Memoirs Of J

Imagine this…  You walk into a work restroom, people milling about at the sink caking on makeup and trying to tame that ratty bed of straw on their heads that they call ‘hair,’ and enter a stall that emanates such a pungent, putrid odor that it’s sickeningly obvious to you that someone just finished shitting in there.  But you can’t turn around and leave to use another stall because you rushed into it so fast (an attempt to avoid having to say hello to anyone milling about in the loo); it would just be rude, you know?  Or at the very least, peculiar.

So you basically swallow the vomit in your mouth and try not to inhale as you pull you pants down and take a seat.  It’s a good time to note that normally in a public restroom, I am a ‘hover-er.’  My ass typically does not make contact with a toilet seat at, say, a restaurant or something (especially a Taco Bell…yuck).  But at work I have to say I make an exception.  Why?  I am not sure, but I just do.  Maybe because I know it is cleaned thoroughly each night, who knows.  But this is my downfall.  Aside from having to suffocate myself while trying to avoid inhaling putrid fumes of a freshly defiled toilet, the fucking seat is still warm!  Warm!!  From some fat ass that was parked on it for probably 20 minutes while they took a huge, steaming, festering shit.  It doesn’t make you feel good (or clean) to know that your ass may as well have just touched the bare ass of the pooper directly.  It’s that intimate.

This happens to me at least once per week.  Why must people shit at work?  I propose a designated shitting restroom.

uh oh

It’s interesting to me how people who are so dogmatic in their viewpoints (particularly in regards to religion or politics) can often be heard declaring how the “other side” is stupid or idiotic.  It’d be fabulous if I had a penny for each time I heard someone call someone else an idiot solely based on the observation that the other person’s viewpoints differed from their own… I’d be filthy rich, using cash as heating fuel because hey… when you have that much what else are you going to do with it all?

The divisive “us vs. them” mentality is completely counter-productive.  Nothing has ever been resolved by bickering and name-calling like a bunch of kindergarteners who’ve missed their nap time.  The way I see it is an unwavering, unyielding, close-minded, dogmatic, stance on any issue is probably not the “correct” stance.  Reality is never extremist or totally black-and-white.  Those who are unable (or unwilling) to recognize nuance are, in my opinion, the ones of sub-par intelligence.  And no, I’m not saying ‘har har har extremists are idiots’ but instead that it isn’t exactly a hallmark of wisdom and intelligence to take a rigid, unwavering, narrow viewpoint.

Similarly, those of the mindset “if only everyone lived and thought  just like me, we’d be in a utopia,” are probably not the ones who should be doling out criticisms of the intelligence of others.  Empathy and the ability to understand (not necessarily agree with) the points of view of other people is the key to solving issues.  You can’t just selfishly sit back and say ‘this works for me, fuck ya’ll’ and expect a good outcome.  It’s insane.  This ‘my way or the highway’ attitude some people have is completely unreasonable, and in my observation it is these very people who go around espousing others as “idiots” or “stupid.”  Seriously?  Or for my urban friends,  for realz??

I supposed it is just human nature to think and act selfishly and ego-centric, at a primitive level anyway.  Maybe this is why so many people think praying works.  If you pray hard enough, things will go your way (*cough*).  What if someone equally devout is praying for the exact opposite?  Say you are praying for the snowstorm to miss your town so you don’t have to risk your life driving in it to get to work 50 miles away (valid concern, right), but your kid is praying for the storm to hit so they get a snow day and avoid the bully at school who’s been threatening him (also valid concern).

It’s baffling to me that some people can’t understand that the world doesn’t revolve around them.  I’m starting to think the population is branching into two evolutionary paths as far as thought process; the ego-centric, selfish, stubborn thinking; then the more collaborative, empathetic, society-based mode of thought.  Which will win out…stay tuned for 20,000 years or so…

Men have no idea how easy they have things.  They have no idea of the delicate protocol that women must endure in life.  We’re expected go through this almost political dance of sorts with family, friends,  work, whatever.  A dance that would be completely foreign to men.  We have to do baby or wedding showers (possibly even in that order), for example, and do everything correctly.  If a friend of a friend happened to send you a baby gift 5 years ago and now they’re the ones having a baby, they’ll remember exactly what they gave and how much was spent.  You as a woman are expected to remember these details to return the favor, which may or may not ever even occur.  Women remember everything, every detail, and that sounds ok until you realize that the reason they remember so much is so that it can be used against you later in some fashion; you’ll be judged by sort of a yard stick of memories the person has chosen to compile in the back of her mind about you.  Men?  They barely remember that there was a shower (that they of course didn’t have to attend), let alone what was received and who presented it.  Men are so much more easy-going.  If a guy does something for or gives something to another guy, it will never be discussed or thought of again after the event occurs.   A guy would never sit around with bated breath waiting for his buddy to give him a gift or something, then be hurt if it doesn’t happen.  It’s annoying.

The more I think about it, the more I find thank-you notes pointless and sycophantic.  I suppose sometimes they make sense and are culturally expected and reasonable, like with wedding gifts and whatnot, but it seems that people expect a thank-you note for every gift they might give, any act they might perform, or any compliment they might utter.  It’s almost like you have to send a thank-you note  if you receive a thank-you note.  It’s a pointless clusterfuck of fake etiquette that I think I’m going to avoid.

The only reason people send thank-you notes is out of perceived obligation.  It’s rarely out of authentic gratitude.  The way I see it is if someone genuinely goes above and beyond and does something significant for you, then by all means write a nice note to show your appreciation.  But if they give you a birthday gift, for example?  Not so much…  if you receive a birthday gift, then most likely you expressed your thanks and appreciation in person upon receipt of the gift.  Why some people expect further thanks above thanks already given is where my issue lies.  It’s almost as if some people do things for others *just* to in-debt the recipient – there’s no altruism involved.  And then if you don’t  kiss their ass and shower them with hallmark cards while groveling how “I’m not worthy” at their feet, well then they are just aghast at your “rudeness.”  It’s retarded.

I had to go to the doctor this week for my annual check-up and sat in the waiting room for an extra 45 minutes.  Ok.  Annoying (and boring), but fine.  I’ve come to expect it with any medical-related appointment.  Oh and nobody else was in the waiting room whatsoever, but ok…ok.

So here I sit… 5 minutes…10 minutes, no sign of life in the office when another patient walks in the door.  She signs in and goes to sit down, and before her ass even meets the 60-year-old stained taupe upholstery, the nurse calls her back! All righty then.  I figure that she must be there to see the other doctor or something.

But wait – it happens two more times.  AND, this is the best part, the two dudes who also got to go back immediately were huge, smelly, and dirty.  I ignorantly chose to sit in the chair right next to the reception window.

The first guy looks about 16 months pregnant.  He’s wearing a tan shirt not quite long enough to cover his bun-in-the-oven.  This shirt was covered in black smears.  It looked like tar, but I don’t really know for sure what the hell it was.  His odor horrendous –  like ass sweat and BO.  I had to hold my breath for what seemed like 5 minutes while he chatted with the receptionist, his asphalt-smeared rear end right next to my head.

Not 5 minutes after smelly comic-book-store guy gets called back, a taxi rolls up to the front door.  A vegabond-ish looking guy slides out and comes inside.  I hold my breath in anticipation of a nauseating odor.  He’s wearing a red, white, and blue wind-suit.  Basically, a head-to-toe American flag/  He’s large but not apparently about to give birth to an adult midget clown like the first guy.  He approaches the receptionist, and yes, I’m still stupidly sitting in the same chair, and I can tell he’s not going to have his shit together.

That was a good assumption.  He’s told by the receptionist that he needs to pay the copay before the appointment and wind-suit says, “oh, uh… can you send me a bill for it?”  “It’s $20 and our policy is to collect up front.  You have a $35 balance already,” replies the oh-so-pleasant receptionist.  “Uh… I just went back to work so don’t have any money but will on Friday so I can pay it all then.”  The receptionist relents, but by this time it’s been about 5 more minutes of me trying not to inhale his musky skunk scent.

He doesn’t even sit down before he’s called back!  I suppose that’s good for me, the one exiled to the waiting room for an eternity.  But what is going on here?   The dude had a delinquent account and still got seemingly preferential treatment!  Plus, I can’t imagine being the doctor having to examine  the general public.  Unimaginable…

Today I had to go to the HQ office for work (which, granted, is where I’m  officially assigned but I’ve been working from one of our Lansing offices regularly because it’s a lot closer to my house).  Rather than iron some pants, I decided I’d risk it and wear a pair of jeans.  We’re not *supposed* to wear jeans, but I work in IT.  It’s fairly casual anyway, unlike accounting where I used to work, so I figured it’d be safe.

So I was on the highway this morning, half-way there, when I started having second thoughts.  Should I really show up in jeans?  It might be frowned upon by the corporate Gods or something.  This thought quickly evaporated because I was not about to turn around to go back home as that would have added another 30 minutes onto my already late-start day (I overslept yet again- damn DST).  Besides, I had a really busy day ahead and wanted – needed rather- to just get started.

Since I haven’t been to the main office on a Friday in literally months, I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived after 8am to find free parking spaces on the 2nd floor of the parking deck – normally after 8, you’re lucky to end up on the 3rd.  When I got inside and entered the elevator, a handful of people from my floor got on right behind me.

All wearing jeans and tennis shoes. 🙂

I finished cleaning out my closet today and ended up with two bags full of clothes to donate to the Goodwill.  Several of the items were just old; several no longer fit.  I pulled out a couple of my business suits that were hanging in the back of the closet, covered in dust since I haven’t had a need to wear a business suit in years. I peeked at the labels just because I couldn’t remember what size they were.  Holy crap, my blue suit (dress-suit with a long jacket) was a size 3.  The black one (my favorite) was a size 2 skirt and a small jacket.  I held the black skirt up and was shocked at how narrow the thing was – it looked like it would fit the thigh of an average man.

Sigh….

I am no longer a size 2/3, or even a 5.  Granted, I used to push the scales at a whopping 98 lbs at the time I wore these clothes, but still.  It sucks to hold up something that used to fit perfectly and know that there’s no way I’ll ever fit into it again.

I’m not overweight.  My BMI is in the ‘normal’ range.  But I think I actually preferred being underweight.  It gave me a little more freedom.  I don’t want to have to worry about everything I eat or drink because of the calories.  When you’re underweight, you can use the extra calories every now and again so no big deal.

The biggest concern, however, is that as you move up the ‘normal’ range, you start approaching that ‘overweight’ bucket, which is a place I don’t want to be.  I don’t want to be like the 63% of Americans who are classified as overweight or worse.  I feel embarrassed that the US is so fat, and how we’re viewed by the rest of the world.  Being fat, it’s like you just gave up.  To me, it’s just like this symbol of apathy and I don’t find this trait virtuous or desirable.  I know it is very hard to lose weight, and I’m not trying to offend anyone.  All I’m saying is I don’t want to get to the point where I need to try to lose weight.  I don’t want to be judged for yet another thing.   Let me put it this way:  I’ve heard people refer to some fat girls like “oh she’d be really pretty if she lost weight.”  Well for me, they wouldn’t be saying that so it would be like a double whammy.

I am pretty sure having a kid actually changed my bone structure, widening my hips permanently.  I know there’s some fat on my ass too but I’m working to get rid of that.  Jillian’s 30-day-shred, baby!

It’s hard for someone to annoy me more than when they’re being a judgmental prick.  ‘Prick’ is a word that normally would be associated with masculinity (as in you normally would only refer to men this way; not women).  Ironically,  the worst offenders for constant, incessant, unfounded, prick-like judging are – shocker – women!!!  Particularly the ones belonging to the ‘baby boomer’ demographic, but not exclusively of course.  There are many younger ones who’ve somehow inherited this awful, bitchy, negative disposition.

I empathize for the men who will eventually end up with them.  At least the baby boomer men stuck with these women will die relatively soon.  There’s some relief I guess.

Look, I realize that everyone judges a little.  It’s human nature, but some people just go way beyond an acceptable level, flaunting their intolerance, ignorance, and bigotry (proudly too, which only exacerbates my disdain for them).

I mean with these people it’s Every Little Move you make that draws a scornful comment.  Well I shouldn’t say “you” because you will never hear the criticisms being doled out about you personally; naturally this is a very passive-aggressive undertaking by these bitches.  But you can bet your ass that you’ll hear a slew of criticisms about every carbon-based life form unfortunate enough to cross paths with the self-righteous queen.  It doesn’t take much to  extrapolate that if literally everyone else is being judged by her majesty, you are too.

What’s up with the passive-aggressiveness lately?  Seems to be getting worse and worse, anywhere you go.  For instance, today at work I counted 4 separate passive-aggressive signs in the breakroom alone.  One was about filling the paper towel container daily, one was about not dumping coffee grounds into the sink, another had to do with stinky foods in the fridge, and my favorite of course was the one about remembering to pay for your cup of coffee or tea.  The thing I like about this particular sign is that it shows a big picture of a tree with the cross-out symbol through it and dollar bills floating around, then it says “No Money Tree Here!!  If you use any of these supplies [lists not only coffee and cups, but ‘swizzle sticks’ which are ridiculously cheap] PAY EACH TIME!”  Hilarious.  Look, I don’t drink coffee so don’t use cups, ‘swizzles,’ sugar packs- whatever, but that is so fucking pathetic and cheap to make such a big deal out of it.   Yeah, people need to pay for their coffee but just put a sign that says Coffee $.35 or whatever it is.  The tree with money falling off of it is a bit much.  And seriously, swizzle sticks?  I can’t get over that.  Who cares.  I almost put a post it note with $5 into the box saying I don’t use your supplies but think you must need this money really badly, hence the effort you put into making the beautiful poster.  No thanks on the coffee, but I’ll be happy to pay you for not being a petty idiot.

I should have taken a picture of the sign.  Maybe it’s the pettiness that bothers me more than the passive-aggressiveness… I’m not quite sure.  Yeah, that’s probably true.

There are some things that just revolt you & snots are probably one of them.  Namely, snots belonging to another person.  What’s the non-slang term for snots anyway?   Never really thought about that before… anyhow, yeah, they’re disgusting.

This disgust towards snots is just something you accept blindly.  It’s a universal trait.  Well  until you have kids, that is.  Never in my life did I think that one day I’d pick a snot out of a kid’s nose like it’s nothing and just go about my business.  But that’s what happens when you have a little kid.

My kid seems to produce extra nasal mucus (yeah there’s the term I was looking for earlier) when she’s in the bathtub.  A typical bath goes something like this:

Julia:  [playing in tub, splashing around]

Me:  Julia, let me wipe your nose.  Look at me!

Julia:  No!! [thrashes around, turns away]

Me:  [grabs tissue, does a quick swipe in the general vicinity of her nose.  Calls it good even though it’s not.]

This happens a couple more times during the bath, then it’s time to get out and dry off.  This, my friends, is the perfect time to clean out that plugged little nose.  She’s laying on the floor wrapped tightly in her frog towel while I rub and pat her dry.  While she’s still bundled, I grab another tissue and start working the nose with the precision of a surgeon to remove her mucus that I see up in there even better now that she’s laying down and I can see far up into her nostrils.

I have to work quickly though, as she starts rolling and squirming as soon as she sees that kleenex in her peripheral vision.  So I have a tissue wrapped around one finger and I start pinching, poking, wiping, and digging to remove all of her crusty old snots.  She’s pissed at this point, but wait.  Success!  I triumphantly admire the fruits of my labor briefly before tossing the tissue in the toilet.

I mean this is just absurd, right?  I would never, never, ever wipe another person’s nose, let alone dig something out of it.  But it’s like since she’s my kid, it just doesn’t phase me at all.  It’s so weird.  And I’ve noticed that this isn’t the only thing that I’d normally deem unacceptable.

Fascinating.