Tuesday, August 28, 2012

I don't have a creative title today.

I almost feel like I need to be consistent with my inconsistency and keep up this trend of posting sporadically every few months or so.  But what can I say?  I've felt the love lately, and....I give the people what they want.  Which is more insight into this conundrum of thoughts going on in my noggin every day.

Which brings me to this...

1.  This Lance Armstrong "scandal" has really thrown me into a tizzy. (I'm feeling British this morning...or whatever nationality/species it is that uses the word "tizzy.")  The ADA declared him guilty recently, after Lance bowed out of an arbitration hearing fighting the charges that he doped from 1999-2005.  Lance claimed that he was tired of the fight to prove his innocence, and that the ADA claims were baseless and it was a witch hunt to try to strip him of his Tour de France wins; something that my dear friends at the Ticket don't feel will happen, considering the ADA doesn't have the power to strip him of his titles.  I agree that Lance really chose the lesser of two evils, and that no matter what, this situation is a lose-lose for him.  If he went through with the arbitration, person after person would come forward, claiming that they "saw Lance doping with their own two eyes," thereby ruining his reputation indefinitely, not to mention his Livestrong organization/foundation.  The arbitration would carry on for weeks, each day with more ugly claims, and of course, who would ever believe these claims to be false or libelous?  There's no proof.  The guy passed more than 500 drug tests, and yet the ADA is still claiming he doped?  What's the point of drug tests then, if you're only going to refute their credibility?  The other choice, the one Lance chose, is to give up the fight, consequently giving the ADA what they want by declaring him "guilty."  True, his reputation may take a bit of a beating, when all those (for lack of a better word) haters, begin singing their "I told you so"s.  Is it so unbelievable that a man who battled testicular cancer could win a cycling race 7 times on sheer talent and determination?  And if that is too hard to wrap your head around,then why is it soooo hard to believe that the ADA has ulterior motives and is a corrupt governing organization who has nothing better to do than to make baseless claims that would jeopardize one of the most honorable, gifted cyclist this world will ever see?  Oh that's right...we only see the bad in people.  Maybe Lance did dope during his winning streak.  But until you show me the smoking gun, he's a-OK in my book.

2.  I love watching people drive.  It's one of the most vulnerable times in a person's life...and yet there are so many witnesses to it.  Complete strangers.  I personally sing...nay...BELT it while I drive.  Sometimes I plug the ol' iPod in and jam out to songs I know I sound good on...other times, I try out songs I know I don't sound good on, because it's the only time I'm completely alone.  (I'm fairly sure hubby jams out to the show I put on in the shower sometimes).  It's one of the most embarrassing things when someone catches me.  The worst is when it happens at a stoplight.  I still haven't decided if I should keep going, confidently shrugging them off like I'm not bothered by their awkward glances, or if I should stick to my instinct and snap my mouth shut and turn bright red in the face.  (This is what I usually do).  I love that distracted driver (you know, texting/putting on makeup/eating/reading my blog/taking a nap while driving) who reacts by throwing up his or her hands in defiance and giving a dramatic "WHAT?!" look after nearly side swiping the car in the next lane.  I want to follow that person to wherever they're going, get out of my car and say "I'm so sorry I almost interrupted your driving by....my driving.  And I apologize even more deeply for honking my horn at you to alert you to the fact that you almost just took my life while you were applying a second coat of mascara to your already overly-mascara-ed spider eyes.  I know now that the sound of a horn apparently strikes a nerve.  Next time, I'll whisper 'watch out' and hope you hear me."

There's more in my head...but my fingers hurt.  

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

I'm no expert buuut...

Again, I find myself trying to reinforce the name of this online monstrosity: "Bond's Mindless Wanderings."  In all honesty, the title couldn't be farther from the truth.  These little thoughts that flutter in and out of my brain almost constantly throughout my day are very mindful, and quite often lead me to believe that I have powers beyond my wildest dreams, and that I really belong at Hogwarts.  If only I could get to Platform 9 3/4.... harumpf.

1.  I realize statistics don't lie.  I realized this when I took Statistics in college, and got an A+ (don't question it...they give A+'s in college).  So it would seem that giving statistics to rebuttal someone heralding an athlete  as "awesome" or "good" would be logical, eh?  I don't think I need to give an example, as I'm sure you are all picking an instance where this has happened to you...you post a gleeful status about your love for, say, David Murphy, (my favorite underrated player), only to see hours later that a small war of words has broken out while people rattle off stats like his low batting average, or errors this season, or strikeouts in away games...or something.  My point is this: I don't like you people.  And although statistics may prove that a player's stats aren't as high as some other player's stats, I beg you to show me your stats and we'll see if you can do any better.

2.  I feel bad for people who like themselves soooo much so, that consequently, they end up liking themselves far more than anyone else likes them.  I don't mean this to be funny....I genuinely feel bad for these people.  Two schools of thought on this one:

  • They either suffer from such serious low self esteem that the only way to console themselves is to boast about how awesome they are in hopes that someone will actually believe them. In which case, I feel bad for them, because "you are beautiful in every single way, and you are beautiful no matter what they sayyyy..." (Thanks X-tina.)
  • They genuinely think they are far superior than any other friend, family member, acquaintance, colleague, etc., that they're associated with, and in doing so, cause those people to cross their fingers and pray/hope patiently that said person gets a reality check in the form of a swift kick to the gut.  In all seriousness, I feel more bad for these people because it's sad to say but, they probably aren't nearly as awesome as they think they are, in which case I wish they would become conscious of this reality so they could step off their high horse and have fun with the rest of us.
3.  If you're at all worth my while, you know my parents have a delicious little cafe in our hometown.  One of our business priorities is to make each person's dining experience personable and friendly; we want you to feel like part of the family.  One of our tactics in carrying this ideology out is to ask each person when they approach the register:
"Can I have your name, please?"


Sorry for that outburst. *Ahem.* But for real.  Nearly every time I ask this, people either give me a blank, utterly confused stare and begin to blubber, "uuuh, whaa....uhhh, -J-Je-Jeff."  "See, that wasn't so hard Jeff....assuming you've had this name longer than 5 minutes and aren't a con-artist using an alias.  In which case, don't worry; I'm asking your name not because I'm an undercover cop, but so that I know who to give your flippin' flapjacks to."  Other times, it's a couple, in which case they look at eachother with a confused look, until one of them coughs up, usually the other person's name.  In which case I'd like to reply:  "Oh I'm sorry, is this a blind date?"  My favorite is when they glare at me.  This one's rare, and when it happens, I know I'm in for a real treat of an individual...you're seriously going to act irritated that I asked you one of the most common questions on earth, and simply for the reason that I'd like to ensure that the food you're about to request and pay me for makes it to your table in a timely fashion??  It's not like I asked what size underwear you're wearing, ya fatty.

Ahhh....release.  I feel better after getting those little nuggets out of my head and onto the computer screen where they're safe.  Goodnight, blog-world.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Threat to all Fellow Bloggers

More often than not, I get discouraged by reading other people's blogs.  My sweet cousin has not only the most adorable little family that frequently pops up in her blog (making it much more attractive than mine), but she also seems to have the most interesting "ordinary" days, which give her lots to write about.  My mom's friend has a blog and I swear, when I'm reading it, sometimes I feel like I'm reading a TV script for some witty show like "New Girl" or "The Office." Other blogs are annoyingly intelligent and discuss things I only pretend to understand, but their overuse of words more than four syllables intrigues me, so again, I get jealous.  I'm most envious of blogs filled with creative recipes, DIY crafts, or "Things for the Home," and I find myself not only becoming depressed about my own boring blog, but then I start sulking about the fact that I'm living in an apartment above a warehouse the size of these people's garages, and those "Things for the Home" couldn't apply to me even if I wanted them to.

So alas, I resort to blogging about....my own blog? (Much improvement, Margaret.)

My dad seems to like my blog.  My dear friend Alex loves it, although I think it's just because his job and subsequently entire day is that boring.  Hubby compliments it, which I used to find very flattering, until I realized he actually writes extremely eloquently himself, so now I feel like when he says "Hey shnookums, your blog was great today," what he's really saying is: "I could have done so much better."

I'm sure the dogs would like it, because it seems they're the only people in this world who like everything I do.  They especially admire my trait of leaving TOMS on the living room floor, and are even more fond of my inability to resist their begging eyes when I'm eating/cooking.  However, they can't seem to articulate that they like my writing....and to be honest, I'm not sure hubby listens when I tell him to let them read it.  Psh...men.

Regardless, I used to think I suffered from severe writer's block.  I would use my trusty little notebook to jot down thoughts or ideas about what my next post could be about.  I would create a little "note" on my iPhone with little snippits I thought I could include in my next entry, and I've even go so far as to start a post with the hopes of striking some inspirational chord and being able to finish it later.  But then I leisurely read my favorite blogs and that little balloon of hope and inspiration slowly deflates, leaving me wordless and frustrated, but most of all, sad.

So I'm asking (nicely but forcefully) for all you dear, fellow bloggers, to stop showing me up.  Did you read the paragraph above? You're making me sad.  I ask, how can you sleep at night knowing that showing pictures of your almost unbelievably adorable child on your blog, or bragging about how you had the funniest experience today while tending to the lemon trees in your backyard, makes me feel inadequate and meaningless?  Give me a chance to scrounge up something in my life that is hilarious and adorable at the same time...something I can write a mere two paragraphs about that will leave people saying "That Meg, she has a way of painting a picture with just a few simple, one-syllable words."

Just give me a chance.