Category: insanity

Tis the Season

Yesterday was a weird day.

Sure, mid-December always gets a little bit dicey when going out to run errands, but yesterday was especially odd.

I had a list of things to procure and not a lot of time, so over lunchtime I started at the top of the list. First stop, Home Depot.

Oh Home Depot, I know so many people love you, but I rarely visit your orangey evil warehouse.

I needed some tools (I have a fun Christmas project for The Good Man’s little sister in progress). Since Home Depot is the Wal-Mart of hardware stores, and I wanted to spend only a little green, I decided to give it a try.

Wow, did you know there is some sort of force field going on in Home Depot? As soon as I set foot in the lumber aisle, I became invisible! It was really instant and rather startling!

The U.S. military should look into this!

The secret to a true complete invisibility shield!

A girl in the lumber aisle.

I found that on the tools aisle, I was only partly invisible. If I said, “hey, I need help!” then they could sort of see me. It wasn’t just me either, there was another woman trying to get help regarding a door knob she was considering.

She got the attention of one male employee who condescendingly answered her question then walked away…though she wasn’t done asking questions.

Oh, I did discover that in the gardening section, by the small pink canvas pruning gloves? They could see me fine.

Something about hardware and lumber.

Weird, huh?

My next errand was to go to the post office. A gift ordered online had arrived. Yay!

Well, it being mid-December and at lunch, the post office was crazy busy. We use a very small postal annex with only two employees, so that makes things an even bigger holdup.

It was a very, very long line.

Well, you know, this is to be expected this time of year.

Except for the cranky old man and the horribly cranky old woman in line behind me.

The old man kept cranking about how he can’t believe the lines and he had been there and hour before and the line was this long so he went and had lunch to wait it out and wouldn’t you know it the line is still long and how can this be!

You get my drift.

Then the lady chimed in.

“There are just too many people these days. Too. Many. People. You know why it is so crowded don’t you? Because of all the immigrants. Obama keeps letting all of those immigrants in. They all want the free stuff so those damn people keep coming in and it is just too crowded!”

Uh. WHAT!?!?!?

Crazy old bat continued on that line of rant for a bit longer, then went back to complaining about the line. She said, “Why is there only one person working, where is that [racial epithet redacted] who works here?”

I was horrified. Absolutely stunned into a horrified shock.

Evidently the “spirit of the season” is discrimination, racism and anger.

Once I picked up my package, I got in my car and made my way out of the parking lot. As I waited to turn out into traffic, I had the audacity to wait for a group of six kids from the nearby high school walking by on lunch break.

Audacity because the evidently impatient man behind me felt I shouldn’t have paused. So he laid on the horn and yelled “GOOOO!”

Well, clearly the spirit of the season has infected me as well, because I unrolled my window and shouted “WHAT THE F–K IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!?”

Tis the season to be assholish, fa la la la, la la la la……

Look at me pass on the season’s cheer….

I think I’ll hunker down at the house for the remainder of the year. It seems better that way.

Dear Tareq and Michaele Salahi,

Since I have now taken over the PR storytelling duties for Tiger, you’re next.

So, herewith, five reasonable and acceptable stories to explain your behavior.

Pick one, say it, and then please, on behalf of everyone (I’m asking nicely) go away.

Here we go:

1) Well, you know, that Tareq (Michaele rolls her eyes here), he will *never* ask anyone for directions. I told him I didn’t think turning left back there was the right direction, but he swore up and down this was the right way. We were supposed to be at a nice dinner party over at the Farklebergs. You know the Farklebergs? Lovely couple. Anyhow, I have no idea how we ended up here. Could we get a ride to the Farkleberg party? Margie will be beside herself if we are late! And I know Tareq doesn’t want to miss her famous mini quiches!

2) What? Where am I? Who am I? I was abducted by aliens. The big greenish gray ones. They came into my room, forced me to put on this tux/dress and then there was a bright light. I don’t remember what happened next. When I came to, I was shaking the president’s hand. I really have no idea what happened! I think they may have probed me.

3) Oh heck, haw haw haw, this is all one big practical joke! I mean, everyone was in on it, c’mon, this is all a big press stunt for that reality show (which I’ll refrain from naming)! No seriously, they paid us well and we donated it all to charity. No one snuck past the Secret Service, it was all planned out. Everything is *fine*, hasn’t this all been a great big hoot?

4) Look, now that you have totally blown our cover…we can only say that we are part of a top secret black hole government project and we *may* have perfected the ability to beam ourselves through the space time continuum. It’s not totally perfect yet, Michaele’s face wasn’t quite so pulled back and *tight* when we beamed up, but we’re getting close to a technology that will BLOW YOUR MIND. That’s all I can say. Hush, hush you know.

5) Tiger’s dad told us to. From the grave. It was all very mystical.

And there you have it.

Now scootch along. We’ve other media whores to deal with. Where’s Lindsey or Brittney or Paris? We’re due for a stunt from the professional crazies!

Anyhow, hugs and kisses!

Your pal,

Karen

Dear Tiger Woods,

You seem to be having a skosh of trouble recently with your personal life, and you’ve managed to kick over the rock, allowing all the creepy, crawly, greasy things to begin speculating about you in the media.

The PR people say address it fast and be confident about it, then get it out of the way.

Well, you’ve tarried on the “fast” part of it, thus making the frenzy worse.

But now, my friend, you need a good story, and fast.

As I am a teller of stories, I have come up with a list of five stories you can sell to the media and thus get your fabulous self out of trouble.

You can thank me later.

Herewith, five good reasons why Tiger drove his Cadillac into a tree:

1. The baby was sick and I needed to go to an all night pharmacy to get medication. I was so very exhausted, having been up with her all night, that I accidentally ran into that fire hydrant. I had only the best interest of my daughter in mind.

2. I was sleepwalking. I’m seeing a doctor about this debilitating condition. Please respect the privacy of me and my family during this troubling time.

3. I shanked one! Heh, heh, no seriously folks, since my game has been off a bit lately (bad knee and all) and the Chevron World Challenge is coming up, I wanted to go for a drive to clear my head. Perhaps I was thinking a bit too much about my swing and not paying attention to where I was going.

4. My wife and I were having a disagreement. I stepped away to cool off and whoops, the car got away from me. I’ve since realized that my wife is the best thing in my life (thanks for breaking out that window, dear) and from here out I will strive to be a better man, a better husband and a better father. (an invocation of God at this point would really seal the deal)

5. My dad told me to. From the grave. It was a very mystical moment.

See? This isn’t that hard!

C’mon Tiger, give us a good story and put this crap to rest, eh?

Thanks.

Your pal,

Karen

So. 4:30 a.m. huh? Really?

Balloon Fiesta gates open, at, ahem, 4:30 in the morning.

What the $%#& am I thinking?

And to make it more fun, it is supposed to rain tomorrow. Oh yay.

Wonder how many of the seven dwarves I can be tomorrow? Cranky and snarky are part of the crew right?

Let’s see, there’s sleepy, cranky, snarky, PMSy, drunkey, slap happy, and Bob.

Right?

Wheee!

Today, more than ever…

…I am convinced that the members of the human race are all nothing more than a truckload of clucking chickens wandering around the big cosmic coop.

Seriously.

Ok, so, backstory:

Over the Labor Day weekend, the people constructing a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge closed the bridge to traffic. During this closure, they removed one section of the lower deck of the bridge, and placed a temporary section in place to divert traffic and allow vital work to be completed.

This made big news all over the Bay Area. It was much ado about “The S Curve”

Ba-kah! An S curve!

So when the bridge re-opened to traffic the following week, all the traffic reporters reminded commuters that people would be getting used to the new S curve, so allow extra time.

Ok, fine. Right? It’s a new thing, we all get used to it and move on.

Oh but nooooooo.

No, today, I had a rare occasion to have to cross the Bay Bridge. (stop shuddering, my dear mother!)

So, first of all, the approach going in an eastern direction on a good day is a cluster of merges that has always made me nutty.

Fine, it is what it is.

Then there had been an accident an hour earlier that had still left traffic snarled. Fine.

But oh…the best part. Once traffic was flowing along, I came through the tunnel that goes through Treasure Island, and then I was confronted with…DA DA DUUUUM…

The S Curve.

And people hit the brakes! Oh did they hit the brakes.

Fer crimeny’s sakes, people! It isn’t a frappin’ Z curve! It is quite easy to navigate. You follow those fabulous little white lines they paint on the ground. You turn your steering wheel gently one way, and then gently the other way. This is not a step on the brake-able road hazard!

My god. The freak out. The pandemonium! The utter ba-kah!

The Bay Bridge carries some 270,000 cars every day. And this change was implemented TWO WEEKS AGO!

But nooooooo.

Ba-kah!

*sigh*

This, along with people on the southbound highway slowing down to look at an accident that occurred on the northbound side, you know, OVER that heavy concrete barrier?

Bah. Kah.

Fine. I’ll just peck at my grain and shake my tailfeathers and call it a day.

I. Am. Cranky.