The Charm Of A Dive Bar

While home in Western Mass for Christmas, I met two high school friends out at a local dive bar. You know the type - they have them in every small town in America (I hope) - the cash-only watering hole where the patrons are either kids you babysat for in your youth or Senior Center escapees. The floor boards creak, the chairs need to be replaced, and the neon beer signs give the place an interesting glow.
We sat at the corner of the bar and reminisced about old times and gossiped about what former classmates are doing now with their lives. Those conversations quickly ceased when we started watching three older patrons on the other side of the bar as if they, themselves, were a train wreck. Their antics were far surpassing the actions of us young whippersnappers. I mean, things got weird and they got weird quickly. I didn't want to look but I couldn't turn away.
If I had to guess, I'd say these three...individuals...were in their late-sixties or seventies. Two women and one man. Look, I don't want to relive it by getting into specifics but things were happening between the three of them - sexual things - that grown adults shouldn't do in a near-empty bar...in front of the TV showing the Patriots game. Don't you people know that everyone is staring at you in disgust? No? Well, now you do.
One woman got up off her stool and attempted to reach the ladies room just a few steps away. Yes, the key word is attempted. We all heard a loud thud and glanced over at the woman to find her lying on the floor. Better people than me ran over to the woman's aid. She had hit her head on the bathroom door...or the floor...and had quite a large gash in her forehead. The bartender and patrons helped the woman off the floor and back into her chair, where they tended to her wound.
It must be noted that the other woman and the man that were with her...intimately...looked annoyed that poor ol' "Ma" was so intoxicated/old that she fell over and, thus, botched their plans for any post-bar festivities. Hell, the other woman was drinking her wine while supporting "Ma's" head, all the while rolling her eyes at the old man in the rugby shirt.
The ambulance/EMTs were called and, once decided that she needed to go to the hospital because she hit her head and probably needed stitches, they brought the stretcher in and carted "Ma" out. The other lady went with her to the hospital in the ambulance and the man was told he was cut off. No more drinks for you, sir.
The bartender got the good Samaritans a beer as a thank you and before they could even take a sip, one of the EMTs came back in and told us that we needed to evacuate the bar because there was a gas leak. What in the world?!?!
Did the fall cause the gas leak or did the gas leak cause "Ma" to fall?
I'd like to think that "Ma" was a Christmas angel sent to save us all from the Agawam Gas Leak of 2013.
In any event, it was a memorable night, to say the least. Oh, the charm of a dive bar!

Free Money

Have you ever been so distracted that you completely forgot what you're doing? Have you ever gotten up off the couch and walked to the refrigerator and it wasn't until you opened the door and the cold air hit your face that you realized that you didn't even know why you got up in the first place?
Well, this happened just the other night...to someone other than me.
As I was driving through the fine city of Providence, I stopped at the ATM for some dolla-dolla-bills, y'all. I enjoy going to this one location, in particular, because it's attached to a Boston Market. Not only do I retrieve the money that I request from the machine but I also get a delicious chicken scent wafting in through my open car window.
As I pulled up there was a car in line ahead of me. I waited patiently.
When they pulled away, I drove up to the machine and got my debit card ready. When I turned to insert my card into the machine, I noticed that the car in front of me had driven off without their money.
The money - I'm going to guess at least $80 - sat in the machine, which was still beeping. I assumed the beeps translated to, "Hey dummy! Forgetting something?"
I didn't know what to do. The driver of the car just drove off without a second thought. The bank branch was closed so it's not like I could've notified someone inside the facility.
The angel and devil in me debated my next step.
"I could really use that money."
"There's a camera on you, dummy!"
When I finally decided on the fact that I wasn't going to steal this innocent person's money from the machine, the machine sucked those bills back in. I completed my transaction and went on my merry way.
I guess I'm still confused as to how you could stop at the ATM, press all of the necessary buttons, take your receipt but not take the cash. That individual was in for a very big surprise when they attempted to make their next purchase. They probably assumed that I stole it. Jerks!

I'm Still Thankful

2013, to date, hasn't been a great year for me. I consider it my Murphy's Law year - "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong" - and, unfortunately, it sure has. Luckily for me, 2014 is just around the corner and things are looking up.
This past Thanksgiving really got me thinking about what I'm thankful for in my life. In a crappy year like I've had this year, one might think that that list is short...empty even. I mean, I am single again, supposed friends have shown their true colors and have been demoted from "Trish's friend" to "crappy human", and every morning before peeling myself out of bed I think to myself "would I rather go to work or jump off a bridge?"
What's interesting to me is that while being at rock bottom I still have so many wonderful blessings that I would be remiss if I didn't mention...in type...for the world to see.
I am thankful for my wonderful friends, family and support system. You all know who you are and I truly can't imagine (and don't want to imagine) the shell of a person I'd be without all of your thoughtful cards, flower deliveries, shoulders/bathroom floors to catch my tears, calls, texts, glasses of wine, and girls' nights full of debauchery.
I'm thankful for my parents for creating a decent human being - ME. Luckily, after all of the nonsense that has gone on these past few months, I'm still a good person down to my core. Not completely jaded or cynical yet.
I am thankful for my job - my annoying, stressful, full-time, paying job.
I am thankful for my condo. Even though you haven't yet learned how to clean yourself on your own, I'm still glad you're in my life. Also, thanks for keeping all of my stuff safe.
I am thankful that my car, "The Grey Lady", although way over the allowed lease miles, is still running well and has not caused me any headaches in the 2.5 years I've had it in my life.
Other quick notes:
I'm thankful for my health, New Girl, 2013 Red Sox World Series win, the recent refund check I received in the mail from Rhode Island Housing, and a successful broccoli and cheese combo.
Perhaps I should've moved "my health" out of the quick notes to it's own item...but, whatever...you get the idea.

The Golden Rule

This will not be a religious-themed blog. Honest.
Are Catholic schools the only schools that teach the most important social rule - The Golden Rule?

"So whatever you wish that others would do to you,

do also to them"

I'm starting to lose my faith in humanity. Why do people find it acceptable to treat people poorly? Is it that difficult to be honest with people? To be kind and generous and understanding?

I find it hard to believe that I'm one of the few that know about this concept and apply it in my everyday life...and if people do know about this rule, why do so many people in today's society disregard it?

I suggest we have a refresher course...perhaps an exam. Those that fail the course are locked in a room with Justin Bieber...or need to move in with the Kardashians. Just a thought.

Anyway, all I ask is that if I'm good to you, please be good to me. Please and thank you.

Freak On A Leash

One September afternoon, I saw a couple walking through the mall together. Cute.
She was walking him on a leash. Not so cute.

That is all.

Sidenote: When I searched Google images for "man on a leash" I found pictures of Adam Lambert. Ha.

Smile. You're On Candid Camera!

Once upon a time, also known as last night, I went to dinner with a friend named Joan (name changed to protect anonymity). Neither of us ever have cash on us so we each put a debit card on the bill and split it down the middle. I got the odd penny out...like always!
We each grabbed a debit card, our respective leftovers and parted ways in the parking lot. I stopped at Walgreen's on the way home to pick up necessities - face wash, body wash and toilet paper. Again, I have no cash so out comes the plastic.
This morning when I got to work, Joan called, texted and emailed me. "She must be on fire!" I thought. Luckily, once we connected I realized she wasn't on fire. Instead, she informed me that we had grabbed the wrong debit card at the restaurant and that I had hers.
My first reaction was "OH CRAP! I think I totally just used her card to purchase my toiletries." I immediately logged into my Target Credit Card account, praying that I would see the transaction there. Nope, no Walgreen's transaction to be found. Great! Ugh...
Joan advised me that my purchase total was larger than the available balance on the card. I figured that the dinner charge hadn't posted yet and that I somehow sneaked the Walgreen's charge in. Perhaps I still have time to get money in her account before Gregg's Restaurant figures it out!
I left work in a panic, swiftly walking to the closest Sovereign Bank. I went to the teller to take money out of my own personal checking account. Then, I walked over to the ATM machine around the corner with Joan's debit card in hand. While looking for her PIN number in my recent texts, I saw that I had received other texts from Joan. She was calling Sovereign Bank to put a hold on her card so that she doesn't get charged overdraft fees.
I rolled my eyes because this is becoming ridiculous. I walked back over to the same teller and tried to convince her that I'm not a crazy person. I don't think she bought it.
With Joan's ATM card disabled, the teller allowed me to deposit money into Joan's account - the amount of the Walgreen's charge and a little padding to cover any potential overdraft fees.
Problem solved...or so I thought.
I got back to work, red in the face, and I read an email from Joan. During her conversation with the representative at Sovereign Bank, she was told that a new debit card would be sent to her and was advised to destroy her current debit card.
That's right, folks. Joan reached into her wallet and without an other thought in her head cut up the Sovereign Bank debit card. Unfortunately, that Sovereign Bank debit card had my name proudly displayed on the front.
As I read said email, I started to laugh...and then become annoyed...but then laughed again. I just couldn't get over how jumbled up this innocent mistake had gotten. The last thing I want to do is track down all of my automatic withdrawals to change my debit card information.
I stopped at a different branch location on my way home from work tonight to take cash out for the week and request a duplicate debit card (same number, expiration date, etc) be mailed to me. I should get that in seven-to-ten business days. We're almost back to normal.
I just got home and dug out the Walgreen's receipt out of the plastic shopping bag and, of course, the last four digits of the card I used to make my purchase are not the same ones on Joan's disabled card. Only God knows why the Walgreen's purchase is nowhere to be found within my Target Credit Card account summary of recent transactions. Well, God and the producer of the Candid Camera television show that has been following me around today. I feel like Joan and I have been punked.
This whole thing was for nothing and now Joan owes me $50. The lengths I will go to to get you all an entertaining blog! I tell ya...

What's The Rush?

Today is Saturday, July 20th and it's 98* in Rhode Island with a heat index of over 100*. Because of these facts, it was impossible for me not to laugh out loud when I saw a temporary Halloween superstore pop up on Route 2 this weekend.
Just a few weeks ago, I shared a photo on Facebook of a Back-to-School school uniform display at Old Navy. Let's face it, people (mostly parents and/or teachers) got angry because it's "way too early" to think about sending the youngsters back to school or for them to start working on their syllabuses for the upcoming school year.
Then, earlier this week, I saw a photo posted on a well-known author's Facebook page of a Christmas decor aisle at Hobby Lobby. The photo showed colorful ornaments and artificial greenery - perfect supplies for any home's fireplace mantle between Black Friday and New Year's Day.
My question for you, loyal blog followers, is "Why do we rush everything?" Is it because we want to be prepared or is it because we just can't wait any longer?
Dr. Phil McGraw is known for saying, "You want what you want when you want it...and you want it now."
I'm all for planning ahead but I'm really trying my best to live in the moment. That means I will not think too much about a holiday until that's the next holiday on the calendar. No more Christmas tree up before Thanksgiving dinner. No more purchasing Cadbury Eggs before the St. Patrick's Day parade passes by. No more sparklers before...oh, hell, sparklers are always acceptable!
Can't we all try to live in the moment and take one day at a time? Make the best of each day. Live it as if it were your last. Carpe diem!

Protecting My Credit Or Embarrassing Me While Out To Dinner?

Thanks, Target Credit Cards, for embarrassing me while out to dinner with a friend this weekend.
This past Saturday, I went to Verizon Wireless for a long-overdue cell phone upgrade. I put the charges for the new phone and for the insurance on my Target Credit Card.

I, then, went to work for a few hours. When I tried to pay to exit the parking garage, my card wouldn't go through. Weird but okay, I'll use my debit card. Sometimes those parking payment kiosks can be finicky. No big whoop.
On Sunday evening, I went out to dinner with a friend and, like most dinners, we split the check right down the middle by giving the waitress two credit cards. After a few minutes, the waitress, who couldn't have been nicer, by the way, came back to the table to advise that my card was declined.
What in the world? This is my credit card...not my debit card. There's way more money available on my credit card than on anything else I own...including savings bonds.
I gave the server another card and all was okay. It wasn't until later that I wondered what would've happened if I didn't have another card. What if I didn't have any cash? What if my friend refused to help me out? Would the restaurant make me wash dishes in the kitchen to pay back the cost of my meal?
What if I wasn't with a friend at all...what if I was buying dinner for a client or something super important...like purchasing NSYNC reunion concert tickets! UGH...the horror!
The Target Credit Cards customer service line was closed on Monday due to the Memorial Day holiday so I had to call this morning from work to see what the heck they did to my account.
Really long, drawn-out story short...er than it already is. The $6.99 fee for the cell phone insurance policy came from Las Vegas, NV and that's what flagged the Target gurus to put a hold on my card.
I appreciate that they provide this anti-fraud service but can't there be a special code so the merchant you're standing in front of doesn't think you're trying to get a free meal? Instead of just saying "DECLINED" on the credit card machine and receipt paper, can't it say "PLEASE CALL US" or "HEY, YOU'RE NOT IN VEGAS!"

1992

In my travels this weekend, I stepped into a bar. Okay, those of you who know me know that I stepped into more bars this weekend than just the one. That's irrelevant.
In said bar, it was posted that "We ID (something something) May 3, 1992". It floored me that someone born in May of 1992 can drink legally.
In 1992 I was in sixth grade. I had an awful spiral perm and awkwardly spaced front teeth. I could be caught at any moment singing the Aladdin soundtrack...or Color Me Badd's All 4 Love. I was involved in competitive and recreational town sports and the school drama club. I loved romantic comedies, the T.G.I.F. lineup and the first (?) reality television shows on MTV. So, not much has changed since then.
I can't believe that was 21 years ago. I mean, the math works out that way but I don't think it seems like that long ago. I suppose the key to staying young is denial.

O-N-I-O-N-S

I fear for the youth of America. During a recent trip to Subway (Eat Fresh!), I witnessed what can only be described as proof that the education system in Rhode Island needs some serious attention.
The male customer in front of me in line had ordered a few sandwiches so he requested that the sandwich artist make a notation on the wrappers so he knew which sandwich was which.
I frequent Subway and I know some locations have color coded stickers to differentiate sandwich orders. I didn't see any at this location but I didn't think this would become an issue.
Judging by the massive amount of facial hair, the sandwich artist must've been in his late teens or early twenties. He grabbed a pen and began to scribble on the paper. Then, he suddenly stopped what he was doing and said to his fellow sandwich artist, "I don't know how to spell onions".
...
I'm going to let that one sit for a bit longer.
...
Several questions flooded my mind. How does someone over the age of 15 not know how to spell the word "onions"? How does someone over the age of 15 who works in a sandwich shop and works with sliced vegetables all day long not know how to spell the word "onions"...or at least find a sign that has "onions" written on it? Isn't "onions" a word that you learn to spell in elementary school...like, maybe third or fourth grade? Teachers, help me out here!
I'd like to thank the teachers at my elementary school for teaching me what I needed to know...in fact, more than I need to know. You all get a gold star.

Lost: One Shoe

Oh, people of Providence, you never cease to amaze me.
I had stepped out briefly at lunch time so I knew that it was a gorgeous spring day outside and I knew that I didn't need my fleece to walk to my car at the end of the day. After the day I had, I also knew that I couldn't get out of that building fast enough.
What I did not know, however, was that there would be a sighting so interesting that it would beg for a blog entry. Here goes...
While walking through the fine city of Providence just a bit before five o'clock this evening, I saw a man limping across the street. I couldn't figure out whether the man was hurt or not so I looked down at his feet...maybe he was wearing an aircast or a boot or something that would explain the awkward hobble.
Not only was there no aircast or boot but the man was missing a shoe. He was walking funny because he had lost a shoe and the gravel from the road was hurting the bottom of his foot.
I'm not quite sure how one loses a shoe. Not both shoes...just one.
Hell, I wouldn't have thought twice about a man walking through the city on a gorgeous spring day completely barefoot but to just lose one shoe? This didn't make any sense to me. He wasn't carrying the missing shoe and he didn't look like a man who would just leave home with one shoe on.
This struck me as very odd. What the heck happened to this guy during the course of the day? Was he mugged for his left sneaker? Perhaps he got into a run-in with a vicious dog and he threw the shoe to distract the dog so he could get away safely.
I'm not saying I've never walked around a city barefoot. I remember a lengthy barefoot walk through Boston several years ago. There is a logical explanation for that though. 1. I had both shoes in my hand; 2. It had been a long night of dancing; and 3. The wet grass felt great on my sore soles.
Anyway, part of me wishes I had asked him what happened and the sane part of me is happy that it put a smile on my face at the end of a grueling day.

Selfies

While I was at the gym tonight, I witnessed something that I hope to never see again. A group of young, adolescent girls were on the elliptical machines talking, laughing & "working out". When that got too boring for them, one of the girls whipped out her cell phone and began taking pictures of herself and her friends "working out". I say "working out" in quotes because I don't think any of them produced one bead of sweat. This was, clearly, all for show.
This got me thinking about people who take pictures of themselves...not themselves in a group of friends, but pictures of themselves - alone. I don't know what's worse - the selfie photo in the bathroom mirror or the selfie photo in the driver's seat of the car.
Do these people not have friends that can take a picture of them doing something other than making the infamous duck face? You know the one I'm talking about.
I am sorry if I'm offending any of my friends but, c'mon! If we're friends, I'll gladly be in a picture with you...or, at least, take one of you for your Match.com profile. That's what friends do.

Winter Casualty

Damn you, winter!
During the most recent snow & ice storm, the Grey Lady (also lovingly referred to as Betty White) sustained some damage. (Here comes my storytelling skills because I don't actually know what happened. I think this story is the least pessimistic of all of the possible stories.)
I am a careless snow remover, especially when it comes to cleaning off my vehicle. I can shovel a mean pathway and shovel myself out of a parking spot so it really just boils down to the fact that I'm lazy...and I don't leave myself enough time in the morning.
I've been known to clean off the windows and brush off my headlights/taillights but if more work is required it's probably not going to happen. That's a lie. I do clean off around the driver's door so I don't end up sitting in a pile of snow once inside.
I figure it's a waste of time to clean off the entire car when the snow will just blow off while I drive. Yes, I know it's very dangerous to do this. Other drivers must think I'm a menace to society and that my license should be revoked. They're probably right.
(Sidenote: I also don't wait long enough for the defroster to clear the whole windshield. While the defroster is on the maximum setting, I seek out that one clear spot in the windshield and contort my body over the console so I can see the road.)
Well, good news, society. I've learned my lesson.
During the last storm, I knowingly neglected to clean off the roof of the car. Well, once that snow & ice starts to melt, it starts to shift and - poof - there goes my rooftop radio antennae.
I now have approximately five radio stations that come in clearly. Everything else is just a static-y mess.
The last time I was at the dealership getting service done I asked how much it would cost to repair the damage. I saw an extra digit more than I was expecting so, needless to say, I've been listening to more CDs lately.
Thank you to anyone who has made me a CD in the past, say, ten years. I've had them on a rotation for the past few weeks.
My other theory is that some trollop vandalized my car while in the parking garage. I can't find a lesson in that story though.

Screening Phone Calls

Let it be known that I'm a telephone call screener. If I catch an incoming call and I don't recognize the telephone number, I typically will let that call go to voicemail. If I have had a long day and just can't muster up the strength to talk at length with you (yes, YOU), I'll typically let it go to voicemail.
That, however, did not happen this morning. This morning, I simply missed a call and voicemail.
Fast forward to this afternoon.
I was standing in front of the reception desk at my doctor's office and the receptionist advised me that my doctor had to cancel my appointment due to an emergency. "We had called you this morning and left a message," she said. I tell her that I did not get said message.

Sidenote: I reside in Rhode Island and my doctor's office is in Western Massachusetts. I have no long, complicated story to go along with that fact. When I moved to Rhode Island in 2004, I tried to find a new doctor and dentist but I was unable to find one that was accepting new patients. I now just use these appointments as an excuse to score long weekends.
Okay. Back to my story.
I let her know that I just traveled across state lines to be there and, although there was nothing she could do about it, she showed her sympathy, which I appreciated. As the receptionist's face dropped, I looked at my phone and saw the missed call and voicemail icons on the screen. Whoops.
She called another area and tried to squeeze me in with another doctor but he was booked for the day. Kudos to her for, at least, trying.
I rescheduled my appointment and got back into my car.
As I drove away, I was torn between, "I feel they should be required to speak with the patient directly to cancel an appointment" and "Why can't I just retrieve my voicemails?"
Oh, well. Don't feel too badly for me. My trip wasn't a total bust. I did take care of a dental exam, enjoyed lunch and dinner with friends, and took advantage of free laundry at Mom's.
Better luck next time.

Guilty Pleasures

If I had any musical talents whatsoever, I'd start a band. I'd name it "Guilty Pleasures" and we'd perform all of the songs that catch you by surprise and make you gasp when you hear them on the radio.
You know the songs...the ones that you used to sing into a hairbrush in your middle school bedroom's full-length mirror. They are, most likely, the same ones that are on your "gym" playlist.
Among some of my band's greatest hits would be Bel Biv DeVoe's Poison, Black Eyed Peas' My Humps and Wreckx-N-Effect's Rump Shaker.
I'm willing to bet that my band would be the most popular band in all of the land because, well, people tend to like bad things. I've been told (several times) that I like bad things and I'm okay with it. I embrace this fact.
Yes, it's true. I love poorly-made movies where the quirky couple rides into the sunset on a riding lawnmower, impromptu choreographed dances and early-90s throwbacks.
My heart warms knowing that people think of me when news breaks about a boy band tour or they hear silly gossip about one of my loves - Jordan Knight, JC Chasez, Kirk Cameron...the list goes on and on.
I'm not embarrassed by these facts. These former obsessions of mine molded me into the young lady I am today. Perhaps the name "Guilty Pleasures" is not a perfect fit. The only thing I'm guilty of is being totally awesome.

No One Comes Between Me & A Double Cheeseburger

I hate to be so blunt but working the drive-thru window at a fast food chain restaurant does not take the brains of a neurosurgeon or a NASA engineer. You don't need to be an ivy league college professor or have a degree in theoretical quantum physics. All you need to do is jot down a, typically, short list of items & put those same items into a bag. Then, throw that same bag out the window.
One would think that that task couldn't be too difficult.
Well, one would be wrong.
While on a Patriots-winning-a-playoff-game high, I took a short drive to a local fast food chain for some late night sustenance. I ordered a signature hamburger product (with cheese, of course), a double cheeseburger, 20-piece nugget & two medium sodas for myself & my honey.
I paid just over $14.00 for this totally-unhealthy splurge. Hey, go big or go home, right?
Two sodas came through the window. Fantastic.
When I received the bag from the girl at the window, I looked in. Mental checklist: two boxes & a cheeseburger wrapped in paper. Perfect.
Sauce for the nuggets. Great.
Napkins. Nice.
Straws. Super.
However, when I got back to "Honey's" house, I discovered it was anything but perfect. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Apparently, the staffers split the 20-piece nuggets into two boxes of ten. The paper-wrapped cheeseburger, from memory, is, normally, packaged in a box. Nope. Not this time.
"Where's the double cheeseburger?" I said as steam began to cascade from my ears and as I dumped the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.
Yes, I realize that even the fast food drive-thru employees are humans and they, too, can make mistakes. I realize that I only "lost" approximately $1.50 and that I didn't need a late night snack that consisted of a greasy burger...on top of another greasy burger.

Well, call me crazy. This error in my order really annoyed me. I mean, really annoyed me.
I had a completely unreasonable reaction to my latest episode at the drive-thru. Why was the drive-thru window girl out to get me? What did I ever do to her? Nothing. She couldn't have been any older than 17. She was just a baby.
I tried to cool off, unsuccessfully. I stormed into the computer and filled out an online survey about my recent experience. I won't get into the details but let's just say it wasn't a glowing review.
This survey is anonymous so they'll never refund my $1.50 or send a hand-written apology letter to my home or be able to gift me free signature hamburger products for life...
Alright, alright, alright. Back to reality.
Please, retail associates of Rhode Island, going forward, don't make me do something I'm not proud of...like park the car, walk into the restaurant with tears streaming down my face asking for my French fries.