I Can't Stand These Things

Or the people attached to them.
Nor am I a fan of small plastic furniture.

That's Why They Call It A SideWALK

Does it strike anyone else as odd when a group of folks (usually young and white) will stand on a sidewalk, seemingly unaware of the foot traffic around them? They appear to be especially fond of clustering in areas of ingress/egress.

I'm curious to know if it's really self-centered oblivion or just some of that passive-aggressive behavior that I attribute to this particular subset of peeps. "Notice me!"

Sometimes, I will skirt around them. On other occasions, I plow through. In both cases, I am irritated.

Honestly

It makes me crazy when someone starts a sentence with, "To tell you the truth," or, "I'll be honest with you." Does that mean that you would be lying to me otherwise?

Oh, The Scourge

Do you have these funky things on the sidewalks of your town? I swear, when I get some time, I'm going to mount a campaign against them because they are a blight.

I want to know who's making money on this deal; I'll start with them first. In this photograph, taken at one of our more upscale retail intersections, I was only able to include half of these unsightly dispensers. There are sixteen ON ONE CORNER. I want to know why that's necessary or acceptable.

Maybe a call to the Mayor's office is a good place to start. I predict a run-around of at least a half dozen phone calls ("I'm sorry, but you'll have to call ______Department of ____."), only to discover that I will have to attend some sort of supervisors' meeting where nothing will be accomplished beyond a considerable amount of hot air being moved around.

I'm serious. We need more beauty in this world, not more crap on our sidewalks.

And Then There Are Times

It's entirely true that there are plenty of occasions when I have nothing to complain about. In fact, I downright rejoiced when I was given a piece of custom jewelry, hand-made for me by a neighborhood Irish gal who is a horologist by training and education. The girl could actually build a watch if she wanted to. That's quite a niche.
I pestered her for nearly four - count 'em - four years to make me a replica of a piece she wears and I was floored when she coughed it up a few months ago. Let's put it this way - if she'll let me, I'll do her hair free of charge for the rest of her natural life (or mine, I guess). I absolutely love it and am so honored that she would take her time to make it for me. It was one of life's great moments.
So, the photo doesn't do it justice but I wanted to pay homage to my gift from the horologist. I'm working on the technology part of this whole bloggy thingy, but I've got a lot to say before that happens.

Rainbow Barf

So, I know that I sound like an old curmudgeon (see grouch) and, by the way, that's sort of the point. But on the whole, I am a very good-natured, happy-go-lucky sort who sees my glass as more than half full and I'm so very grateful for everything that has been afforded me.

I love rainbows. I have lived in rainy locales and one of the great things about that is that you cannot escape the rainbow. I have seen many double rainbows and I am always awed by their coupled perfection. All rainbows are God's gift and I mean that.

Having said that, I hate unicorns and rainbows.

It feels incumbent upon me to mention the toadstools. You just don't see a good toadstool anymore.

What Is The Date Today?

It's February 19th, right? By my math, this means it's been nearly eight weeks since Christmas (unless you are Russian Orthodox, in which case it's been more like six weeks, give or take).
So, some lazy numbskull just put their tree out on the sidewalk last night.

Pee-Yew

Another thing that really gets my goat is the overwhelming smell/scent/stench of too much perfume or cologne. When I can smell someone from 30 paces, I know they have applied too much (read: took a bath in it). Maybe some peeps have a need for some things to be way too obvious; there is a modicum of subtelty.


I think that you should only be able to smell someone in the event that you snuggle up to their neck and take a long, deep breath. If they are wearing an engineered, yet pleasing scent - great. If they smell really good just as they are - even better.


Disclaimer: I know someone who wears Paloma Picasso and every time I see her, I have to sidle up and take a whiff. Good stuff.

How Do They Sleep At Night?

This morning, I plan to email MSNBC again, and inquire as to why they continue to allow Andrea Mitchell to host her own show, in light of the fact that she is married to one of the architects of The Great Depression, Part Deux. Time Magazine lists him as #17 on a list of twenty five blameworthy parties. What a great moment not to be Number One!

It wouldn't be an issue for me if she were reporting on, say, sports or entertainment news, but she gets to comment on the state of the economy every day. The economy that is teetering on collapse. She gets to ask questions of the players. I just don't believe that she can be objective and non-partisan. During the run-up to the election, while the economy began spiraling downward at an alarming rate, there were a couple of interviewees that accidentally dropped the suggestion that she might know the answers to her own questions better than they, due to her proximity to the source of some of our woes. God bless 'em.

On a side note, it's a little ironic that all of these talking heads on TV have more job security, the more difficult things get. Because they get to talk about it in even more depth. And not really say anything.

I do like Contessa Brewer. First of all, her name is Contessa, which makes her seem vaguely regal. After watching her most mornings, I'm pretty sure that I'd like to be her friend and she's living proof that you can actually do something with a degree in Broadcast Journalism.

So, MSNBC is going to get a page-full from me today and while I'm at it, I'm going to suggest that they do something with Joe Scarborough. And, by "do something," I mean get rid of him. He's a Republican Baptist attorney from Florida. What's not to hate?

Blog Ammo

Okay. I have been whining about this for years and it still bugs the buh-geezus out of me when drivers don't follow the rules of the road. You know, you pull up to a four-way stop at the same time as another and the person on the right has the right of way, right? And, they sit there. Waiting for you to go. EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.

Does everyone know that, on a hill, in a single-lane situation, the car facing downhill must yield to the car facing uphill? You'd think that, in a city built on numerous hills, drivers would know this and abide by the rules of the road. But no. It's a constant cluster fuck.

Pants-in-Boots

It must be said, even at the risk of offending some of my friends, that this ubiquetous tucking-in of pants to boots has really reached saturation point. I witnessed this trend in full bloom last year while I was in New York; that it took a year to catch on here in this fashion-challenged city only makes it more annoying to me.

I don't really know what the alternative is to trend, but it does seem that certain gals should not embrace certain trends. The young ladies that can get away with it should feel okay about being individual and unique.

I decline to comment on the sofa.

Make It Stop.

This will be brief.
The uber-perky Progressive Insurance girl? IX-NAY.
Someone, somewhere got paid a whole lotta money for this sucky ad campaign. And this really irks me.

There are some things that make me happy.

This is Kooba, the love of my life. We think he's part terrierist and part Snufaluffapuss. Thanks to the interweb, I can see him any time I desire. Of course, I can't feel his really soft, fuzzy ears and I can't smell him or lay in bed with him nestled in the crook of my arm.

Kooba is the product of a successful co-foster/adoption situation, which, in the end, resulted in his moving across country to Brooklyn, NY. One of the saddest days of my life was the day I drove away from him. He scampered up the stairs to his new and rightful owners, Ben & Patty, barely looking back, because he's a dog and he didn't know that we were to be separated. Anyone who thinks I'm a little heartless should know that it chokes me up just to write this, even years later.

I was able to see Koobs while I visited NY last year and his initial reaction was priceless. It took him a split second to recognize me and then he spun in circles and peed all over. I was able to walk him in Prospect Park a couple of times and was overjoyed to see him be so well-cared for and loved.
flickr.com/photos/bgmckay/sets/72157612866864528/show/with/3218416362/
for a Koobacentric slideshow.

Thanks, Ben and Patty. I know you love him even more than I, if that's possible.

And, Another Thing.

I don't suppose that there is any way to legislate this, but I think it should be an understood and common courtesy to keep your trap shut about current movies when in public.

It goes like this. I'm sitting at a table in a Vietnamese restaurant last night. The tables are close and there were a couple of youngsters next to me, going on about The Wrestler. By the end of my meal, I felt like I didn't really have to see the movie because I HAD HEARD ALL ABOUT IT.

One of my favorite things is to see a movie with absolutely no preconception (This is how I went into Boys Don't Cry. Imagine that.). One of my pet peeves is when someone ruins that for me. Thanks a lot, youngsters.

Click Here First.

Really. Click on the title first. View the commercial and then come on back.

This television commercial is the inspiration for my blog. Thank you, Bounce. Because, instead of showering, you can just use a dryer sheet that infuses your clothes with "scent beads" which are time-released during the course of your wearing them. Is it me, or does this seem unnatural and, dare I say, superfluous?

This post couldn't wait for me to figure out how to (illegally) download an image of this miraculous product, so I posted the above URL. You can decide for yourself if this is another example of SAC (Stupid American Consumerism).

Don't Get Me Started.

I try not to annoy my friends by going on about things that annoy me. Who really wants to hear about it? Someone once admonished me about this and I've never forgotten it. It was very good advice.

However.

There are times when I can no longer keep my irritations to myself and I must experience relief by pissing and moaning.

I am not blogging to communicate with other people; I'm not really interested in opinions about my opinions. This is my soapbox. So, get ready, because I can bitch with the best of 'em.