Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Excuse me, sir, your asshat is showing.

I'm driving home from work today, along a pretty well traveled road, when a cop motions for me to roll down my window so he can speak to me. Nevermind the fact that we're slowing to a complete stop due to the red light. Christ.....here we go.......

Seemingly confused cop: "Do you know how fast you were going?" (Uh...when? Because 10 minutes ago I was going a whopping 20 due to traffic, and now I'm sittin' at a super speedy 0 mph)
Definitely perplexed me: "No, sir, I don't. How fast was I going?"
Smartass cop: "Fast enough! You were going fast enough!" (Thanks, asshat, for clarifying that one for me. Your intellectual capacity is astounding.)
A now agitated me: "Interesting. Well, I'm sorry. I was keeping up with the flow of traffic." (you fuckwit piece of trash)
Fuckwit cop: "You weren't keeping up with traffic. You were trying to overtake that truck in front of you." (Overtake? Really?!? I am embarrassed FOR you.)
A near speechless me at the realization this guy probably doesn't even know who our President is: "Ok........" (At this point, I'm waiting for him to officially pull me over and arrest me. Grounds? Going fast enough......clearly.)
This royal gem finally goes into his tirade I was fully expecting at the onset of his ego trip: "....and you don't need to know how fast you were going! I'll tell you how fast you were going, because that's my job! My job is to police these roads to make sure they are safe and your job is to sit there!"
I've now had it: "Sir, how fast was I going?"
Fuckwit cop: "You were going fast enough! Any questions?" (Oh for fuck sake! Who's on first?)
Hoping this means I can start driving again, now that I've missed approximately 4 cycles of green lights. Did I mention I was in rush hour traffic?: "Right. Definitely no questions."
Fuckwit cop: "I better not catch you speeding. I'll pull you over and give you a ticket next time!"
Genuinely hoping he just stops talking soon: "I don't doubt it. Have a nice day" (and you better believe I sped off....ok, only 10 feet because I, of course, caught another fucking red light....thanks asshat. Much appreciated. Really.)

My monthly fuckwit quota has officially been filled, and it's only the 13th of September. Now, how about that!

Saturday, July 31, 2010

I guess they ran out of donuts

I set time aside today to take my dogs to the grooming spa. Yes, a spa. Have you seen pictures of my dogs??? Good, then you understand how it might be plausible that they require a spa for grooming services.

I park my car in an open spot in front of the establishment and go inside to retrieve my spoiled little darlings, as their primping has been completed. I come out with the furry children, and as I'm putting them in their car seats, i.e. their crate in the backseat, a cop stops, blocks my car, and puts on his lights. Oh for Christ sake....what the fuck does he want??

Cop: "Hello, Ma'am. How are you doing today?"

Me: "Good, and yourself?"

Cop: "Good, do you have a handicapped sticker for your car to park here?"

Me (perplexed as to why he would ask me this): "Um, no...why would I need one to park here?"

Cop: "Because this is a handicapped spot"

Me: (curiously looking around for ANY signage communicating this point): "Oh wow! I'm sorry about that. Didn't know. Usually there are signs posted in front of the spot and on the actual spot to signify it being a handicapped spot."

Cop: "It's a handicapped spot. Are you aware there is a $500 fine for parking here when you are clearly not handicapped?"

Me (still looking for a fucking handicapped sign.....STILL unsuccessful....and now I'm secretly wondering if this guy is heavily medicated): "Yes, sir. I'm sure there's quite a hefty fine for parking in a spot illegally. You see, though, there are no signs posted to that effect. It appears we have a slightly problem. Hmmmmm....."

Cop (smiles and nods in agreement): "Are you leaving now?"

Me: "Yes, sir, I am. Just came to get my dogs and now I'm leaving."

Cop: (smiles in a much creepier manner than the first time) "Ok, then. I'll let you off with a warning this time. Have a nice day."

Me: "Um, thanks. That's sweet of you. You too!"

Meanwhile.....I'm still looking for this handicapped sign, and slightly offended this wacked out cop didn't share whatever the fuck it is he's on...not that I would accept said offer. I don't do those sort of things, but still...manners and such....just saying.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Even Cupid must have a sense of humor

***Disclaimer: This date occurred several months ago, but I waited the courtesy few months after the guy got the hint (that I wasn't interested) to share this little gem. Even I have a heart.***

I'll keep the back story short and sweet. This guy and I meet online. He lives in Kingstowne, he's 36, and he's a Marine. He's cute, witty, and I have a good feeling about this one (clearly short lived). We keep communication to emailing, gchatting, and the phone for about 2 weeks prior to the first date.

We meet at Coastal Flats, which is near me. I get my way and he drives to me, and I'm glad he does. I would have been pretty fucking bitter if I drove to Kingstowne for what is about to transpire. Just saying. I am waiting outside, and he walks up to me. Ok....I embrace online photos don't always look 100% like the person.....but come on!!!!!

In his pictures, he looked like a tall Tom Cruise (old school, hot Tom...not batshit crazy, jumping on couches Tom). Naturally, I'm thinking he'll be hot in person....but no. He approaches me, and looks as if he had lost 50 lbs. He looks ridiculously skinny....like sickly skinny....like concentration camp skinny.....like coked out Lindsay Lohan skinny....like one of the Olsen twins skinny....like if it had ever come to us getting naked and comparing how many of our ribs were showing, he'd be the clear winner skinny. Awkward.

To top this off, he's wearing exceptionally dorky glasses. Ok look, I have glasses too. I wear them to read. I'm not judging the need for glasses. I think, however, if you aren't wearing glasses in ANY of your pictures online, perhaps it's a bad idea to wear them on a first date.

Anywho, after the hug hello, we go inside to get a table. I was smart and called ahead because I was starving. I give the hostess my name and they tell us to step to the side and wait a few minutes while they get our table ready. While we're waiting, he's trying to make jokes about waiting for things. I can tell he's really nervous. He starts telling this random, yet disturbing, story about when he was little and how he and his family were waiting in line for an amusement park ride or something....how the outside is a line but when you get inside, it's a bigger line to get to the actual ride....something to that effect. In order to avoid waiting in line forever, he and his brothers would get to the front by.....ok...I need to stop and ensure you aren't eating, as this will prompt an immediate gag reflex.....we good? Ok then.....

Marine Man: "My brothers and I would smear poop on our faces so our dad would have to rush us to the front of the line and pretend it was an emergency, and then we'd get on the ride faster"
Me: "Did that just happen? Did you really just say that? Out loud? (internal thought: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?)
Marine Man: "What? It tastes like chicken!"

I'm pretty sure he is kidding, but still. Not a funny joke to make.....ever. He says this on a first date. Again, this is a first date, and we're in public. God hates me.

We are now being sat at our table. I'm pretty speechless at this point. He starts asking me about my birthday trip to Vegas, so I figure telling a few Vegas stories is harmless. He gets a salad with his meal. At this point, I deduct that he is not accustomed to eating in nice places. I embrace Coastal Flats is not the Ritz, but you get the gist. He is eating in a pretty sloppy manner, all the while making comments like "do I have something in my teeth...I get so self conscious about eating in front of people". I get the drunken ribeye, because I'm at least going to get a nice steak out of this train wreck of a situation. While we're eating, he brings up the movie we are supposed to go see at the theatre right across the street. I access my iPhone to look up movie times, despite how horribly this is going thus far. I do so for purely selfish reasons....I want to see the movie. You understand. While I'm looking up movie times on my phone, Marine Man takes his phone out and takes a picture of me.

Me: "Really?!?!"
Marine Man: "Yeh...."
Me: "Did you really just take a picture of me at the dinner table? Look, I'm not photogenic. Can you delete that please?"
Marine Man: "You're beautiful, and very photogenic" (Ok. Pay attention, gentlemen. That's not complimentary...that's just fucking creepy)

After he pays the bill, we walk around outside because the movie doesn't start for another 45 minutes or so. It starts to rain while we're walking past the second store, yet he doesn't seem bothered by it. Perfect, weird and waterproof. Score. Ummmm, have I mentioned I have naturally curly hair? WTF! What woman wants to walk around in the rain, anyway?? A few minutes later of walking around in the rain, and he finally suggests this.....

Marine Man: "I know you probably don't want to drive around or you might feel weird, but do you want to drive around for a bit in my car?"
Me: "Nope, sure don't. Why don't we get out of the rain and go back to the bar and I'll get us drinks...how about that??" (if ever I needed a martini....sigh...)

He agrees, we head back to Coastal Flats, and I order myself two martinis at a time. As he is drinking his beer, I'm already halfway done with my second martini. Evidently, I drink heavily in the company of fuckwits. I honestly don't remember how we got on the subject of pets, but he asks me what kind of dogs I had while growing up. I respond that I had a Doberman Pinscher and Springer Spaniel.

Marine Man: "Wow...a German dog... a Jew with a German dog...you don't see that very often!"
Me: "Excuse me?" (seriously?!?!!?!?)
Marine Man: "Yeh...a Jew with a German dog...just not something that happens everyday..." (not at all realizing the landmine he's just thrown himself on)
Me: "And?? Actually I have no idea what one has to do with the other...."
Marine Man: (tries his best to explain how there are no German Jews in existence anymore, though I cannot remember this particular quotable item...I may have zoned out at this point)
Me: "Sooo you're saying there are no German Jews in existence? Seriously? This, coming from someone in the military? Guess they just teach you to point and shoot, and then skip the rest of the other stuff, huh?"
Marine Man: "Well, yeh. Weren't they all killed off?" (I wish I could make this shit up. He really thought this)
Me: (laughs in his face for a few minutes) "Uh no...you're kidding me, right?"

Right before I'm about to publicly humiliate/belittle him, he decides it's best to transition back to being overly complimentary.....because I didn't hear him the 8th fucking time. He goes on about how pretty I am, how I have princess features, and that I have "Disney princess eyes". Really, what do you say to that after being told you emulate a cartoon character. Thanks doesn't quite suffice. Just my opinion.

It is FINALLY time for the movie. And yes, I have already told myself a thousand and one times to just ditch him and go see the movie another time with someone else. I have also already told myself a thousand and one times to see this nightmare thru to the end. The nightmare wins. Who is surprised by this? Anyone???

Shockingly enough, there are no issues in the movie. Of course, movies typically require that there be silence...so this could be the reason why. After the movie, we are walking out and he has the audacity to ask, "so what do you want to do now?"

Me: "Um call it a night....definitely call it a night." (for some reason he's still walking alongside me....ummmmmmmmmmm)
Me: (stopping in the street at this point, mainly because I'm uncomfortable with him knowing what kind of car I drive) "Ok so...is your car over here or what?" (praying he'd get the hint. Sadly, he didn't)
Marine Man: "No, my car is way over there (points to the far away parking lot...this is my nightmare). I was just figuring I'd walk you to your car...is that like me stalking you or something? Should I not do that?"
Me: "Oh no, that's fine. I'm a big girl....PLENTY of lighting in the lot...I'll be totally fine...you can walk to your car from here, no worries..."
Marine Man: "Oh, ok. Well, thanks for meeting me out. I had an amazing time and you're beautiful, and I hope we can do this again and I'll text you tomorrow!"
Me: "Right. Thanks for dinner and the movie....ok cool, see ya!" (is the end near???)

The following day's text goes a little something like, "I really enjoyed meeting up with you last night! You're even prettier in person. I'd like to take you out again if you concur. Happy Saturday!!"

I cannot fathom how the poor guy thought this date went well at all. I seriously can't. I now refer to him as that poor guy because Operation Avoid/Ignore/Pretend you're dead and/or got a new phone number commenced VERY shortly thereafter. You would too if you were me. Don't judge.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Where was Justin Timberlake for MY wardrobe malfunction???

It's a gorgeous day outside. Clear blue skies. The sun is shining and the pool is beckoning. On top of it all, I have already secured a fabulous raft for only $5. Best. Investment. Ever.

My friends and I inflate said raft and take it for a test drive in the pool. My neighbor decides he wants to play with it too. After flipping me over, he steals it. Naturally, being the spiteful bitch I am, I decide I'm going to flip him over....only I can't do so unless I swim underneath the damn thing and jump up to flip him over. Ohhhhhhh, I've totally got this in the bag.

My neighbor had invited this super cute coworker of his, who of course is watching the whole time and is on board with me getting my revenge. So there I go....diving underneath to follow thru with my vengeful plot. Little do I know, my bikini bottoms have other plans. They are the type that tie on both sides.....and then evidently don't stay tied.....right. Let's discuss how it feels to be bottomless and essentially skinny dipping in a public pool.....in the middle of the day....with friends, strangers, and yes....little children around to bear witness to the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions. Fucking perfect.

In hindsight, I probably should have been as quiet as possible when getting my girlfriend's attention to come help me tie my bottoms back on my ass. I probably shouldn't have been flailing my arms about in attempts to cover myself with free appendages. But seriously.....what the fuck would you do??!?!!? Well, I'll tell you what I do....I scream, curse, and then proceed to screech in a very high pitched tone, "Candace come heeeeeeeeeeeeeere!!!!!!!!!"

Everyone is laughing too hard for anyone to immediately come to my rescue. Asshats. My friend finally comes and helps this very, very naked girl tie her bottoms back on...thanks friend. Thanks a heap. I then look around, and the lifeguards are laughing hysterically while everyone else seems to be emulating the awkward deer caught in headlights look combined with the crickets chirping silence as well. Swell. I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised by the reaction. Had I seen some stranger's naked ass with bikini bottoms in hand, all the while screaming her fucking head off.....I'd be a little shaken up too.

Truth be told, I'm still waiting for the police to come to my door on grounds of indecent exposure, public nudity, drunk in public, or to otherwise peg me as a flasher Franny. So far so good. If anyone is able to locate my dignity, however, please alert me at once. Thank you, kindly.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Kidnapping a la Ulta

So I think I am going to get sushi. I think I am going to finally eat something today (i.e. stuff my face) then go home and run. Little do I know my friend has other plans.

"Oh my Goooooooooooood there is an Ulta right near here!!!" (delivered in a high pitched, very excited tone)

"A what??" (oh fuck.....)

"An Ulta!!! We are so going there after this! I need a new .....um....you'll see....it's a surprise!" (her vocals now resemble that of a cartoon character)

"What the hell is this? You need a new what? Is this some kind of container store? Jesus...." (fuck fuck fuck)

She drove. I have no choice in the matter. I am essentially being kidnapped, and driven down the street to this store. We get there, and it is NOT a container store....but the fucking mecca of womanly products. The only stuff they didn't have? Um....tampons. I think. Could have used some of those.....but anywho...the rest of this stuff?

Ok...who really needs a $179 flat iron? How about a $300 wet-to-dry one? No? Anyone? Does anyone seriously pay $57 for an extremely modest bottle of shampoo? Screw that....my grocery store hair supplies work just fine, thanks.

How about the 1 oz bottle of dry shampoo for $10. Yes....1 oz for $10. Are you fucking kidding me? Ok....well we find a cheaper brand and I end up buying that...but it's dry shampoo. C'mon. I mean after seeing Heidi Montag shamelessly plug that shit on that I'm a Fuckwit in a Rainforest, Get Me Outta Here show....I know I have to try this stuff once I see it.

The rest of this stuff in the store....let's just say I feel like less of a woman for not getting hyperactively orgasmic about all of the things on display. The 347 colors of nail polish. The different kinds of $200 ointments and creams for wrinkles, eye puffiness, dark circles, cellulite, and all the other "I hate myself when I look in the mirror so this should do the trick" solutions on the shelf. This is extremely overwhelming.

There is, however, one other item I see that I genuinely do need. Ok look....I have naturally curly hair. I have not yet embraced this. I choose to straighten it everyday. Don't judge. Well, because I've been straightening it for....hell.....it's been YEARS.....I clearly need to upgrade my falt iron to something that doesn't look like it came from the Flintstones era. Seriously...my friend definitely comments that my flat iron looks like it was manufactured before she was born. She might be right. Slightly embarrassing, right?

Ok so we're about to head to the registers.....ok well...I am. My friend is STILL looking for more items to purchase. She might have a serious problem with this place. Is there an Ulta support group open anywhere? She may require this....

Dawn's total purchase amount = $47.26
Dawn's friend's total purchase amount = $70.44

The woman asks me if I want one of those frequent shopper cards. Evidently, you get discounts and whatnot on things....for every $50 or $100 you spend, you get a free lipstick or something....a free box of tampons maybe.....oh wait. No. They don't sell those. FAIL.

Ok ok...I'm sure you're wondering about this dry shampoo fad. Well, of course, I try it as soon as I get home and I am now a believer. It actually works. There is no need, however, to buy the "I need to be a trust fund baby to afford this" crap...the cheap stuff works just fine ladies and gents! Just saying.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Modest Dose of Logic

So just to be clear......

We need oxygen to breathe.

We breathe to live.

Trees contribute to our oxygen intake.

Trees are cut down to make cigarettes.

Cigarettes interfere with one's ability to breathe.

Cigarettes cause cancer.

Cancer causes death.

Fewer trees lead to less oxygen output, which eventually leads to the demise of humans.

More cigarettes lead to more cancer cases, which eventually leads to the demise of humans.

As the demand for cigarettes increases, the supply of trees decreases.

Um......stupid question. Why do people smoke cigarettes again?

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

The Water Bra Phenomenon

Ever had coupled off friends that spend every waking minute together, and if they find time to detach themselves from their partner's hip, they can be found calling, texting, or otherwise posting love notes on their partner's Facebook wall or via private message? Does it ever make you wonder why they feel the need to do this? We all know it's not healthy. To be 100% enmeshed in each other's lives, to not possess one's own identity anymore, definitely begs the question.....why do it if you know it's maladaptive?

Ever had that friend, male or female, that buys flashy cars, clothes, etc in order to keep up with the Jones'.....but that friend is living paycheck to paycheck? He or she drives around in that BMW or Mercedes wearing that amazing new Juicy Couture outfit, complete with the latest Prada or Coach bag.....all the while swimming in debt.

What about the people who purchase McMansions.....the 9 bedroom, 8.5 bathroom, brick-front house with 5 attached garages in the super swanky neighborhood? They can barely afford their mortgages, but dammit, they will at least act as if they can on simple status principle. Who will ever figure it out, they think.

Overcompensation is a pesky little bitch. We all do it from time to time, for a number of reasons, but these aforementioned examples are definitely some of the more common observations, I'd say. For those of you who have yet to take anything resembling an introductory psychology class, overcompensation is when one attempts to cover up weaknesses or feelings of inadequacy in a life area through a drive toward excellence in another.

This reminds me of those water bras that are advertised on TV. On the outside, to some, the relationship and/or possessions might look amazing...but when you get rid of all the fluff...you will typically find nothing there of substance. If you think about it for a few minutes, I'm sure you can identify with these observations you have probably seen in others, or maybe even yourself.

Historically speaking, human beings need to engage in self-reflection from time to time. This can then lead to self-awareness, which lends itself to the potential for change towards more positive behaviors. This is how we evolve as better people. Embrace it, learn from it, then move on from it. Just saying.