The British are coming! The British are coming! (OK, technically, that's an historical inaccuracy that Paul Revere shouted that phrase, but you get the point!)
This morning I arrived at the lot and stood in the FREEZING cold waiting for my destination to be called. A British couple drove up and called out those magical words, and I rejoicingly jumped into the car hoping for warmth, comfort, and a nap.
When I was all buckled in and we were halfway out of the lot, "Prince Edward" informed me that he would be dropping off "Queen Elizabeth" on the OTHER SIDE OF TOWN from my office. My response was "um, what??" Yeah, no kidding! Major rule violation! When you call out for one destination, you certainly don't head for another on the other side of town!!! What a British jerk! There's a reason why Revere helped devise an alarm system that would alert people that the British were coming. Good grief!
So, here I was in the backseat wondering if my carriage would arrive at my castle on time, and I got caught up in their absolutely meaningless, boring conversation! I know I should have been sleeping. God knows that the content was enough to make me go comatose, but I was absolutely drawn in by the fact that two such boring people could actually carry on a conversation!!
All my American friends can relate to me on this. Just about anything sounds interesting with the right accent. But these two had such a snooty tone and were so prim and proper that it was almost comical. I was halfway waiting to see a camera crew jump out and tell me I was on candid camera or something (there IS a writer's strike in Hollywood...they need filler!). They were discussing a book, but not even the content really. He said "oh, thanks for the book." She said, in a very Mary Poppins kind of way, "oh, I just thought it was delightful!" Seriously? Who talks like that? I half expected her to break out in a verse of "A Spoonful of Sugar" when the driver complained of the traffic backup!
Then they were discussing the color of her bag and whether it was blue or some other variant. IT'S FREAKING BLUE. Blue is blue is blue! SHUT UP you boring British drones!!!!! Get me to work ON TIME with NO DETOURS! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Then we arrived at the UNPLANNED destination and they parted ways with the driest, most dispassionate farewell kiss that I've ever seen. It makes me wonder if they've ever even seen each other naked or if they do it with their "dressing robes" on! LOL (sorry, sometimes I crack myself up!) I couldn't help but to think of the British Royal family and how they always seem so cold and disinterested toward each other.
Clearly, the Royals have moved to America and bought a late-model Honda that they use to dupe unsuspecting Americans into riding in during rush hour while they dribble on about in consequential minutia! Are the Royals slumming and slugging?
Then I started having flashes of the supposed Royal conspiracy to kill Princess Diana, and I got nervous. In a very Catholic sort of way, I prayed that I would make it to work on time and in one American piece! :)
By gosh, by golly, I made it there in one piece! I was still just a little ticked that I got tricked, but what the hay..it's Christmas!
As I climbed out, I did a quick check to see if there were any Royal Jewels hanging out in the backseat, but to no avail! Oh well!
For all of you who appreciate the hard work and ingenuity of the great Paul Revere, go out on Dec. 22 and have a drink in his honor to celebrate his birthday! If it weren't for him, we might all be boring, cold British fish! :)
Maybe next time I see them pull up, I'll hold up 1 lantern if I want to go to my destination and 2 if I want to take a detour.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Southern Hospitality
I am not a rude person. I consider myself to be well-mannered and respectful toward my fellow man. Sometimes, I place the interests of those around me above my own, because it feels wrong to be selfish. The problem is that when people take advantage of my kindness and consideration I can become a raging bitch.
When I drive, as I did today, I am extremely considerate of my passengers. I ask several times during the ride if they would like me to adjust the temperature up or down. I offer them use of my cupholders, even when it's technically against slugging rules to bring a beverage into someone else's car! I keep a steady but safe speed and distance so as to not scare the holy hell out of my passengers. In other words, I go out of my way to make their commute more comfortable. It's just who I am.
Because of my kind nature, even when I'm getting disgusted by someone's behavior, I may still appear accommodating and deferential. Often I will even put up with it for the most part, and the I will just walk away without warning when I've had enough. It's like a mask that I wear to prevent others from seeing the absolute monster I can become when I'm angry. I sometimes try to use humor or mild sarcasm to disarm a situation, and I generally try to avoid serious confrontations. I don't like to fight. I like to have a nice, quiet, peaceful coexistence. That's not because I'm afraid to fight. It's because I fear for the safety of the person who makes me angry enough to want to fight.
No, I didn't get into a fight this morning on my way to work. But let's just say that the line came close to being crossed this morning.
I woke up feeling reflective and introspective. I have a lot of things on my mind right now, and when that happens, I need time to let my brain just work it all out on its own. The main way that I do this is through music. I generally use music to help me sort out my thoughts, hence the extreme overuse of my iPod. When I'm feeling like this, my social skills tend to be lacking because I am a little bit too self-absorbed to really notice those around me. It would have been a perfect day to be a rider, because I could have climbed in and turned up the Pod and just focused on my own thought processes. But, since I had to drive, I knew I'd have to be out of my fortress for a little while.
When my riders jumped in, I greeted them as usual. Driving to the lot, I turned on a playlist I just created that was helping me to focus. I was getting in a "zone" that was sort of improving my general outlook. I needed to stay on that path. I kept the volume of my music at a respectable level that would allow my passengers to sleep but I could still hear it over the road noise. This is frustrating to me already because when I get like this I want it loud and all-consuming. I did the obligatory offer of a temperature adjustment, but I got an attitude from the woman in the front seat. Mistake #1. In this kind of mood, I'm easily set off.
I bit my lip, and I simply turned the music up a little bit. Traffic was moving well, and we were making good time. I was back in my zone when she decided to start talking to me. I was already annoyed with her for rebuffing my hospitality, so I was not terribly interested in a conversation. She started blabbing on about the holidays and traffic and office parties and blah blah blah blah blah. I just couldn't be bothered to listen or care. I was doing the "yeah I'm listening" head nod, but I was really trying to concentrate on the music. I was starting to feel like I was reaching a crucial point in my thought process where I was going to make a really difficult decision and feel good about it, and she was yakking about pantyhose or her runny nose...I can't be sure. So the more she talked, the more I would slowly and subtly increase the volume of the music hoping she would notice my passive-aggressive attempts to politely get her to shut her flap-trap. It wasn't working.
When I hit a slowdown, I noticed that the music was a bit too loud for the crowd. Despite the fact that this is exactly what I wanted, I turned it down to be a good host. This is when the drive north turned south.
She actually had the nerve to say "you shouldn't listen to your music so loud when you have people in your car." Yep, that pause was my brain telling my fists to stay firmly planted on the steering wheel. Normally, in a less combative mood, I would have simply just laughed it off. This morning I felt the need to respond. "Did you not notice that I turned it down?" I said it in the nicest of nasty tones and with a gentle-womanly smile on my face. I think she said something else after that, but I decided that I was not interested in being polite anymore. Then it happened: the one act that would simply be too much for me to withstand today.
Her cell phone rang.
Normally, when you are slugging, you avoid long or loud phone conversations. You don't broadcast your business to strangers, and you don't force them to listen to your petty crap. It's polite and acceptable to answer and engage in a quick, low volume conversation that ends with "I'm on my way to work in someone else's car. I'll call you later." Well, I'm betting you can guess what this woman did NOT do.
She started talking on her phone at maximum volume. You know that volume that people take when they are talking to foreigners who don't speak English that makes them think that speaking louder can break the language barrier? Hers was louder. The man in the backseat, who had been peacefully sleeping (lucky bastard), was now awake and looking a bit confused. Oh no, I did NOT just turn down my music for THIS woman!
So, in response, as could only be expected, I turned up the volume on my music, not to an obnoxious level but an obvious one. I was still trying to be respectful and considerate of the drooling man in my backseat who had done nothing wrong.
Her conversation got louder.
My music got louder.
Again.
and Again.
I was nearly reaching a volume that I would never, ever reach when other people are around. She was pushing me to do it. I had no choice.
She stopped her conversation and rudely said "I'm trying to talk here. Can you turn that down?"
I responded, in an even tone of voice (a major accomplishment for me today) "your conversation is interfering with my music and his sleep. I'll turn my music down when you get off the phone."
Apparently she didn't like this answer because not only did she keep talking but she started talking ABOUT ME. Mistake #2--big time!
I looked in my rearview mirror at the poor man in the backseat, and we exchanged a look. My look was basically letting him know things were about to get uncomfortable, and his was basically saying "do what you gotta do."
So the playlist changed. Considering her demographics, I decided something loud and heavy-hitting would annoy her the most. Out came the Metallica. As any good Southern woman of my generation, I keep it conservative for the most part. But I have the tools available to let it get loud and ugly. Mentally, the earrings were coming off and the sleeves were getting rolled up.
A little "Through the Never" at a good volume seemed like an appropriate response. It would annoy her but not be so obnoxious for the guy in the back. If she's going to talk about me to her little friend, I'm going to give her something to talk about. I can't be sure, because I was drowning her out with my singing and my steering wheel drumming, but I think she called me a bitch. Moi? A bitch? NEVER!
At this point, I'd forgotten about whatever was making me feel all introspective this morning. Now I was just plain having fun with being angry and bitchy.
She got louder, and so did I!
"All that is, ever
Ever was
Will be ever
Who we are
Ask forever
Twisting
Turning
Through the never"
Air guitar.....
Steering wheel drum.....
She slams her cheap ass cell phone shut. Mission accomplished.
We are about 5 minutes away from getting to work. Her head is twitching in circles and her lips are flapping away, but I'm just singing and pretending to be a rockstar.
This got a smile from the man in the back.
I turned down the volume and said "since you aren't on the phone, I can turn this back down."
Her response: "you are the rudest person I've ever met in my life."
I reached over to the visor, pulled it down, opened the mirror and said "not anymore."
We arrived, and I was mad as hell. But I held it in. She was just about to get me to the point of no return, but I was fighting against my desire to strike her down with all my strength.
I'm pretty sure she wanted to have a good old fashioned fist fight. I'm pretty sure I wanted to be a good hostess and oblige her. But I didn't.
She got out and muttered something under her breath, and I simply said "have a nice day" in that "screw you very much" kind of voice. The guy in the backseat laughed and said "I would have thrown her out in Springfield."
Kill them with kindness I always say!
HO HO HO, 'tis the Season!!
Happy Slugging!
When I drive, as I did today, I am extremely considerate of my passengers. I ask several times during the ride if they would like me to adjust the temperature up or down. I offer them use of my cupholders, even when it's technically against slugging rules to bring a beverage into someone else's car! I keep a steady but safe speed and distance so as to not scare the holy hell out of my passengers. In other words, I go out of my way to make their commute more comfortable. It's just who I am.
Because of my kind nature, even when I'm getting disgusted by someone's behavior, I may still appear accommodating and deferential. Often I will even put up with it for the most part, and the I will just walk away without warning when I've had enough. It's like a mask that I wear to prevent others from seeing the absolute monster I can become when I'm angry. I sometimes try to use humor or mild sarcasm to disarm a situation, and I generally try to avoid serious confrontations. I don't like to fight. I like to have a nice, quiet, peaceful coexistence. That's not because I'm afraid to fight. It's because I fear for the safety of the person who makes me angry enough to want to fight.
No, I didn't get into a fight this morning on my way to work. But let's just say that the line came close to being crossed this morning.
I woke up feeling reflective and introspective. I have a lot of things on my mind right now, and when that happens, I need time to let my brain just work it all out on its own. The main way that I do this is through music. I generally use music to help me sort out my thoughts, hence the extreme overuse of my iPod. When I'm feeling like this, my social skills tend to be lacking because I am a little bit too self-absorbed to really notice those around me. It would have been a perfect day to be a rider, because I could have climbed in and turned up the Pod and just focused on my own thought processes. But, since I had to drive, I knew I'd have to be out of my fortress for a little while.
When my riders jumped in, I greeted them as usual. Driving to the lot, I turned on a playlist I just created that was helping me to focus. I was getting in a "zone" that was sort of improving my general outlook. I needed to stay on that path. I kept the volume of my music at a respectable level that would allow my passengers to sleep but I could still hear it over the road noise. This is frustrating to me already because when I get like this I want it loud and all-consuming. I did the obligatory offer of a temperature adjustment, but I got an attitude from the woman in the front seat. Mistake #1. In this kind of mood, I'm easily set off.
I bit my lip, and I simply turned the music up a little bit. Traffic was moving well, and we were making good time. I was back in my zone when she decided to start talking to me. I was already annoyed with her for rebuffing my hospitality, so I was not terribly interested in a conversation. She started blabbing on about the holidays and traffic and office parties and blah blah blah blah blah. I just couldn't be bothered to listen or care. I was doing the "yeah I'm listening" head nod, but I was really trying to concentrate on the music. I was starting to feel like I was reaching a crucial point in my thought process where I was going to make a really difficult decision and feel good about it, and she was yakking about pantyhose or her runny nose...I can't be sure. So the more she talked, the more I would slowly and subtly increase the volume of the music hoping she would notice my passive-aggressive attempts to politely get her to shut her flap-trap. It wasn't working.
When I hit a slowdown, I noticed that the music was a bit too loud for the crowd. Despite the fact that this is exactly what I wanted, I turned it down to be a good host. This is when the drive north turned south.
She actually had the nerve to say "you shouldn't listen to your music so loud when you have people in your car." Yep, that pause was my brain telling my fists to stay firmly planted on the steering wheel. Normally, in a less combative mood, I would have simply just laughed it off. This morning I felt the need to respond. "Did you not notice that I turned it down?" I said it in the nicest of nasty tones and with a gentle-womanly smile on my face. I think she said something else after that, but I decided that I was not interested in being polite anymore. Then it happened: the one act that would simply be too much for me to withstand today.
Her cell phone rang.
Normally, when you are slugging, you avoid long or loud phone conversations. You don't broadcast your business to strangers, and you don't force them to listen to your petty crap. It's polite and acceptable to answer and engage in a quick, low volume conversation that ends with "I'm on my way to work in someone else's car. I'll call you later." Well, I'm betting you can guess what this woman did NOT do.
She started talking on her phone at maximum volume. You know that volume that people take when they are talking to foreigners who don't speak English that makes them think that speaking louder can break the language barrier? Hers was louder. The man in the backseat, who had been peacefully sleeping (lucky bastard), was now awake and looking a bit confused. Oh no, I did NOT just turn down my music for THIS woman!
So, in response, as could only be expected, I turned up the volume on my music, not to an obnoxious level but an obvious one. I was still trying to be respectful and considerate of the drooling man in my backseat who had done nothing wrong.
Her conversation got louder.
My music got louder.
Again.
and Again.
I was nearly reaching a volume that I would never, ever reach when other people are around. She was pushing me to do it. I had no choice.
She stopped her conversation and rudely said "I'm trying to talk here. Can you turn that down?"
I responded, in an even tone of voice (a major accomplishment for me today) "your conversation is interfering with my music and his sleep. I'll turn my music down when you get off the phone."
Apparently she didn't like this answer because not only did she keep talking but she started talking ABOUT ME. Mistake #2--big time!
I looked in my rearview mirror at the poor man in the backseat, and we exchanged a look. My look was basically letting him know things were about to get uncomfortable, and his was basically saying "do what you gotta do."
So the playlist changed. Considering her demographics, I decided something loud and heavy-hitting would annoy her the most. Out came the Metallica. As any good Southern woman of my generation, I keep it conservative for the most part. But I have the tools available to let it get loud and ugly. Mentally, the earrings were coming off and the sleeves were getting rolled up.
A little "Through the Never" at a good volume seemed like an appropriate response. It would annoy her but not be so obnoxious for the guy in the back. If she's going to talk about me to her little friend, I'm going to give her something to talk about. I can't be sure, because I was drowning her out with my singing and my steering wheel drumming, but I think she called me a bitch. Moi? A bitch? NEVER!
At this point, I'd forgotten about whatever was making me feel all introspective this morning. Now I was just plain having fun with being angry and bitchy.
She got louder, and so did I!
"All that is, ever
Ever was
Will be ever
Who we are
Ask forever
Twisting
Turning
Through the never"
Air guitar.....
Steering wheel drum.....
She slams her cheap ass cell phone shut. Mission accomplished.
We are about 5 minutes away from getting to work. Her head is twitching in circles and her lips are flapping away, but I'm just singing and pretending to be a rockstar.
This got a smile from the man in the back.
I turned down the volume and said "since you aren't on the phone, I can turn this back down."
Her response: "you are the rudest person I've ever met in my life."
I reached over to the visor, pulled it down, opened the mirror and said "not anymore."
We arrived, and I was mad as hell. But I held it in. She was just about to get me to the point of no return, but I was fighting against my desire to strike her down with all my strength.
I'm pretty sure she wanted to have a good old fashioned fist fight. I'm pretty sure I wanted to be a good hostess and oblige her. But I didn't.
She got out and muttered something under her breath, and I simply said "have a nice day" in that "screw you very much" kind of voice. The guy in the backseat laughed and said "I would have thrown her out in Springfield."
Kill them with kindness I always say!
HO HO HO, 'tis the Season!!
Happy Slugging!
Monday, December 17, 2007
Trapped with Familiar Strangers--Warning: Slightly X-Rated
For those of you who read this who have never had the pleasure of commuting up and down the I95 corridor during rush hour, I will try to be as descriptive as I can so that you understand.
Traffic in Northern Virginia, heading into DC, is predictably unpredictable. You can always count on the traffic patterns to be the exact opposite of what you are prepared for. On beautiful sunny mornings, traffic will be at a dead stop for no apparent reason, and on rainy, crappy, dark days, it will move so quickly that you feel like you are getting away with something naughty. You can be moving along at full speed (or more if you are some drivers) and all of a sudden be sitting completely stopped for 30 minutes without warning. Traffic is all over the board here. You just have to get in the car in the morning and try to be prepared for anything.
Well, slugging adds a whole new category of "anything" that you have to be prepared for. When you are slugging in, you take pretty much the first ride that comes along going to your destination (unless there are extenuating circumstances as mentioned before) because you never know when another will come along. I got to the lot this morning praying for a quick ride because it is beyond cold and windy outside, and I didn't want to stand in that for a long time. Lucky for me, the first car waiting was waiting for ME! Oh the joy! But wait....
Remember Don Juan DeJerkoff who tried to score with the hot chick a few weeks ago? He was in the back seat. The guy driving...a guy I have, up until now, not mentioned. I've hitched a ride with him a few times, and I have basically let him slide off the blogging radar. He's a nice enough guy, a seemingly normal family man. Apparently, when combined with the "X" factors of Mr. SmoothJazz in the back seat and stopped traffic, he becomes a sexpert (nope, not a misspelling).
As I'm sure you've all figured out by now, before 9AM, I'm a different person. I'm grumpy and less receptive to anything out of the ordinary, especially when I'm tired and want to nap. Considering this morning's commute was extra long, I could have had a REALLY GOOD nap. But oh no, not me. That's not how things work for me. I could tell pretty quickly that there would be no napping today.
Now, I know what you are thinking. Mr. "The Sun Looks Pretty Today" didn't pay any attention to me when Hot Babe #1 was in the car, but apparently, when he's a passenger with me and this other guy, I become really interesting. Funny how things work out. Yes, he remembered me and commented on how he was changing his air freshener to something that smelled less "pimp oilish." The driver wanted to know what we were talking about. So, he gave a basic description of the "princess" that rode with him and the fact that I told him he had no chance. He was using a snide tone, so I had to jump in. I told the driver about the backseat comment and the mud, just so he didn't think I was a total bitch. The driver said, and I believe I will be able to quote this accurately word for word, "you are too pretty for that." (OK, ladies, you are with me.....MAJOR SCORE for him!! I woke up just a little bit after that and flashed my biggest, most charming southern belle smile to thank him.) But things went downhill from there. Apparently, this opened the door to a sex conversation. Oh boy!
Smooth Talking Driver Guy started talking about how he watched a particularly sexy movie from the 80s. Then he started asking questions, first to the skeezer in the back and then to me, about sexual fantasies. Backseat guy is apparently also a backdoor kind of guy, if you get my drift. Yep, I'm grossed out too. He gets to me, and I simply said "I'm a virgin" thinking I could cleverly avoid anymore sex talk. Oh no, apparently the driver likes virgins! WTF!?? At this point, we are still sitting in traffic a long, LONG way from work. I'm feeling a bit trapped and uncomfortable. I figure I have nowhere else to go from here, so I might as well play along. In retrospect, the next thing I said probably could have been a pretty foolish and dangerous thing to say, but I figured I needed to get outrageous to shut them up. He pushed me for an answer again. I guess he, for SOME reason, didn't believe my "virgin" answer. Hmmmmm...anyway. So, here's what I said.
"I've always fantasized about being trapped in a car with two strange men who decide to pull off the road and have sex with each other right in front of me. That gets me hot." I figured the backdoor backseat guy probably wouldn't mind so much. Men, generally, are not comfortable with gay innuendo, especially when they are acting all macho and talking sex to a woman.
The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, and I got a short power nap in before arriving at my destination. Like I said, the commute can be unpredictable.
Traffic in Northern Virginia, heading into DC, is predictably unpredictable. You can always count on the traffic patterns to be the exact opposite of what you are prepared for. On beautiful sunny mornings, traffic will be at a dead stop for no apparent reason, and on rainy, crappy, dark days, it will move so quickly that you feel like you are getting away with something naughty. You can be moving along at full speed (or more if you are some drivers) and all of a sudden be sitting completely stopped for 30 minutes without warning. Traffic is all over the board here. You just have to get in the car in the morning and try to be prepared for anything.
Well, slugging adds a whole new category of "anything" that you have to be prepared for. When you are slugging in, you take pretty much the first ride that comes along going to your destination (unless there are extenuating circumstances as mentioned before) because you never know when another will come along. I got to the lot this morning praying for a quick ride because it is beyond cold and windy outside, and I didn't want to stand in that for a long time. Lucky for me, the first car waiting was waiting for ME! Oh the joy! But wait....
Remember Don Juan DeJerkoff who tried to score with the hot chick a few weeks ago? He was in the back seat. The guy driving...a guy I have, up until now, not mentioned. I've hitched a ride with him a few times, and I have basically let him slide off the blogging radar. He's a nice enough guy, a seemingly normal family man. Apparently, when combined with the "X" factors of Mr. SmoothJazz in the back seat and stopped traffic, he becomes a sexpert (nope, not a misspelling).
As I'm sure you've all figured out by now, before 9AM, I'm a different person. I'm grumpy and less receptive to anything out of the ordinary, especially when I'm tired and want to nap. Considering this morning's commute was extra long, I could have had a REALLY GOOD nap. But oh no, not me. That's not how things work for me. I could tell pretty quickly that there would be no napping today.
Now, I know what you are thinking. Mr. "The Sun Looks Pretty Today" didn't pay any attention to me when Hot Babe #1 was in the car, but apparently, when he's a passenger with me and this other guy, I become really interesting. Funny how things work out. Yes, he remembered me and commented on how he was changing his air freshener to something that smelled less "pimp oilish." The driver wanted to know what we were talking about. So, he gave a basic description of the "princess" that rode with him and the fact that I told him he had no chance. He was using a snide tone, so I had to jump in. I told the driver about the backseat comment and the mud, just so he didn't think I was a total bitch. The driver said, and I believe I will be able to quote this accurately word for word, "you are too pretty for that." (OK, ladies, you are with me.....MAJOR SCORE for him!! I woke up just a little bit after that and flashed my biggest, most charming southern belle smile to thank him.) But things went downhill from there. Apparently, this opened the door to a sex conversation. Oh boy!
Smooth Talking Driver Guy started talking about how he watched a particularly sexy movie from the 80s. Then he started asking questions, first to the skeezer in the back and then to me, about sexual fantasies. Backseat guy is apparently also a backdoor kind of guy, if you get my drift. Yep, I'm grossed out too. He gets to me, and I simply said "I'm a virgin" thinking I could cleverly avoid anymore sex talk. Oh no, apparently the driver likes virgins! WTF!?? At this point, we are still sitting in traffic a long, LONG way from work. I'm feeling a bit trapped and uncomfortable. I figure I have nowhere else to go from here, so I might as well play along. In retrospect, the next thing I said probably could have been a pretty foolish and dangerous thing to say, but I figured I needed to get outrageous to shut them up. He pushed me for an answer again. I guess he, for SOME reason, didn't believe my "virgin" answer. Hmmmmm...anyway. So, here's what I said.
"I've always fantasized about being trapped in a car with two strange men who decide to pull off the road and have sex with each other right in front of me. That gets me hot." I figured the backdoor backseat guy probably wouldn't mind so much. Men, generally, are not comfortable with gay innuendo, especially when they are acting all macho and talking sex to a woman.
The rest of the ride was relatively quiet, and I got a short power nap in before arriving at my destination. Like I said, the commute can be unpredictable.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Ahhhh, the Joyful Smells of Christmas
There are some smells that I absolutely love, especially this time of year. At Christmas time, things smell more festive and alive, and I always look forward to those smells.
I love the smell of the pine needles from a Christmas tree (even though I haven't had a real Christmas tree since I was 11). I love the smell of hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies. I love the smell of distant woodburning fireplaces and how it reminds me of simpler times (but don't ask me to give up my gas fireplace!). I love the smell in the air when it's getting ready to snow. I love the faint smell of scotch tape that lingers in the air after all the Christmas packages have been ripped into.
There are some winter morning smells that I love as well. I love the smell of that sort of crisp, still early morning air that you get before all the daily pollutants have gotten going (hey, you learn to appreciate the small things when you are angry for having to be up that early). I love the smell of coffee brewing, even though I hate the taste. I love the smell of freshly baked breakfast pastries, especially when one is in my hand waiting to be eaten.
There are some "people" smells that I even tend to really appreciate. I love the smell of a clean, well-groomed man. I love the smell of freshly washed hair. I love the smell of my own perfume.
Some smells that I do not love: unbathed men who clearly live INSIDE a woodburning stove (or burned their house down this morning)who consider Budweiser as their early morning "wake up" beverage of choice and whose body odor is so pungent that it has overpowered my freshly applied, meticulously selected perfume.
Oh yes, he was drunk off his ass.
As I drove Mr. Smokey Drunk to "work" this morning, some questions sprang to mind:
1. IS this person actually gainfully employed? (He's wearing your stereotypical "IT Guy" uniform of khaki chinos with a barely pressed dress shirt, but he could be heading into his "former job" to shoot up the place....who knows?)
2. Did this person sleep last night or is he returning to work after drinking at his holiday party all night and morning?
3. Is he really singing "Jingle Bells" in my car?
There are some mysteries that will never be solved.
Either way, he stumbled out of my car when I reached his destination, and I'm pretty sure he started singing "Silent Night" to the crowd at the crosswalk.
I might be wrong, and we'll never know, but I'm guessing that, if he did indeed have an employer this morning, he does not have an employer this afternoon.
As for me, I'm going to go back to enjoying the festive smells of Christmas, and I might even sing a few verses of "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas" now that it's after 9AM.
So, Merry Christmas to All, and to him, a long bath!
I love the smell of the pine needles from a Christmas tree (even though I haven't had a real Christmas tree since I was 11). I love the smell of hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies. I love the smell of distant woodburning fireplaces and how it reminds me of simpler times (but don't ask me to give up my gas fireplace!). I love the smell in the air when it's getting ready to snow. I love the faint smell of scotch tape that lingers in the air after all the Christmas packages have been ripped into.
There are some winter morning smells that I love as well. I love the smell of that sort of crisp, still early morning air that you get before all the daily pollutants have gotten going (hey, you learn to appreciate the small things when you are angry for having to be up that early). I love the smell of coffee brewing, even though I hate the taste. I love the smell of freshly baked breakfast pastries, especially when one is in my hand waiting to be eaten.
There are some "people" smells that I even tend to really appreciate. I love the smell of a clean, well-groomed man. I love the smell of freshly washed hair. I love the smell of my own perfume.
Some smells that I do not love: unbathed men who clearly live INSIDE a woodburning stove (or burned their house down this morning)who consider Budweiser as their early morning "wake up" beverage of choice and whose body odor is so pungent that it has overpowered my freshly applied, meticulously selected perfume.
Oh yes, he was drunk off his ass.
As I drove Mr. Smokey Drunk to "work" this morning, some questions sprang to mind:
1. IS this person actually gainfully employed? (He's wearing your stereotypical "IT Guy" uniform of khaki chinos with a barely pressed dress shirt, but he could be heading into his "former job" to shoot up the place....who knows?)
2. Did this person sleep last night or is he returning to work after drinking at his holiday party all night and morning?
3. Is he really singing "Jingle Bells" in my car?
There are some mysteries that will never be solved.
Either way, he stumbled out of my car when I reached his destination, and I'm pretty sure he started singing "Silent Night" to the crowd at the crosswalk.
I might be wrong, and we'll never know, but I'm guessing that, if he did indeed have an employer this morning, he does not have an employer this afternoon.
As for me, I'm going to go back to enjoying the festive smells of Christmas, and I might even sing a few verses of "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas" now that it's after 9AM.
So, Merry Christmas to All, and to him, a long bath!
Monday, December 3, 2007
The South Will Rise Again
There are only two words that can fully describe my ride to work this morning.
Yee-haw.
In case there is ANY question as to what I am referring, the kind young gentleman escorting me to work this morning was a Redneck.
I will steal from the great "Redneck Comedian" Jeff Foxworthy and give you this list:
"Your Driver Might Be a Redneck if..."
10. He drives an old, mismatched paint truck (think early 80s Blazer or Bronco). (CHECK!)
9. He wears an OLD baseball hat on which the visor has been carefully crafted to bend into a sharp downward "U" shape. (CHECK!)
8. He smokes Marlboro Reds. (CHECK!)
7. His rearview mirror is missing. (CHECK!)
6. He's alternating between country and classic rock on the radio. (CHECK!)
5. He has sworn his allegiance to a number that corresponds to a Nascar driver. (CHECK!)
4. His clothes are already dirty, and the day hasn't even started yet. There is also plaid flannel and construction boots involved. (CHECK!)
3. He says he works on cars, but his car barely runs. (DOUBLE CHECK!)
2. Out of respect for his passengers, he switches from cigarettes to chewing tobacco so as to not bother them! (CHECK!)
1. He has a confederate flag sticker that says "The South Will Rise Again." (YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW)
I know. You were all expecting there to be reference to his southern drawl, but that was TOO obvious. OF COURSE he did!
He was very well mannered, except for the intermittent tobacco spitting. His music wasn't too loud, and he drove relatively safely. My only REAL complaint was that the smoke cloud was SO heavy in that truck that I got a nicotine buzz from the seatbelt. I could tell his "old lady" was a smoker from the slightest hint of menthol and lipstick lingering on the seatbelt strap. OK, in all fairness, it could have been his sister, but what's the difference really?
Having grown up in a town not too unfamiliar with the redneck variety, it didn't really bother me. I was used to being around that type. It was the black gentleman in the car with me that I wondered about. Did he notice the sticker? Was he sitting there wishing he could punch this guy on principle? The driver actually went out of his way to talk to the guy, so my guess is the driver was more uncomfortable than the passenger.
I would have slept had it not been for the rattling muffler and tobacco-spit induced gag reflex. It was freezing cold inside the truck (the heat probably hasn't worked in at least 5 years), but I was reluctant to encourage any kind of heating effort for fear of what might spew out of the vents. I should have packed the flannel!
We all made it to our destination safely, and Mr. Billy Bob maintained his manners in a way that would make his Momma proud.
Happy Slugging and YEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWW!!!
Yee-haw.
In case there is ANY question as to what I am referring, the kind young gentleman escorting me to work this morning was a Redneck.
I will steal from the great "Redneck Comedian" Jeff Foxworthy and give you this list:
"Your Driver Might Be a Redneck if..."
10. He drives an old, mismatched paint truck (think early 80s Blazer or Bronco). (CHECK!)
9. He wears an OLD baseball hat on which the visor has been carefully crafted to bend into a sharp downward "U" shape. (CHECK!)
8. He smokes Marlboro Reds. (CHECK!)
7. His rearview mirror is missing. (CHECK!)
6. He's alternating between country and classic rock on the radio. (CHECK!)
5. He has sworn his allegiance to a number that corresponds to a Nascar driver. (CHECK!)
4. His clothes are already dirty, and the day hasn't even started yet. There is also plaid flannel and construction boots involved. (CHECK!)
3. He says he works on cars, but his car barely runs. (DOUBLE CHECK!)
2. Out of respect for his passengers, he switches from cigarettes to chewing tobacco so as to not bother them! (CHECK!)
1. He has a confederate flag sticker that says "The South Will Rise Again." (YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW)
I know. You were all expecting there to be reference to his southern drawl, but that was TOO obvious. OF COURSE he did!
He was very well mannered, except for the intermittent tobacco spitting. His music wasn't too loud, and he drove relatively safely. My only REAL complaint was that the smoke cloud was SO heavy in that truck that I got a nicotine buzz from the seatbelt. I could tell his "old lady" was a smoker from the slightest hint of menthol and lipstick lingering on the seatbelt strap. OK, in all fairness, it could have been his sister, but what's the difference really?
Having grown up in a town not too unfamiliar with the redneck variety, it didn't really bother me. I was used to being around that type. It was the black gentleman in the car with me that I wondered about. Did he notice the sticker? Was he sitting there wishing he could punch this guy on principle? The driver actually went out of his way to talk to the guy, so my guess is the driver was more uncomfortable than the passenger.
I would have slept had it not been for the rattling muffler and tobacco-spit induced gag reflex. It was freezing cold inside the truck (the heat probably hasn't worked in at least 5 years), but I was reluctant to encourage any kind of heating effort for fear of what might spew out of the vents. I should have packed the flannel!
We all made it to our destination safely, and Mr. Billy Bob maintained his manners in a way that would make his Momma proud.
Happy Slugging and YEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWW!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
