I was making my weekly .99 store visit for lunch snacks the other day. It really is quite economical to as even the cheap Little Debbie snacks are $2 at the grocery and only $1 at .99. I have a mental list of what I buy there regularly, or as needed.
Kids shampoo
Air freshener
Lunch snacks
Spices
Hamburger Helper
Cookies
Kitchen Utensils (they carry a line of blue or red Betty Crocker)
School supplies
Night light bulbs
Langers Juice
Bread
An all purpose cleaner called Awesome. cause it is.
Sometimes they will have stuff that is not normally there like Capri Sun 10pks, or once they had twinkies. I bought 4 boxes. Yesterday I found CoffeeMate GirlScout Samoas creamer. I bought 4. I also peruse the isles for other gems that ended up in their store for whatever reason. Also for things like generic candles, jewelry cleaner, wet wipes and cheap squeaky dog toys.
So as I'm enjoying my weekly visit, I hear this voice behind me. A male voice, talking really fast. Non-stop. I turn casually and see a male in his 30's or so. And he's talking to a girl. They were there together but from the sheer volume and velocity of his speech pattern my immediate thought was "tweaker." I know, it's not cool to make such an assumption but seriously, the chatter was non-stop. I have two sons with ADHD, so I'm used to loud, rapid fire, one-way conversations- but even for me, I was like, "Damn that guy is buzzing!!" So he and the girl he was with seemed to be on the same shopping track as me, so basically they followed me through the entire store. A few times the girl made eye contact with me, widened her eyes in an exasperated "Oh holy hell, will he ever stop talking?!?!?!" sort of way. He never did.
He was talking about cars, and family, and kids, and cooking, and nutrition, and beer, and driving, and back to cars again. It was amazing. I was surprised that someone could be so unaware of themselves that it never occurred to him that his shopping partner said practically nothing the entire time. By all accounts he was a good looking guy. Tanned skin, buzzed dark hair, brown eyes that looked kind, although dilated. However the constant talking made me want to throw a blanket over him in hopes that maybe he'd fall asleep or something
As a talker, I know what it's like when you are talking about something, and then another thought pops into your head so you jump the track. I get it. However to continue doing that for 45 minutes- stopping only to take a breath? That is something special. He made eye contact with me a few times, once commenting on the coffee creamer in my cart. I gave a wide smile, but said nothing. I was not getting sucked into a conversation. I might have had to kill myself.
I have always thought that I will die under very "normal" or very "comical" circumstances, but at that moment the tragedy of dying in the .99 store was too much to consider. What was in my cart would surely come under question. 4 bottles of Samoas Coffee Creamer, 3 boxes of chocolate cookie crèmes, bread, 2 packs of hostess donettes, and some fudge covered graham crackers is not the impression I want to leave on this earth. Even if it was a $15 savings.
So I wrapped back around to the other side of the store because I had forgotten something, losing the talker. Then I got in line. Only one line open, and of COURSE they are in front of me. Oh for the love of.... he's STILL talking. The girl he was with looked at me again, her eyes in WIDER this time, as if to say, "Can you believe this mother fucker is still talking?" I giggled and sort of shrugged at her. I suspected it was a sister or a cousin or something, because not only did he appear to be much older than her, there was no affection between them to make me think they were any kind of couple.
They exited the store, and were parked close to me, loading the car and it wasn't until I closed my car door that there was sweet silence. I wondered how they knew each other that she didn't feel comfortable enough to silence him for even a minute. I am always polite, but at some point I might have said,"ok.. chill!"
Fast forward to today after work. I went to the grocery store and was heading for the cheese section, and ohh myyy god, he's HERE. The talker. HE'S HERE. I recognized the voice and cadence of his endless chatter before I turned my head completely to the side. He saw me and recognized me, smiling in an opened mouth sort of "hey!!!" and I smiled and nodded- and quickly turned a corner.
Seriously, is this guy stalking my shopping? Is this karma for enjoying grocery shopping alone? Do I need to look over my shoulder for fear of the TALKER? Maybe I need to just drive to the other part of town. Shopping is quiet time away for me. I can think about the meals I want to make, new things I'd like to try, etc. It's not really a social excursion. Most people I know have a rhythm to their grocery shopping- and don't like it interrupted else it throws off the balance of the whole experience. We will forget things. We will spend too much. We will, for sheer comfort, buy sugary, fattening foods because the thought of them eases the anxiety we feel just getting through the experience when the TALKER is close by. For many moms, grocery shopping is precious quiet and alone time.
Shopping is sacred.
This guy threatens that. For me. For all of us.
8/15/14
8/5/14
You don't know me, Facebook.
Sometimes Facebook just freaks me out. The fact that it seems to tap into whatever I've searched for on line or on Amazon and then bombards me with ads for it. It's bothersome. This past weekend I was looking for makeup brushes. Then the next day I was seeing ads for mymakeupbrushes.com or something. Today I clicked on a youtube video and the ad was for this make up brushes company. WHAT THE HELL.
If I type into Google "I purchased make up brushes today" - will it stop??
I spend a lot of time on facebook watching videos from UpWorthy and the website that shows the animal rescues. However, I gotta be careful with the animal rescue videos. Cause first it's the animal rescue. Then it's pet reunions. Then it's soldier/ pet reunions. Then it's soldiers coming home surprise reunions. GAH!!! NOOOOOO..... The emotions. I start bawling before Master Sgt. WarHero shows up and the kids start screaming and crying and I'm done. I'm a mess of tears and snot and it's just not pretty. So I have to click carefully or I'll end up crying in my e-cig.
The other thing I do on Facebook is take those stupid quizzes. What is your flower? What color is your aura? blah blah blah.
I don't always like when they tell me what Disney Princess I am because ultimately I get the same Disney princess as one of my friends who I feel is not the same kind of princess as me. Personally I'd like to take a quiz where all the answers apply to me. Sometimes I have to pick the closest one, which is sometimes still very far from anything you'd ever find me doing on a Saturday night. And I am NOT Belle. Miss "fall in love with the seemingly emotionally unavailable gruff beast...." shit. Ok, well the talking furniture would freak me the FUCK OUT.
I once answered the complete opposite of what I would normally answer and the results still SORT of applied. So of course, I can only take it so seriously, even though I find it somewhat entertaining. I thought I would take 4 or 5 quizzes, and take all of the 'Who I am's and see if THAT gives me a better picture of me.
My most recent round of quizzes tells me that I am Carrie (from Sex and the City), Roller Girl (from Boogie Nights), Elmer Fudd (from Looney Tunes) Donkey (from Shrek) and Jules (from Pulp Fiction).
WTF?
So I am a funny, dense, jackass hunter who can shoot while delivering a kick ass monologue wearing Manolo Blahnik roller skates on my way to write about porn and love in NYC?
Well, ok then.
If I type into Google "I purchased make up brushes today" - will it stop??
I spend a lot of time on facebook watching videos from UpWorthy and the website that shows the animal rescues. However, I gotta be careful with the animal rescue videos. Cause first it's the animal rescue. Then it's pet reunions. Then it's soldier/ pet reunions. Then it's soldiers coming home surprise reunions. GAH!!! NOOOOOO..... The emotions. I start bawling before Master Sgt. WarHero shows up and the kids start screaming and crying and I'm done. I'm a mess of tears and snot and it's just not pretty. So I have to click carefully or I'll end up crying in my e-cig.
The other thing I do on Facebook is take those stupid quizzes. What is your flower? What color is your aura? blah blah blah.
I don't always like when they tell me what Disney Princess I am because ultimately I get the same Disney princess as one of my friends who I feel is not the same kind of princess as me. Personally I'd like to take a quiz where all the answers apply to me. Sometimes I have to pick the closest one, which is sometimes still very far from anything you'd ever find me doing on a Saturday night. And I am NOT Belle. Miss "fall in love with the seemingly emotionally unavailable gruff beast...." shit. Ok, well the talking furniture would freak me the FUCK OUT.
I once answered the complete opposite of what I would normally answer and the results still SORT of applied. So of course, I can only take it so seriously, even though I find it somewhat entertaining. I thought I would take 4 or 5 quizzes, and take all of the 'Who I am's and see if THAT gives me a better picture of me.
My most recent round of quizzes tells me that I am Carrie (from Sex and the City), Roller Girl (from Boogie Nights), Elmer Fudd (from Looney Tunes) Donkey (from Shrek) and Jules (from Pulp Fiction).
WTF?
So I am a funny, dense, jackass hunter who can shoot while delivering a kick ass monologue wearing Manolo Blahnik roller skates on my way to write about porn and love in NYC?
Well, ok then.
8/2/14
the escape artist
This past week I experienced the horror of the Siberian Husky escaping artist act- twice.
Well, more like one and a half times.
Actually, it wasn't very horrifying at all- but I did get a taste of that sinking feeling of "when your dog gets out of the yard."
Lets get a few things straight about Max.
Max was not the dog I wanted.
My best friend has huskies, lots of them. She has trained, bred and showed huskies. The first time we visited her house, SR fell in love with her dogs and decided that THIS was the dog we should have. That a 75 pound, extremely needy, very social dog would be a good dog for our house with two boys who were afraid of dogs. Me? I thought a smaller dog, a beagle or even a breed of cuter yappy dog would be good. Something the kids could get used to because he wasn't LARGER than they were. However, what SR wants, SR gets and 9 months later we brought Max home.
He was a very cute puppy. Loving and fun but loud and more hyper than the kids. They were immediately terrified because he was unpredictable. I can't quite explain the reasons my kids are so afraid of dogs, because neither have ever been in an altercation with one. Well, that's not totally true. My parents neighbors have this really yappy poodle that thinks he's a rhino or something. He chases after the kids, barking and being "menacing." But come on, it's a poodle. It's loud and seems aggressive, but that little shit came up to me once barking as if being in my mothers driveway was such a hassle for her- so I walked towards her, with all the aggressiveness you need to come face to face with a poodle and that bitch ran off. My dog shits bigger than you, punk. Back the fuck up. Anyway, the kids did not want anything to do with Max- and still don't. They enjoy watching the adult interactions with Max through the sliding glass door, but that's about as close as they want to get. My CAT is not even afraid of this dog. He's lovable and wouldn't really hurt anything intentionally.
Unintentionally, of course, he's the master of disaster. The sheer speed at which he runs cause tree branches to bend and grass to cower back under the earth. If he can reach it, he will chew it and if it's small enough he will swallow it. When he was a pup he swallowed a sock, which was very dramatic for the family- but since his stomach has developed a bit- he will now eat just about anything. He has chewed curtains, jeans, towels, stuffed animals, bike seats, extension cords, hoses, barbeque utensils, and the sleeve of SR's favorite jacket. Usually this is because of boredom or poor crate placement.
It was never my intention to be the primary caretaker of this monster. Yet that seems to be what has transpired. Despite my best efforts and a vehement statement that I am not a dog person, the care of Max has mainly fallen to me. Let me tell you about me and dogs. I grew up with Dobermans. So being around big dogs is not new. However I have never really been a fan. As a child I was short and skinny and weak. Big dogs could knock me over with little effort. The Dobermans I had were generally NOT jumpers and were pretty calm around people, unlike Mr. Max. As an adult, I realized I am much more of a CAT person, and while I do like dogs, they are usually far too demanding for my liking. They take up too much time and space and attention that could otherwise go to me. All that being said, I have learned to love this big dumb dork and am now taking a much more serious approach to this whole "dog thing" than I had before.
Max is a year and a half now. Still destructive, but getting better. I admit he was not properly trained- and because the kids are still terrified of him- he is not allowed to roam the house. We tried to make him a mostly outside dog, but with the tick infestation in our area, that has become a thing of the past. I am now obsessed with making sure he gets treated for ticks- as well as spraying the yard and I can't be around him for a few minutes without checking his ears and his huge feet for those disgusting little things, even if I checked just a few minutes ago. But he enjoys being in his crate (he's a den animal after all) and he often whines himself into getting scraps of our dinner- including a whole rack of ribs that were not so great for people but perfect for him, and New York Steak, because there was left overs.
We let him run around outside for several hours in the morning and before bed at night so he can run off some energy. I try to hang out with him as mush as the heat and my boredom will allow. We have a big backyard and he runs the distance of it several times at top speed. The other night I called him in and he didn't answer. I went outside and he still wasn't coming. I can usually hear him before I see him, the thu-thu-thump, thu-thu-thump of his stride, warning me to plant my feet incase he decides to do a running leap at me. Nothing. Shit.
So I put my shoes on and remember the words I have heard and read. Huskies are escape artists, and once they get it in their heads to escape, they will wander, and if they see something to chase, they will chase. And keep chasing. Shit.
In a matter of 30 seconds my mind is going wild with visions of me driving up and down my neighborhood looking for a husky running faster than my car is supposed to go in a residential area. I remember that he's chipped. I hope he hasn't accidentally killed any of the unfortunate stray cats in the neighborhood, again. I hope he hasn't gotten hit by a car. My eyes start to well up a little.
Shoes on, I head for the door, cellphone set to flashlight mode. Porch light on, I open the front door.
Hey look.
There's Max. Trotting up the porch looking, well, bored. Hey mom, can I go to bed now? GAH!!! You ridiculous dog!! He didn't even go anywhere. Or if he did, he came back. Either way- he was safe at home. I would have scolded him if I thought he knew what he was being scolded for, but I hugged him instead. I noticed a lifted slat in the fence. ONE lifted slat. How my big dog slithered thru a slat I couldn't fit my calf through- I don't know. Huskies don't really slither, you know? My best friend said they must dislodge their shoulders and hip bones. I'm not even sure how he got his head through it.
Two days later I am headed to the store with Jerkface. I didn't want to get dressed so I was still in my short nighty and Jerkface will run into the store and buy the coffee creamer for me. So I round the corner and look- there's Max. What the??? I fixed the slat in the fence and- damn it!! So I stop the car and get out. In a short nighty. No bra. No shoes. This is lovely. Max runs over, and passes me. I call him, leaning forward with my tits AND my ass hanging out. Calling my big dumb dog. He finally comes by me once more and I grab him and then walk him back home. Jerkface is terrified I'm going to put Max in the car with us so I just walk him home. No, it didn't occur to me to make Jerkface wait outside. So while I didn't want to walk into the grocery store in my short nighty- apparently walking my DOG is ok. Super.
Yesterday, we bought new slats and replaced the fence. Ha HA Maximus! No more unsupervised walkabouts for you!! But look! I got you one of those squeaky toys that you love so much that you chew the squeak right out of!!!
Well, more like one and a half times.
Actually, it wasn't very horrifying at all- but I did get a taste of that sinking feeling of "when your dog gets out of the yard."
Lets get a few things straight about Max.
Max was not the dog I wanted.
My best friend has huskies, lots of them. She has trained, bred and showed huskies. The first time we visited her house, SR fell in love with her dogs and decided that THIS was the dog we should have. That a 75 pound, extremely needy, very social dog would be a good dog for our house with two boys who were afraid of dogs. Me? I thought a smaller dog, a beagle or even a breed of cuter yappy dog would be good. Something the kids could get used to because he wasn't LARGER than they were. However, what SR wants, SR gets and 9 months later we brought Max home.
He was a very cute puppy. Loving and fun but loud and more hyper than the kids. They were immediately terrified because he was unpredictable. I can't quite explain the reasons my kids are so afraid of dogs, because neither have ever been in an altercation with one. Well, that's not totally true. My parents neighbors have this really yappy poodle that thinks he's a rhino or something. He chases after the kids, barking and being "menacing." But come on, it's a poodle. It's loud and seems aggressive, but that little shit came up to me once barking as if being in my mothers driveway was such a hassle for her- so I walked towards her, with all the aggressiveness you need to come face to face with a poodle and that bitch ran off. My dog shits bigger than you, punk. Back the fuck up. Anyway, the kids did not want anything to do with Max- and still don't. They enjoy watching the adult interactions with Max through the sliding glass door, but that's about as close as they want to get. My CAT is not even afraid of this dog. He's lovable and wouldn't really hurt anything intentionally.
Unintentionally, of course, he's the master of disaster. The sheer speed at which he runs cause tree branches to bend and grass to cower back under the earth. If he can reach it, he will chew it and if it's small enough he will swallow it. When he was a pup he swallowed a sock, which was very dramatic for the family- but since his stomach has developed a bit- he will now eat just about anything. He has chewed curtains, jeans, towels, stuffed animals, bike seats, extension cords, hoses, barbeque utensils, and the sleeve of SR's favorite jacket. Usually this is because of boredom or poor crate placement.
It was never my intention to be the primary caretaker of this monster. Yet that seems to be what has transpired. Despite my best efforts and a vehement statement that I am not a dog person, the care of Max has mainly fallen to me. Let me tell you about me and dogs. I grew up with Dobermans. So being around big dogs is not new. However I have never really been a fan. As a child I was short and skinny and weak. Big dogs could knock me over with little effort. The Dobermans I had were generally NOT jumpers and were pretty calm around people, unlike Mr. Max. As an adult, I realized I am much more of a CAT person, and while I do like dogs, they are usually far too demanding for my liking. They take up too much time and space and attention that could otherwise go to me. All that being said, I have learned to love this big dumb dork and am now taking a much more serious approach to this whole "dog thing" than I had before.
Max is a year and a half now. Still destructive, but getting better. I admit he was not properly trained- and because the kids are still terrified of him- he is not allowed to roam the house. We tried to make him a mostly outside dog, but with the tick infestation in our area, that has become a thing of the past. I am now obsessed with making sure he gets treated for ticks- as well as spraying the yard and I can't be around him for a few minutes without checking his ears and his huge feet for those disgusting little things, even if I checked just a few minutes ago. But he enjoys being in his crate (he's a den animal after all) and he often whines himself into getting scraps of our dinner- including a whole rack of ribs that were not so great for people but perfect for him, and New York Steak, because there was left overs. We let him run around outside for several hours in the morning and before bed at night so he can run off some energy. I try to hang out with him as mush as the heat and my boredom will allow. We have a big backyard and he runs the distance of it several times at top speed. The other night I called him in and he didn't answer. I went outside and he still wasn't coming. I can usually hear him before I see him, the thu-thu-thump, thu-thu-thump of his stride, warning me to plant my feet incase he decides to do a running leap at me. Nothing. Shit.
So I put my shoes on and remember the words I have heard and read. Huskies are escape artists, and once they get it in their heads to escape, they will wander, and if they see something to chase, they will chase. And keep chasing. Shit.
In a matter of 30 seconds my mind is going wild with visions of me driving up and down my neighborhood looking for a husky running faster than my car is supposed to go in a residential area. I remember that he's chipped. I hope he hasn't accidentally killed any of the unfortunate stray cats in the neighborhood, again. I hope he hasn't gotten hit by a car. My eyes start to well up a little.
Shoes on, I head for the door, cellphone set to flashlight mode. Porch light on, I open the front door.
Hey look.
There's Max. Trotting up the porch looking, well, bored. Hey mom, can I go to bed now? GAH!!! You ridiculous dog!! He didn't even go anywhere. Or if he did, he came back. Either way- he was safe at home. I would have scolded him if I thought he knew what he was being scolded for, but I hugged him instead. I noticed a lifted slat in the fence. ONE lifted slat. How my big dog slithered thru a slat I couldn't fit my calf through- I don't know. Huskies don't really slither, you know? My best friend said they must dislodge their shoulders and hip bones. I'm not even sure how he got his head through it.
Two days later I am headed to the store with Jerkface. I didn't want to get dressed so I was still in my short nighty and Jerkface will run into the store and buy the coffee creamer for me. So I round the corner and look- there's Max. What the??? I fixed the slat in the fence and- damn it!! So I stop the car and get out. In a short nighty. No bra. No shoes. This is lovely. Max runs over, and passes me. I call him, leaning forward with my tits AND my ass hanging out. Calling my big dumb dog. He finally comes by me once more and I grab him and then walk him back home. Jerkface is terrified I'm going to put Max in the car with us so I just walk him home. No, it didn't occur to me to make Jerkface wait outside. So while I didn't want to walk into the grocery store in my short nighty- apparently walking my DOG is ok. Super.
Yesterday, we bought new slats and replaced the fence. Ha HA Maximus! No more unsupervised walkabouts for you!! But look! I got you one of those squeaky toys that you love so much that you chew the squeak right out of!!!
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