to achieve a new level of crazy and pay $595 for it? I salute whoever it was and must meet this intellectual genius. Also, please ask this person what exactly he/she/it was going through when the light bulb went off? Please explain at what point in someone’s life it sounds like a good idea to test someone’s dirty underwear.

3. This last question is more of a request. Can I be present when one of your clients tells her cheating lover that she sent his tighty whities to get tested and someone else’s DNA showed up? I beg you to please let me in on this. Because, hello? I need to see his face when she’s explaining how she found out of his cheating ways like it is the most normal thing in the history of ever.

That is all for now. I just leave you with one suggestion. You all need to step it up because these people are offering semen detection kits that I could buy and use in the comfort of my own home for $49.95. It sounds legit so I might go that route.

It’s about to go down

I have wanted to do this for so long but I was waiting to write the perfect About Me page. Then I needed a mind-blowing first post. But a couple of days ago I said to myself, “Self, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!” If I do a kick-ass first post and About Me page, then I need to make an even more kick-ass second, third, fourth, you see where this is going. If I blow your minds with the first post then your expectations of what you’ll read in this here blog will be way too high. I’ll be stuck in this vicious cycle of constantly needing to one up myself. That is way too much pressure. So I’m not having any of that. Nope. SCREW THAT. Who needs an About Me page? The first post needs to be mediocre at best, then they’ll progressively get better (probably).

So get comfortable, make yourself at home and hang in there because with any luck in a couple of years you’ll start to read some quality shit around here.

Post Navigation

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

%d bloggers like this: