And then my blood boils

This is going to be a little therapeutic for me because I almost just had a rage blackout and need to get it off my chest.

You see, someone insulted one of my siblings on the interweb. I love a good tease, especially if it involves a sibling. I'm the first one to step in and throw the jabs and then maybe take it too far but it's all in love and comedy. What I don't like is someone being malicious to someone I love. I will cut you.

And the only way for me to write it out and not trigger another rager is to do it high school style.

Background:

Someone posted something about health care on a social site. C'mon people, this is a hot-button topic. If you post it, they will write about it.

So then he says "DON'T YOU EVER..." in all caps

and then "I don't know who you are..."

and then he gets all western with "there will be bad blood..."

and then in my head I was all "I drink your milkshake, I drink it up..."

So he finishes with "I'm a medical professional..."

And then I was all "medical professional my eye".

Phew. It feels good to finally get that out there, albeit very segmented and un-intelligable.

I feel better already.

A la cart

There was a lady on the train today who was selling a shopping cart for $75. I didn't want to mess up her sale so I refrained from letting the other passengers know that they could have their own shopping cart for free. All they had to do was pick it out and take it from their local grocer.

Fortunately, and not too surprisingly there were no takers. I felt sympathy for her. I wanted to walk over to her and say "I know, it's hard. I've been there too." But I didn't because a) I was not going to give up my seat and b) I'm not sure she was in the right frame of mind for a heart-to-heart right then and there.

I used to own a shopping cart once. Well, maybe less owned and more in possession of one. Possession meaning I took it home with me one day from the creamery by my dorm.

It was so fun at first. "Hey! Is that a shopping cart in the middle of your room?!" people would ask. "Awesome!" or "Why?". Why not? It was cool. Or at least it felt cool. Two different things.

And it served us well. It provided some much needed storage in our tiny cell-like dorm room. It held books and whatever cans I had gotten from "shopping" in my parents pantry. It could hold shoes or pillows and any odd knick-knacks lying around. And we thoroughly enjoyed it. Until....

One day it was just too much. It took up too much space. Even though it was just a mini-cart. In our room it felt like it kept expanding and soaking up our much needed oxygen. Compound that with a zebra blow-up lounger, two beds, two desks and a bigger than life sized fiberglass Ronald McDonald statue that some one had stolen from a McDonald's and it was all just a little TOO MUCH. Something had to go. Especially since it had become the dumping ground for anything we didn't want or have a place to put away. It became like that chair you put in your room so you can relax and read a good book but instead becomes the resident clothes-dumping chair that sees the light of day every few weeks for a couple of hours before it is once again consumed under cotton and wool.

So I did what any responsible person does with something they don't want anymore.

I left it outside somewhere.

So yeah Lady, I get it. Maybe it's time to lower your cost and do a short sale so you can get out from under that thing.

Let there be Peace

I'm having a little bit of a personal crisis right now. I have gone through every range of emotion the past couple of weeks and I stopped just short of laying down on the bathroom floor and sobbing hysterically.

It's been really hard for me and I just don't know how to fix it.

Oh wait, I know how. Obliterate my personal demons: fruit flies.

That's right, Drosophila melanogaster as they are scientifically known. They are tormenting my life and are a constant nuisance. We have had just about zero mosquitos this year but the fruit flies are in over drive.

And the worst part? They seem to be a very narcissistic insect. I always find them on my bathroom mirror. What are they looking at? Here I come to my bathroom trying to use my mirror to stare at my pores and there they are....taunting me.

I have officially turned into the father from A Christmas Story who has the same situation going on with his furnace. You can often find me in the bathroom with the door closed banging things, whipping my towel around and clapping my hands muttering almost terrible things under my breath. They haunt me. I am constantly running around the house clapping my hands like a crazy person because no one can see what I am chasing. It kind of reminds me of the dragonfly parking lot incidence of '97 which some of you may have heard.

Humiliating. They have turned me into an obsessed, neurotic Entomophobian , or someone who is afraid of insects. Except I'm not really afraid of the fruit fly. Just obsessed with bringing about it's demise.

P.S. Just wait Jana and Stephen. You might regret having us at your house if I see some nasty bugs...