How I Spent My Winter Vacation, Pt. 2
The lowdown from Boredom Town:
- Spent Christmas Day with my friend Toni and her husband. I silently tallied the symptoms of our collective mental decline, and Toni was in the lead until Ron asked what day it was in the middle of Christmas dinner.
- Took Richard to the movies and managed to partially tune out the soundtrack drivel from The Chipmunks with my MTP player, but could not fully drown out the sound of Richard yelling "The Chipmunks farted !"
- Determined to wolf down a stale donut before the America's Top Model marathon got rolling, Raul hooked an illegal left turn into 7-11's parking lot and nearly ran over a homeless lady, who was walking her cat on a leash made from a single strand of black thread. Not suprisingly, the cat escaped while Raul and I trawled the mini-mart's isles in search of diabetic paydirt, but during a later food run we noticed it had returned to follow the woman around the neighborhood as she collected cans.
- This week's computer crisis involved my inability to find a free firewall that didn't block me from opening e-mail, conflict with my picky-ass virus scan, demand that I install a bunch of other useless crap with it, or refuse to download unless I provided my credit card number.
- My loan officer declared that my credit rating had finally been restored, then turned around and offered me a credit card so I could wreck it again. Maybe it's just me- wouldn't the fact that I'm asking for yet another loan extension make you feel a bit hesitant about extending me large amounts of unsecured credit ?
- What I've been worrying my pretty little head about lately:
* Being accused of "moral ambiguity" and not knowing right from wrong when I speculated that some addicts have a slower recovery process due to pre-existing chemical imbalances. The same person also accused me of being "a Republican" when I suggested that making more grammatical errors than a 3rd grader could be why a certain Top Model is perceived as ignorant. But what do I know ? I'm just a morally ambiguous Republican...
* How certain people refuse to curtail their kid's brattiness because they live vicariously through it. It's amusing to me how often those same people who suck the life force from others will often complain about feeling "drained", but not so amusing when their kids express hostility towards anyone exhibiting appropriate boundaries and a disinclination to put up with their bullshit.
* The afterlife: I've had a few subjective encounters with denizens of it, but still can't be sure isn't just some existential dumping ground I need to exist so I won't have to fully accept loss. I'm still waiting for Grandma to materialize one day (although the way my room looks, I'd be embarrassed if she did), for Jason to appear in a dream and offer to teach me bass guitar, for Chris to explain why kids like him have to die but Charles Manson is still alive, for my "special" aunt Sweet Pea to offer advice regarding G-Man, for Linda to say good-bye, for Sammy to reveal why we couldn't save him even though we performed flawess CPR for 20 minutes, and for Hector to assure me we did the right thing in not reviving him at all. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the Crossing Over gene like most of my other family members, but that may not be a bad thing, since my psychic cousins have to smell my dead grandpa's cigarettes everytime he's around...
* The Nokia N95 smartphone with the 5 megapixel camera, Mobile Windows 6 and GPS. Some people waste valuable brain cells on American Idol, but I prefer to waste mine on an unnecessary device that I'll be sure to drop onto concrete and break three days after I buy it.
In my other life, I don't need a 5 megapixel cell phone, because I've hired a personal photographer to follow me everywhere. Giacomo doesn't work on the cheap, but I can afford him, having come into an obscene amount of wealth after my doting parents flew their Lear Jet (actually, their manservant flew it) through the Bermuda Triangle- they were never heard from again. Sniffle. Anyway, Jason got himself clean and formed a killer rock band with Banjo and I, fronted by a genetically-enhanced Robert Plant who never ages past 29.
In the other life, I use my stunning beauty, fierce intellect, admirable character and amazing superpowers to bring about world peace. Everyone has a clean bed to sleep in, rehab clinics never cater to spoiled celebrities, and organic food banks are open 24/7. All of my household staff earn incredible wages to offset the indignity of having to pick up after my lazy ass, and I give them excellent health benefits, numerous sick/vacation days and permission to slap any child who gets out line while visiting. My tastefully decorated home is built of sustainable, recycled materials, has enough solar panels to power-up Banjo's spaceship, and leaves a small carbon footprint despite all the lights needed to run the skate park at night.
That's my other life, the one where I don't ever say the wrong thing, don't get moody, don't spill coffee on the guy next to me on the airplane. I don't bury friends who hang themselves because they couldn't get their meth-addled heads out of their own asses, don't have to decline medical coverage because I can't afford the deductable, and don't have to deal with retarded gender stereotypes that even my gay friends continue to perpetuate. That's the life in which I don't inadvertantly kill all my houseplants, don't have crooked hillbilly teeth, and don't drop every damn cell phone I own the day after the return receipt expires. Wondered how I was going to bring it back to the smartphone, weren't you ? If only that "smart"phone guarenteed that I, as its owner, would be equally as smart and versatile. A gal can dream, can't she ?
- Spent Christmas Day with my friend Toni and her husband. I silently tallied the symptoms of our collective mental decline, and Toni was in the lead until Ron asked what day it was in the middle of Christmas dinner.
- Took Richard to the movies and managed to partially tune out the soundtrack drivel from The Chipmunks with my MTP player, but could not fully drown out the sound of Richard yelling "The Chipmunks farted !"
- Determined to wolf down a stale donut before the America's Top Model marathon got rolling, Raul hooked an illegal left turn into 7-11's parking lot and nearly ran over a homeless lady, who was walking her cat on a leash made from a single strand of black thread. Not suprisingly, the cat escaped while Raul and I trawled the mini-mart's isles in search of diabetic paydirt, but during a later food run we noticed it had returned to follow the woman around the neighborhood as she collected cans.
- This week's computer crisis involved my inability to find a free firewall that didn't block me from opening e-mail, conflict with my picky-ass virus scan, demand that I install a bunch of other useless crap with it, or refuse to download unless I provided my credit card number.
- My loan officer declared that my credit rating had finally been restored, then turned around and offered me a credit card so I could wreck it again. Maybe it's just me- wouldn't the fact that I'm asking for yet another loan extension make you feel a bit hesitant about extending me large amounts of unsecured credit ?
- What I've been worrying my pretty little head about lately:
* Being accused of "moral ambiguity" and not knowing right from wrong when I speculated that some addicts have a slower recovery process due to pre-existing chemical imbalances. The same person also accused me of being "a Republican" when I suggested that making more grammatical errors than a 3rd grader could be why a certain Top Model is perceived as ignorant. But what do I know ? I'm just a morally ambiguous Republican...
* How certain people refuse to curtail their kid's brattiness because they live vicariously through it. It's amusing to me how often those same people who suck the life force from others will often complain about feeling "drained", but not so amusing when their kids express hostility towards anyone exhibiting appropriate boundaries and a disinclination to put up with their bullshit.
* The afterlife: I've had a few subjective encounters with denizens of it, but still can't be sure isn't just some existential dumping ground I need to exist so I won't have to fully accept loss. I'm still waiting for Grandma to materialize one day (although the way my room looks, I'd be embarrassed if she did), for Jason to appear in a dream and offer to teach me bass guitar, for Chris to explain why kids like him have to die but Charles Manson is still alive, for my "special" aunt Sweet Pea to offer advice regarding G-Man, for Linda to say good-bye, for Sammy to reveal why we couldn't save him even though we performed flawess CPR for 20 minutes, and for Hector to assure me we did the right thing in not reviving him at all. Unfortunately, I didn't inherit the Crossing Over gene like most of my other family members, but that may not be a bad thing, since my psychic cousins have to smell my dead grandpa's cigarettes everytime he's around...
* The Nokia N95 smartphone with the 5 megapixel camera, Mobile Windows 6 and GPS. Some people waste valuable brain cells on American Idol, but I prefer to waste mine on an unnecessary device that I'll be sure to drop onto concrete and break three days after I buy it.
In my other life, I don't need a 5 megapixel cell phone, because I've hired a personal photographer to follow me everywhere. Giacomo doesn't work on the cheap, but I can afford him, having come into an obscene amount of wealth after my doting parents flew their Lear Jet (actually, their manservant flew it) through the Bermuda Triangle- they were never heard from again. Sniffle. Anyway, Jason got himself clean and formed a killer rock band with Banjo and I, fronted by a genetically-enhanced Robert Plant who never ages past 29.
In the other life, I use my stunning beauty, fierce intellect, admirable character and amazing superpowers to bring about world peace. Everyone has a clean bed to sleep in, rehab clinics never cater to spoiled celebrities, and organic food banks are open 24/7. All of my household staff earn incredible wages to offset the indignity of having to pick up after my lazy ass, and I give them excellent health benefits, numerous sick/vacation days and permission to slap any child who gets out line while visiting. My tastefully decorated home is built of sustainable, recycled materials, has enough solar panels to power-up Banjo's spaceship, and leaves a small carbon footprint despite all the lights needed to run the skate park at night.
That's my other life, the one where I don't ever say the wrong thing, don't get moody, don't spill coffee on the guy next to me on the airplane. I don't bury friends who hang themselves because they couldn't get their meth-addled heads out of their own asses, don't have to decline medical coverage because I can't afford the deductable, and don't have to deal with retarded gender stereotypes that even my gay friends continue to perpetuate. That's the life in which I don't inadvertantly kill all my houseplants, don't have crooked hillbilly teeth, and don't drop every damn cell phone I own the day after the return receipt expires. Wondered how I was going to bring it back to the smartphone, weren't you ? If only that "smart"phone guarenteed that I, as its owner, would be equally as smart and versatile. A gal can dream, can't she ?
posted by Fredrika Krueger at 1:41 PM
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