Category Archives: Cranky

Stuff That Makes Me Bananas.

Just in time for Christmas, and partially because of Christmas, I have compiled a list of things that drive me insane.

Look, it's a banana. So annoying.

1. Mail. Why? WHY? MAIL? WHY? I hate mailing things, I hate getting mail, I hate going to the Post Office to get stuff and/or figure out why they aren’t delivering my mail. 99% of my mail is crap. Almost all of our bills are auto pay, I don’t want any credit cards, I loathe catalogs. I do subscribe to a couple of magazines that pile up in their plastic sleeves for three or four months before I read them, but that’s it. I do not like to send mail. It’s expensive. I don’t even know how much anymore because the other day I was forced to buy some stamps and they gave me something called “Forever Stamps” with no price on them. What does that mean? I e-mail everything. I e-mail my invoices, I pay my bills by e-mail, I e-mail birthday greetings. I’m sorry mail, but I know why you guys are in the hole by about a zillion dollars.

2. Checks. I do not want to have to write checks EVER. I used to hate getting checks, but after I started using a new bank where I can just take a picture of a check with my phone and it’s deposited I realized I just hate going to the bank. Writing checks is a whole other story. First, I have to find my checkbook, then I have to find a pen, then I have to write it down and do math. See how you’re bored right now? I’m sorry stores, I know you get charged fees when I use a card, but that’s a whole other blog.

Recently, I got my oil tank filled up, and the woman from the company said, “OK, can you give the driver a check?”

I said, “Don’t you have my card on file?”

“Yes, but we’ll give you $10 if you pay by check.”

“SIGGGGGGGHHHHHH. FINE”

See, they want me to use a check so they don’t get the fee. Which I totally get. But, it doesn’t make it any less annoying.

3. Places that don’t have websites. Listen to me. If you do not have a website, I’m probably not going to be able to find you/call you/figure out your hours. At the very, very least get your establishment on Facebook, though you should have at least a static page with your hours and phone number attached to that. It’s easy. It’s 2011. I don’t want to hear any excuses. How am I supposed to find out about you? Look up your number and call you? See, no. I’m already annoyed and bored. I don’t want to call you to find your numbers or location. I don’t have time for that and also:

4. The phone. OK, I like talking to my friends on the phone, wait not really. I do sometimes. Usually I talk to my friends via IM. I like that much better. Anyhow,  I do not like talking to anyone else on the phone. That includes clients, businesses, people looking for the girl who used to have my number, etc. I also do not like it when people insist on talking on the phone or meeting me in person rather than via email. It is so much less efficient.I like being able to respond in a well thought out manner and have a record of correspondence. I dislike having to call any sort of customer service the most. I’m sure you all do, this is not unique to me.

5. Companies that e-mail me about their great sales and savings EVERY DAY. If you mail me every single day saying: SALE TODAY ONLY, or BIGGEST DISCOUNT EVER (and it’s a standard 10% off every single day) I am going to stop reading your e-mails pronto. Also, I am going to have anxiety about shopping from you. Recently, I needed to buy a new washer and I watched one store’s price on the same washer fluctuate up and down as much as $200 from day to day over the course of 3 weeks. It didn’t make me super confident that I was getting the best deal, however I was super confident that if I had to go to the laundromat one more time, I would become a danger to myself and others.

Contrast that with the few places I subscribe to that only have sales a couple times a year. I call these, “True Sales” and you can believe I shop the hell out of them.

There you have it. There’s a lot more that makes me bananas, but this is the top 5 today. What makes you bananas?

 

In defense of..well..me.

I work at home. I am a writer. I write things. I write articles for news and entertainment and I also write commercial posts for various websites. I feel the need to explain this because there seems to be a misconception about what I do all day. I write. I guess if I was sitting at a desk in a building owned by someone else, instead of my house it would be easier for people to grasp. Please think about that when you ask me what I do all day, or if my house is really clean. Is your house really clean? I mean you aren’t there all day, so there isn’t anyone around to make dishes or mess it up. No?

Yes, working at home has a lot of perks, I get to make my own schedule. This also means that I end up working at night and on weekends a lot. I don’t have to drive anywhere, there are lots of snacks. I can listen to whatever I want to as loudly as I want to. I can take a break and go for a walk. These are all true. I am also really lonely. It’s just me and the dogs here. This is why I love the IM, and the FB, and the Twitters. You are my co-workers. It would be nice if you would add up all the time you spend shooting the shit with your fellow office mates before you make a shitty comment about how I’m on there all day, because it’s actually far less time than you spend at the water cooler. I just have a visual record of my time wasting.

Because I publish things online, and know how to use Mailchimp to send newsletters, and know how to post things to WP, does not mean I am a web designer. It does not mean that I know how, or that I want to make you a website. It does not mean that I know how to write code. It means that I am a writer, who has grasped some pretty basic software in order to get things published online in the hopes of making some money. To me, that’s like saying to someone, “Oh, I see you are taking pictures with your iPhone. Would you like to photograph my wedding?” See how that’s crazy? Yes, I’ll write your newsletter. No, I will not “do” your website.

Also, no. I don’t want to work for you for free. Would you ask your friend the plumber to come around and fix your toilet for free, you know to add to her client list to boost her credibility? Oh, that would be rude? Huh.

I am a total brat for complaining about my sweet deal. I am truly lucky and grateful for the opportunities I have. I have just grown weary and tired of feeling defensive all the time. I wouldn’t trade places with anyone, and it’s a small price to pay for my charmed existence. But still, it’s annoying.

Dog Shit, Right in The Eye.

I was just sitting down with a nice cup of coffee, getting ready to enjoy a webinar on e-newsletters, (what, I’m a dork) feeling pretty good about my day, when I noticed my dog wasn’t in her usual spot. Then I smelled a terrible terrible smell. I jumped up and ran to the entryway, because that’s where she goes to poop if she can’t make it outside. Hmmm, there’s the dog, but no poo. Where’s the poo? I can smell it. Ohhh there it is, attached to the dogs butt in a giant poop ball. *Note* this is a common occurance with dogs that grow a lot of butt hair. I just didn’t think my dog’s butt hair was that copious yet, clearly it was. So, dog’s response to getting caught shitting in my entryway was to freak out. Obviously. I mean wouldn’t you? Please, don’t let me catch you shitting in my entryway just to prove a point. Trust me, you would freak out. The dog runs around the house trying to shake the poop off, thus covering my house with tiny shit balls. Nice, right?

It gets better! I am frantically trying to chose between; clean up shitballs all over the living room OR wrangle dog and take her up stairs and throw her in the tub OR just run away and burn my house down. *KIDDING*  Either way I need two things: Rubber gloves and Paper Towels. I have NEITHER. Great. This is why you need to get plastic bags at the grocery store once in awhile. They are great as ghetto rubber gloves. Luckily, I have a bunch. I don my “gloves” and pick up the poop scrids off the floor using toiletpaper. Meanwhile dog is peeling out all over her dog bed.

The perpetrator. Sure, she looks cute from this angle.

Finally, the poop is cleaned up and I take her upstairs to the tub to check out the situation. The situation is this: She has an enormous ball of crap stuck to her. I have to pull it out and cut it off gagging the whole time. The tub is now filled with shit and dog hair and won’t drain. It’s at this point I get a piece of shit spray directly on my eye.  OK, not directly IN my eye, but in the general area of my eye. Like, on the eyelid. Either way, I have dog shit on my face now, but my hands were wrapped in plastic shopping bags and my bath tub is full of poo water. There was nothing else to do but press on. I finished washing the dog, she jumps out of the tub, runs downstairs and rolls around on a huge pile of laundry I had just put on the couch to fold.

I ripped up an old towel, dumped a gallon of bleach in the tub and cleaned up the damage upstairs. I’m still working on the damage downstairs. Why don’t they teach classes in school on “How to decontaminate your house when it’s covered in shit.” Because I tell you what, if you are ever planning on having kids or pets, at some point your house is going to be covered in shit.

And yes, the only thing that kept me from freaking out was thinking about what rad blog material the situation was. I’m here for your entertainment.

Kwitcherbitchin

What does that title say? Say it out loud, then you’ll get it.  It looks German, right? Actually that was on a sign that used to hang on the wall at a friend’s camp. Liza, do you read this? Is it still there? Is it weird to shout out questions to people who may or may not be reading my blog?

Ok so, without being too schmaltzy, the deal is this: I have realized over the past few days that I spend a significant amount of my time bitching and whining and letting small problems or inconveniences get me down.  Someone needs to do this to me:

I mean honestly, I don’t have any real problems. I’ve got some middle class white lady problems, but those are not real problems. Run out of toilet paper? Pfft, I’ve got some paper towels. My car won’t start, oh just use my husbands. My cat died? Well, he was 17 and you know, NOT A PERSON.  It’s not like I’m homeless or shoeless, or hell even carless. Compared to a lot of folks, I’ve got it damn good.
The truth is, I have an amazing family, and my friends are made up of the most elite group of awesome people you could find. I have a great husband, a Kid that is so cute I can barely stand it, dogs, computers, phones, toys, a freezer full of cow and pig. I’m living large up here on the Slope. So, this year I am truly going to be more thankful. I might complain a bit, in a hilarious way, of course, but I’m not going to let shit bug me. Water off a ducks back, don’t sweat the small stuff, all that jazz. 
Also, I’d like to say, thank you all for reading. Even if you only read once a year, even if you just got here, even if you only read this because you hate me and want to spy on me, even if you’re a Chinese spam bot , I love you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Tomorrow: A post about rainbows and kittens. Ok, probably not. More than likely it will be about how I am snowed in at my parents house and am on the verge of emptying the liquor cabinet and locking myself in the bathroom. But until then….