- “Gifted” being used as a verb instead of the perfectly adequate word “gave.”
- Tuna sandwiches now guaranteed to give me heartburn.
- The serial comma as a rule rather than only used when required for clarity.
- Bicyclists driving the wrong way on one-way streets – I literally see this multiple times every day and would happily testify in open court against every single one of them.
- The contemporary and widely-held view that “deadline” means “whenever I get around to it.”
- Muni ghost buses.
- Not being on an island in the south of France.
- Deep cleavage in the workplace.
- People attempting to hail a bus in the middle of the block like a taxicab. WTF?
- My repeated failures to choose winning lottery numbers.
What a day! The weather was hideous – rainy and muggy and apparently the wettest June 28th in SF history. I had a giant burrito for lunch from my building’s cafeteria which, though delicious, both distended my belly and gave me heartburn. I realized, just as I was walking into the Y (for cardio to counteract the effects of the aforementioned burrito), that I had not received a bunch of data from a colleague that was due to me today – thus necessitating a return to the office to prod, since I actually have to process said-data before tomorrow.
Luckily, though, I can complete the work from home – and it was a good excuse to skip the Y (though of course due to the missed workout I have now crossed from “obese” to “morbidly obese”). So I headed home, with a quick pit stop at the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant to pick up dinner something to accompany dinner. I have to say, I’ve never been a fan of this particular establishment – I think they are pricey and I find the staff’s attitude ranges from indifferent to surly (with the notable exception of the dude who two weeks ago sagely and enthusiastically recommended a Le Roc rosé priced at a reasonable $12).
Tonight, I grabbed a bottle and waited forlornly at the cash register while the HBIC stood out in front of the shop yakking on her phone. Ordinarily, I’d have said something along the lines of, “Hey Miss Thing! How ’bout you get off the horn and pretend you care about separating me from my hard-earned cash?” – but I wasn’t sure if she was actually a member of the staff (though I was pretty sure I recognized her “what the fuck do you want?” demeanor). Anyway, I did manage to get some dude at their bar to ring me up. And on the way out, I verified that Talk-a-rella was wearing the company fleece and had, in fact, been ignoring my custom. And I missed my bus, thanks to the wait…
Once I did get on the bus, after a 12-minute wait, I was only mildly crabby. I’d skipped the gym, I had some wine and my cat was waiting for me at home. Then I saw this:
OK! First, she sat down in the seats reserved for seniors/handicapped. I don’t actually know whether she qualified. But then! She stood up – which is fine! But proceeded to stand in such a way that she was both blocking anyone else from sitting AND was leaning on the pole, thus ensuring no one else could hold on! The only way this could’ve been worse is if she’d been a serial killer! Or had been wearing a backpack! OR BOTH! It was really all I could do not to jump up and yell, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” But of course I just seethed silently because I’m a wimp…
I did eventually wind up at home unscathed – and was immediately put into a delightful frame of mind when I recalled how I unintentionally brought the house down amongst my co-workers this afternoon.
As anyone who knows me is well-aware, I am something of a loud-talker. I admit it freely, though I often forget that anytime I open my mouth, everyone within a 50-foot radius can hear every word.
So, I’m at my desk and my cell phone rings. And I answer. And it’s some rep from Sprint, calling to “thank” me for being a customer and to ensure that I’m happy with my service and to sell me more crap. I’ve gotten these calls several times over the last few months – and each time I’ve requested that Sprint refrain from calling me. Just as I did this time…
“Actually, I’ve received several of these calls from Sprint and I’ve asked you not to call. I prefer that you communicate with me via email or postal service, not by telephone.”
The rep’s response was to start in part II of the spiel, “Did you know you’re eligible to add a line to your account, blah, blah, blah…”
To which I simply responded, “Did you not hear what I just said?” in what I considered to be a firm yet courteous (though somewhat booming) tone – and all of my colleagues within shouting distance howled with laughter. I wasn’t attempting to be hilarious – I JUST AM! At that point, it was difficult for me to keep a straight-face (especially considering the peals of laughter were clearly audible over the phone) before I politely said my good-bye and rang off. It’s always good to keep my co-workers entertained!
Comic Barbara Gray doesn’t cotton to being referred to as “sexy” by bookers or club-owners. Apparently, not because she is offended, but simply because it isn’t true. To wit:
“Oh, momma. Stop acting!” — Susie (Sandra Dee) to Lora Meredith (Lana Turner) in Imitation of Life.
Believe it or not, this amazing photograph of Lana Turner is not a still from one of her movies. It was taken during an inquest into the stabbing death of Johnny Stompanato, her mobster boyfriend – in her bedroom! By her daughter, Cheryl! Quelle scandale! Read Anne Helen Petersen’s fascinating account of Lana Turner’s career and escandalo at The Hairpin.
Image © Bettmann/CORBIS
So, here I am gently mocking this jewelry made for crazy old cat ladies (i.e. me) – yet I’m sure the creator of the The Gold Cat is meowing all the way to the bank.