So, I was at a grocery store in my old stomping grounds the other day – it should be noted that said stomping grounds are not much higher in the suburban hierarchy than the rural area where I currently reside. But apparently they a have a bolder dating pool.
Now, normally, bulletin boards at the grocery store tend to advertise pretty benign services. Dog walking. Child care. Art workshops. Yoga classes. You know, typical fare for shoppers with bags teeming with fresh fruit and dinner fixings.
Or so I thought.
When I was leaving the store I saw this gem of a posting on the board.
At first I was a little taken aback, but after really studying Eric’s honest attempt at finding a real connection with someone, it’s really not that bad. Humor me for a minute here, folks.
He makes it pretty obvious that nutrition is important to him. That’s nice. He gives options on how to reach him in case a phone call right off the bat is too personal. Nice again. He gets right to the point and doesn’t brag about himself. Okay. Best of all? No picture of him shirtless that I didn’t ask to see in the first place. Thank God.
By and large, this index card is better than what I currently see when I dip my toe into online dating. But, let me be clear, it’s not THAT much better. It’s still weird. Trust me, that hasn’t escaped my attention. His random use of capitalized letters is off-putting. The handwriting that looks like it was scribbled by a 5-year-old is odd. And I don’t even know what to think about the smiley face and “oil too” because for the life of me I don’t know what that means! Not only is it incomplete sentence structure, but I don’t think I even want to know the underlying implication.
So, don’t worry, I will not be getting in touch with this fine gentleman. But perhaps some “sexy woman” will. And if so, I hope they hit it off. Or at the very least that she returns home safely.
It’s only Tuesday, folks. Tuesday. And how is your week going?
A few weeks ago, we discussed having playrooms in libraries where kids could do anything except what they were supposed to do in a library setting.
In the latest installment of stupidity, indoor playgrounds are now being introduced in movie theaters.
Read it again, slowly. In. Movie. Theaters.
Now apparently, the gym is not to be used while the movie is playing. Small comfort if you ask me. Reportedly, for an extra three bucks a ticket (no choice here folks, if you use the theater, you pay the playground toll), the kids will be allowed fifteen minutes before the movie starts, fifteen minutes after the movie ends, and a fifteen-minute intermission during the movie to play. My thought is: if we need to have a playground in a movie theater to start with, how good will these parents be at keeping the kids off the equipment while the movie is playing? And how much whining will there will be heard throughout the theater…”But moooomm, I WANT to go in the play area!” Oh yeah. Fun times.
I remember a time when libraries were to be used for, oh, golly, I don’t know…maybe reading? And movie theaters were to be used for…wait for it…watching movies?
I get it; the idea is aimed towards kids and to be used during kids’ movies. You won’t stick your kid on a jungle gym and watch Nightmare on Elm Street. If you are taking your child to the movies, though, isn’t it expected that seeing the movie itself is the draw? If your child can’t sit still through a one and a half hour movie geared towards his age group, maybe he doesn’t belong at a movie theater yet.
If I sound cynical and jaded, it’s because I watch over and over again as parents give up their parenting roles in exchange for an easy way out. Or, they simply don’t have the foresight to recognize that an ill-behaved young child does not belong in a five-star restaurant. The bottom line is that certain parents refuse to accept that some kids just aren’t ready for the responsibility of sitting silently through certain activities. These same parents will be on blogs crying because someone looked sternly at them for allowing their children to hang upside down from the ceiling fan at a funeral.
I, for one, would not go to any theater with a jungle gym in it, even if my kids were still young. I know this whole playground premise is oriented to kids and families and it’s not as if they’re going to be showing Deadpool or Logan or Chainsaw Massacre, but as a connoisseur of kids’ movies myself, some parents who go to see kids’ movies want to be able to oh, I don’t know, SEE the movie. Of course, I’ve always just assumed that was the entire point – to watch the movie.
As well intentioned as this playground idea seems, it won’t be long before some parent will most likely decide it’s ok for Junior to go down and play while the movie is running if for no other reason than to shut him up. Although we know how that works – it might stop the kid yelling into his mother or father’s ear but it will release him on to the rest of the movie goers.
These theaters will charge $14 a ticket to start with; now I will have children screaming throughout my overpriced movie. I repeat, you are counting on the success of this venture by balancing it on parents who need these features to begin with. If a parent can’t successfully take their child to a movie without other distractions, how will they stop them from playing while the movie is running? It will start with one bored child who is allowed to go “play quietly” and end up as some kind of twisted Lord of the Flies story.
Co-incidentally, these same theaters serve beer and mixed drinks. Which is a good thing. Because then, I can either drink my way to tolerating children throwing balls at the movie screen, or I can drink until I go join them myself.
In related news, I heard that Chuck E Cheese has announced it will be building libraries and movie theaters in all its locations. Chuck could not be reached for further comment.
Ah, the world of phone scammers. Surely, they think when they hear my sweet mother’s voice on the phone, this will be an easy target. I mean, who wouldn’t? Butter wouldn’t melt in that woman’s mouth.
Not so fast, imposter account manager from India, Nigeria, Kalamazoo, or wherever you are! My mom may have a senior citizen discount to IHOP, and she does in fact know every word to the Hokey Pokey, but make no mistake. She’s nobody’s fool.
To clarify, my mother does in fact shop at physical stores and use an archaic form of payment known as a “check.” She actually visits her bank in person, and knows the tellers by name. She doesn’t shop with those newfangled “online” gizmos everyone else uses. So from the very beginning, the scam is pointless.
Tired of receiving multiple phone calls daily from “Microsoft” or “Windows” representatives who inform her in heavily accented voices that her computer is sending out “illegal signals,” my mother decided to have a little fun of her own. She knows that these scammers only want access to her computer to pull out any financial information they can. I told you, she may have seen Elvis in person (good Elvis, not bloated Elvis), but she isn’t stupid. My mom is far from demented. She is slick as an oil spill, but now, phone scammer from India or Nigeria, you made her mad. You won’t like her when she’s mad. Trust me.
As soon as one of these calls comes through these days, my mom just pours herself a cup of coffee and sits out on the porch to feed her
minions wild “pets” while she talks to the oh-so-helpful con artist on the other end of the line. Little Miss Sugar Sweet has a backbone of steel and wit as sharp as a Ginsu knife.
A typical phone call with her scammer friends may begin innocently enough. The heavily accented voice warns her that she is about to lose everything…EVERYTHING, we tell you…because her licenses are expiring. You read that right. Her licenses. Her computer licenses. She greets the man warmly, thanking him so much for caring about little ol’ her and her big, bad computer.
Voice quaking in fear and sorrow, she asks the kind gentleman to discuss her options. He advises her to turn her computer on. Mom makes clunking noises as if she is walking to the computer. She may thud her coffee cup and bang the phone a few times for emphasis. Then, she sighs heavily and in apparent frustration.
“I’m sorry, how do I turn this thing on again? I hate computers, I’m not used to this…oh wait. Wait, there it is.” She clicks a fingernail on the table. “There. It’s coming on.” She sets the phone down and sips her coffee; she gives it a solid five minutes before picking the phone back up. “It’s on. Now what do you need me to do?”
The patient account representative from Microsoft Windows of India or Nigeria or Kalamazoo advises mom to hit the control and ALT buttons. “Control? I don’t see a button that says control.” Clicks fingernails against table. “I found something. Let me get my glasses…well, this thingy says CTRL. You’d think a computer could spell better than this.” She allows a few minutes to go by as she throws some bird seed to her adoring fans. “ALT. As in, alternative? What is this an alternative to? I always prefer originals. Delete? This thingy that says DEL? I thought that meant delicate.” More fingernail tapping, than a horrified tone of voice. “DEL means delete? I’m sorry, sir, I don’t want to delete anything. Why would I delete my alternative button? Then I wouldn’t have a choice at all.” And so it goes, until the scammer is nearly yelling from frustration. She made one cry.
Mom likes to play with the scammers; she feels the longer she keeps them on the line, the less time they have to scam someone else. More power to her, I say.
The best secret she keeps, though, is how fruitless her scammer’s efforts really are after all is said and done. I mean, even if he were successful and got into the secret vault that is her computer system, all he would find are funny cat videos, pictures of kittens, about a million pictures of my kids, a video of my brother’s dog, funny memes and joke pages, and links to America’s Funniest Home Videos from the entire past decade. Her favorite is a link to a local zoo who has live-cam footage of a giraffe on “birth watch” who we both agree is just having a joke at all our expense because this sneaky giraffe has yet to give any indication she’s going into labor. I think she just wants the romaine lettuce treats they’re giving her…good old April the giraffe is likely running a nifty scam of her own.
The moral of this story, dear scammers, is it’s just not worth it. God love her, mom has a new hobby now though, and that’s cool. Keeps her occupied.
And be warned, she will out-scam you every time.
Procrastination: The fine art of avoiding easy and ordinary chores until they become insurmountable and you need bottles of wine to tackle them.
You all may remember Petra, my beloved burrowing Chihuahua. I have had to post Lost and Found signs around my house this week. The last I saw of her, she had chased a ball into my laundry room. I haven’t seen her since. I suspect she is trapped under the mountains of socks, towels and sheets awaiting the eager, empty washing machine. I have taken to throwing treats under the clean piles that I refuse to put away, in the hopes of drawing her out. I did see a shirt moving last night, and I can only hope it was Petra under there.
I think we can all relate to the Dishwasher Conundrum. We have dishwashers, beautiful, work saving dishwashers. It should be as easy as: put dirty dishes in, hit button, remove clean dishes. I think we all know that is laughable. The reality is far more sinister. Let’s review:
- Load dishwasher with every spoon, fork and dish we are too lazy to rinse off. Don’t judge me, I know you are guilty of stirring your coffee and putting your spoon in the dishwasher.
- Rearrange the now overflowing dishwasher contents to fit in Just One More Cup.
- Now that there is no room whatsoever left, finally hit the power button.
- Enjoy that unique smell of hot water and detergent. It will be the last time you go near that thing for days.
- Place a dish in the sink, with the full intention of emptying the dishwasher the next time you go in the kitchen. You’re far too busy now.
- Place a cup, carefully filled with water, atop the dish in the sink. You’ll get to the dishwasher later.
- Continue placing dishes in the sink. At this point, you no longer even try to lie to yourself. Those clean dishes are staying in the dishwasher until you move.
- Dish Jenga has become the new favorite sport in your house. You now have dishes piled to the ceiling in the sink, overflowing onto the counters, and have been hiding them under the couch cushions. You consider moving so you don’t have to feel the guilt of the clean dishes crying forlornly in the dishwasher.
- Give in, and put the dishes away. At this point, you realize the dishes have aged to the point that they are considered “antique.” You call the Antiques Roadshow, but they can’t get anyone out to evaluate your dishes; all their personnel are busy balancing dinner dishes in the sink.
My house has several stages of clean, while we’re talking about procrastination. There is “me” clean, where I write the grocery list in the dust on the desk. Then, there is “friend” clean, where I at least pick up empty bags of chips and throw away soda cans. Then, there is the “I’m having a party, oh crap” clean. Sometimes I throw a party just to have an excuse to vacuum the rugs. I don’t clean up as soon as I plan the party, though; heck, no. I perform best under pressure. Give me thirty minutes with a houseful of people expected, and I will deliver you the cleanest house you’ve ever seen. Just don’t open the closets.
Procrastination has been on my mind lately, as I realize I don’t always keep up with my fellow bloggers nearly as well as I should, instead tending to read days worth of entries in one evening, sending off a flurry of “likes” to show my appreciation for your talent and dedication to blogging. I enjoy your writing so much, and I hate that I get so behind. To all of you who are ready to disown me because you get a week’s worth of alerts in ten minutes, I do humbly apologize. And to be completely honest, it’s not procrastination, between work and a life filled with crazy, I just can’t seem to stay on top of things. To be clear, though, you guys are not “chores,” you are rays of light in my hectic, chaotic life. I thank you all for making me laugh, think, and sometimes get a little misty.
And you know, I really had more to add to the subject of procrastination, but I’ll tell you later.