Miss Manners on Crack

In today's installment of "The Stupid Things People Do That Bug the Crap Out of Me" we're going to discuss two egregious breaches of etiquette that have been committed against me in the past few days: the Pop-In, and People asking Questions about Your Reproductive Status that are None of Their God Damn Business.

First, the Pop-In. If you are not a fan of Seinfeld (and if not, what is wrong with you? That is one of the best shows ever!) you may not have heard of it, but a Pop-In is when someone shows up at your house unannounced and uninvited. Like what my mother-in-law did on Friday night. Now, the m-i-l and I aren't on the best of terms as it is, but I put up with her crap because it gets me a free babysitter sometimes. But she is definitely not my favorite person. And this incident does nothing to endear her to me.

So Friday night, me and my kid are sitting around in our pj's, relaxing. She was playing, I was watching tv. Not just any tv, either, but the second part of the 2 part season finale of Monk, one of my favorite shows. Monk had faked his own death to beat a murder charge, and everyone was going crazy trying to figure out what was happening, and I was really into it...and then my phone rang. Now, thanks to the wonderful invention of caller i.d., I saw it was the m-i-l, and decided not to answer, knowing I could call her back later. I hit "ignore" and went back to my show, thinking that was the end of it. Ha! How stupid of me! Two minutes later, there's a knock on my front door...right in the middle of my show! And what to my wondering eyes should appear but that stupid woman! I was not amused, to put it mildly.

But I let her in, against my will, to see what she wanted. Big mistake. All she wanted was to give my daughter a Valentine's Day present, which had been sitting at her house for 2 weeks, so there's no reason she couldn't have waited until I answered the damn phone to bring it over. But she doesn't have the sense to see that. The woman is a psychologist, for god's sake. You would think she would understand human nature, such as the desire not to be disturbed by people pounding on your door without warning. And yet she has absolutely no common sense. So anyways, she came in and started wanting to chat, but I flatly ignored her until the commercial, at which point I started edging her towards the door. Totally ruined my Monk-watching experience. No wonder I can't stand her. When she's old, I'm going to make my husband put her in a nursing home.

Now, for the second item. This is another one of my "I really hate sitting by the elevator" stories, but I can't help it. I really do hate sitting by the elevator, because it gives all sorts of stupid people an excuse to say really stupid things to me! Like today, when a woman with whom I am just barely acquainted (enough to say hi when we pass in the hallway, but definitely not enough to stop to talk) came up to the elevator, hit the button, said hi and then just blurted out "So when are you going to have a baby?" Like it's any of her business! I'm sorry, but my reproductive plans are not waiting-for-the-elevator talk! Especially not with people I barely know. If we know each other well enough to discuss the details of our sex lives, then you can ask me questions about when I want to have another child. Just a rule of thumb for those of you who were wondering what the proper etiquette in that situation is.

They're Real and They're Spectacular...but Please Don't Touch Them

Have I mentioned before how much I dislike the security guards at my work? They are so incredibly worthless. A bunch of old men and tiny women. Now, I am very proud of being a woman myself, and never think of myself as less than any male, but I understand that if some 250 pound man is rampaging, I am not going to be able to do a damn thing to stop it, especially without a weapon. But these tiny little women, 5 feet tall, are charged with protecting us. Ha! And a bunch of old, fat men, with beer bellies and bald spots. They make me feel oh so safe!

Except, of course, when they are being annoying. Like when they are demanding to see my cell phone, to make sure it doesn't have a camera on it. Oh my god, not a camera phone...eeek! Or, even though I have been working here for 7 freaking years, they still demand to see my badge, to verify that I am an employee and am allowed to walk through the employee entrance. Because I'm a shape-shifter and my face changes on a daily basis! Or when one very tall guard, instead of moving out of the way so that people could walk through, just held his arm up instead, and hadn't bathed for several weeks, or ever washed his uniform...that was disgusting. Literally made my eyes water from the stench.

Or this morning, when one of the guards touched my tit.

Of course, I suppose she probably didn't mean to. I had beeped, like I always do when I walk through the metal detector, and she was waving her little wand over me, trying to determine what sort of dangerous thing I had hidden in my bra (maybe it's the tiny, bra-mounted submachine gun that I carry for personal protection! Or my launchable steel-plated nipple knives, accurate up to 30 feet! Or maybe just an underwire) and her hand brushed my boob (on the inside slope, right above the nipple, in case you were wondering...pervert).

Man, I feel so violated.

I wonder if she wants my phone number.

Liars and Lunch

Man, weathermen (or would that be "weatherpeople"? Or I guess I could say "meteorologist," but that sounds like way too fancy a title for an idiot that stands in front of a green screen and waves his arms like a ninny.) are such liars. Even though it was 60 degrees yesterday afternoon, they promised us snow last night. But did they deliver? Of course not. There was not a drop of precipitation during the night. Bunch of damn lying bastards!

Not that it matters anyway, I guess. Even if it snowed, I would still have had to come to work. The Head Honcho of monkey-work central would demand it. Hell, we could have a raging blizzard, 2 feet of snow, and the HH would probably get a snow mobile and drive to every employee's house to pick them up, just to make sure they could get to work. And then we would be snowed in and end up having to eat our co-workers for sustenance. Thank goodness lots of them look like whales...they will provide a great deal of nutrition for the rest of us.

Speaking of the whales, there is a lunch sale going on in our breakroom right now, which is right next to where I sit. Aren't I lucky, getting to sit right next to the elevator and the breakroom, the most heavily trafficked walkway in the building, when I can't stand to talk to anybody? Ugh. Anyways. So there's a whole herd of people (lots of whom resemble whales, or at least hippos) walking around my desk, carrying their plates full of food back to their desks, gathering by the elevator and talking at the top of their voices. At least this food doesn't stink. Sometimes they have things like chopped onions in there, stuff that just makes my eyes water. Disgusting. Or it's also great when someone sets the toaster oven (which, of course, I also sit next to) on fire. Now that's a great smell!

Man, I'm glad it's finally Friday. I get to go home and hope that I will never have to leave my house again. That would be heavenly.

Shut Up

I really despise small talk. My feeling is, if you don't have something important and substantial to say, then why are you opening your mouth? There isn't enough clean oxygen left to support the planet...we don't need you using it up with your stupid ramblings. And yet there are many situations where people seem to be uncomfortable if they can't think of something to say. And then there are people who just love to talk but don't really have anything to say that anyone wants to listen to.

There are a great many people at my work who have that problem. They always want to talk when they are waiting for the elevator, but they very rarely have anything to say that I find the least bit interesting. A "Hi" or "How are you?" would be fine. But instead, I have to listen to comments like: "Cheer up! You look grumpy!" or (on a Friday) "So it's finally Friday!" Like I don't know what day of the week it is.

But the absolute worst of the bunch are the people who ask questions to which the answers are glaringly obvious. For instance, if I have just cut and/or dyed my hair, I am treated to "Oh, did you cut/dye your hair?" Or when they look at pictures of my daughter and say "Wow, she's growing!" Like that's a shocker! What else do children do, shrink? Or another favorite "Wow, it's raining/snowing!" Because I can't see through glass well enough to see the weather myself.

Man, people are stupid.

Another thing that bugs me (and this has absolutely nothing to do with small talk, but it's been bugging me lately, so I have to add it to my rant) is women wearing stupid boots, especially with dresses. Now, boots are great, worn properly. But properly does not include wearing cowboy boots with sundresses, or high-waters with zip up ankle boots, or big black platform stripper boots to work. Get a grip, people! Go buy some nice boots with a small heel, and wear them with pants or a skirt that is actually long enough. Otherwise, you just look like a freak.

Sorry, I don't really have a lot of coherent thoughts right now. It's almost time to go home from work, and I can't concentrate on my monkey work anymore, so I am just typing and frowning at the screen so that I look busy. Because if I look busy, people are less likely to talk to me. Like George Costanza said, if you frown a lot, people think you are very busy, and that keeps people from talking to me. And anything that keeps people from talking to me (and I am not ruling out global nuclear war in this sentence) can only be a plus.