Yes, I am a bit ill-mannered today…after a rough week of unfulfilling issues at work (hate when I just can’t get things fixed), bad traffic, severe sleep deprivation, and crabby kids, I was not about to put up with people’s crappy driving.

Dear Effing Sniggy B**** in the White Yaris:

I understand that where you need to be is WAY more important than where I need to be, so I apologize for my hostility when you tore-up the right-hand turn lane just to cut me off in the straight-lane next to you. I sometimes lose my temper when people completely forget the rules of the road and put other drivers at risk, which is why I shouted filthy profanities, gestured wildly, and honked my horn at you. Silly me, I forgot that even though I am only a half car-length behind the vehicle in front of me, going 50 mph, that you have the right-of-way to squeeze in front of me. Obviously I should have recognized your importance, what, with your bunch-load of scratches and dents on a vehicle that can’t be more than 2 years old (considering that your car model was first introduced with Toyota’s 2007 model-year).

Sincerely,

A Driver that is Glad Her Kids Weren’t With Her (No need for them to witness a royal smack-down at their young ages)

Dear Punk in the Red Explorer:

Maybe you’re illiterate. Maybe English is not your first language. Maybe you’re just a puffed-up idiot that thinks they’re too important to read the 5 signs that specify “Right Turn Only in Right Lane” or the 7 painted right arrows painted on the lane. Either way, since you think you don’t need to wait in line with the rest of us, you did not get to squeeze in front of me, who had been waiting in line patiently for the past 10 minutes. In a school zone. You should be happy that the police officer sitting near the elementary school didn’t see you and that I was too tired to tattle on you (and I totally would have! yeah, I was in that kind of mood!).

Sincerely,

A Driver Tired of Yielding to Self-Righteous Jerks.

Dear Knucklehead in the Ginormous SUV Behind Me in the HOV Lane:

I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated you driving so incredibly close behind me while doing 72mph in the HOV lane with my baby in the back staringat you. You were so close I could see in my rear-view mirror that your little soul patch is slightly crooked and that you have stained teeth. You were also so close that I couldn’t tell who made your SUV until when you decided to try to pass me even though there was no room in the lane next to us for you to squeeze in, nor was the traffic in that lane moving quicker than me in the crowded morning rush. I must commend you for your skill and willingness to ride my back bumper so close at such a high rate of speed–in fact, the only way you could’ve been closer is if I opened my trunk to let you climb on in. Next time I see you , I just might do that.

Sincerely,

A Driver Who Swears There Were Magnets on the Back of Her Car

Dear Roche at DC101:

Thanks for today’s Doo Doo Time Spectacular. I laughed hysterically through the first 10 bars of the song, which is what I needed after driving with the above-mentioned yahoos.

Sincerely,

A Driver Who is a Long Time DDTS Listener

I walked into the Safeway near my office today, desperate for some potato chips.  I don’t eat them too often, but I just needed some salty goodness.  I go into the chip aisle and stare at the 16 feet of chip choices and I can’t find the ones I want.  The chips I NEED.  I stalk up and down that short, short 16 feet wondering when the hell Safeway got so damn healthy to not have an entire aisle of chips, popcorn, and pretzels.  In my annoyance, I grouch aloud, “Dude!!! where’s my chips??” and as I swing around in frustration, I see behind me that the entire side of the aisle is stuffed-to-over-flowing with all sorts of sizes and flavors of chips and pretzels. 

*cue harp music*

Hallelujah!!!

So I started my quest again to find the chips that I MUST HAVE:  Kettle Brand Krinkle Cut Buffalo Bleu Chips.

 When I found them, I actually hugged the bag and sighed happily and audibly, much to the disturbance of the 6-foot-4 guy in dreads and big motorcycle boots. 

I almost bought two bags, but didn’t want to be pooping fire later on in case I completely gave in and ate both bags in one sitting.

Instead, I bought one, got to work, and got hit with a ridiculous issue that completely kept me from my chips. *sigh*

Don’t worry babies!  Momma will be there tomorrow to snack on you!!!

Got a few random updates.  Just in case you were wondering.

• Found out that Strivectin-SD actually works!  I went so far as to only put it on one half of my belly and after about three weeks of almost regular use, I actually saw a difference.  The biggest purple-ist stretch marks lightened up noticeably.  I considered adding pictures, but um, well, I realized that low on my belly has really only been seen by my doctors, my husband, and not really by me without creative mirror use. 
• Found out that requesting Gavin to try on shoes in public is completely out-of-line.  That child completely LOST HIS MIND right in the middle of JC Penney’s shoe department:  screaming, flailing, crumpling into a pile of boneless three year-old skin.  So I picked out a pair, bought them, and we left without trying them on.  I asked him the next day if he wanted to see some new shoes and I pulled out the box.  That kid was so excited and pulled them out begging for help to put them on.  Not sure if I wanted to hug him or choke him.
• Apparently I’m supposed to be training new employees in other work groups.  This was never requested by anyone in my group, but that poor new girl keeps coming to me with a million-and-one questions about her group and their work that I have NO idea about.  Normally I don’t mind helping people, but man is it tiring when she keeps asking me things that I don’t know because it’s not my work group, not my department, things I’ve never worked on, things I’ve no documentation to, for a group that has high turnover because they obviously don’t know how to train folks…just leave them to come find the nicest person that has an ungodly amount of free time to sit there and answer questions she knows nothing about…
• we got our federal and state refunds…and while direct deposit is awesome because the cash is instantly THERE…it would be way cooler if they gave me a check like this:
  




• Two weeks ago I weaned Cooper down to one feeding a day.  I was pretty miserable and uncomfortable for a few days, but it was nice to be able to delegate his morning feeding to Justin so that I’d have a chance to get ready in a decent amount of time.  Well, when he picked up that nasty flu or whatever it was, he could barely breathe, no matter how many times I used the old booger-sucker and the saline drops and even my contraband benadryl.  Every time I tried to nurse that poor baby he couldn’t breathe enough to nurse and would pull away screaming.  Not exactly what I imagined it would be like when I finally weaned him completely.  Well, since I’ve always had milk supply issues, and that child would take two sips and refuse to go back to his favorite food because he couldn’t breathe, I had to wean him completely.  I was also in the middle of trying to change formulas on him.  Unfortunately, between getting more formula in general and the change-over from Good Start to Enfamil, that child developed those nice, runny, sour poopies.  You know, those fun ones that go clear up the back to the collar?  Yeah.  Good times.  So now I’m kind of afraid I’m going to have to go back completely onto Good Start, which I can’t get as a generic or buy in any real bulk.  I know that sounds awful, but it is incredibly annoying to pay $25 for a 25-ounce can that might last about 8 days, whereas I could get a 38-ounce can for $32 for Enfamil, or a 50-ounce can of generic Enfamil for $20.  But I guess if my temperamental baby is going to be picky about his powdered milk, then I’ll have to comply, or else be stuck cleaning poop off his back for the next several months.  I suppose I could always put him to work as a studio musician…he does a good string bass, a little bit of percussion work, and he’s been working on his buzzing in order to play a brass instrument…

 


um, if the video isn’t showing up, then it’s because YouTube has decided to do site maintenance while in the middle of processing my video

Okay…just to warn everyone, I really will be talking about the bathroom, and what folks do in the bathroom.  I know many of you are in denial about body functions (I know I was), but well, I just need to get this off my chest.  So if you’re squeamish, um, go away and check back in a day or two. 

I have a problem with some of the ladies that use the same ladies room as me at work.  We have 5 standard and 1 handicapped stall.  Now, prior to ever having children, I was like Finch from “American Pie”:  there was NO WAY that I was going to go #2 in any bathroom besides my own.  In fact, I didn’t even admit to anyone that I went poop, or had any idea of where poop came from.

But then I got pregnant, and as most of you moms know, all that fiber and such just moves through you, and with a munchkin hanging from your ribs and leaning on your bowels, there was no way I could wait several hours to go home to drop a deuce in peace and privacy.  After I had each of my kids, I realized that there was no going back to my old ways; not just because I was eating better, but also because after birthin’ two large babies, those butt muscles just aren’t what they used to be.  I’m sure I’ll need Depends by the time I’m 50.  But in the meantime, if I need to go poop while at work, I go down to the last regular stall next to the handicapped one so that I’m the farthest from the common areas of the bathroom (sinks, towels, door).  It never fails, though, that someone will come into the bathroom, where I am the only patron and will go into the stall right next to me.  Yes, they will pass up some three perfectly good, possibly less odorous, stalls just to do their own business next to me.  I have NEVER worked in a building or been in any other public bathroom setting where when there’s only a few ladies in a  large bathroom that they go in adjacent stalls unless they’re friends going there together.I also love when a lady is leaving the restroom and instead of just opening the doors and leaving nicely, they use the handicapped button to automatically open and HOLD OPEN both doors.  No one walking by would see anything besides women at the sink, but it still BUGS me to no end.What doesn’t bug me is NOT using the crinkly sani-seat covers.  I never mastered those things, and when I found out that I was a trillion times more likely to pick up some nasty disease from the handle/lock of the stall door than from the seat, I gave up on them.  However…weird, lazy-need-to-use-the-handicapped-doors girl once gave me a look for not grabbing a sani-seat cover on my way into a stall.  Conversely, each of the women I caught crowding my pooping space did not use a sani-seat cover, either.

Thankfully, any lady I’ve encountered in the washroom has washed her hands, which I guess is the really important thing.

Since that silly baby has been too sick to let me sleep or eat or create coherent thoughts, I thought it best to just do one of the memes that I’m behind on.  THis is one that I tagged myself from Madame Queen.  If you want to do it, here are the rules. You have to answer the questions below using only the images from the first page of your google image search (although in one or two, I had to go to the second page of images because the first ones didn’t make any sense…at all).


1. The age you will be on your next birthday.

2. A place you’d like to visit.

3. Your favorite place.

4. Your favorite object. (yes, I’m considering a 12-step program)

5. Your favorite food.

6. Your favorite animal.  (I kinda drew a blank…but I really do like this breed of kitty)

7. Your favorite color.

 


8. The city in which you were born.

9. The town in which you live.  Actually this lady doesn’t live too far from me…she’s sort of a personal hero of mine…you should be able to click on the picture to see why.  ;)

10. The name of your pet. I have two dogs and three cats…although I added my dead cat because I couldn’t resist…his name is last:

11. The first name of your love.  Seriously…I’m married to JT!!!

12. Your nickname/screen name.

13. Your middle name.



14. Your last name.

15. A bad habit of yours.

16. Your first job.

 


17. Your dream job. (um, this is not that I’d like to become a man…I do much better than a man and don’t feel the need to downgrade, thankyouverymuch)

18. Your current job.

 


19. A picture you find hilarious.

20. A picture that inspires you.  (I am not even kidding…see a plan to get out of debt is INCREDIBLY inspiring!)

I am tagging Burgh Baby’s Mom, LaskiGal, and Karen at The Rocking Pony.  I think this is a really neat way to learn more about someone.  So if anyone else is interested in tagging themselves, I’d love to see yours as well!