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Thank Goodness They Don’t Come in Threes

May 18th, 2008

Today was just an odd day. Slept in pretty late after a late night last night. Got an even later start after my upstairs neighbors decided to shut off our water to do some impromptu plumbing work. So, the day started off rocky, as I had to complain to the upstairs assholes and check with various other neighbors about possible recourse. I thought I left the worst behind me once I left my cursed building. Ha! Not so.

As Swedish Girl and I were driving along the Expressway to Target, we saw a pigeon dart into traffic from an underpass. At first, we thought it was just an overly aggressive city pigeon, but it flew lower in 60 MPH+ traffic than any other bird I’ve ever seen. Not only that, but after it passed in front of one car, it dashed back and then we lost sight of it. But only for a few moments. The car in front of us slowed down and moved quickly to its right, but to no avail. We saw the pigeon turn up under its driver’s side wheels. I’m no fan of pigeons, but to see one commit suicide was pretty sad.

We shrugged it off, in time, and enjoyed our time at Target, Old Navy, TJ Maxx, Uno’s, and DSW, only to come upon strike 2. As we were leaving the second mondo-plaza of the day (and enjoying the glow of a Celtics Game 7 victory), we were the third car in line at a dangerous intersection without lights. This is the same intersection that I was pulled over once by Officer Beardface for driving too fast right through his half-hearted and half-assed hand signals. Seargent Beardface chastised me, wagged his finger, and let me go with a warning. Fitting, since he only logs about 4.5 hours per weekend and each weekend is witness to at least one collision.

The first car ahead of us pulled into traffic, only to be greeted by a visitor (at no less than 20 MPH) into its left fender. There was a loud noise, the screaching of tires, and two plumes of smoke. I remain doubtful that Officer Beardface (about 5 years past retirement, with a bright white beard about 0.5-inch longer than I’ve ever been able to grow) would have been able to prevent this collision had he been there. Probably because he spends half his overtime shift nestled safely in the warm body of his gigantic SUV.

Anyway, I yanked my wheel to the right and passed the stunned motorist in front of me, as he/she gawked at the accident before him/her. I might have been the only one of us aware of the rotary just 500 meters ahead of us. By the time I made the rotary turn and headed back homeward, I was a few football fields away before I saw the flashing blue lights of the law (Officer Beardface, perhaps?) in place to shut down an entire two lanes of Route 1. I had beer and wine in my vehicle and was more than relieved to be just a few hundred meters from home. All in all, it was a strange day, complete with bird suicide and a completely preventable two-car collision. As I hoist this final beer of the weekend to my lips, I’ll give thanks that I made it through alive and in one piece.

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Posted in Death, Screwed

The Game

May 13th, 2008

Tomorrow evening, I won’t be able to be here at home enjoying myself in quiet calm. Instead, I’ll be playing The Game. We all have to play The Game at various times. In my case, I have to go candlepin bowling after work with co-workers. Other times, we have to buy candy, popcorn, or Girl Scout cookies. Other times, we have to chip in to buy gifts for bosses and VPs, even though they make much, much more than we do and they wouldn’t think to ever buy us anything. And if they do, they use the company credit card.

I used to be pretty good at avoiding The Game. The same boss that arranged for this second annual bowling night (if you can call candlepin bowling) also organized monthly summer cookouts in the courtyard of our office park over the last few years. There were many, many things that I would have rather been doing than sitting around with these Dilbert rejects, so over a four- or five-year period, I was able to hone my craft in dodging The Game. The very first time, a Friday, was a work of art. Captain Larby and Mrs. Larby were coming into town for the weekend, so I high-tailed it out of the office on that Friday at 5pm, telling my boss that I had to leave because I had “friends coming in from out of town.” Yes, they were, but not until the next day. I didn’t lie. I just used some creative chronology to my advantage.

Several other dodges entailed invoking The Costanza Method. See, the original cookouts began close to 5pm, but later on, they started around 3pm. This made it more difficult on me, but if I acted stressed out and frustrated while shuffling papers and typing away at my desk, I could convince everyone that I was busy and couldn’t break away for any longer than it took to get a burger and some potato salad. On still another dodge – the most satisfying – I moved my car to an unseen part of the parking lot at lunchtime. When the cookout began a couple of hours later, everyone was out in the courtyard, eating, drinking, and talking. Two co-workers and I bolted undetected out of a side door to our obstructed cars and were home free.

Now, we’re in a new office without a courtyard, so cookout avoidance is a game of the past. Thank goodness. But there are new Games and my mighty deflection techniques aren’t infallible. This bowling night was initially scheduled for a few weeks ago. I declined the invitation, citing major (and not at all faked) allergies; it was truly a message from God that He was trying to help me out. But my boss didn’t blink. I’m not saying she rescheduled because of me, but she set up a new night and a chief, if unwritten, rule is that you can’t dodge the same event twice in a row. Like the 2007 Christmas party, for example…but that’s a story for another time.

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Posted in Occupational Hazards, The Office

Hillary &!*$%# Clinton?

May 10th, 2008

Way back when, I was a skinny high school track athlete and Hillary Clinton was a freshly minted First Lady. I remember how she made news when she announced that she was, going forward, to be known as Hillary Rodham Clinton. Whoop-dee-doo! I think she much more quietly dropped the Rodham, right? Anyway, my old track coach liked to pit the runners versus the field events guys using various competitions, trivia, etc. On one particular spring afternoon, as we all sat on the track and basked in the sun, I remember Coach G. announcing a trivia week of some sorts. The first question was something like, “President Clinton’s wife, Hillary, just announced that she is using a middle name. Does anyone know what her middle name is?”

And without missing a beat, one of my teammates gave me a comedy moment that I’ll never forget. His loud answer was, “Bitch?!?”

Brilliant. Classic. Hilarious. It was just so unexpected, especially from a 16 year-old inner-city kid. And in my mind, he and Hillary are forever linked.

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Posted in Nonsense

Carpetboggled: Addendum

May 9th, 2008

As I headed out of my building this morning at 7:30, I noticed that the note (see my May 8 post, below) was gone. These damn carpets aren’t going to get any respect now! But that’s what I like about this building – every so often, the condo manager or an irate resident posts a bullshit note and someone here who thinks along the same lines as I do, rips it down in under 24 hours. Take that, bitch!

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Posted in Life at Home

Carpetboggled

May 8th, 2008

LTJ is on his game. In his response to my post from yesterday, he wondered why the carpets weren’t replaced back in March within a / within the week, as the note promised. I have no idea. I live in a highly dysfunctional building. But the association added to its legacy today. Taped to the front and rear entrances is this note, attributed to the condo manager (or whatever his title is; he doesn’t live here):

Attention Residents:

The carpets have all been replaced. Please respect them.

Thank you,

[Asshole I won't name]

I’m bemused and mystified by this note. I have to respect the carpets? How? Should I engage them in polite smalltalk? Should I ask if they need anything from the store on my way out? Should I take off my shoes when entering the building? Were the old carpets disrespected? Did someone talk about them behind their back? They looked respected to me. No rips, tears, or holes. No online blog dedicated to libeling them. Strange, but it’s just another day in the life of the ”Washington Arms.”

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Posted in Life at Home

Imponderables

May 7th, 2008

I haven’t blogged here in a while. I’m sitting here as Swedish Girl is watching ‘America’s Next Top Model,’ so I’m trying to occupy my time. While checking my email, she asked me if I was blogging, but I said no. I lost my momentum, my rhythm, and my muse. But there is no better way to get it back than to just keep pounding it out and so here I go. I’ll get back on that horse with some random thoughts…

…I had a great time up in Montreal for LTJ’s bachelor party. Almost too good…

…Seriously, it was a blast. Wow…

…I’m feeling anxious and antsy right now. Not sure why, but I just have an uneasy feeling…

…Just turned 31 and that sucks. Maybe that is the reason for the anxiety…

…Just 2 more months until LTJ’s and MP’s wedding. Very cool. Looking forward to it…

…A crew of workmen stormed my building this morning at 6am to begin installing new hallway carpeting. Very loud, very uncool. It’s after 8:30pm and the second shift is still here…

…Wondering if Captain Larby or Matty Ballgame or Miss Possible will ever grace The Diatribe with their presence again. I miss their slant on life…

…Almost immediately after the LTJ-MP nuptials, Swedish Girl and I are heading for Lithuania. Maybe that is a cause of this anxiety I’m feeling. Afterall, the dollar is growing weaker by the day to the lita, and I haven’t learned conversational Lithuanian like I told myself I would…

…My sister (and her husband) never sent me a birthday card last week. I’m not an attention whore, but this bothered me. She texted and emailed me, but that doesn’t count. Not among family. Friends, yes, but not family. You still have to mail a card, 2008 or not…

…Things I collect: rooster figurines, shot glasses of the world, and refrigerator magnets…

…That tax rebate check can’t get here fast enough. File it under the category of ‘spent before it arrives’…

…I’m very much looking forward to the new ‘Indiana Jones’ movie. The original 1980s trilogy was always one of my favorites, especially ‘Raiders’ and ‘Temple’…

…Time to put this post to bed, crack open a beer, and hope the momentum takes hold…

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Posted in Life

The Ultimate Hand

April 2nd, 2008

Way back almost three years ago, I wrote in this space about my search for some hand love out on the roadways of Massachusetts. What I mean is, when you yield your vehicle for the express purpose of letting another vehicle make a turn in front of you, speed ahead of you, or something like that. In fact, I’ve been so bummed out lately about the lack of the gracious and thankful hand wave that I have failed to give the hand myself a couple of times. But I am feeling pretty jazzed up right now!

I was just driving home from work and as I paused when the traffic light turned from red to green to let a driver across the intersection take a left turn in front of me, I sighed and fully expected to be taken for granted. Nope. The woman behind the wheel gave me a long, extended peace sign. In fact, she was so thankful (that’s all I ask), that she extended her arm right across her passenger to her right in order to make sure I saw the peace sign. I was so happy to see this that I even let the next car take a left turn in front of me. See what can happen when one generous driver is properly thanked by another? It leads to a “pay it forward” scenario from which everyone benefits.

It’s the exact opposite that is ongoing now. Just the other day, at a red light, someone nearly moved my car out of the way in order to cross my lane and another lane to take a left turn. I beeped for a solid three-count and then when I passed them, I gave them some hand. Actually, it was more of a finger. That really pissed me off, so I was in a semi-road rage mood the rest of the way home. But let’s hope there are more drivers out there who are okay with the easy give-and-take of pausing, yielding, and showing some hand (of the peace sign or five-fingered variety).