Wednesday, December 20, 2006
#1 Reason Why Mary Does Not Like to Shop at Christmas:
Because it reminds me of how much I suck at patience.
But let me clarify and qualify that statement, if I may. When it comes to kids, taking care of sick people, old people behind the wheel, or holding out for the best price on something I really want, I am extraordinarily patient. I gots me lots of patience for that kinda stuff, because that stuff matters. Shoot, I’m even patient waiting in line for my turn to pay for stuff - even if it’s a long line. I recognize that everyone must be served one at a time, and everyone is going as fast as they can. But once I’m at the register, and I’m ready to pay, and store clerk shoots me a dirty look as if it’s my fault I picked a pair of pajama bottoms that DON’T have a tag on them, then I become irked. (Sir, if you’d like me to bring in my own tags before I patronize this retail establishment, perhaps you might post that on the door.) Moreover, if store clerk dials for a price check and Ms. Heinz 57 Hyphen It’ll Take Me An Hour to Get There answers the call, I start to shift my feet and look a little worn. Furthermore, when Heinz finally appears and proceeds to tell me that I’ve selected a pair of pajama bottoms that are part of a two-piece pajama SET, even if I found them on a mile-long rack of bottoms only, no tops in sight, and the bottoms I selected were available in several sizes hanging on said rack, and if 57 goes on to say I can’t have just the bottoms because they’re part of a two-piece pajama SET, AND that I’ll lose my place in line if I go back to make another selection, well snickety-boo - - that’s when I start to say not-so-nice things like this: “No. Sorry. Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to hold my place while I go back to Lingerie and quickly make another selection. I am not going to the back of the line.” Then I leave before anyone can respond. That’s when you know I’m out of patience.
But you should see me if someone throws up on my shoes. Perfect saint.
But let me clarify and qualify that statement, if I may. When it comes to kids, taking care of sick people, old people behind the wheel, or holding out for the best price on something I really want, I am extraordinarily patient. I gots me lots of patience for that kinda stuff, because that stuff matters. Shoot, I’m even patient waiting in line for my turn to pay for stuff - even if it’s a long line. I recognize that everyone must be served one at a time, and everyone is going as fast as they can. But once I’m at the register, and I’m ready to pay, and store clerk shoots me a dirty look as if it’s my fault I picked a pair of pajama bottoms that DON’T have a tag on them, then I become irked. (Sir, if you’d like me to bring in my own tags before I patronize this retail establishment, perhaps you might post that on the door.) Moreover, if store clerk dials for a price check and Ms. Heinz 57 Hyphen It’ll Take Me An Hour to Get There answers the call, I start to shift my feet and look a little worn. Furthermore, when Heinz finally appears and proceeds to tell me that I’ve selected a pair of pajama bottoms that are part of a two-piece pajama SET, even if I found them on a mile-long rack of bottoms only, no tops in sight, and the bottoms I selected were available in several sizes hanging on said rack, and if 57 goes on to say I can’t have just the bottoms because they’re part of a two-piece pajama SET, AND that I’ll lose my place in line if I go back to make another selection, well snickety-boo - - that’s when I start to say not-so-nice things like this: “No. Sorry. Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to hold my place while I go back to Lingerie and quickly make another selection. I am not going to the back of the line.” Then I leave before anyone can respond. That’s when you know I’m out of patience.
But you should see me if someone throws up on my shoes. Perfect saint.
Labels: winter
Friday, December 08, 2006
it would've been the ultimate, but no...
To Mary:
Hello Mary, In an effort to minimize the amount of time I spend bumbling in front of theRelief Society each Sunday, the Relief Society presidency has asked that I find the musically talented women among us and arrange musical numbers forthe Christmas season. I was wondering if you would be interested in performing a musical number (solo, duet, etc.) during Relief Society on either the December 17th or 24th Sunday. Please do not feel obligated to do this in the least - I know it is a busy time and it is tough to be put on the spot. Just let me know if you are interested.
Best, RS Chorister Lady
To RS Chorister Lady:
1. I've never seen you "bumble."
2. Even if you ever did, I'm sure it would be enlightened and entertaining "bumbling."
3. I'd be happy to throw something together for December 17th, as I will be out of town on the 24th.
All the best,
Mary
To Mary:
Hi, Thank you very much! You are very kind. I have asked two other girls if they would like to participate. Either you could perform a number with them (assuming they say yes), you could perform a solo, or you could recruit a friend. You are the first to respond which means you get to set all the rules (though the presidency expressly forbids Metallica songs, oh well).
-RS Chorister Lady
To: RS Chorister Lady
Peggy and I will sing a Christmas hymn from the hymnbook. Obviously this was our second choice, because we were all set to give a stirring rendition of "Master of Puppets." Holiday style of course.
-Mary
Hello Mary, In an effort to minimize the amount of time I spend bumbling in front of theRelief Society each Sunday, the Relief Society presidency has asked that I find the musically talented women among us and arrange musical numbers forthe Christmas season. I was wondering if you would be interested in performing a musical number (solo, duet, etc.) during Relief Society on either the December 17th or 24th Sunday. Please do not feel obligated to do this in the least - I know it is a busy time and it is tough to be put on the spot. Just let me know if you are interested.
Best, RS Chorister Lady
To RS Chorister Lady:
1. I've never seen you "bumble."
2. Even if you ever did, I'm sure it would be enlightened and entertaining "bumbling."
3. I'd be happy to throw something together for December 17th, as I will be out of town on the 24th.
All the best,
Mary
To Mary:
Hi, Thank you very much! You are very kind. I have asked two other girls if they would like to participate. Either you could perform a number with them (assuming they say yes), you could perform a solo, or you could recruit a friend. You are the first to respond which means you get to set all the rules (though the presidency expressly forbids Metallica songs, oh well).
-RS Chorister Lady
To: RS Chorister Lady
Peggy and I will sing a Christmas hymn from the hymnbook. Obviously this was our second choice, because we were all set to give a stirring rendition of "Master of Puppets." Holiday style of course.
-Mary
Labels: random
WILL NO ONE HELP THIS CHILD?!
Thursday, December 07, 2006
wish you all could be there
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
motion on the table
It is proposed that New England forego the months of January and February of 2007 in their entirety. All in favor?
Hmmm. Not the unanimous response I was hoping for. Very well, I shall attempt to convert the yet unconverted. Following are my arguments for said proposal aforementioned heretofore and so forth:
Everything is dead. Cold and dead. Everyone has taken down the pretty colored lights and festive holiday decorations which served only as a distraction from the impending annihilation of life. It’s true. While we were singing Deck the Halls and gazing up at shiny, bright things, nature’s soul abandoned us. Like when Mom and Dad used to put Pinocchio in the VCR, and sneak out of the house, leaving us with the babysitter we hated because all she did was listen to her Air Supply album or talk on the phone, never playing with us or doing her freaking job. Heartless beast. Heartless, like the Arctic wind that beats against the barren trees. Heartless, like the incessant ice and snow that buries my little Suzy alive, whose only desire is to roam the highways warm and free. Heartless. Without a heart. This constitutes as dead. And speaking of dead, this leads to argument Numero Deu:
People in New England become half-frozen zombies. Everybody stops talking. It’s too cold to talk. Or be civil. Or raise your head to make eye contact. On the train, in the stores, at work, people just stare into space wishing they had joy. But there is no joy in New England. Nay. In January and February, the New England way of life becomes much like that scene from March of the Penguins. You know the one, where the penguins all huddle up together, without a peep amongst them, packing themselves in as tightly as they can, burying their heads, waiting for the storm to go away. It takes 143 days or something. And all they do in that time is stand there and try not to die. Can I get an Amen? Who in Boston knows the plight?
I’m sorry, did I hear one feeble voice from the back asking:
“But what about Valentine’s Day?!”
Someone fetch me a gun.
As for the President’s days and Martin Luther King Day, there are plenty of other days in the year when we can completely forget, or otherwise disregard the memory of these great men.
What’s that? Does someone have a birthday during January of February? Well friend, I’ve got the greatest solution ever for you: move your birthday to June. Haven’t you always wanted to know what it’s like to eat cake in shorts and a t-shirt? As a kid, didn’t you always want to have a swim party? This is your year. It’ll be so much fun, you’ll never go back. Promise.
If someone wants to retort with some verses from Ecclesiastes, about there being a season for everything, blah blah, just remember this: the New Testament is like totally better than the Old. So nyah.
If some scientist out there wants to rebut with some lecture about the necessity of winter for the possibility of spring, I would say this: we’re an advanced society. I’m sure you scientists can come up with a better way. If you can invent seedless watermelon, you can make winter go away and do it without ruining spring. So get on it.
These arguments, and others I am sure to come up with after I post this, all prove that there is nothing of even the remotest value in a New England January and February. They are entirely without merit, and moreover I believe they are damaging to the spirit. THEREFORE, I hereby place the aforementioned proposal back on the table for a vote. All in favor of doing away with Icky January and Poopy Pants February, please give me a resounding AYE!!!
Hmmm. Not the unanimous response I was hoping for. Very well, I shall attempt to convert the yet unconverted. Following are my arguments for said proposal aforementioned heretofore and so forth:
Everything is dead. Cold and dead. Everyone has taken down the pretty colored lights and festive holiday decorations which served only as a distraction from the impending annihilation of life. It’s true. While we were singing Deck the Halls and gazing up at shiny, bright things, nature’s soul abandoned us. Like when Mom and Dad used to put Pinocchio in the VCR, and sneak out of the house, leaving us with the babysitter we hated because all she did was listen to her Air Supply album or talk on the phone, never playing with us or doing her freaking job. Heartless beast. Heartless, like the Arctic wind that beats against the barren trees. Heartless, like the incessant ice and snow that buries my little Suzy alive, whose only desire is to roam the highways warm and free. Heartless. Without a heart. This constitutes as dead. And speaking of dead, this leads to argument Numero Deu:
People in New England become half-frozen zombies. Everybody stops talking. It’s too cold to talk. Or be civil. Or raise your head to make eye contact. On the train, in the stores, at work, people just stare into space wishing they had joy. But there is no joy in New England. Nay. In January and February, the New England way of life becomes much like that scene from March of the Penguins. You know the one, where the penguins all huddle up together, without a peep amongst them, packing themselves in as tightly as they can, burying their heads, waiting for the storm to go away. It takes 143 days or something. And all they do in that time is stand there and try not to die. Can I get an Amen? Who in Boston knows the plight?
I’m sorry, did I hear one feeble voice from the back asking:
“But what about Valentine’s Day?!”
Someone fetch me a gun.
As for the President’s days and Martin Luther King Day, there are plenty of other days in the year when we can completely forget, or otherwise disregard the memory of these great men.
What’s that? Does someone have a birthday during January of February? Well friend, I’ve got the greatest solution ever for you: move your birthday to June. Haven’t you always wanted to know what it’s like to eat cake in shorts and a t-shirt? As a kid, didn’t you always want to have a swim party? This is your year. It’ll be so much fun, you’ll never go back. Promise.
If someone wants to retort with some verses from Ecclesiastes, about there being a season for everything, blah blah, just remember this: the New Testament is like totally better than the Old. So nyah.
If some scientist out there wants to rebut with some lecture about the necessity of winter for the possibility of spring, I would say this: we’re an advanced society. I’m sure you scientists can come up with a better way. If you can invent seedless watermelon, you can make winter go away and do it without ruining spring. So get on it.
These arguments, and others I am sure to come up with after I post this, all prove that there is nothing of even the remotest value in a New England January and February. They are entirely without merit, and moreover I believe they are damaging to the spirit. THEREFORE, I hereby place the aforementioned proposal back on the table for a vote. All in favor of doing away with Icky January and Poopy Pants February, please give me a resounding AYE!!!
Labels: winter
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