Bad mood

I'm. In. A. Bad. Mood. Have you ever had one of those days where there is not a specific trigger, no particular precipitant but you still felt so irritable? A day when Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff" seems apropos. Ripping some one's head off feels like it wouldn't suffice. An intense and possibly violent response to an invisible provocation is warranted on these days.

It's one of those mornings where wherever you go, whomever you see, whatever you do you're...annoyed. That coworker who comes in whistling "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" every morning, the underling who lies in wait for your arrival and upon seeing your "online" status immediately starts bombarding you with complaints, the man who shoves past you in the elevator... You just want to smash them in the face. As your day begins and you interact with them you actually envision punching them in the face. And though that image is briefly gratifying, your bad mood persists.

There is no remedy for one of these bad days. All you can hope for is that you can successfully ride it out without a major incident...or injury.

Urban Hipster Doofus

What the hell is wrong with Urban Outfitters? Has their perpetual coolness affected their collective brain causing temporary insanity?


Can I just say...EWW.


...and "Obama black"? Really?Are they that stupid or are they trying to generate some free publicity by being controversial?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Keep out

Private as defined by Dictionary.com: "confined to or intended for the persons immediately concerned; undertaken individually or personally".

P-R-I-V-A-T-E. Is this a difficult concept to grasp? Apparently so because I just experienced a violation. Let me make a suggestion...if you ask someone a question and they don't answer it means they don't want to talk about it. It DOES NOT mean that they want you to walk over to them and then loudly repeat the question. And when they continue to avoid answering it really, really means they don't want to talk about it. I mean, get a clue.

Why must people press? Do you not have enough to do to occupy yourself? Are you so bored that you must entertain yourself by making a spectacle of yourself and others uncomfortable? Is this a feeble attempt to redirect the spotlight on yourself? If so I'll let you on on a secret...I. Don't. Want. The. Spotlight. It's all yours. But have the decency to refrain from using my name and privacy to garner such attentions.

I am intensely private. If you hadn't already noticed my blog fails to include any personally identifiable information or photos. There's a reason for that. So when I purposely choose to maintain such levels of privacy especially in my workplace it galls me when I am outed against my will. It's not as though I'm coy about it. I don't demure while harboring a secret hope you'll come over and drag it out of me anyway. The signs are obvious. I ignore your questions on the subject. When cornered I re frame. I reflect. I avoid. Yet you continue to press...

What I fail to understand is why you want to know? What about my personal comings and goings is so fascinating that you disregard social norms in pursuit of your objective? Is it curiosity? Jealousy? Indignation? Might any juicy bits of info you procure buy you entry into the "in" crowd? If you proffer some info on me will they start including you? Might it buy you an invitation to lunch? A false sense of belonging?

I am acutely aware of your real job in the workplace-resident gossip. I've witnessed you and your tribe cackling voraciously about others while sharpening your fangs. I've heard your version of others' statements. It's fascinating to hear how much the story changes when it simply comes out of your mouth. It's like an adult version of the childhood game Telephone. The facts take so many twists and turns by the time you retell them they're unrecognizable.

Simply put I don't want my name coming out of your mouth. It may be rude but apparently subtlety is lost on you. I must be brutally direct. Have you noticed you don't see much of me throughout the day? It's intentional. I walk an extra 5 minutes out of my way to avoid your general area. I relocated my space. I don't solicit your feedback. At meetings I sit opposite you. I don't seek out your company so why would you ever think I would divulge any personal information?

If you really, really want to know "how it went" I have an idea. Why don't you ask the other people who were present? Get it right from the horse's mouth so to speak. No? They might be offended? You could get in trouble you say? You weren't included in the meeting so you can't really ask them? Huh...guess you're right...so maybe you should mind your own business.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

"To the person in my apt complex..."

I came across this post online and just had to share. Love it! I think I've found my blog soul mate. Enjoy...(BTW it was anonymous so no one to credit).

To the person in my apartment complex who likes the sound of their car alarm: It still works. I promise. Yet day after day, night after night, restful Saturday morning after.....REM-interrupted Saturday morning, you faithfully sound your car alarm for a few seconds, turn it off, then sound it again. Just to be DOUBLE sure that your equipment is functional. Sometimes, you'll even allow it to go off for 15 seconds or so while standing beside the car as if to simulate the experience a thief might have as he tries to jack your shit. 'NOT THIS HONDA OWNER, buddy,' you might think to yourself while stifling a prideful chuckle.....you of all people know 10 year old Accords are worth tirelessly protecting, and you do your job well.

I don't mean to belittle your OCD as I'm sure it's a crippling condition, but I assure you that after your repeated tireless and vigorous testing, the rest of the apartment community is in agreement that your alarm must be one of the finest and most reliable caliber - that is, rain or shine, it always seems to sound. Winter, spring, summer, fall. Through snow and sun alike. Nothing can stop yours. Bravo.

It is with immeasurable regret that I must warn you that should the routine continue 12 times a day, you might find a brick through your windshield. Wonder if your alarm will go off then? For the first time, it might be music to my ears.

Regards,
Your neighbor across the way and three buildings over (yep, we can hear it down here)
HELPFUL HINT: It defeats the purpose of having a car alarm if we're all so used to hearing it that no one bats an eye when we hear it going off for the 9th time today.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Jesse James behaving badly

Let's be clear- I already thought Jesse James was a neanderthal but his recent feeble attempts to justify his actions just confirmed my suspicions. Douche bag.

Have you seen his interview on Nightline?
http://abcnews.go.com/m/pane?pk=/Nightline

What a slimeball. If what he says is true I am sorry for him. But...it's no excuse for his behavior. Using childhood abuse as justification for immoral and irresponsible behavior devalues the experiences of real survivors of abuse. There are plenty of adults who endured horrific experiences as children and yet manage to make responsible, mature decisions. They don't pull an abuse card whenever they need an out.

Man up Jesse. You had the cajones to bed dozens of women outside of your marriage. If you really thought you didn't deserve Sandra Bullock then why did you marry her in the first place? C'mon...weak, weak excuse. It's clear by your entitled behavior that you feel you deserve quite a bit. You're not sorry for your actions, you're sorry you got caught. There's a difference. I'm sure if Bombshell McGee hadn't sold you out you'd still be up to your same tricks today. At least have the balls to own your actions.

I'm tired of high profile men trotting out childhood trauma as rationalization for bad behavior. As a mental health professional I am acutely aware of the intense personal struggles people endure. These struggles are mostly private. When and if the abuse is disclosed publicly it's usually done so for closure or other therapeutic reasons. Childhood abuse frequently rears its head well before a public transgression. Using abuse as justification for your behavior is reprehensible and inappropriate.

Shame on you Jesse James...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Quit

I have a revolutionary idea. It's guaranteed to knock your socks off. If you have a job...go to it. Every day. All day.

Yes, despite the recession there are people who are gainfully employed who simply choose not to go to work. I work with those people. Lots of them.

This confuses me. If you don't like your job, quit. I understand you'd rather lounge on the beaches of Turks & Caicos than work- who wouldn't? I'd like 20 million dollars, eternal youth and the metabolism of a newborn. Sucks to be us.

What I don't get is why you resent being asked to do your job. It's not as though you're being asked to do something you find abhorrent. There is a simple solution, Q-U-I-T. Take this job and shove it. Homey don't play 9-5. Hasta la vista.

No one is making you do anything. If you don't want to work, quit. There will a line around the block for your job. They'll probably work harder and for less money. But if you choose to remain...I'd like to make a few suggestions.

You can't call in sick every Monday and Friday. You can't take 10 breaks a day. You can't surf the web for porn. You can't take 2 hour lunches. You can't come in 3 hours late and then immediately take a break. You can't sit on the phone with your boyfriend reviewing his performance last night-FYI we record all calls and these intimate conversations totally entertain us at staffings.

There is a finite number of vacation days and guess what- you've used them all. You don't accrue additional days when you're not at work. You say you have a hard time making it in by 9 because you were out until 4 am? I totally understand. That sucks. But I still expect you to be at work on time and ready to go. I am. So can you.

No one owes you anything. Having expectations that you will come to work and actually do your job is not oppression. "The Man" isn't trying to keep you down. It's called life. You perform a task in exchange for a predetermined amount of money. No one is going pay you for sitting on your fat ass while you stuff your face with Cheetos and Facebook about the guy you hooked up with at the gym. You're not that special. So suck it up, drag yourself to work and daydream of that one week a year you get to blow your entire vacation fund on a week long road trip to Disney with your 3 screaming kids and hen-pecking wife. Kinda makes that job sound better by the hour, huh?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

TMI

If you have a car or drive anywhere you are probably all too familiar with this scene already:

I'm almost at a loss for words but then...Most.Absurd.Thing.Ever. This ranks right up there with those nauseating precious "Baby on Board" signs.


What exact purpose did those serve? Was I expected to alter my driving habits simply because (allegedly) the vehicle's occupants had a baby in the car? Pshaw.

What's the point? Do I really need to know that Ma and Pa Smith have a boy, two twin girls, a dog, a cat, and a parakeet? I already know from their various bumper stickers, magnets and window clings that they voted for McCain, bought their car at Autoworld, don't believe in evolution, love Corgis, think it's "better in the Bahamas", play soccer and football, cheer for Chippewa High School, are on the honor roll, have a Harley, think their ferret is smarter than my first grader and admire Calvin's (of Calvin and Hobbs) urination skills. I'm already exhausted from reading their car and I haven't even reached my destination.

How much information is too much information? When does personal pride and investment become obnoxious and obsequious? Do these various declarations constitute visual pollution? What type of information should we refrain from publicly declaring?

Personally I think anything beyond a license plate constitutes vehicular diarrhea. And if I could get away with it I'd dispense with its use. What is the purpose of all this "sharing"? How is it beneficial?

Perhaps the fact that you have a five year old son named Colton who is #13 on the Wildcats baseball team of Riverside Elementary in Brainard County is of interest to that raging pedophile in the grey Aztec following you. Or maybe your name airbrushed on the drivers side door will come in handy when the potential car jacker calls out your name while his accomplice takes your car.

Knowing each of your family members' names, place of business, school and home address is entirely too much information. The public sharing of private information to an unknown and unfiltered audience has potentially serious implications. We don't walk around with our name and telephone number emblazoned on our shirt. There's a reason for that. Why would we then choose to advertise the same information on our vehicles?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone