My Time In The Quiet Car

This past weekend, I traveled five hours South from Providence to Philadelphia by train. Upon boarding, I chose a seat in the Quiet Car. I didn't intend on sitting in the Quiet Car but, once settled, I was thankful that I accidentally unloaded my gear into the seat I did. The motley crew that filed through the self-proclaimed library atmosphere to find a seat in the "Self-Unaware" or "Buffoon" cars would've gotten real old, real fast at close proximity.
The Quiet Car was nice. I was surrounded by a well-dressed businessman closing out his Thursday by preparing an Excel spreadsheet, an aspiring law student studying abnormal laws, and important women in pant suits and skirts with pantyhose. One of these things is not like the other...and that thing is me.
I sat in my seat silently, putzing through my Facebook news feed, texting a few of my favorites, listening to my Funky, Funky Christmas Pandora station (with my ear buds, obviously), and wondering why the seats on the opposite side of the aisle were labeled A and C. What happened to poor seat B?
There were a few knuckleheads around me that either didn't know they were in the Quiet Car or their definition of quiet is much different from Amtrak's. A few people went against the no cell phone rule, causing the staff to make reminder announcements...which goes against the whole concept of quiet, if you ask me. No one asked though.
As the ride continued, people obeyed the man wearing the conductor hat using the microphone...even the man that got up to get a snack from the dining cart three separate times for the loudest-to-open and loudest-to-consume items available. Phones seemed to be switched to silent and their owners began taking the vibrating phones into another car before they answered. That is until we got to New York's Penn Station. Don't you know that those crazy New Yorkers will do as they please? I avoided those pesky Yankee fans by pretending I was asleep in the aisle seat when they boarded so they couldn't easily sit next to me. That'll show them.
The ride through New Joy-sey went smoothly and quickly, and I was unboarding in the 30th Street Station in Philly before long.
A few days later, my ride home to Providence was not in a Quiet Car but it wasn't so bad. I enjoyed a chicken Caesar salad, flat bread, and a Coke that I purchased in the Philly station; finished the last few pages of David Robert's Wanderlush; and overheard a man paying his bills through an automated bill pay service...but he really wanted to talk to a representative...at 10:30 pm...on a Saturday evening. "Representative. Representative. I'd like to speak with a representative, please. Please let me speak to a representative."
There were definite pros and cons of the Quiet Car. Pro: you can nap, read, work, meditate, or simply watch the world go by in peace. Con: if you sneeze or clear your throat, they toss you from the moving train. I guess it all depends on your mood.

Fashion Nightmare

I know what you're thinking - You? A fashion nightmare? No way! I look to you for all my fashion tips.

Well, brace yourselves - this blog will burst that bubble in a hurry.

Rather than continuously updating my wardrobe, I tend to buy clothes in bulk, wear them until they fall apart, and then replace them all at the same time. The same goes for shoes.

Months ago, maybe years ago at this point, I purchased new pants for work. Because it seems that I'm on a five-outfit rotation, as expected, they're all falling apart at the same time. So much so that I've been "hemming" them with packing tape for weeks. Ridiculous, I know. God forbid I learn how to sew.

I tell you that secret of mine now because this morning I dropped them off at an alterations place to have them mended. Problem solved.

It feels so good to get that off my chest finally...so liberating!

Okay. Okay. I'll give you another fashion confession of mine. When wearing shoes with no socks, I put a dryer sheet underneath each foot. Trust me, I know that's weird but I'd much prefer to give off a scent of "Summit Fresh"ness with every step instead of swamp foot.

Okay. I've said too much. Gotta go.

The Wheels On The Bus

During today's commute into work, my RIPTA bus was traveling slowly past a local yellow school bus. What I saw through the windows made me sad.
The school bus wasn't full; in fact, the seats that were being used held just one child apiece. A few kids on the close side of the bus were listening to their iPods or were playing with their phones. Others were simply watching cars go by. One young boy was sleeping with his face pressed up against the cold glass window.
That's all fine and good but I was sad to see that there were no conversations between any of the students. I bet if I was a fly on the wall of that bus I'd be the only one making sound, fluttering my paper-thin wings.
I remember my elementary school bus as a social gathering. We'd have singalongs and talk about recent Mickey Mouse Club, Kids Incorporated or Full House episodes. As I got older, the conversations certainly changed but they still occurred.
Do kids these days only communicate with help from their phones or do real face-to-face conversations happen in schools these days?

Holding Hands

I am not a mother, nor a caretaker. I'm not a nanny or even a babysitter. I am, however, a self-proclaimed normal and safety-minded person.

That being said, I cannot believe some of the behavior that I witness on a daily basis in public places - restaurants, stores, banks, etc. - by parents and the kids under their mindful watch. I am not talking about the temper tantrums displayed by young children, although they are sometimes unbelievable, and I truly feel for those parents who are trying to calm and discipline their unruly children in public, in addition to in the privacy of their own home.

I'm talking about the utter disregard that some parents have for the general public, letting their kids run around a store touching everything in sight and breaking things, screaming so loud that glass window panes start to splinter, and haphazardly weaving through innocent bystanders trying to get their weekly groceries. My thoughts are that if you take children out to a public place, you should be mindful of their behavior and their whereabouts. If they can't behave appropriately in public, they probably shouldn't go out in public. Also, if you can't keep a mindful eye on them while out in public, find other arrangements for them. Parents, I beg of you to at least guard their safety while out.

I was in the parking lot of a craft store earlier this month, sitting in my car listening to the end of a song before turning the key and walking inside. As I sat there, I watched a woman in her mid-to-late thirties escort three young children out of the store. If I had to guess, I'd say that the children were aged 2 (boy) and 5 and 6 (girls).
No one was holding the kids' hands, and no one stopped all three kids from walking out into the parking lot in front of an oncoming car. I literally gasped aloud as the white car came within just feet of them all. No one reprimanded the kids for running out into the street, nor did they then grasp hands to safely get to the car. Nothing happened. Nothing.
One of the young girls dropped a empty plastic bottle in the parking lot in front of the car as she was crossing. Thankfully the driver of the white car is the only other sane person in the vicinity and she sat stationary until this nonsensical episode was over.
The responsible adult turned away from the other two youngsters and told the girl to pick up her bottle. Meanwhile, the 2-year-old ran to the family car several spots away. The guardian didn't seem to notice or care. Of course, I cringed. Not only could this young boy have been hurt by a car pulling in or out of a parking spot without seeing him, but some crazy person could have taken him as his mother was at least 40 feet away.
Luckily, they reached their car in one piece but that plastic bottle was never picked up. I just hope that the rest of the Warwick area assisted them to get safely home that day.
I don't remember going out to dinner or to the mall with my parents at an early age. I'm sure for this very reason. I was a brown haired, pig-tailed wearing, freckled maniac with the early stages of a Boston accent. I was a child. I couldn't be trusted.

Splatter Paint

Remember that day I realized it had been months - m-o-n-t-h-s - since I had blogged?

Also, remember the day last week that the bus pulled up to the Park & Ride in the morning and ran over a can of spray paint, shooting the orange contents all over the bus commuters on their way to work in the morning? Yeh, that was awesome.

Remember those paint/pottery places from the late 80s? It's like I brought my foot there.

I'm so glad these shoes only cost me, like, $10.

On the bright side, I'm not the blonde that got a new look to her Michael Kors purse. Yikes.

Even I'm Embarrassed

As I was driving home this afternoon, listening to 92.3 PRO FM with the windows down as all good Rhode Islanders do from time to time, I came upon a red light. I looked in my rear view mirror to see if I should stop short and get into a minor fender bender with a good looking guy with no wedding ring on. I didn't find a strapping, young, single man. Instead, I found what looked to be a mother and two young girls. I'm guessing the girl in the front seat - the focal point of this blog - was in the vicinity of ten years old.

After a commercial break, a new song came on, and, as it started playing in my car, I took another glance at the young girl in the blue car behind me. She was singing...or at least lip-syncing...along to the same song playing in my car. Ha. This could be fun...or totally awkward. Yep - totally awkward.

The song playing was "Wiggle" by Jason DeRulo featuring Snoop Dogg.

Let me reiterate that this young girl was approximately ten...no older than 12 years old. Also, quick reminder, she was a passenger in a car that appeared to be driven by her mother. 

If I were in the car today, at the age of 33, with my mother and that song were to come on the radio, I'd either turn it down or change the station. I can't imagine that my mother would appreciate me, at the age of ten, singing along to...

Hot damn it

Your booty like two planets

Go head, and go ham sammich

Whoa, I can't stand it

'Cause you know what to do with that big fat butt

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle

In an instant, I was brought back to 1992 to a time where I would listen to Silk's "Freak Me" and Inner Circle's "Sweat" in my bedroom at the lowest volume setting possible as to not get caught and grounded until I was married off...or forced to live my life as a spinster. (Maybe she did hear me!)

Is it possible that I'm the only person who gets totally embarrassed when being in the same zip code as my parents when a risque song, or scene in a show or movie comes on?

One thing I know for sure is that the young girl in the car this afternoon does not share this same modesty. She could've been a back-up singer for Mr. DeRulo.

So much has changed since 1992 in terms of what is deemed appropriate...or, at least, acceptable...that I fear what society will be like in 20 more years.

Need To Get Back To ACK

As I rolled to a stop at a red light the other day, I heard a *beep* coming from the car next to me. I looked to my right and the male driver made the manual roll-down-your-window motion...which I instantly recognized because I grew up in the '80s. I did so, assuming they needed directions. What came next caught me a bit off guard.
The couple did not ask me where the closest Dunkin' Donuts was located...or how to get onto 95 South. They asked me what the bumper sticker on my back bumper meant.
"Excuse me. What does A-C-K stand for?"
With a surprised look on my face, I'm sure, I explained that it was the airport code for Nantucket. Their response made me smile as I pulled away and drove home.
"Ooohhhh...okay. I knew you wouldn't have a bumper sticker that was just for that weird sound - AAACCCKKK...AAACCCKKK!"
I smiled as I rolled up my window, and, once the light returned to green, I pulled away and drove home smiling the whole way.
The random Route 2 interaction got me thinking about Nantucket. For me, it's always provided a much needed change in pace. Although it's not far from Boston, Providence or New York City, once I step onto that ferry down the Cape, my mood completely changes. I'm officially on vacation and once I step off the boat onto the island, life is just...sweeter.
The "downtown" area is chock full of cobblestone streets, quaint shops, bicycles with baskets and bells, seafood restaurants and bars, and seer sucker, Nantucket reds and boat shoes. It's everything I thought it would be.
Thank you, couple from Connecticut with the kayak on top of your car, for reminding me of great memories with friends and with paperback books, the pain of awkward burn lines, the smell of the salty air, and the feel of sand between my toes and the gentle evening breeze after a magical day on the island.

She Doesn't Listen

Once upon a time, a woman walked into a bank. After helping another customer, a bank teller called her up to the counter and the following conversation took place. Enjoy.

Woman to Teller 1: "Hello. [Passing her ID and completed withdrawal slip to Teller 1] Can I get a $20, a $10, and a roll of quarters ?"
Teller 1 to Woman: "Of course."

Teller 2 to Teller 1: "Oh no. We ran out of those forms."
Teller 1 to Teller 2: "I know. I told you that earlier but you never listen to me."

Teller 1 to Woman: "She never listens to me. [Passing two $20 bills to the woman.]"
Woman to Teller 1: "Can I have a roll of quarters? You don't listen to me!"

Luckily, the woman was not thrown out of the bank or arrested for acting in a threatening manner. She went home and successfully did a load of laundry.

The end.

"Let's Snuggle"

On May 19th, a 38-year-old man from Boston sent me a message through a dating website. We messaged back and forth for a bit before I gave him my cell phone number. We had one brief text conversation before the radio silence began. From start to finish, our "relationship" lasted 12 hours...and that's being generous.

On May 26th, the very same 38-year-old man from Boston sent me an identical first message through the same dating website.

What in the world?

This guy, clearly, uses that one *lame* message to reel in ladies...and it doesn't matter who he uses it on. Hell, he used it on me twice within just a few days.

AND what's funny/interesting/sad is that our text conversation was completely left open-ended. It was, more or less, left talking about potential dinner plans. I hadn't done anything to suggest that I didn't want to meet this individual. It was a very innocent, civil, friendly conversation.

It's clear to see that he's not interested in having dinner with me. My guess is that he doesn't want to sit through dinner at all; he just wants dessert (if you catch my drift). He's probably sitting in his Boston apartment cutting and pasting the same message into hundreds of profiles to see who bites.

I just hope that the young ladies who do respond to this guy...and the many guys like him...know going in that there is likely no long-term relationship to come as a result. Ladies, you're better than that. You deserve more.

Sorry, Adam. No, I will not snuggle with you.

* Please note that I responded to his second message with the following message:
"Dude. You already have my cell phone number. You clearly use "Let's Snuggle" as your go-to pick-up line."
He has not yet responded.

First Date Talk

Look, I'm not going to say that I'm a great dater. I mean, I've done enough of it over the years that I think I've learned a thing or two about dating that makes me better than others...but, then again, I'm still single so I guess I'm not that good.
If nothing else, I know what topics ought to be off limits for a first date or a first meeting. Apparently, this information is not common knowledge among the "gentlemen" I've been meeting. That is, until now.
Men of the world, please be advised that speaking on these topics upon first meeting may not result in a second date...

• Past home foreclosures. - While I'm not searching for a sugar daddy, it would be nice for my potential husband to not have crazier debt than me...way crazier debt than me.
• Past car repossessions. - Please see above.
• Family members being locked up in a Florida prison for murder. - This is not exactly the safety and security that I was searching for in my future in-laws.
• Criticizing the choices of your date's family. - This will not make me like you. Only I can tease my family and friends. To you, a complete stranger, they're off limits.
• Nothing too heavy! - Keep the conversation light. No girl wants to hear all of your problems, especially upon first meeting. She is not your therapist; she is your date.
• YOU, YOU, YOU. - I hate to break it to you but it's not all about you. Maybe you could ask your date about her day, her job, her background...? Just a thought.

A first date is, more or less, a sales pitch; you're selling yourself. Any salesman will tell you to not lead with the product's inefficiencies or glitches. Talk up your strengths, will ya? Otherwise, I'm not buying it.

Religious Experience

I've always said that going to Iggy's Doughboys & Chowder House on Oakland Beach was similar to a religious experience. I just never thought that I'd have the most awkward religious conversation of my life in the line out front...and I spent 13 years in Catholic schools.
It was a gorgeous spring day in Rhode Island today so, obviously, I had a craving for clam strips...along with the rest of the Ocean State residents.
I got in line and, while there, the woman in front of me turned away from her friend and introduced herself to me. Her name was Tracy. The next words out of her mouth completely stunned me.
"Do you read the Bible?"
It was like my father and Sister Joseph Michael SSJ (RIP) had sent this woman into my life to fix me.
I didn't know what to say. My response was delayed but once I could form words, I stated the fact that I spent 13 years in Catholic school...uniform and all.
Then, my good friend Tracy, preached to me for what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably only three. Are you aware that you can know you'll get into heaven if you just read the Bible? Apparently, everything else is just tradition.
Once she wrapped up her sermon, she reached into her purse and pulled out a recording of what I have to assume is the local church's Easter Sunday Mass.
...
What?
...
Why do you have a Mass recording in your purse, lady? Do you have more CDs in your purse ready for distribution?
...
Why doesn't your friend look shocked that you're having this one-sided conversation right now? This is clearly a situation that she's been in several times before.
...
I can appreciate someone who has strong religious beliefs but is it necessary to back someone into a corner and force your opinions upon them? I, of course, was not cornered. I could've just stepped out of line if I felt too uncomfortable with the conversation. My dedication to Iggy's outweighed my discomfort with the kooky woman in line.
I may be struck by lightning for saying this but Iggy is my god now.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

I'm glad to know they don't just happen to me. Wardrobe malfunctions, that is.
I was on the bus home from work the other day and I saw this woman with a staple holding her hem up. I had to laugh to myself...and take a photo with my phone...and write a blog about it...because there have been several times that I've gotten to the office and realized that my sandal was broken or that there was an unmissable stain on my shirt or that I had a hole in my sweater.
There have been too many occasions where I've gone around the office asking every woman if they had a safety pin...or a small binder clip...to remedy a gap in a blouse. I have definitely utilized a Swingline stapler to put a temporary Band-Aid on my own hem, preventing me from tripping on my pant leg and falling to the floor.
I have a pair of heels where one heel is missing the rubber piece over the nail holding it all together so, when I walk down a tile hallway, it sounds like this - "click - thud - click - thud - click - thud".
Nylon pulls - I've had them.
Necklace breaks and beads fall to the floor - Yep, that's happened.
Dress zipper gets stuck and you need to call for reinforcement to extract yourself from the garment - I plead the fifth.
Not that I wish these mishaps on anyone but I'm relieved to know that all women - high-paid executives and those "nobodies" like me - go through these same things. It's a good equalizer - poorly-made clothing, shoes and accessories.

For The Love Of Pete

Even Firefox doesn't want me to find a husband. This message popped up when I tried to check my Okcupid messages.

"Hello there, Mozilla Firefox user. Pardon this interruption of your OkCupid experience.

Mozilla’s new CEO, Brendan Eich, is an opponent of equal rights for gay couples. We would therefore prefer that our users not use Mozilla software to access OkCupid.

Politics is normally not the business of a website, and we all know there’s a lot more wrong with the world than misguided CEOs. So you might wonder why we’re asserting ourselves today. This is why: we’ve devoted the last ten years to bringing people—all people—together. If individuals like Mr. Eich had their way, then roughly 8% of the relationships we’ve worked so hard to bring about would be illegal. Equality for gay relationships is personally important to many of us here at OkCupid. But it’s professionally important to the entire company. OkCupid is for creating love. Those who seek to deny love and instead enforce misery, shame, and frustration are our enemies, and we wish them nothing but failure.

If you want to keep using Firefox, the link at the bottom will take you through to the site.

However, we urge you to consider different software for accessing OkCupid:

Google Chrome Internet Exploder Opera

Thank you,
OkCupid"

Valid point. Peace out, Firefox.

Unlikely Places

Over the years, I have become quite forgetful. Prime example: Sometimes, I'll get up and walk into a room and, once there, I'll have no recollection of why I left the comfort of my cozy couch. It's only when I walk back to said couch that I remember why I got up in the first place.
That happens to most people I know. We've discussed it at length. So, I don't feel so bad about that.
I am concerned, however, that I'll use something or wear something and then I can't find it afterwards. But it's more than that...I can't even remember when I used it or wore it last to try to refresh my memory on it's whereabouts.
In recent weeks, I misplaced my two Alex & Ani bangle bracelets. I've been trying to remember when I wore them last. What event did I go to? Did I wear them to work?

I've checked all of my purses and work bags, in piles of mail and "junk" that I need to put away, and in the most random places in my condo with no luck.
This morning, I woke up and began straightening up my abode...my first Spring Cleaning step. I collected all of the earrings and random jewels that I've worn and put down in different places over the course of the week. Earrings on the kitchen table, on the coffee table, on the bathroom vanity, on the desk in the office. I brought them to my bedroom and opened up my jewelry box.
Holy crap! There the bracelets are! Where they should be? That's so unlike me.
How bad is it that my jewelry box isn't even in the top ten places I looked for these MIA bangles? Sometimes I surprise myself.

Listen To Me, Kids

As if you didn't already know that bullying others was wrong and completely inappropriate, here's yet another story to reinforce that point.
Back in elementary school, I wouldn't say I was a "mean girl" but I do remember trying to glue a classmate to his seat...by using a glue stick. I also wouldn't say that I was a "smart girl". I think it's obvious that my evil plot didn't quite work as I had planned. My goal was to do more than simply stain his pants.
A bit later in my elementary school career (maybe one day; maybe three years), the chair escapee sat behind me during art class. I remember drawing a winter scene and I had just put the finishing touches on my picture. Next thing I knew, the chair escapee "tossed his cookies" all over his desk and his picture; my desk and my picture; and, yes, you guessed it, all over the back of my uniform shirt. Totally gross, I know, but, at least, now we were even...
...or I thought we were even until I recently turned a page in my hometown newspaper with my naked left hand and saw his engagement announcement. Really, universe?
Karma...it'll get ya one way or another!

I'm Not Qualified

Jobs that my college English degree does not qualify me for:

Performing brain surgery

Going into space with NASA

Successfully procuring peanut M&Ms from the work vending machine

One afternoon last week, my friend and I stopped by the first floor vending machine at work for an afternoon pick-me-up. The peanut M&Ms were calling my name as I walked down the hallway towards the break room - the promised land, so to speak.

I dropped $1.00 in change into the machine and I laid my eyes upon the peanut M&Ms, mouth watering, pupils dilating, and tummy growling. I very carefully and purposefully pushed E - 7.

Next thing I knew, a freakin' Snickers bar fell into the bin. I, without thinking, said, loudly, "Son of a nutcracker!"

I turned to my friend, who was laughing at my misfortune, with my mouth open wide and quickly turned back to the devil machine. I looked at the numbers and, while I thought the numbers were on the left of the item, they were actually on the right of the item. It was not a machine malfunction. It was, simply, user error.

With a bit more practice, I have faith that I can learn how to operate this machine and others like it. As my parents always told me, I can do anything I set my mind to.

Public Access

I'd like to recognize the public access television show hosts from across the country that make me giggle every time I flip past their programs. Some of these people have bold opinions and they are, by no means, shy about expressing them. They take on topics like religion and politics, which, if you ask me, are big social no nos.
They place a kitchen chair in front of a curtain or a bookshelf and simply talk to the camera, most of the time looking down at their notes to refresh their memories. Every once in a while (probably during Sweeps), they have on special guests to either debate a point or to support it.
I wonder if afterwards the host makes the guest a sandwich and offers some iced tea. "Thanks for coming over, Earl! How about some lunch?"

One must really be passionate about their subject to transform their basement into a set, confident enough to put themselves on air with brief notes instead of a script, and brave enough to have a personal website or telephone number advertised for comments or questions.
So...here's to you, Mr. Public Access. Thank you for making Southern New England think and getting us fired up by your ridiculous statements. You're braver than I.

Menace To Society

They're in every city in America. They leave destruction in their wake. They're social deviants. They are laundry basket breakers.
A recent Saturday morning was marred by a senseless act of vandalism.
A spunky, 33-year-old vixen in lounge pants was playing the role of a domestic goddess. She carried her white laundry basket piled high with her dirty laundry, detergent and quarters down the short hallway to the laundry room in her building. After the clothes, the detergent and the quarters were placed in their respective homes in the washing machine, she placed her laundry basket atop said washer for easy access after the cycle was completed and returned to her condo to wait.
After 30 minutes, she returned to the laundry room to find her laundry basket upside down on the floor with one of the handles detached and on the floor several feet away.
She will never be able to unsee this carnage, unfeel this violation, understand why something so heinous and senseless occurred to something so innocent and pure.
Use caution. Be vigilant. Keep your loved ones and your laundry baskets close.
Rest in peace, laundry basket. Rest in peace.

2013: A Retrospective

Ever leave a movie theater and think, "I just wasted my money on that? What a waste of time!"? Well, that's how I feel about 2013.
Many give the number 13 a bad rap but I've always given 13 a fair shot. In my younger softball days, I used to battle teammates for number 13. There is no real rhyme or reason for it but I always had a fondness for it. Perhaps it's the visual of the number - a straight line followed by one of the most voluptuous numbers there is. Maybe it was the motion of hand writing it that I enjoyed. All I know is that I truly loved that number...UNTIL NOW!

This past year was, without question, the worst year of my life. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic but this year really tested my strength and sanity. I went through some really hard times at work, in my relationships and my "friend"ships. People took advantage of me, betrayed me and, frankly, kicked me while I was down. Unfortunately, most tears shed in 2013 were not tears of joy.
Let me be the first to tell you that that nonsense stops right here...right now. No longer will I allow utter knuckleheads to completely break my spirit and make me feel so bad about myself that I isolate from friends and family, and cry at the drop of a hat...or a commercial...or a song on the radio...or anything, really.
Perhaps I needed to hit rock bottom so I could grow and shine brighter than ever. Well, friends, get out those sunglasses. I'm about to 180* this bitch!
I will admit that 2013 wasn't all for nothing. I mean, it's always beneficial to get a reality check. This past year made it abundantly clear who my true friends are and who I can trust. I got a real good picture of who's looking out for me and who's just trying to take me down.
(Sounds so Melrose Place, right?)
Luckily, there's only one direction to travel when you're down this low. Onwards and upwards.
To those that were there for me in my "time of need", I will not soon forget it. Good things will come to you.
I just hope some of those good things will come to me too. Actually, maybe some of them should come to me first. I think I'm due.