I’m in the middle of a break-up. But, like a lot of my break-ups in the past, the guy has no idea we’re calling it quits. But I’m not telling him until I get my stuff back.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Why am I breaking up with him? First, he’s always late.
Always.
I get the late thing once in a while, but every…single…time? The last time we were supposed to see each other, I waited for over an hour. I finally left.
“I really don’t need the two of you in my life – you and your drama.”
Second, he’s pretty bad at communicating. Even the people he hangs out with have a hard time letting people know what’s going on. That’s fine for them, but when it starts affecting my relationship, that’s a problem. Before I left the last time, one of his “friends” told me I wasn’t a good listener.
“You need to be a better one before you can be a two.”
Third, we don’t talk anymore. When we’re together, he spends most of his time staring at his computer. I try to tell him how I feel, but he never seems to have time to listen to it all.
Don’t worry – I’m not breaking up my 25-year marriage. I’m breaking up with my doctor.
I waited too long for too many appointments in a room filled with a blaring TV and geriatrics talking at full volume. The last time I was there, after I’d waited 45 minutes, the receptionist informed me I’d been called ten minutes before, implying I wasn’t listening. She also said there was an emergency, and they had know idea how long I would have to wait. Um, yeah…I left.
“You only love me for my body.”
As for looking at the computer most of the time, that’s fine. Even waiters have iPads now. I’ve got WebMD and I only go into the office when I need a physical or a real diagnosis. What bothers me is that when I get my blood tested for my physical after the meeting with the doctor, I don’t talk to the doctor afterward. I am sent a piece of paper with my blood test results. There are columns with the numerical results of each test, which are meaningless to me because I’M NOT A ADOCTOR; there is also column that has recommendations based on the numbers, but unless I make (and pay for) another appointment, I don’t get to talk in person with my doctor about the results or the recommendations. How do I know he’s looking at everything as a whole, or that he looked at it at all?
So we’re breaking up. My time is just as important as his, and I am more than just an amazing body. I need someone who can meet my physical and emotional needs. If he can’t understand that, well, he’ll never get it.
“Maybe we should take a break.”
Filed under: Food/Drink, Misc. Humor, shopping | Tags: advertising, commercials, marketing, poop, sales, shopping, television, toilet paper
I pity the advertising firms that have to come up with new ways to sell toilet paper and not offend anybody. Toilet paper has one specific purpose, and it’s gross. Sure, you can say it has other uses, like failing to adequately remove eye makeup, or sticking to your shoe when you leave the port-o-john, but let’s face it: we don’t buy thick, soft toilet paper because of those little perks. I buy it because I don’t like wiping my butt with the tree bark found in public restrooms.
The other day I heard a commercial for Cottonelle that asked the experts (young kids), “How clean do you feel after going to the bathroom?” And of course, the kids all had cute things to say like “I feel as clean as a white, tiny kitten.”
Kids are cute, but they are not a surefire strategy for selling your product. If you really want to know if the toilet paper is any good, ask a hairy man – he’ll tell you. Ask a woman with IBS – she’ll know. Ask a woman who’s recently given birth – there better be some soft paper in her bathroom or somebody will pay once she gets a couple of hours of sleep. Or ask someone who has dogs that poop on the carpet a lot – they can tell you how durable and flush-able it is.
But don’t ask little kids about toilet paper and how clean they are – they can’t know.
Young kids are inexperienced wipers. I know because I taught preschool for 10 years, and I can’t tell you how many times kids would try to get me to come in the stall (I didn’t – teachers aren’t allowed to) and check to see if they “wiped right” or “got all the poo off.” Thanks, pedophiles, for not only making it inappropriate for teachers to hug a crying child, but for creating a situation where children learning to use the toilet stay itchy all day and develop rashes because teachers can’t check and answer that simple question.
Charmin got it right – they used bears in their commercials. Bears are hairy (i.e. credible), but still inoffensive because everybody knows if a bear shits in the woods and nobody’s around to see it…it didn’t happen.
But the real question is, do we need commercials at all for toilet paper? I think there are two rules of thumb for this:
- If it’s the generic brand, don’t buy it unless you must choose cost over comfort.
- A commercial isn’t going to tell you that more than 5 squares clogs the toilet, or that it comes apart in your hand mid-wipe. Your friends tell you that kind of stuff, so go by word-of-moth when it comes to TP purchases. And if your friends don’t tell you this, you need better friends.
Filed under: Food/Drink | Tags: adulting, dining, fish, Food, humor, Kona Grill, pizza, restaurants
I recently had a restaurant fail that made me realize:
- Food should always be clearly labeled
- Not everything “tastes like chicken”
- I have a very weak sense of smell
- Customers should not be too proud or shy to ask questions
A month or so ago I went to a local chain restaurant for lunch with work friends. I like to try new things on the menu and saw this:
I like mushrooms and Brussels sprouts. I don’t know what bonito is (I do now), but it sounds like another kind of fancy mushroom, so I’ll get it. And no, I didn’t just Google it because I was being polite and not using my phone at the table.
This is what was delivered to my table:
It MOVED.
I freaked out until I realized the heat from the bread was making whatever that was wave like things you see swirling around your feet at the beach – they don’t hurt you, but you don’t want to think about it much, either.
I ate about three pieces before I realized that my friends were looking at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit carcass out of my pocket, put it on the table and kept eating. About the same time, the smell emanating from the plate finally penetrated my sinuses and I got a whiff of…fish. And not a good, seasoned salmon or tilapia, either. It smelled like fish that had sat on the counter too long and the cats were thinking they would reach Nirvana if I would just let them have it.
My stomach flopped and I stopped eating. Lacy, my co-worker with a five-year-old’s palette, took pity and offered me one of her BBQ sliders. (Lacy I will not make fun of you again for at least a month).
I didn’t get sick, and I know I’m partly to blame for not asking questions. But seriously, who puts mushrooms, Brussels sprouts AND FISH SHAVINGS on a flatbread? And what part of the fish did that come from? I don’t think you can shave anything on a fish except maybe the skin, and I sure as hell don’t want to eat fish skin unless its salmon and deliciously crunchy inside a sushi roll.
The only kind of fish shaving should happen here.
Filed under: Middle Age, Parenting | Tags: education, high school, middle school, parents, teachers
I used to be able to attend adult functions and make the necessary small talk society requires. I could talk with a complete wallflower, as long as I followed my mother’s advice: “Just ask questions. People love to talk about themselves.”
Now? Not so much.
I don’t know if it’s an age thing or sheer laziness, but mostly I think it’s because I just don’t have the energy to care anymore.
Some of the worst small talk functions are school parental gatherings. Sometimes I’m genuinely interested, if it’s a family I like or friends of my kids, but mostly I end up pasting a smile on face and listening to what the other children did over the summer, the awards they won and what teachers are currently on the collective parental shit list. I do all of this while making snarky comments in my head.
These events do not bring out the best in me. And I think after what I said at the last couple of gatherings, I should probably stay home.
I recently went to a “Meet the New High School Director” coffee. I showed up, along with the other parents of kids whose parents really don’t need to be there (trust me, he’ll meet the parents of the kids who need a little extra “guidance” soon enough). I hung out with my mom friends until it was almost time to leave, and finally decided I should actually go meet the guy.
I waltzed up to a group of moms (I knew a couple) and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m so-and-so’s mom, it’s so good to have you here blah, blah, blah…”
Awkward silence…which, of course, I had to fill.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll be in your office at some point this year!” I chirped.
“For good reasons, I hope?” he asked, looking at me oddly.
I panicked. “We’ll see!” I said. I gave a little wave and practically ran out the door.
When I told Daughter #2 about it, she said, “Great Mom – now he thinks I’m a delinquent.”
“So do you want me to say anything to him at Back to School Night?”
“Maybe tell him I’m not a delinquent?”
“Hmmmm…nope. I think we’re going to set the bar low and let him be pleasantly surprised.”
“You’re the worst mom ever.”
So that was the first event.
The second, awkward, “please-let-me-suck-those-words-back-in” moment happened a few days later. Hubby and I were standing with the mother of a younger child at a school function. She was stunning – the kind of mom that I’m secretly jealous of because she looks sophisticated and sleek. This beautiful mom had makeup on, like most grownup women do, and I’m pretty sure she used primer (apparently it’s a thing now), too, because her face was perfectly smooth, and her makeup was flawless. Like my daughters, she has learned how to apply it and look gorgeous – I put on makeup and look like I fell onto a Kardashian’s face in a bar at 2:00am.
So, there we were, and I was talking about how my girls where more makeup than I ever learned how to use. “Oh my God, I mean, they put on ‘primer,’ which I think is just ridiculous, because a face is not a wall in your house!”
I couldn’t stop it, even after it dawned on me that I was probably insulting her. When the event was over, Hubby looked at me and said, “You know she wears makeup, right?”
“I know.” I sighed. “And she’s beautiful.”
“And you know you were just going on and on about how too much makeup is bad, right?”
“Yes! I know! I could hear the words come out and I couldn’t stop it!”
“Just checking.”
Ugh. I really just should have listened to my mother’s advice and only asked questions. Not once during either of these encounters did I do that – I simply filled any void with my verbal diarrhea.
Tonight is Back to School Night. God help me if any of the teachers address me directly. I’ll probably blurt out a question like “Was teaching your first choice as a profession?” So to all of Daughter #2’s teachers, here is my blanket apology in advance:
You will never be paid enough or honored enough for the work you do. Please keep trying to educate our children and fill in the gaps that we have left yawning open in their character. Every day you rise above pettiness, exhaustion and frustration to embrace these young people as they try to make sense of a senseless world, and for that you should be shown the respect and encouragement you deserve.
Plus, you look pretty. And your tie goes with your pants….
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: bachelorette, Blake, emotions, friendship, Garrett, Quinn, relationships, romance, tv
I was recently invited to a friend’s house to watch the finale of The Bachelorette. Seven women of various ages and relationship stages were there, from college to middle-age, from single to married to divorced to “talking”, or whatever they call it now. I’ve never actually seen more than 5 minutes of any episode (because I think the whole show is any Saturday night at a bar but extended for 15 hour-long rides on the Drama Train). This time, I decided the girl time was much needed and maybe I could figure out why the show is so popular.
Let me just tell you, I had a GREAT time. I was yelling and groaning along with everyone as the drama unfolded. So yes, friends who are rolling their eyes, I can be open to new things.
Now keep in mind while you’re reading this that I still watch Survivorand American Ninja Warriors, and I’m aware that I’m standing in the middle of a huge glass house.
When I arrived, I was ushered into a Bachelorette wonderland:
Each guest had to pick which bachelor “team” they were on. Since I knew nothing about either of the two finalists (Garrett and Blake), I chose Blake based on the pictures stuck into the team cupcakes.
And then the drama train started huffing down the Bachelorette tracks.
Or should I say weeping down the tracks. Oh my God, I have never seen so much weeping on one show. Mostly by Garrett. And let me tell you, Team Garrett lapped it up, goofy, salty tears and all.
“He’ll make such a great dad!”
“He’s so sensitive!”
“Why can’t I get a guy like that?”
“Why can’t I get a guy at all?” (Note – these girls were all gorgeous and in their 20’s – huge eye roll)
“He just seems so genuine!”
I wanted to hurl myself in front of the train, if only to make Garret stop crying every time it rained (often) or when he saw Becca (also often). What sealed the deal for me and Blake was when Garrett played his trump card – he told Becca he felt like her deceased father was with them. Becca melted, he cried (again? seriously?), she cried, and I finished another glass of rosé to get the taste of throw up out of my mouth.
Now, before all you Team Garret people FTFO, you need to understand something about me – I’m not a weeper, at least not where people can see me. When our 15-year-old dog died, my kids later told me that was the first time they’d ever seen me cry – that was three years ago, and they are eighteen and twenty. The Fam constantly makes fun of me for not crying when we watch sad TV shows. Clearly, I also have issues.
Obviously, watching Garrett the Weeper made me uncomfortable. All I could think of was: She’s going to be raising man-child along with her actual kids. poor thing – she’s always going to have to be the Bad Cop because he’s too emotional to do it the other half ofthe time. Plus he smiles when he’s crying and its creepy.
AND THEN SHE PICKED HIM!
There was more weeping from Team Garrett, and gnashing of teeth from Team Blake. But the best (and most important) part of the whole night was the dialogue that emerged during the event: What makes a good marriage, or a good boyfriend? When and how often should you be crying in a relationship? What kind of man makes a good father?
The show is still ridiculous, but it sparked these cell-phone-free conversations for straight two hours, and that, my friends, almost brings tears to my eyes.
(To hear another version of this night, check out my friend Alex’s blog. )
Subourbon Mom 