So I'm not old. Really, I'm not. At least that's what I think in my head. In my daily life and work somehow I've found myself surrounded by people about 5 or 6 years younger than me. This age difference doesn't seem like much to me, but apparently to them it makes me almost ancient. One of these apparent "kids" said "You're so much fun for someone your age!"
And I was like:
1. "Whaaa??"
2. Then I looked around to see if there was some old person standing around
3. I finally realized I was the old person who could somehow still have fun
In that moment.... I realized I obviously needed to get some anti-wrinkle cream and start listening to Justin Bieber. I also need to include skinny jeans and hair feathers in my wardrobe. I also need to have two smart phones with two different numbers (don't ask me why) and NEVER take my earbuds out of my ears under any circumstances. The last thing I realized I needed to do was get a million little braided bracelets to wear ALL at the same time.
Also....I came to the conclusion that all this is stupid and I'm way cooler in my supposed old age. Suck on that "kids." I'm gonna go drink a beer because I'm old enough.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The Wobble Effect
Two days ago I was sitting in on a presentation I had no desire to be in. I sat down at the conference table and braced myself for a mind numbing two hours of graphs and statistics. Sitting in a white room with no windows and being forced to listen to useless words is basically a recipe for disaster inside my head. See, what happens is I tend to focus on ridiculous things. Then these things take on a life of their own, and before you know it I have a litany of insane ideas and nonsensical observations practically leaping around inside my brain.
On this particular day, in this particularly dull presentation I focused all my attention on the woman presenting. Not on the information she was giving, but on the woman herself. Standing tall at 5 foot nothing, the woman had light brown, nice hair. I thought I would start this description off with a compliment, because I'm about to go into a veritable slew of boorish descriptions of this woman. As for the rest of her....she had on these really tight, dark, stretchy looking pants, which made her legs look incredibly skinny. However, on the top portion of her body she had on a really loose floral button down shirt which was made of incredibly thick material, possibly quilted, and it was left unbuttoned. Underneath she had on a light colored shirt, creating the effect the top portion of her body was incredibly huge compared to her tiny lower portion. Like she might topple over at any moment, a dreidel spinning and spinning yet magically never tumbling down.
However, as interesting as this "dreidel effect" was, the thing I absolutely could not take my eyes off of was her chin. Well, to be more precise....her chin wobble. In recent months I have found myself fascinated by this "chin wobble" as I have dubbed the fascinating phenomenon. This woman had a normal chin just like anyone. Well pronounced and quite commonplace in fact. Yet just below this commonplace chin is the wobble. To explain it simply, it is a large chunk of fat and skin that sits directly below the chin (often so large it obscures part of the neck, or in some extreme cases the chin itself) and jiggles or wobbles the entire time the affected person is talking. I couldn't tear my eyes off of this woman as she pointed to her graphs and charts. As she spoke it jiggled back and forth, up and down. It seemed to have a completely fluid shape and only settled down when the woman was absolutely still. Sometimes it even seemed to be in slow motion. It was utterly fascinating. Even when another presenter took over I found myself having to wrench my eyes away from the wobble.
After spending the better part of an hour jotting notes about the wobble, and just generally staring at this woman I finally came out of the wobble induced haze. I looked around the room, making sure no one was trying to surreptitiously read what I was writing.
I then got outside my own head a little bit (just a little bit, mind you) and realized what I was doing. I was so fixated on this woman's odd imperfection that I failed to hear one word she said. Maybe she had some incredibly useful information, something I truly could have benefited from having heard. Yet my asinine brain focused on her CHIN. Yes, her chin. I also suspect that everyone reading this was at least mildly amused thinking of the wobble. I was and still am amused despite the fact that I am ridiculing a woman I don't know for something that doesn't matter. In a way I devalued her by not even being able to listen to her. These things I realize, however I don't really think I'm sorry. Possibly this makes me cruel, or maybe it just makes me weird that I'm more fascinated by someone's chin than an informative presentation. Make your own conclusions about my reasons for being fascinated by this wobble effect.
These things I know :
1. A woman's chin caused me to examine my psyche a little deeper.
2. I'm quite amused by the chin wobble and will continue to be.
3. My chin will never, ever wobble like that.
To my readers with a chin wobble, if you don't like this blog or don't want someone staring at the wobble area, might I suggest having extremely interesting presentations?
On this particular day, in this particularly dull presentation I focused all my attention on the woman presenting. Not on the information she was giving, but on the woman herself. Standing tall at 5 foot nothing, the woman had light brown, nice hair. I thought I would start this description off with a compliment, because I'm about to go into a veritable slew of boorish descriptions of this woman. As for the rest of her....she had on these really tight, dark, stretchy looking pants, which made her legs look incredibly skinny. However, on the top portion of her body she had on a really loose floral button down shirt which was made of incredibly thick material, possibly quilted, and it was left unbuttoned. Underneath she had on a light colored shirt, creating the effect the top portion of her body was incredibly huge compared to her tiny lower portion. Like she might topple over at any moment, a dreidel spinning and spinning yet magically never tumbling down.
However, as interesting as this "dreidel effect" was, the thing I absolutely could not take my eyes off of was her chin. Well, to be more precise....her chin wobble. In recent months I have found myself fascinated by this "chin wobble" as I have dubbed the fascinating phenomenon. This woman had a normal chin just like anyone. Well pronounced and quite commonplace in fact. Yet just below this commonplace chin is the wobble. To explain it simply, it is a large chunk of fat and skin that sits directly below the chin (often so large it obscures part of the neck, or in some extreme cases the chin itself) and jiggles or wobbles the entire time the affected person is talking. I couldn't tear my eyes off of this woman as she pointed to her graphs and charts. As she spoke it jiggled back and forth, up and down. It seemed to have a completely fluid shape and only settled down when the woman was absolutely still. Sometimes it even seemed to be in slow motion. It was utterly fascinating. Even when another presenter took over I found myself having to wrench my eyes away from the wobble.
After spending the better part of an hour jotting notes about the wobble, and just generally staring at this woman I finally came out of the wobble induced haze. I looked around the room, making sure no one was trying to surreptitiously read what I was writing.
I then got outside my own head a little bit (just a little bit, mind you) and realized what I was doing. I was so fixated on this woman's odd imperfection that I failed to hear one word she said. Maybe she had some incredibly useful information, something I truly could have benefited from having heard. Yet my asinine brain focused on her CHIN. Yes, her chin. I also suspect that everyone reading this was at least mildly amused thinking of the wobble. I was and still am amused despite the fact that I am ridiculing a woman I don't know for something that doesn't matter. In a way I devalued her by not even being able to listen to her. These things I realize, however I don't really think I'm sorry. Possibly this makes me cruel, or maybe it just makes me weird that I'm more fascinated by someone's chin than an informative presentation. Make your own conclusions about my reasons for being fascinated by this wobble effect.
These things I know :
1. A woman's chin caused me to examine my psyche a little deeper.
2. I'm quite amused by the chin wobble and will continue to be.
3. My chin will never, ever wobble like that.
To my readers with a chin wobble, if you don't like this blog or don't want someone staring at the wobble area, might I suggest having extremely interesting presentations?
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Courtesy Notice, Not So Courteous.
I was sitting at my computer this morning, taking a test for school and thinking about what the subject for my first blog should be. As my mind whirred along, possible subjects like "Hate at First Sight" and "Maybe You Would Have a Good Job if You Didn't Have Lips Tattooed on Your Neck" rolled around in my head.
However, I will save these riveting topics for later posts because as I was sitting at my desk, the doorbell rang. The doorbell ringing at my house is a signal for me to become irritated. I'm like Pavlov's dogs with that thing. 99% of the time when someone rings my doorbell it's a solicitor, and I don't like my day being interrupted with someone trying to sell me crap. So, the doorbell rings and my irritation spikes as I walk the five feet from my desk to the door. I peer out the peephole and sigh, but open the door anyway because the man on my front porch appears non-threatening. I open the door about a foot and block the opening with my body so my ferocious attack dogs don't escape and rip this man to shreds. (In all reality my dogs would only attack with slobber.) The man smiles at me and says "Oh you've got two dogs in there!" I look down dumbly at the two little mongrels yipping away behind my legs. I mumble something intelligent like "Uh, yeah" and then continue to stare at him with a dull, uninterested look. He stares at me for a moment, seemingly unsure why I'm not engaging him in polite conversation. Then he smiles again and says "I'm from the Home Owners Association and you're trash can is still out." I can only guess that I had a completely blank look on my face as I processed this. The thought process went something like this:
1. My neighborhood has a Home Owners Association?
2. Do I pay for that?
3. When is trash day?
4. What day of the week is today?
5. Where is my trash can, because I don't see it in the street?
And finally my thoughts ended on this very intelligent conclusion....
6. I don't care.
So I say (in another extremely intelligent and well constructed sentence) "Oh, it is? Uh, I guess I will get it."
He narrows his beady little eyes at me and says "You can't leave it out again, this is, well, (cough cough) your second violation."
Somehow I still can't bring myself to care or even argue and I have much more important things to do than argue with this angry little man about my trash can being out on the curb for too long. It hardly even registers in my mind because frankly, this is a stupid issue.
My dull look seems to be the only response he needs and he shoves a paper at me. I take it and say "Ok." Than I shut the door and walk the 5 feet back to my desk, getting irritated as I walk. I started thinking of all these clever things I should have said, things that would seem polite yet sting. I then decide to leave my trash can out as long as possible and see what happens.
I open the blinds by my desk to see exactly where my errant, trouble making trash can is located. It's nowhere to be found. The little man can't possibly have taken it, right?
I glance down at the paper he handed me titled 'Courtesy Notice and Reminder.' It says my trash can can not be stored on the side of my house. So....my trash can isn't even in the street or blocking parking and the little man really felt the need to interrupt my day, give me a courtesy notice and narrow his beady eyes at me?
As I was gleefully typing this ridiculous and bemoaning blog, from my still open window I watched the little man pull up in front of my house in his tiny, bright red SUV. He sat and stared at the house, and I'm assuming he was staring at the still errant trash can. I saw him write something down, look up, write something else, and drive away. I giggled and continued to type.
However, I will save these riveting topics for later posts because as I was sitting at my desk, the doorbell rang. The doorbell ringing at my house is a signal for me to become irritated. I'm like Pavlov's dogs with that thing. 99% of the time when someone rings my doorbell it's a solicitor, and I don't like my day being interrupted with someone trying to sell me crap. So, the doorbell rings and my irritation spikes as I walk the five feet from my desk to the door. I peer out the peephole and sigh, but open the door anyway because the man on my front porch appears non-threatening. I open the door about a foot and block the opening with my body so my ferocious attack dogs don't escape and rip this man to shreds. (In all reality my dogs would only attack with slobber.) The man smiles at me and says "Oh you've got two dogs in there!" I look down dumbly at the two little mongrels yipping away behind my legs. I mumble something intelligent like "Uh, yeah" and then continue to stare at him with a dull, uninterested look. He stares at me for a moment, seemingly unsure why I'm not engaging him in polite conversation. Then he smiles again and says "I'm from the Home Owners Association and you're trash can is still out." I can only guess that I had a completely blank look on my face as I processed this. The thought process went something like this:
1. My neighborhood has a Home Owners Association?
2. Do I pay for that?
3. When is trash day?
4. What day of the week is today?
5. Where is my trash can, because I don't see it in the street?
And finally my thoughts ended on this very intelligent conclusion....
6. I don't care.
So I say (in another extremely intelligent and well constructed sentence) "Oh, it is? Uh, I guess I will get it."
He narrows his beady little eyes at me and says "You can't leave it out again, this is, well, (cough cough) your second violation."
Somehow I still can't bring myself to care or even argue and I have much more important things to do than argue with this angry little man about my trash can being out on the curb for too long. It hardly even registers in my mind because frankly, this is a stupid issue.
My dull look seems to be the only response he needs and he shoves a paper at me. I take it and say "Ok." Than I shut the door and walk the 5 feet back to my desk, getting irritated as I walk. I started thinking of all these clever things I should have said, things that would seem polite yet sting. I then decide to leave my trash can out as long as possible and see what happens.
I open the blinds by my desk to see exactly where my errant, trouble making trash can is located. It's nowhere to be found. The little man can't possibly have taken it, right?
I glance down at the paper he handed me titled 'Courtesy Notice and Reminder.' It says my trash can can not be stored on the side of my house. So....my trash can isn't even in the street or blocking parking and the little man really felt the need to interrupt my day, give me a courtesy notice and narrow his beady eyes at me?
As I was gleefully typing this ridiculous and bemoaning blog, from my still open window I watched the little man pull up in front of my house in his tiny, bright red SUV. He sat and stared at the house, and I'm assuming he was staring at the still errant trash can. I saw him write something down, look up, write something else, and drive away. I giggled and continued to type.
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