Miss Manners Never Addressed These Things

Today I want to talk about a few things that bounce around in my head occasionally. Today it's manners, and specifically, things that Miss Manners might have missed. I'm sure somewhere, someone has addressed some of these things, but maybe someone can clue me in.

Here's what got me to thinkin'... Recently I was having dinner out with my hubby, just hubby and me, and no children. It was really nice. So I went into the restroom and this woman was changing her adorable baby's diaper, which wasn't as adorable as the baby. (I think I understand why God put our bum so far from our face) The baby was a little older, like over a year or so. This diaper made my eyes water, but I do remember changing diapers so I just smiled and held my breath and went on to do my business. As I was leaving, I noticed the woman was stuffing this awful-smelling ball of nastiness into the garbage can. She didn't bag it or wrap it up at all, just stuffed the whole thing into the garbage can for anyone who came along later to gag at the smellage. Now, I remember changing a wiggly baby on those changing tables where there was no flat surface to put anything at all, and heaven knows you can't put the wipes anywhere near the flailing octopus arms of doom. But whenever I changed a smelly package like that, I at least double bagged it before I shoved it in the garbage. I'm not sure it really helped the smell, but it was my attempt at being considerate. Not everyone thinks your baby's diaper smells like manna from the Lord!

So I hid my shock and went on out to finish dinner, but the whole thing got me to thinking. Shouldn't there be some kind of etiquette rules for disposing of baby poo in the public restroom? Or maybe the restaurants should have like a "poop chute" type of bin that when you put a diaper in, it is carried immediately out of the restaurant into the dumpster outside. Sounds like a great invention, right? Someone should get on that, snap to it!

But then there's so much worse that people do with their adorable babies. For instance, during this same date (childless remember), we were seated at a long line of booths that connected to each other, and on either side of us was a couple with their adorable babies. I love babies, but we were practically having dinner with two couples on either side of us, and their babies were in the high chairs, which were actually touching our table we were so squished together. On the one side, I had to keep moving my purse because one kid was digging all in there and getting my keys out. On the other side, I had to basically paper my arm with napkins because the other kid kept smearing his breadstick on my shirt. And the oblivious couples just assumed that was how I wanted to spend my rare childless date with my hubby. They just laughed and said, oh how cute, and carried on. And who wants to be the jerk who hates babies? Not me!

Anyway, I'm coming off sounding like a baby-hater here. I do remember trying to eat out with small ones, and we still have a few littles who have a hard time behaving in public. But I don't think that at any time, I allowed my children's behavior to ruin someone else's evening out. I'd rather stay home!

Anyway, here's me blathering on about manners again... ;)

Things That Don’t Happen to Thin People

10. Thin people don't stand in line for two hours at Six Flags and then realize that their ARSE doesn't fit in the roller coaster seat.
9. Thin people don't worry about having to get a seat belt extender on the airplane.
8. Thin people don't find that their butt has escaped between the slats in the lawn chair and is now scraping the ground.
7. Thin people don't have to worry about getting out of the tanning bed to find that three inches on each side of their body didn't get any "sun".
6. Thin people don't have to mentally calculate whether the elevator can take them on in addition to the others already aboard.
5. Thin people don't end up on America's Funniest Videos in some kind of porch swing or above-ground pool incident.
4. Thin people can usually para-sail without fear of overloading a boat motor.
3. Thin people can drive a Cooper Mini.
2. Thin people don't usually get snickered at in Cycling Gear.
1. Thin people can order a double Whopper without so much as a raised eyebrow from the Burger King staff.

Just thought I'd share about some of the things in life that thin people miss out on. It's a wonder they have any fun at all...

Hit Man Wanted…

I have lived in this house for 3 years. In the time that we have lived here, it has come to my attention that the man from down the street encourages his stupid poodle to take his daily poop walks in MY yard. Sadly, the first time I had my suspicions, the poodle was not in the yard, but his little present was oozing between my toes. Yes, I used to go check my mail barefoot. But not any more.

About two weeks after we moved in, I looked out of my kitchen window to see the gentleman walking down the cul de sac towards my house. Let me also add that he passes TWO empty lots and about 5 other houses to get to my yard. His stupid little poodle is walking alongside him. The man stopped to chat with a neighbor, and that's when it happened. He looks at the poodle, and then points his finger toward the plum tree in my yard. The poodle then walks up to the plum tree and deposits a pile of poodle poo underneath it. I walked out the front door and made eye contact with this fellow. And I shook my head. I thought I made my point, but I think he took it as a dare.

My other neighbor actually approached the guy because the poodle was going in his yard too. He asked the guy to keep his poopy poodle out of his yard. I think it might have worked. But the poodle is still pooping in my yard. I even try to scare the thing out of the yard. I have thrown rocks at it, sent my dog after it, and even tried to hit it with my car. Well I wouldn't have hit it with my car, but I want it and its owner to think I might.

So what do I do? Can you hire a hit on a poodle? Are there poodle hit men? I actually have a plan, but I don't know if I have the guts. We've bought a lot in another neighborhood with the intention of building a house. Our neighbors have two horses. Horses make big poop. I thought maybe I should collect some of these piles of horse puckey and maybe plant a few poo piles in the poodle guy's yard. But I'm a big chicken. I'm open to ideas...

People Who Sing in the Car Uno Mas

Funny how after I write a whole blog on this subject, something funny happens. Yesterday I was driving down the road, and "Loosen Up My Buttons" came on the radio. It's not my favorite song, and as I reached to change the station, I happened to look in my rearview mirror. What I saw made me change my mind about changing the station. There was a car behind me, and in that car, was your typical house-wife looking chick with a GIANT FUZZBALL OF A DOG sitting right next to her. She was bopping all over the place and singing along with the radio, which happened to be tuned to the same station as mine. You haven't lived until you've seen hausfrau-woman singing "Loosen up my buttons, babe..." to her oversized slobbery poofy dog. The dog seemed to be enjoying the serenade, but I was getting the biggest laugh.

Then the light turned green and housewife lady laid down on the horn. Guess she was in a hurry, but then she realized I was laughing at her, and she wasn't pleased.

So I guess I'm a hypocrite, laughing at other car singer-alongers. But I couldn't keep a straight face.

People Who Sing in the Car

A few years ago, I saw this show on VH1 about people who have friends who sing shamelessly along with the music in their cars, whether they have any musical talent at all. These people bring their singing friends on this show, hide a camera in their rear-view mirror, and video them while they are rocking it out in their car. They start off with these people alone in their car. They just sing along with the radio, and occasionally they talk to themselves too. Then they have a segment where they ride along with the annoyed friend and do the singing thing while riding along with the friend in the passenger seat. Somehow the judges on the show decide who is the best (or is it worst?) car music singer-alonger.

The thing is, these people really don't care if anyone hears them sing. They don't care if they can sing well. They just enjoy listening to music and participating in the groovy tunes. It's not an audition, it's just a good time.

And if you're wondering, YEP, I'm a car music singer-alonger. Many times I have been "caught" at a traffic light belting out the tunes. I am in my car, in my world, listening to my radio. If I know the words (or even if I don't) I WILL sing along. Just the other day, I was rockin' out to some Evanescence on the radio. I was stopped at a red light, and I look to my right to see three young dudes laughing and pointing. Did it embarrass me? Did it stop me? Abso-smurfly NOT! I just waved and grinned and kept right on with Call Me When You're Sober.

So if any of you would like to drag me on that show, feel free. I don't think any of the previous "contestants?" have changed their ways. I know I won't.

Now about those people that dance in their car...

Say No to Crack… Giving CYA a WHOLE New Meaning

Let me just start by saying I live in Alabama. It's a college town, so sometimes you see interesting fashion ideas from that regard also. Such as people going out in public in their pajama pants and sometimes even their slippers (or house shoes as some people call them). It's not just the college students, though. The rednecks around here tend to have their own style, it usually consists of flannel, plaid, and/or camouflage. Then there are the thug-types. Guys who think they are "gangsta" or whatever.

Today I was taking my children to lunch. My oldest two are helping remove the trees from the roofs of the homes in Columbus that were victims of the nasty tornado Thursday night. So I only had the youngest four with me. My oldest daughter was sitting in the front seat and the other three were in the back. I had to stop at the gas station because I didn't want to fill up on my way home last night. While I was outside putting the gas in the car, another vehicle pulled into the parking lot of the gas station. The gentleman got out of the car, presumably to check the air pressure in his tires and then add air as needed. The thing is, when he went to put the air in the tires, there was a considerable space between the tail of his shirt, and the top of his pants. This space was filled with a considerable amount of butt cleavage. I looked down into the car to see if the kids had noticed, and well, they were all pointing and screaming and laughing. It was too late.

So here's what I'm wondering: If you are out in public with your children and someone lets their butt get loose and flapping in the breeze for the world to see, is it ok to speak up? And if it is, then what do you say? "Excuse me sir, but your butt cleavage has made me throw up a bit in my mouth, and I wondered if you couldn't pull your pants up?" Or should I just throw a handful of blindfolds in the car to have available the next time someone has their butt escape the confines of propriety? What I really wanted to do was yell across the parking lot, "Hey, dude! Your goose is loose!"

I would LOVE some input here...

Pedestrian Rights

This is another one of those sore subjects with me. Whenever I start ranting on this one, my husband just rolls his eyes. It's just that I'm appalled at how people in cars treat people who are on foot.

I was at the W-mart today (I know I know) picking up some more DVD-RWs so I could share the Grey's Anatomy series that I downloaded with my Mom. (LOVE THAT SHOW!) I also got some peas and carrots so I could make some fried rice for dinner.

So I'm coming out of the W-mart, and walking across the street in that area with the big bold yellow stripes that is supposed to mean that cars stop when people are walking across. You know, the PEDESTRIAN ZONE? Well I'm walking at a nice brisk pace out to my car that I parked in the very back of the parking lot (go Weight Watchers!), and this giant Dodge Ram diesel is pausing to allow me to cross. This truck is so big, the TIRES are almost taller than me. I don't know how the fella even knew I was there, so I felt pretty grateful. So after I cross, I am walking as close to the side so that anyone driving can get around me. The aforementioned redneckmobile is suddenly breathing down my neck. I move over as close to the cars as I can get without jumping on the hoods and jumping from one to the next, right? STILL, the diesel fumes are stirring the hairs on the back of my neck. So I just turned in between two cars hoping he would go on around, at which point he FLOORS the gas and screeches past me. I thought he must have been in a really big hurry to get out of the parking lot, but no, he pulls into a parking place about four more past my car. This is when the evil grin begins spreading across my face.

See, what people don't think about when they try to run down a pedestrian, is that often said pedestrian is walking to their own car, and almost as often the attempted murderer is about to park and find themselves on foot with a long way to walk from their car to the W-mart. *wicked evil maniacal laugh*

So yeah, I got into my car, backed up and found myself headlights to face with the not-so-big-and-threatening-looking fella from the Dodge. Funny how his car was a Dodge, because that would have been a very useful word for him to know at this point. It was such a delicious feeling when I saw the realization flood across his face that he was facing the pedestrian that he was just torturing with his huge monster truck. I revved my engine and watched the color drain from his face as he saw my wicked grin. Because even though his truck was bigger than my little 626, no scrawny redneck with a wad of chewing tobacco shoved in his cheek is any match for a ton of angry Mazda. So now I need to go to the car wash...

Let’s Talk about Fear

Now I grew up a nature girl. I loved the outdoors, and animals! I loved any kind of animal! I still do, really. I used to catch lizards and snakes (non-poisonous thanks) and anything that I was fast enough to get my hands on. A stray cat would have kittens under our porch, and I would try everything I could to tame the little devils. I spent most summers with my face all scratched up because I wouldn't leave that poor mama cat's babies alone. There wasn't an animal out there that I didn't love, I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up.

But I do not believe that the word 'animal' can be used when one is referring to spiders. BLLLEEEECCCCHHHHH!!! Just the word spider makes those little chilly bumps on the back of my neck stand up. I would rather eat raw goat brains than have to deal with a spider. I have been known to try to exit a moving vehicle (that I was driving now that I think about it) when a spider came jumping out of the air conditioning vent right beside my steering wheel. I had a neighbor drive into my yard one time and she asked me if I could help her get a spider out of her car. I told her that I didn't care if the fool thing ate all of her children and came after her next, I was NOT getting into that car to help her find a spider.

I saw a movie once when I was VERY little, with these giant spiders putting people in their webs and eating them. I don't know if this was the beginning of my spider aversion, because I don't remember ever having warm fuzzy (OK bad choice of words there) feelings toward any arachnid. My Mom and I thought it would be good therapy to go and see the movie Arachnophobia. THAT was just about the stupidest idea ever. Some idiot behind us kept throwing popcorn on us and every time it would land on us, we'd SCREAM. In the movie theater... yeah I'm so proud.

The only other thing I'm afraid of is clowns. I am pretty sure that the clown thing started when I was little, I can distinctly remember two clown things that scared the crispy cow cooties out of me... Do you remember Jack-in-the-box?

This guy used to scare the bejeebies out of me every time. For those of you who don't remember Jack, you've got this little box here. There's a lid on it, and a little crank on the side. You turn the crank around, and it plays Pop Goes the Weasel. And you know, you just KNOW, as soon as you get to the POP part, that DARN clown is going to come jumping out at you. But for some reason, you still jump halfway out of your clothes when he does it. I used to play the song REALLY slow, and when it got to that part, even though I was COMPLETELY ready for him to jump out, I would jump and scream anyway. WHY?!?! I believe Jack was the beginning of my clown issues. But my best friend Melanie (we were 4) had a clown collection. She had shelves all the way around her room full of different clowns that she had collected. She had clown sheets and clown curtains and even a clown nightlight. This clown nightlight was the scariest thing yet. It was a clown face, illuminated by a sickly green light which made this clown look downright evil. AND this creepy light cast a glow on every one of those clowns on her shelves. They would stare down at me when I would spend the night with Mel, just DARING me to go to sleep so they could tear me apart with their sharp evil clown teeth. *GASP*

I still do not like clowns. I do not encourage my children to interact with clowns. I mean, just because you're a guy with a big bulbous red nose and makeup and rainbow hair does NOT make it ok for you to give children balloons and be hugging on them, right? I think not. Look at John Wayne Gacy, he dressed up like a clown! Of course, he only murdered young gay gentlemen, so I guess I'm safe there. But what if one day there's a clown dude that wants to kill overweight Moms? It could happen, I'm sure the young gay gentlemen never saw it coming...

I Hate W-MART

My deepening dislike of the place that begins with W -- where people get groceries and miscellaneous sundries for their home, hair, garden, you name it -- and ends with MART has just about reached full bore.

The town that I live in has one, and it's always crowded. The town next to mine has one also, it is the most crowded W**mart I have ever seen in my life. It's like Christmas all.the.time. The next town over has a brand stinkin' new W**mart; it was hoped that its opening would take some of the pressure off the Christmas one, but I haven't seen that happening yet.

Anyway, so Friday night, I needed a few things. I usually go to T**get, but the W place was closer, and I thought perhaps that I could get in and get out without much ado. BOY was I mistaken. I managed to navigate the aisles and find what I needed without much trouble. I even got through the checkout alright. I went out to the car, unloaded the groceries into the trunk, and that's when it got bad. I had to walk across to put the cart in the corral; like a good customer who doesn't leave the cart willy-nilly in the parking lot. So I put the cart in, and I turned around to walk back to my car, when I heard the screeching of tires. This car was backing out of a parking place, and then gunned its engine and started racing towards me. He came SO close to running over me and making a big mess of smashing me all over the parking lot. I was so angry, but at the same time, VERY aware that my children were watching this whole thing. While I WANTED to jump up and down and say multiple nasty words and show him which fingers I thought he needed to see, I managed to refrain.

I know that it's not W-mart's fault that I almost became a really extra large road pizza. But I do believe that the whole crowded parking lot, feeling like a cow being herded along, fear that someone is going to buy the last bag of cheetos before you can get to it feeling might contribute to people behaving like a pack of uncivilized gorillas. Even the gorillas must be shaking their heads...