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.

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!