Have you ever wondered WHY we tell people things? And when I say we, I mean all of the short-tempered, snarky, and yet challengingly smart people of the world. WHY, why, why do we waste our time, breath, or characters on these people? You know, my favorite comedien is Bill Ingvall (sp?), and I like him because he points out stupidity. Here's a few...
The other day, Hub and I were in our local Wal-Mart because that's where we always are. We are walking down the aisle towards the cash registers with our 50-pound bag of catfood when we, simultaneously, spot one of these "are you kidding me?" people. She couldn't have been more than 50 years old, but she was sporting a tracheostomy hole, a portable oxygen tank complete with nasal cannula, and AN E-FREAKING-CIGARETTE. Have you seen these new things? Smokeless smokes. So, at some point, her doctor told her that she was going to wear a hole in her neck for the rest of her life, speak like a gremlin, and probably die a slow, painful, drowning death from emphysema; and yet, she couldn't bring herself to stop smoking. Really? If I was that woman's doctor, I think I'd have saved my nickel for the next patient who might have given a shit about his / her health?
I have been preparing to go on vacation since the end of last week. I don't take vacation often partially because I don't like the way other people do my worn and partially because I didn't have the vacation time to do it. (Lots of health problems.) So, I do a lot of DETAIL work, and I've been sending out preparatory emails with all the damn details. Yet, today, I've fielded all SORTS of questions about 'what do I do when...," "when are you leaving," and "do i need to do this?" Really? Did you NOT read the freaking page-long email I sent out with all the details INCLUDED? Seriously? I think I'm going to stop answering questions that I've already answered. "Fish is no longer taking questions. Please refer to handout."
This is my favorite:
When I brought Epona home, Hub was all about not liking her. Told me that she was my dog. It was my responsibility to feed her, water her, train her, potty train her, etc. I'm not lying when I say that I became the Alpha Dog in my family quicklikeamofo. So, Epona is a year old now, and she knows her shit. She is a smart dog, and she picks up on training cues very quickly. (If you follow me at all, you've seen oodles of my doodle.) (Heh. That was cute.) Anyways, so she can sit, speak, jump up, all of that. She can also come on command (and not in the dirty way, you freaks). So, last night, we're lying in bed watching some man-opera (WWE wrestling), and I got up to let the dog out. Hub was the next one up; so, he went to let her back in. Do you remember that porch game I talked about before? Yeah, she plays this w/ hub more than she does me. He hollers for her to come inside, and she lies down. So, he pokes his head around the corner and says, "Honey, call your dog." I bellow out for that girl to come to me, and here she comes running. Hub lays down beside me in bed; and with a hearty sigh, says, "She's your dog. *sigh*" AGAIN, this morning, she's outside doing her best to look cute in the iris bed. Hub tries to lure her inside with a cookie, I bellow, she comes running. And again I get, "She's your dog." REALLY? For a year you were all about not being about the dog; and now that she's all cute and lovey on me, you want a damn dog of your own? REALLY?
She is my dog. And I'm not sharing. Dammit.