Future Disappointment

I remember watching the Jetsons years ago and being so excited for a future with flying cars, fully automated kitchens, and robot maids named Rosie.

Instead, here we are. With sex robots and Taco Bell delivered to our door.

All is not lost, though. There are some real-world inventions that I never would have imagined as I watched George walk Astro on the conveyor belt outside their floating apartment complex.

The Wine Rack: Ladies, rejoice. The Wine Rack is a bra that you fill with wine. It comes with a sipping nozzle (no, it’s not there, you perv! It’s on the side of the bra). You can carry your own booze with you anywhere you like.  This is as hilarious as it is genius.

The Better Marriage Blanket: Otherwise known as the fart blanket. Allows your husband (because we all know women don’t fart) to pass scentless gas.  This is going to save marriages because, according to a survey I just made up, farts are responsible for 62% of all divorces.

Rear Gear: At last. A solution to the annoying problem of your dog or cat having a butt.  No lie, these are stickers to put over the hole in your dog’s rear end.

Baby Mop: As someone who puts rags under her shoes to mop up spills because I’m too lazy to bend over, I applaud this one.  Stick this to your baby and as he crawls, he is polishing your floor. Sheer genius.

Diet Water: Not even going to try to explain this one. Apparently, getting fat by drinking water is a real issue.

Vertical Bed: You know, if you need to nap in line at the grocery store.

TV Hat: Wear your TV hat as you sleep standing up in your Vertical Bed.

Banana Slicer: Of all the fruits on the planet, the hardest to master is the banana.  Thank God someone invented this handy banana slicer.  For your added pleasure, you’ve got to read the comments on this one.

Neck Pro: Because having a licensed chiropractor to treat your neck pain is so “last year.”

Face Flex: Apparently, you can use this medieval torture implement to tighten and tone your facial muscles.  Scroll down the page to the short video.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait.

Seriously though guys, if we are ever going to have flying cars, end world hunger, and achieve world peace, we need to do better than this.

Ok, so, I know you’ve been waiting for me to comment on the sex robots, so here is my take. They have male and female sexbots, and, well, honestly, I’m not sure it’s a bad thing.  Although I am concerned about the “try for 30 days, money back guarantee.” Just ewww.

As for me, if they make a male robot who does dishes, cuts the lawn, and changes the oil in my car, I’m all in.

Here Comes the Sun

Spring, it’s my favorite time of year. The brighter days, the warmer weather, the return of flowers and green … the season works its magic to erode the melancholy Winter has left in its path. I’m not usually one to wax poetic (limericks, I’m told, don’t count) but even I understand that Spring is a season of hope and renewal.

There is a proverb:

No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.

This is as true for life as it is for the seasons. To be honest, I find comfort in this concept, and I’m holding on to this thought with both hands as I push myself forward.

Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay

Although, in the spirit of full disclosure, I am equally driven by the words of the incomparable Robin Williams:

Spring is nature’s way of saying, “Let’s party!”

 

 

Monday’s Fun Day

As you know from my previous post … this past Monday was a tough one for me. Some days, tragedy strikes when you just aren’t expecting it.  When it hits so hard, all at once, it can take weeks, months or even years to recover.  Sometimes, you never fully recover at all.

Monday turned into one of those days.  I almost feel ready to talk about it now. I will push through. For you, my lovely readers.

I was running right on schedule (translation, thirteen minutes and three seconds late).  I stumbled to my car before remembering that sometimes, just sometimes, you need car keys.  Thank God, I had forgotten to lock my front door and was able to walk right in to my house to get them.  Also, thank the Gods that be, I don’t live in a high crime area. Cause you know … open front door.

That wasted three minutes of retrieving my keys cost me my coffee stop on the way to work.  There I was, in full Monday Zombie mode, uncaffeinated.  I know, I know. That’s not a good thing for anyone.  I’m okay though, I thought, because there is coffee at work.  There is always coffee at work; my entire office worships the brown life-giving brew that enables us to think, socialize, and well, move at all.

Pulling into work, I see one spot left.  It isn’t much of a spot, but after maneuvering my car for six minutes, I was able to park in it and exit my car through the trunk.  It was at this very moment that I realized that I had forgotten my purse. My arms were too empty, you see.

Never mind the makeup, novel, phone charger, Kleenex, coupon book, six pounds of loose change, utensils (don’t laugh, have you seen the crusty knives at IHop?), travel mug, candy bars, protein bars to make me feel better about the candy bars, day planner, night planner, weekly planner, monthly planner, expired planner, frequent flyer fro-yo card, screwdriver, and other necessities for daily living, I had forgotten my wallet.  Still, coffee was just 6 flights of steps away (did I mention the elevator was out?), so who needs a wallet.

Normally I have no problem with the non-company outsiders using our facilities for their meetings, but Friday’s meeting attendees must have needed coffee to stay awake, as we all do, during their meeting.  I don’t begrudge them coffee, but they used all the creamer. They used the creamer powder we keep under the break room sink for emergencies.  They used those tiny little creamer pods we keep as back up to the powder for emergencies.  They raided the refrigerator and used the whole milk and cream (we don’t do half and half here) in there, too.  Hoof prints in the break room seem to indicate that they brought a cow in for extra milk.  I pictured people with plates piled high with creamer pods and powder, drinking mugs full of milk and creamer, laughing maniacally and high-fiving each other, “Ha!  No creamer for THEM on Monday!”

The very nice person who always, but always, stops on Monday morning to get our coffee and break room snack supplies didn’t.  I guess she was having ‘A Day,’ too.  Later, she said she could have sworn there was enough creamer left in the fridge to do for a few days … having taken a much-needed day off on Friday, she was not privvy to the outsiders’ shenanigans. I don’t blame her. Yet, there I was, all coffee and no creamer.  My spare creamer was in my purse.  At home.  My imagination played with me again, picturing a burglar sitting in my living room, watching Maury Povich, and helping himself to my purse creamer.

In case you are missing the importance of this, having no creamer in your coffee is like not eating popcorn at the movies.  It’s like non-alcoholic beer.  It’s a French fry with no ketchup.  It can be done, sure, but only by a savage (I’m looking at you Lee).  With no purse creamer and no wallet to slip out to Dunkin’ Donuts, I was facing a Monday without caffeine.  Monday Without Coffee sounds like a country music song, doesn’t it? Or a horror movie.

No wallet means no lunch, so now I am uncaffeinated and unfed.  This is a double whammy.  I think I may have lost a few friends that day.

Then, in a rare burst of energy, I decided to walk to the copier.  My heel broke, causing me to do a dance move I can loosely compare to the Hokey Pokey on speed.  My copies flew all over the hallway as I struggled to maintain my balance.  Why would my heel betray me?  Well, obviously it’s because the shoe was old and not because I have all the grace of a wounded wildebeest.

Naturally, it was National Blooming Idiot Day and everyone around me seemed to be celebrating.  I’m not sure if it was because I was unfed, uncaffeinated, unheeled, and temporarily unglued but these people were more idiotic than normal.

I’m sure you all can share my pain when I say I have a few people in my life who completely lack any sense of self-awareness whatsoever. While they wantonly cavort through my private life, they seem to be especially prolific at work. For those, I offer this piece of advice … when we tell you that you’re a piece of work … it is NOT a compliment.

To add insult to injury, here is Shari, her heathen cup of black coffee in hand, perky and bright.  “Gee, broke a heel?”

No, Shari, I always lurch like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  You never noticed?  Gee, Shari, how did you not realize I have one leg shorter than the other?  Gosh, Shari, this is the newest fashion craze, you didn’t know?

Instead, I just mumbled “Yeah.”

Helpful Shari.  “Don’t you keep crazy glue in your purse?”

That was the last time Shari was ever seen. You’ll never find the body, I promise.

It’s in my purse.

Ever have a day like this?  You swear that if just ONE more thing goes wrong, you’ll snap.

Then the universe responds, “Challenge accepted!”