The other night, as I was watching 60 Minutes (okay, okay, Jersey Shore) I reached into a can of nuts when my thoughts naturally wandered to the one and only, Andy Rooney. Today I decided to give the poor guy a rest and come up with my own list of annoyances about life’s more pressing mysteries. Besides, I’m feeling smug, cranky and exasperated, so what the hell.
WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH….?
Mixed Nuts? I assume “mixed” means different kinds. Apparently it means one measly walnut, a couple cashews and 900 peanuts. Should be labeled: CRAPLOAD OF PEANUTS and a Few Misc…good luck digging around to find them! (And believe me, I try.)
Repeatedly exposing yourself to brain freeze? You’re waiting at a red light. You gulp down your Tim Horton’s medium Iced Cappuccino Supreme with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle like you’re been crawling through a burning hot desert for days. Suddenly, a giant ice pick is piercing through your skull. You’re slammed with excruciating pain. Tears are streaming down; you clutch one side of your head and yell, “OH GOD! MAKE IT STOP! HOLY CRAP, PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!” Then it magically disappears. You feel fine again. Gloriously fine. You think, “Ah! Wow, that was NOT good!” and say a prayer of thanks to the Iced Cap God that it is over. And then you blink your eyes, sigh and take another gulp.
Yelling “BE CAREFUL” to your kids? I admit that I am sometimes a nervous mother. I have seen my share of carnage resulting from seemingly innocent child’s play. In the past my son has: ripped his ear open on a staple poking out from underneath a dining room chair; sliced his head open after slipping while running across the kitchen floor; put his entire tooth clean through his bottom lip after falling down on a playground. And this was only during his second year of life. This may be why I feel compelled to yell out “be careful!” over and over again while my kids are playing. Are these the magic words that will somehow protect them from harm? Will they get hurt if I don’t say them? Do they even hear me saying them? Will my child suddenly stop in his/her tracks and think, “Be careful? Wow, she’s right! I do have to be more careful! And here I was thinking about clocking my brother in the head with this giant rock instead of throwing it in the mud puddle! Now, I won’t! Gee, thanks for the advice, Mom!”?
Drinking alcohol when you’re middle-aged? I remember the early days when a drink or three would produce quite a nice little buzz. Alcohol was an enjoyable thing (in moderation, of course). Nowadays just one drink (sometimes I can’t even finish the entire beer) does nothing more than cause an irritating hot red facial rash, throbbing headache and severe case of dry mouth. Add a few casually thrown insults of glaring truth directed at the poor person in the same room as you and the fun is over, people. To top it off, the alcohol’s weak effect wears off within minutes and you’re left with nothing but an empty longing for youth. Plus, now you have to pee. Again.
Losing weight? I get on the scale. I don’t like the number. I get off the scale. I get back on, but this time, I’m on one foot. I lean onto the bathroom sink counter. I’ve lost 15 pounds. I am a very happy woman. I put the other foot back down and heave a sigh. Now I’ve gained three. I pick up the scale and throw it into the closet. Next week: Repeat above and slowly come to the realization that my weight has constantly fluctuated up and down the same three damn pounds every day for nearly 10 years. Dieting sucks. Losing weight is hard. I’m getting too old to care anymore, time to move on.
Eating food at night? Why do I feel the need to scarf down an entire bag of salt and vinegar potato chips while vegging on the couch watching Survivor? I can control myself all the live long day until that point. I sit there at every breakfast with my head down, shamefully eating my tasteless oatmeal and pretending I actually enjoy it. I have a sandwich on whole wheat bread loaded with veggies for lunch. I sprinkle flax seed into my soy milk smoothie. I have a paltry handful of almonds for what passes as a “snack” mid-afternoon. But at 8 pm? Damn, it’s Twinkie Time! Is it because no one can see me eat it so it doesn’t count? (Although sometimes I can feel Jeff Probst’s eyes glaring at me.)
Politics? I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but we’re all screwed. When a Republican president is elected, he whines to the Democrats, “Look at the mess you guys made!” and the Democrats cry, “Well, you fix it!” The Republicans fail. When it’s a Democrat president, he whines to the Republicans, “Look at the mess you made!” and the Republicans cry, “Well, you fix it! Neener-neener-neener!” The Democrats fail. See a pattern here? I do. Yeah, politics suck. I’m not sure when this back and forth playground bickering and fighting started. I suspect it’s been going on for some time. Way before George Washington. We’re talking Adam and Eve; forbidden fruit and the downfall of mankind and all that. But, we all know, it was just as likely Adam’s fault. Sure, there are some who think Eve convinced Adam to eat the apple. But we all know men don’t respond well to nagging or healthy food. He probably took a bite by accident while mindlessly watching football. Then he made the rounds on Fox News and Larry King and the media spun it into an Eve smear campaign. And now, here we are at each election, year after year, plodding along with blind faith and endless hope that things will turn around and be okay again. We’ll no sooner figure out this mess than conquer brain freeze.
Lady Gaga? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
“What’s the dealio?” Who came up with this phrase? Can we please make it stop already and go away?
And a Final and Deep Thought to Ponder:
“Computers make it easier to do a lot of things, but most of the things it makes it easier to do don’t need to be done.” Andy Rooney