CRV Drivers = Not Nice Drivers

Dear CRV Drivers,*

Why are you all up in my grill today?  You need to stay out of my way.  Especially when I am in the turning lane and you are in the going straight lane even though you are going to turn.  Just because you didn't want to wait in the turning lane traffic does not mean that you get to cut me off.

XOXO,
Amy

*This letter does not apply to the people I know personally that drive CRV's because I know it wasn't you!

Also, grabbing a yogurt off the grocery store shelf, opening it and proceeding to feed it to your kid while standing in the exact middle of the dairy aisle is NOT okay.

Now that I'm home and all fired up, I've got a date with Lisa Loeb and a sink full of dishes.  Be jealous.

  

What A Wonderful Day For...

A MELTDOWN!

As always, when I am blog absent for more than two days it is probably because I am having a real (or perceived) life crisis.  This week looked like this:

Monday: 4th of July parade with fabulous people.
Tuesday: Resume revamping.
Wednesday: Craftastic day with O.  Italy mini is getting done...ASAP.
Thursday: Stage 5 meltdown.  Sangria party (not for one).
Friday: Lunch with Awesomeface.  Project.

Because you are dying to know...the meltdown was due, in part, to the lovely trolls at Career Services.  This is what went down:

I restructured my resume and signed up for someone to review it.  Troll #1 must not have seen me sign up because while I sat waiting, she cleaned out her purse, put on lotion, reorganized her Band Aids...you know, really important stuff.  (Maybe she should have been reading the copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People sitting on her desk.)

The second lady (I hesitate to call her a troll because she turned out to be more apologetic) came back from her break and immediately Troll #1 goes over to her and proceeds to bitch about all the people seeking help at Career Services and I was all "I CAN HEAR YOU!"  After 15 minutes Troll #1 stomped away and I went up to the (hopefully) nicer lady and asked who was supposed to review resumes.  She asked if I signed up, to which I replied "Yes, 15 minutes ago" and she at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed for her co-workers outburst and apologized for the wait.

To make a boring story short less boring, she basically told me that my resume was adequate but if I ever want to work again I need to join Linked In.  Surprise, surprise...she teaches the networking class at Career Services.  As she kept singing the praises of Linked In (while confessing that she herself hadn't joined yet) I kept getting more and more frustrated.  I just wanted to leave but she wouldn't stop talking!

Eventually I made it home and promptly signed up for Linked In.  Guess what?  Teaching/Education...not even a category to choose...although Fishery and Paper/Forest Products were available choices.  My profile says that I am an Education Management Professional.  True story.

So then I gave up on Linked In and cried instead.  My inner hermit almost succeeded in getting me to exchange my evening plans for TV and Ben and Jerry's but I pulled it together enough to be social.  Let's not pretend that the fact that the social engagement involved sangria helped steer me in the right direction.

If you're still reading you get 300 awesome points.  Also, you get a head's up that the project I am working on about my summer travels is almost finished!  Look for it soon.

  

How Rude!

Dear Gentleman Man,

FYI: A gentleman would have held the door for a lady like myself (carrying things in both hands) instead of dropping it in front of my face.  Furthermore, when you realized that your passenger side door was next to my driver side door, it would have been polite to let me get into my car first.

Also, you were wearing pinstripe suit pants with a solid black blazer and I think that looks tacky.

XOXO,
Amy

   

This Post Is Going To Make Me Some Enemies

Let me preface this by saying I know this is going to sound sacrilegious...especially to my Boston Brethren.  Okay...here we go. 

I couldn't care less about the Bruins.

Before you freak out and start commenting that "OMG they haven't made it to the Stanley Cup in 200 years and it's just like when the Red Sox were in the World Series in 2004", let me explain.  I don't follow hockey.  At all.  Ever. 

The only things I know about hockey are:
My home team is the Bruins.
I think a Bruin is a bear.
But their colors are black and yellow...which seem more reminiscent of a bumble bee.
Skates, pucks, nets, and helmets are involved.
It happens on ice.
Men are allowed to legally assault each other in public...and they get paid for it.

At what point do hockey players start taking boxing lessons?  It's all very Gladiator.  The crowd starts cheering and gets all lynch mobby while the ref stands by watching the fight, stopping them only before the blood hits the ice because I imagine at that point it would become a health code violation and they would have to stop the game to prevent the spread of HIV.

I've only been to two hockey games in my life and both were college games.  If my life depended on naming three hockey players I would be dead.  I can name Wayne Gretzky and Gordie Howe (only because I've seen the movie Never Been Kissed a million times) and even then, if I didn't Google their names before typing this post I would have spelled them: Wayne Gretski and Gordy Howe.

I know that being in the playoffs extends a sports season but seriously...it is June 9th!  It is 327 degrees out today...any sports involving ice should have ended by March...at the latest!

Helloooooooo Weekend

A few things...

* Apparently someone important got married today.  It would have been more exciting if we had a national holiday to fully appreciate the hats.

* While playing teacher today I showed a video about the Trojan War.  To be honest, my knowledge of ancient civilizations is about equivalent to my knowledge of string theory...I've heard of it.  While the kids stared out the window for 45 minutes, I was totally enthralled.  I spent the time making connections in my head like, "Ohhh, that is when Brad Pitt dragged the Hulk behind his chariot." 

* It was gorgeous out today.

* I hate substitute teaching...like I would rather spend the day at the dentist...hate it.  It is tough to walk into a classroom of 25 kids who you know nothing about and attempt to control/teach them anything.  Subbing is making me resent kids and making me want to quit teaching.

* As you may have noticed, my blog is under construction.  I'm just trying to keep you guessing.  All will be revealed in time...like on Sunday.

  

A Morning Without Scrambled Eggs: The Aftermath

Today began with a rocky start because my body wanted scrambled eggs but I fed it a granola bar instead.  From there it was a slippery slope.  In an effort to be fiscally responsible thus accomplishing #10 on The List, I paid my rent, credit card and cable bills and eventually my parking ticket (although I still have yet to file my taxes.)

Back in mid-March I got a parking ticket. 

I was parked in a place that I have parked for the last two years but they changed the signs from weekend parking to tow-zone.  I was annoyed but ultimately it was my fault so I tried to pay the $20.00 now before it became $25.00. 

I examined the ticket and you can pay in three ways:
1.  At city hall (in a city I live 30 minutes away from).
2.  By money order or postal note (which I have never heard of).
3.  Online.

Obvi, I choose option #3.  Well...you can't actually pay on the parking ticket website.  You have to create an account for a third party collection agency and pay through them.  And they charge a fee to pay online.  Ugh.  But I can't send the city a check directly and I refuse to drive the 30 minutes to pay in person.

So I create my account intending to use my Visa to pay the fee.  But although the Visa logo is shown, they don't actually accept Visa for parking tickets.

WTF?  When have you ever heard of ANYTHING taking Discover but not Visa?  So I can't mail a check but I can't pay online with Visa.  Within the account I created, I had to create something called an ACH which is an acronym that means electronic check (I guess).  I can't mail a check but I can pay a fee to use an electronic check?  In the words of Chandler Bing, "Could it BE any more difficult?"

After figuring out how to pay my parking ticket I went to have words with my bank.  They have released new debit cards that are more akin to library cards than credit cards.  When mine was peeling apart, I had a new one printed.  That one didn't swipe so I had another printed.  That one swiped when the card was vertical but not when it was horizontal.  Arg!  Today I had yet another card printed.  That would be card #4 in 3 weeks.  This one better work otherwise the next words I have with my bank will be, "I'm closing my account."

As there is no grocery store in the tiny town I live in, I split my shopping among three neighboring towns.  And because they are still small towns, I inevitably bump into someone I know.  Today at the grocery store, I got in line then realized I forgot to get bananas.  As I turned to walk away I heard my full name. (Side note: My last name is only 4 letters, one syllable so I am often referred to as Amy _ _ _ _ like it is one name.)  So there I was looking a hot mess after sleeping on the aforementioned (almost) french braid face to face with my mentor teacher from my last teaching gig.  It was good to see her but I should know by now to brush my hair before I leave the house.  C'est la vie. 

I guess the moral of the day is wash the dishes so you can make scrambled eggs!

Open Letters: Mother Nature

Dear Mother Nature,

Would you kindly pick a season already? You unfairly get everyone psyched about the coming of spring on Thursday with some unseasonable weather which I had good reason to ignore. But Friday…oh Friday…a day of sun and clouds, a day of melting snow. The temperature hit 63 and I was thisclose to putting on flip flops. I rocked a long sleeve t-shirt and felt wonderful that winter was finally over.

On Saturday, the sun was shining and I could only assume that the good weather was here to stay. I donned long sleeves and a vest for good measure only to find that your warmth had all but disappeared. And as I returned home from an evening of shopping, cheesecake, and strange Showtime movies the air was a frigid 16 degrees.

You are one cruel ecological Matriarch.

XOXO,
Amy
 

An Open Letter to Minivan Owners and Operators

Dear Minivan Owners and Operators,
       
Why?  Why is it always YOU tailgating me in rush hour traffic?  Why do you always insist on traveling 5 mph faster than anyone else on the highway?  Why do you yammer away on your cell phone simultaneously pushing 80 mph while solar glare is blinding everyone else on the road?  Why do you weave in and out of every lane like you're Mario and Donkey Kong is about to shoot a turtle shell at your ass?* 
    
Perhaps you have been lured into a false sense of security by every minivan commercial that touts top of the line safety features.  Let me assure you that your reckless driving fully negates ANY safety features your vehicle may or may not have.

I'm not going to lie and lead you to believe that I obey every limit and law as a motorist.  Don't think that I won't pass you on the right if you are driving 65 mph in the left lane...because I will.  But I always go the speed limit on the Lowell Connector (more out of fear of being pulled over than anything else) and I make a conscious effort to keep my driving habits from pissing anyone off.

Because you are the owner/operator of a minivan, I am assuming that you have and/or transport children in your chariot of death.  Not only are you risking my life (which I happen to be quite fond of) but you are endangering tiny humans.  If nothing else, you are instilling poor driving habits in future generations.

So please, for the sake of everyone (but mostly myself) slow the fuck down...because I promise, if you maim me or my car, this letter will seem like rainbows and sunshine.

XOXO,
Amy

*If you are a minivan owner or operator and none of these apply to you then kudos to you and your driving record.  Your fenders thank you.

Don't Ask Don't Tell

I cannot even believe that this is a conversation that people are wasting time and breath on. If you have men and women who are willing and able to risk their lives to defend their country, why does it matter who they bed?

I typically refrain from talking politics because it tends to isolate people very quickly. However, I'm all riled up after watching The Daily Show tonight. This bill was heavily supported by both Republicans and Democrats, but because each side always wants more they added all this extra crap and the bill ended up not passing. Are you kidding me? Why must everything be so partisan? Why can't Congress just vote on the issue at hand? "Don't Ask Don't Tell...Yes or No?"

Politics drives me fucking crazy.

P.S. I get my news from The Daily Show because watching the "real" news makes me want to punch myself in the face.

How Heavy is a Jackhammer?

Unemployment certainly has its pitfalls, i.e. no money, feeling useless and inconsequential in both space and time, and the heavy burden of filling all those damn daylight hours.

The one bright spot of unemployment is the freedom to determine when or if to set the alarm clock. However, I can tell you from personal experience that if you don't set the alarm clock you shouldn't be surprised when you are still in bed at 3:00...and yes that's p.m.

So being the responsible adult that I pretend to be, I responsibly set my alarm for 8:45 this morning with the intention of getting up, watching Ellen, cleaning the apartment, visiting a new baby mama, and entertaining a friend at my newly cleaned apartment.

I know you are thinking that you know exactly where this story is headed and I can tell you right now that you are wrong. I, in fact, did all of those things previously mentioned (although most of the apartment cleaning consisted of moving clutter into my bedroom and shutting the door...but let's not pretend we are surprised by that.)

Anyway...so I'm all snuggled in bed dreaming of my rich, piano playing husband when I am rudely awakened (awokened?) roused from my slumber by a jackhammer pulverizing concrete at 7:15 on a MONDAY MORNING! I tried (in vain) to coerce my mind back to sleep, but alas pillows make poor substitutes for earplugs.

After half an hour of this ruckus I dragged my bleary-eyed ass outside to see what the hell was going on. (Luckily I had the where-with-all to put on some pants.) I was greeted by the destruction of my neighbor's front steps.

For about 3.5 seconds I seriously considered tossing the jackhammer into the bushes and making a run for it. I mean look how much little destruction was accomplished in a half hour. At that rate those steps are going to be there until the end of the world! (I bet they wished they had a bigger jackhammer.) So I tiredly went about my day, which turned out quite productive for a Monday.

Seven hours later I returned to my apartment to find this crime scene:

Odds of sleeping in tomorrow? Slim to none.

RANT!

I told you I’m back!

Okay, so I am all for sharing the road with those pesky bike riders that insist on making driving more of a contact sport. I try to slow down as I pass riders and veer to the English side (read left) of the road in order to avoid scaring the crap out of them. BUT…the roads where I live are heavily traveled yet kept poorly.

Yesterday evening while traveling down one of these roads (for you Chelmsford kids think North Road with no sidewalk) at rush hour I come up to a bike rider who is riding quite far into the road and swerving to avoid pot holes.

Two things….
A. If your road bike is that fragile pick a BETTER KEPT road to ride on!
2. WEAR A HELMET! Do you really think your baseball cap is going to keep your brain inside you skull when you accidently veer into my traffic pattern causing me to run you over causing damage to my car, driving record, and general psyche?

That is not a rhetorical question.