I Don’t Like Some People

one time me and my two friends went to a fun cuban restaurant and had a really good time.  unfortunately — there’s at least one in every crowd, there was one friend who was having immediate digestive unrest as we left the restaurant.  we ended up making it just around the corner to the starbucks where he immediately snapped up the key to the bathroom.  my other friend and i were just hanging out .. making chit chat.. wondering how long we were going to be there.. after 20 minutes we were wondering if we’d have to go in after him.  at that point i think 4 other people had tried to use the bathroom but it was ocupado…
my other friend got a text message.. from our digestively challenged friend in the bathroom.  IM OK it said, RU directing traffic out there??
well that was a first for me, being texted from the toilet.

so do you think that like attracts like?  for instance, i’ve noticed that i, being petite have a good number of girl friends who are also petite.  i don’t think its discrimination or anything i just think maybe that’s because if there’s more than a 6-8″ height differential, it gets hard to have a conversation while standing up.  for instance, i am not a quiet talker by any means, but when bub and i go out because he’s got more than 11″ on me, he often doesn’t hear what i say in a boisterous room or at a loud party.  so i often end up yelling up at him to hear me, which makes me sort of irritated so needless to say we don’t have that good a time. ha!

yesterday i had the viewing pleasure of watching almost every member of immediate family barfing over the side of a boat.  let’s just say we were going to have a “real fun” day of fishing off the new england coast, when sea sickness struck.  it KOed them so quick they didn’t even have time to strike back.  now — let’s just remember back to before we scheduled this trip when i said — are you sure everyone is going to be OK on a boat for the entire day??  i mean we know my brother has a history of barfing on boats — back to when i had a boat and i had to be the one to hold the container for him to barf in (he was too little back then to lean over the side).

so there we sat with my mother, my brother, and my husband, as they lay in agony.  at one point my mom was standing towards the bow leaning over the side wretching violently with the wind whipping towards us, i leaned towards my dad and said — i think something hit me in the lip (my mom was not far enough to the side so not everything was going over the side — if you get my drift).  then my  dad whispered to me, i think something hit me in the eye.

so there you have it — one fun day for the family!!  oh the memories.

i’m not going to lie to you.  i like my “alone” time.  i’ve theorized about this and decided that its probably because i was an only child for a while.  see, only children spend the majority of their time by themselves, playing and doing whatever they want.  oh sure they have neighborhood/school/church friends, but that lasts what — an afternoon?  and then later its back to the house by yourself.  and why not.  being alone is pretty great.  you get to choose what you want to do. what you want to wear. what you want to eat. whether you want to bathe.  you’re by yourself and no one is going to judge you.  and its GREAT.  bub sometimes goes to play his various kinds of “ball” in the evenings during the school season.  he’ll look at me with his sad trapped animal eyes and say “do you want me to stay here with you?”   and i’ll sigh and say “oh no its fine…  you can go” — i don’t want him to feel too good about leaving me at home.  and then he’ll look a little guilty — and then i’ll smile a little.  by now he’s onto me — he’ll know — ha ha.  i am secretly happy about him going!  darn, i wanted a little guilt.  but no its good cause i get to be home doing my thing ALONE.

bub has been staying up late recently.  when i leave he has been sitting on the couch looking at asian comics online for approximately 3 hours.  later i am asleep, but awake enough that i can look at the clock — 3 am.  the next morning i’ll say.  what time did you go to bed?  he’ll say — i’m stupid OK.  I am SORRY.  then i’ll say 3 am.  and what were you doing?  and he’ll say.  i can’t help it.  i love cartoons.  they’re my long lost best friend.  so there we have it bub’s long lost best friend is a bunch of chinese comics about old school japanese shoguns.  is it just me or is he getting nerdier every passing year?  and now its this — who is his new best friend? me.  and what, the japanese shoguns were his lost best friend, so was i was just a filler until he could find them again?  was i just a space holder in his heart until his special shoguns came back?  only time will tell.  see nerd wives aren’t worried their husbands will choose other women over them, they’re worried that the husband’s nerdy fixations will win over – “quality” time with the wife.

condo neighbors grind my gears.  we live in a condo – we’re not incompotent boobs.  and there lies the problem.  we end up fixing the building, while they end up trashing it.  just one example – around 5am, one morning i was having a dream about a waterfall in the forest.  i was walking through a misty wood, damp with dew, and i came upon a waterfall.  i remember it clearly because i was on a hot pursue of an elusive unicorn friend of mine.  anyway, the water was sounding so real.  was it raining outside?  did i leave the bedroom window open last night?  all of a sudden i startled.  i bolted straight out of bed and ran to the bathroom where i found the waterfall.  pouring out of the ventilation fan onto the floor where it had become a pond, also started running through our ceiling into our hallway below.  there was no unicorn — but that water had been running a while because my dream had been pretty involved.  i threw on a bathrobe and ran upstairs and pounded on the neighbor’s door loudly.  after 5 minutes he opened sleepily.  yeah – i said – there’s water pouring out of the ceiling.  would you happen to know anything about that?  uh – he said – my toilet over flowed on the bathroom floor, i didn’t know what to do.  i said — well could you stop the water and mop up what’s on your floor then?  by that time bub had gotten the tarp out, and we had put a bucket down, and mopped up what we could.   about 5 minutes later the water from the neighbor had stopped.

so the question remains — is it my job to boss people in my life?  is it my calling?  if people just first thought to them selves WWID (what would idontlikesomepeople do) and then did it.  things would run a LOT smoother around here.

bub has a sickness which i like to call “unusual attachment to sick rags”.  its weird because he’s not a collector of objects — like dust collectors or.. comic books.. or anything weird and nerdy like that.  but i have to say that his ratty tshirt collection habit is probably worse.  the thing is the way bub dresses is — not to impress.  so you wouldn’t think that his rags, which he seems to care nothing about  — actually mean so much to him.  i mean he leaves them in the dryer for weeks.. and he wears them all wrinkly. and he wears them with bleach spots on them. and he wears them with rips down the seams.  and he wears them when they’ve no silk screen left on them and they have the texture of a nose blow paper.  but just try and take one of these shirts that is tattered beyond all recognition out of the rotation and watch out.  you will see easy going cucumber bub turn into hissy fit whiney bub heh!  i can’t wait until he reads this one.  so my new system is to just take the rags out of rotation when he’s not around and hide them somewhere he’s bound never to look — a place like my underwear drawer, and hold them there until i can clandestinely move them to the bin in the dead of night.  i didn’t actually tell you the true location of the items — i still have my secrets.

do you remember madam blueberry?  she sings i am so bluuu bluuuu bluuu.  i remember we used to always to go the beach at starfish in the in the afternoons, we would bring our fishing rods and crab pot… and hang out there until dinner.  well, we saw madam blueberry there — she was a regular,  but we never saw her face, only her rear would be facing the sun.  always lying in an enormous beach chair, she was — a huge blueberry wearing a blue purple bathing suit which didn’t hide her dinosaur thighs… well, i felt better in my bathing suit after that.  thanks madam blueberry.

yesterday we went running by the harbor.  on our way back we saw a rodent scurrying across our path.  look!  i said to bub, did you see that mouse?  i stopped to peer under the car where it had run.  i see it lurking by the tire – i said excitedly.  bub was nonchalant — that doesn’t interest me, he said — at this point i’ve seen more mice than most cats do in a life time.

There exists something i like to call the “grad school flunkie”.   let me give you an example.  lets say there is an individual who possessed such powers of intellect that they could basically do any job on earth.   now lets say this individual  has  achieved  academic accolades and attained the highest rankings of any student at his or her school.  now lets say that this person decides to finish going to regular college, but has done so well that he says to himself  “it would be a waste of a brain not to continue going to school for an advanced degree, in 1, 2, or 3 subjects.”  so voila, he ends up in grad school, with so many options before him, he just randomly picks one lets say — biomedical research, and he ends up working in a lab.  this is where the grad school flunkie lives and breeds.   grad school flunkies are the smartest of the smart, the nerdiest of the nerds.  Once they end up in grad school, they lose their steam, they start hanging out at the lab, working and working, and also never leaving, this lasts years even decades.  imagine decades of living on 20k or less!  that’s when the rest of society realizes that they’re basically high school drop outs with a high IQ.  but to quote the simpsons, “don’t hate grad students, its not their fault they made a bad life decision.”