Thursday, September 13, 2012

If I Was In Charge of the World...

I have had unusual and/or random thoughts my whole life.  Some leave my head as quickly as they entered it (running a marathon) while others linger (hitting my husband with a phone book while he sleeps...will it really not leave a bruise?).  One of my most recent lingering thoughts has been what I would do if I was in charge of the World or maybe just a tiny country...okay, maybe an island that a few people lived on but no one else knew about. Whew. There.  ( I'm continuing to flesh this thought out as I write.  Bear with me.). 
It started off simply enough.  I saw a picture of George Michael the other night, and I thought, "If I was in charge of the whole world, George Michael wouldn't be gay.  And he'd be married to me."  I realize this would require magical powers, but in my world, I have those, too.  Oh, and polygamy would be fine without being creepy because I'd want to be married to Robert Plant, Jimmy Fallon, Randy Travis, Chef Ramsey and Zachary Levi, too...but I digress.
So, now that this world-island exists in my head, I have a new drawer in my thought "file cabinet" in which to file some of my random thoughts.  This list could become very long, but lucky for you, I could only think about it for a few days before I had to commit this kind of genius to the writing.  Before you settle in to read an all-hilarious-all-the-time post, be warned that some of my ideas are serious.  {serious face}

Because almost all of my readers are super-intelligent, you already know that I am a princess and I have...1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...six princes.  But I bet you didn't know that in/on my world-island:
Workplace bullying would be punished with death-by-bully.  I have figured out what that would look like, exactly, but it would happen, and it wouldn't be pretty.

The use of the phrase "de rigueur" would rigueur.
People just wouldn't be fat if they didn't want to be.  They could be whatever size made them happy.
Everyone would be a Christian.  Not a corrupt Christian or a casual Christian, but the real deal.  The kind of person that one looks at and thinks, "Now that is a  good Christian man/woman."

***Before you start yelling at me about religious freedoms and the beauty of diversity, remember that this is MY world-island.  Get your own.***
There would be absolutely, positively NO PROCESSED FOODS or artificial sweeteners.  And Fully Raw Kristina would bring me vegetables and fruit all of the time.  And each week, she'd teach me how to make something rawfully delicious!

Speaking of processing foods...the restrooms in my world-island would be places where women can go to the restroom without fear of someone hearing them.  I'm not sure if that means all restrooms will have white noise or if everyone will just be accepting of normal body functions.  Either way, same outcome. 
Dave Ward would be the news anchor forever, and Gina Gaston could only be his co-anchor if she would please let me give her some wardrobe advice...Damn, Gina.

My world-island would look more like Texas because I don't like palm trees all that much.  
...but it would have NO chiggers.  PERIOD.  

Train would write and sing my national anthem.  And Pat Monahan could become my 7th prince.  AND he wouldn't call me "Jennifer".  He'd call me "Soul Sister". 

 Yep.  That about does it (for now).  I could honestly leave this post as a draft and add to it forever, but then no one would have the chance to psychoanalyze this magnificent brain OR come up with ideas for their own world-island, or world-mountain or whatever.  If you are interested in a piece of land on my world-island, email me.  It's inexpensive, I promise!


Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Headline: Shitty Tuesday Morning No Match For...A Sneeze?

I fell asleep last night thinking of all of the wonderful, witty stories I was going to share from our Labor Day "Staycation".  You, reader, were going to LOVE. IT!  But, like that rude "bee" from D.C. with the ugly sweater, this post just cut in line!  I'll (hopefully) get back to our great "Staycation" later because I am still longing for the applause I heard in my head as I drifted off to sleep last night.

So today.  Seriously.  Tuesday. Tuesdays that pretend they're Mondays tend to over do a wannabe gangsta...and today was no exception. 

It all started out well enough, and by that I mean I woke up with the same number of friends and family that I had when I went to sleep.  Soon after waking up, it began; complaining about being tired, aching bones, mosquito bites that needed IMMEDIATE attention or the earth would fall off its axis, who's going to brush their teeth first, which color bow would match the least with that outfit and thereby  becoming the bow of choice (Sorry, girls, but you'll never make cheerleader if your bow doesn't match [Their dream, not mine]), "Sister called me ugly" get the picture.  My immediate response was to make a bloody mary, but instead, I did what any awesome, level-headed mother of two would do:  I told them I was going to run away and go live somewhere else.  They weren't phased. 

Out the door we ran, late thanks to the Blue Light Special on drama.   I admit that they come by their drama honestly (their dad, of course), but I felt it necessary to fight drama with drama, so I started crying on the way to school.  E handed me two tissues, and A told me I was beautiful.  Just as I was ready to accept my Best Actress award, E started crying and said, "Do you know why I have tears in MY eyes?  I want to go live with a different family.  Then I will never ever EVER see any of you again!"  Whatever, kid.  Way to ruin my moment.  (For those of you concerned about the effect my parenting prowess has on my children's mental health, she immediately stopped crying and thanked me for her delicious yogurt.)

Both kids off to school/daycare, I made a beeline for Starbucks.  It almost always improves my mood.  Almost.  Here's my drive-thru breakdown:

Gave my order: Went fine. 
Card charged: Great. 
Handed me my breakfast and coffee: Like a boss. 
Checked that they put enough cream: Job well done, Barista.
Put the lid back on coffee and drive off:  FAILY-FAIL-FA-Fucking-FAIL!

I managed to sling/splash/spill coffee from my lap all the way to the passenger-side door.  A lot of coffee.  (Now I wish I'd taken a picture so you will all believe me!).  I mumbled something to the barista to let her know it was my fault, not hers, said the s-word about my morning and drove off.

I thought the morning news would cheer me up.  I turned on the radio expecting that something awesome happened overnight that they'd report on or that I'd gain perspective because someones life was more tragic than mine.  Nope.  Just news on the DNC (which bothers me because it sounds like D&C.  Can we get a new acronym up in here?) and commercials.  Not just any commercials.  Two commercials in particular.  They annoy me on a normal day, but this morning...oh-ho-ho...Let's just say, I'm inspired to write a "strongly-worded letter" or two. 

McDonald's Dollar Menu commercial was first.  The actor is using words like "resplendent" suggesting that buying him and his girlfriend a Dollar Menu lunch somehow makes him smarter.  I'm pretty sure that doesn't make you smarter.  Anywhere.  Ever.  Nice try, cheap boyfriend. 

Next was my most hated commercial of all.  A commercial that touches my "Feminist Nerve" like no other.  Note: I'm usually just a feminist of convenience.  This commercial brings out my ugly, angry, repressed feminist that even Gloria Steinem would be proud of.  A domestic litigation firm.  "A Partner Men Can Count On".  Why does this make me mad?  Go ahead.  I'll give you three guesses, and they'll probably all be wrong...Give up?  Their commercials suggest that 1. they only represent men and 2. the firm will fight for the well-off executive man who makes waaaaay more money than his evil wifey and therefore stands to lose more in a divorce and make sure his future ex-wife gets her stingy hands on as little of his fortune as possible.  IS IT POSSIBLE, domestic litigation firm, THAT SOME WOMEN ARE EXECUTIVES?  THAT THEY HAVE GREEDY FUTURE EX-HUSBANDS?  Ugh. 

I pulled into the parking garage.  I'm seething.  I have decided that I'm going to lock myself in my office and speak to no one today.  I'm going to glare at my boss just because, and I'm going to ignore every request that crosses my desk.  In fact, a much angrier blog post is ALMOST finished in my head as I walk down the parking garage stairs. 

Then I sneezed. 

A stranger said, "Bless you." 

I stopped being angry.  The post in my head got a new ending.  I deleted the strongly worded letter to McDonald's.  I filed away the strongly worded letter to the law firm.  And I started telling people "Good morning," and "Have a nice day!" 

So, THERE, Tuesday.  You big Wannabe-Monday.  You're not all that, and you're certainly no match for a sneeze and a quiet "Bless You" from a stranger.