Dog Walk: A Poem
Power trip=pace car
Let it be known that I have NEVER watched more than 2 laps of a Nascar race, now will I ever. Besides the occasional crash all it is is a group of people who can’t take right turns. Left, Left, Left, Left. Lather, rinse, repeat. To some people, this is a hoot. I am just not one of those people. The one reason I would ever even attend a Nascar race, to drive the pace car.
Sure, most people would say they wouldn’t pass up the chance to drive a race car, but since I don’t know how to drive stick, I want to be in the pace car. There is no bigger power trip in sports. In front of millions of people, you drive a car that would normally get you made fun of on the streets. But not here. Throngs of drunk, wife-beater wearing, tan line showing fans start to hoop and holler as you make your lap. Sure as the race goes on, the fans continue to scream but as the beer continues to flow the rest of the race becomes a blur. Your lap in the pace car is more or less the one lap they will remember of the entire race, or at least be able to call to memory.
In your rear view are the best racers on the circuit and they can’t do a damn thing until you get off of the road. Each car has like a bazillion horses waiting to be freed but there you are in front of them in a car any member of the Geek Squad would be proud of, taking your time…pacing yourself if you will. Throw in an iced coffee and some tunes and you got yourself one a Sunday drive even Miss Daisy would be proud of!
I found a flaw with my fone!
It’s true my friends, I have found a flaw with my iPhone. For some reason, the sun of California must have made the iPhone inventors sun-centric, because they did not take into account the cold evenings in December in New England. If they had put down their frisbees and taken off their sunglasses long enough they might have seen some temperature maps of the country and noticed that the whole country isn’t always 70 and sunny.
Now to my point, there is no hand-related way to answer the phone in the winter. If you have gloves, no matter how thin, you can not slide the little button across the screen. I found this out the hard way. I’m driving and my phone starts ringing. With my gloved hand I take it out of my purse and attempt to answer it. Boy did I feel silly when I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to take my glove off and drive at the same time. So I did what I had to do, used my tongue. Yes, creepy people, I used my tongue as a finger. I had tried my chin but that wasn’t working. And it worked like a charm! But I was/am still annoyed that now I am going to have to cut the right pointer finger off of every glove so that on the rare chance that someone calls me, I can answer. Or perhaps I should move to Hawaii!
Outlets….they’re a funny thing….
And while electrical outlets are wacky looking, those aren’t the kind of outlets I was talking about. I’m talking about shopping outlets, specifically Wrentham, but I’m sure that my astute observations apply to any outlets out there.
The other day the ladies and I drove the 45ish minutes out to the Wrentham Premium Outlets. The stores are normal every day stores, but its like a strange force takes over your body. When you park the car you expect it to be like any other day in the land of retail. But the second you open your car door, something changes. All of a sudden your price reality goes from normal to something resembling a compass in the Bermuda Triangle…wacky. Because you are at the outlets you think every purchase is a “steal.” The sweater that was originally $59.99 marked down to $39.99 but isn’t worth $15.99 on a good day, is all of a sudden the Holy Grail of your day. Now normally when you saw the same sweater on sale in the non-outlet store you wouldn’t even think of paying $39.99 and would consider the price highway robbery. But not today, no siree Bob, you are at the outlets and there is a $20 discount so it is a must add to your Christmas shopping list.
So here is my conspiracy theory (that I don’t believe but helps me justify my overspending), there is an invisible dome over the outlets that holds air with some kind of chemical that shuts off the part of your brain that controls spending urges and makes you feel all warm and fuzzy when you see a good discount on a tag. I’ll admit, I fell for it and I’ll fall for it over and OVER again. After all, the magical chemical made me wait in line at the Coach outlet, spend 45 minutes inside in sweltering heat listening to the incessant buzz of “isn’t this to die for?” in about 15 different languages…but I had a 20% coupon and I’ll be damned if I was going to let it go to waste!
More comfort please
Today I find myself sitting at the dmv waiting to renew my license. First let me share my shock of having to pay $75 for a license that they didn’t even spend the effort on reminding me I need to renew. Before I leave my house I check online to see what the waiting times are and boy was I surprised when it was a 46s wait in Wilmington. Of course by the rime I get all gussied up and get to the place the wait has inflated to 27 minutes. I’m just thankful that I am not facing the hour plus wait predicted in revere.
Now, to get me to my point… This DMV is well lit and clean which is a huge change from 5 years ago! The one thing I have to gripe about is the uncomfortable seating. When you think about it the DMV isn’t a place you are in and out of Ina jiffy. It is a known fact that you shouldn’t plan to spend less than 30 minutes waiting. So i sit my butt on one of the benches to assume the waiting position and what do I find? The epitome of uncomfortable seating! Well I’m sure sitting on a flaming cactus would probably be more uncomfortable what are the chances of you actually sitting on one. Walking in I would have assumed that all the butts that have planted on these benches would have worn away some kind of molded butt impression but no. (no pun intended) I can’t understand why the DMV wouldn’t invest in comfier benches knowing that people will be spending a good amount of time on them. I’m not saying they need to recline and massage just something a little squishier. They can rest assured that people won’t want to hang out because they are comfortable. Just think of the increase in smiling faces and pleasant interactions…cus when someone’s tush is happy they are happy!
Why is pet food flavored?
Poached salmon, beef stew, country cookout…why do people buy “flavors” for their pets? I must admit, I have not lost sleep over this question. In fact it never even crossed my mind until a day ago when I saw the kitten cleaning herself after she had her dinner. Without getting in to too much detail, she was cleaning her kitty behind licking away with reckless abandon. Here is the stream of consciousness that followed: I wonder if she knows that tastes bad…do cats have taste buds…do they even care what they are eating…if she is content cleaning herself (and by content I mean not gagging) then why the heck do we think she prefers flavored food? Please tell me there aren’t human testers…END
I guess there area a couple angles to the answer.
1. Pets like a change from “butt” flavor
2. Flavors make us convince ourselves that we are not feeding our animals Flipper or Mr. Ed
3. It is just a come on by the pet food industry
While we all know the true answer is probably number 3, I would like to think it is really number 1 (which is kind of gross in itself). Next time you are scooping “Whitefish Delight” or “Turkey Meatloaf Dinner” into Fluffy or Bruiser’s bowl, take a moment to reflect but please don’t sample!!
Time for a change…I need your help!
I’m going to break from my usual wittiness to ask for your help. This may be a long entry so get comfy!! You see a few months ago my company had the audacity to up and go bankrupt (THE NERVE 
) but it was really something we saw coming for a while. I had the great idea to hastily pull together an application for grad school. At first glance the program had me written all over it! In ONE year I would have a Master’s in Psychology, the school is close enough to commute and I could study anything I wanted as a thesis. But now, I find that most of that was skewed by my rose colored glasses. The truth is it is more or less a pre-PhD program. The title “general psychology” is a misnomer to a T. Instead of “general psychology” it should be called a degree in “research, statistics and more research with no opportunity to pick any other classes besides those which are required and oh yeah, you aren’t going to learn anything you aimed to learn.”
To some research is a fabulous pastime full of statistics and hours in the lab and library all to solve for one answer. Research is a)not my strong suit b)not want I want to go on to when I graduate and c)not really teaching me any of the subjects I want to learn. I will admit that because the heavy math focus is out of my normal bubble that I would learn something. There ain’t no denying that, but the issue is, do I want to? I am now at the point in my life when I can grab my future by the horns and make of it what I WANT not necessarily what it should seem to be. So why is it such a big decision when in essence the answer is either stay or go? Why is it so hard for me to say “You know what, I’m not learning about the topics I thought I was going to…so I’m out of here?” I don’t know the answer. So here is my dilemma, I have made lists upon lists of reasons to stay and go, but there isn’t a majority on either side. I am literally STUCK in the middle. If I stay, I will struggle with 2 semesters of statistics and 1 of methods, not learn about social psychology, spend time on a thesis which I doubt I will ever use again and be miserable for a year. On the other hand if I stay: I will have a Master’s in one year, will learn things I never thought I would and meet some interesting people. But because there isn’t a “wow” reason on either side of the coin I am in a state of limbo that occupies my mind every minute of every day.
I recognize that I am scared of what could be if I stay. So I want to make sure that if I leave, I don’t leave for the wrong reasons (because of what other people will thing, because it’s too much work, etc). But if I stay I want the feeling to be 100% (which nothing besides death is). I really am at a crossroads where one direction leads me to walk over hot coals while writing 4 research projects and juggling knives while the other direction sends me down an emotional and occupational gauntlet while I am set on fire. NOW do you see why this isn’t easy!? Not to sound cocky, but I know that I am smart and I got in for one reason or another, but that isn’t good enough for me for some reason. ARGH is all I have to say!! So to sum up what is going on in my head: it’s like I’m spinning and spinning and then I stop but my eyes are still googly and no direction seems to be the right one and I feel like I’ll fall if I take a step in any direction and there is no one to blame but me and yet no one to catch me. Sounds dramatic, but I think it’s a good description!!
School…check Job…check
Lately my occupational status has been in question. The good news, I have a job, albeit part time. The bad news is that I am not a hobo riding the train for money (since some of you pointed out my recurring subway theme). A few weeks ago I started volunteering at the USO in Boston two days a week. Because of my awesomeness, and the fact that they desperately needed admin help, I now work there two days a week. So if you are keeping track…Tuesday and Thursday=volunteering but Wednesday and Friday=$.
If you work for Massachusetts unemployment, I’m still looking for another job. If you don’t, let me tell you how awesome it is to have a 3 day weekend EVERY week. Well kind of, since I attend USO events almost every weekend from now until the end of July. You may be asking yourself, well gollygeewillickers what is going on with school?
As of last week I am officially enrolled in grad school. “For what?” you might ask….and you know you did! I will be getting (hopefully) my M.A. in Psychology. By the way those 14 simple letters are putting me into rediculous debt, but that is the American way after all. Not to mention all the school-related dreams that have started (i.e. missing registration, being lost, using a pen and not a laptop to take notes…) And because I am psychic I can tell you that yes I will still work at the USO during school. And if it so happens that in a couple of years I will be seeing patients….anyone who prints out this blog entry and brings it to my office will get half off their consultation fee….pass it on!
Nuts get a bad wrap
When I was a junior in high school we had to do science projects. For some unknown reason I decided to do caloric values of nuts which in essence you find out by lighting them on fire. In high school, I was like many other teens, not in with the cool kids…not looking hot…I was what I like to refer to as in the lukewarm area. So here I am in Mr. Valenti’s AP chem class with a mix of some popular seniors (aka the hot boys) and nerds (aka us) announcing my topic title. The second I unfolded my Staples trifold display board I heard the snickers…”How hot are your nuts?” was written in a snazzy fire like font across the top. Mr. Valenti wasn’t so sure how to respond so he moved on to the next kid. Eventhough I was highly amused I felt like saying “PEOPLE! We’re taking about cashews, peanuts, almonds, etc.” Freakin’ teenagers.
I’m not an idiot, I knew the alternate meaning of the title but didn’t think it was a big deal. The simple phrase captured the essence of my study. Then Mr. Valenti approached me in the hallway and said “I’m not so sure about your title, you know what it sounds like right?” Right there, in the corridor I realized how hard nuts have it. I moved on, lived my life, and then came a random conversation a couple of nights ago.
The girls and I were snacking on something, whether it was trail mix or cookies I forget, but I know it wasn’t healthy. OH it was macadamia nut cookies…I took a bite and innocently stated, “you know, nuts are great. I can’t think of one I don’t like.” The silent pause was broken by cackles all around and I was brought back to AP chem. Perverts. Is it funny? Absofrickinlutely, but I feel bad for the various delectable seeds.
Nowadays when anyone after Gen Y says ”nuts” for some reasons their minds go straight to the gutter and think of male anatomy. I guess I can’t complain though, because once word got out in high school about my project, ”How hot are your nuts?” was the most popular display at the fair!
People do stupid things when stuck in traffic
We’ve all been there, cruising along the highway when you run into a sluggish wall of taillights. You were in the groove, with the windows down and your music on thinking you were going to make it to your destination in record time. Then comes poor city planning. It is someones bright idea to work on rte 93 going into Boston on Friday and Saturday nights 8PM-5AM. Not only due construction, but whittle four lanes of traffic into one. They would have happier drivers if they just kept it during the week, but who am I to try to make the people happy. Silly, silly me!
Back to the point, it’s a Friday night and people have the goal of heading in to Boston for a few drinks (to get drunk), a nice dinner (consisting of bar fare), or maybe a show (seeing drunk people claim they are “completely sober”). Some of my fellow traffic-goers may have already started the evening (passengers I hope) with their favorite beverage. I know at least one gentleman was in this group, because I heard him tell the cop he was “completely sober.” So you may ask, how did I see all this in bumper to bumper traffic? Well I’ll tell you. I just switched lanes and was waving thanks to the flashy Beamer behind me when out jumped the passenger. This Mensa student decided he was going to walk to Boston, because it would be faster. Gee, why didn’t I think of that? Could it be because we were about 10 miles from Boston on a HIGHWAY at NIGHT?! I laughed because I have the habit of laughing at stupid people, but I stopped when I saw the blue lights. Now I can’t be sure if the arrival of the 5-0 was coincidence or someone called them , but nonetheless it provided some entertainment.
The cruiser is coming up the breakdown lane and turns on his lights, Mensa is still walking, the cruiser is about 100 yds away, dude is still walking. The walker must have been really set on walking in to Boston because he only noticed the cops when they honked. And what does this highly intelligent being do? Jog over to the cruiser. Yes, I’m sure that is what cops love to see, someone running at their cruiser on a busy highway in the dark. At this point, ALL of my windows are down and my radio is off just to be nosy. I can hear snippets of their convo, something like-Mensa: “I’m fine, completely sober” Cop:”You an idiot?’ M: “No, just walking…” and then a noisy truck pulled up and I couldn’t hear anything else. Bastard, get a tune up. The next thing I know, the smarty pants is jogging back to his own car where the driver has graciously pushed open the door. ( I’m thinking next time the driver should probably put on the child locks. ) And off went Mr. Officer. If I were the cop I would have recommended the guy play in traffic…dressed in black….when the cars are going 70mph, but then again, I’m just a person in traffic with nothing better to do.
