I was recently in the Bahamas on vacation. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than heading down there for a week of fun in the sun and relaxation. However, since a majority of my family is from the island it is inevitable that I end up having to spend time helping someone family member or family friend out with something that I would just rather not bother with... but such is life…
About three days in it happened. I was forced to go through the very painful process of helping a 60 year old man load his personal contacts in Google. Now they will automatically be stored for his use from any location around the world and they will easily download into the new cell phone that he has been eyeing for some time now. Hooray for me. I explained to him that it’s safe and easy and now he won't have to worry about losing the giant book of numbers he has been carrying around for over 30 years.
The conversation went as follows…
Me: Don't worry about anything. This is safe. Your info is backed up and if you ever get that phone you won’t have to put each number in. They will just load for you.
Family Friend: But what if I get the phone and later it breaks? Then I will lose everything.
Me: Even if that happens the contact will be saved on the internet so you will still have them on the computer.
Family Friend: But what if the computer breaks? That I will have nothing!
Me: That’s the beauty of this. The info will still be on the internet and you can access it from anywhere. So there is nothing to worry about.
Family Friend: But what if the internet breaks or crashes?
Don’t laugh people! This is a reasonable question for a 60 year old man who has spent most of his life on a small island in the Southern most part of the North Atlantic. However, my daughter, who is an inner city kid with a bad attitude and a quick tongue much like her old man, did not see it this way. She then felt the need to make her own observations on this topic.
Daughter: (while laughing uncontrollably and nearly falling to the floor unable to breathe) The internet isn't going to end. What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense. (Continued Laughter)
Crushed, embarrassed and ashamed... my poor old family friend left the room defeated and no longer interested in this new technology or the phone that he had his eye on. It was sad to watch him leave the room in defeat at the hands of a child. I wanted to scold my little girl for her words and her lack of sensitivity... but I was too busy trying to stop myself from laughing…
I aint shit!
RS
Monday, August 9, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Lent is now over… RS
…And as a result, I can now go back to being an angry, miserable bastard. Many of you who read this blog may recall that I told my mother that I was going to give up acting as such (http://deuxlosers.blogspot.com/2010/02/40-days-of-lent-rs.html)…
We’ll despite the naysayers, I did just that. I was a wonderful man for 40 days….
But now that Lent is over… the first thing I did when I came in this morning is to tell my office counterpart (who wanted to talk about the NCAA Brackets of which I have been out since round one) that I wasn’t in the mood to hear any of his shit! Fuck him…. This verbal lashing was made even better not 15 seconds later when another officemate came and wanted to talk Redskins… I was all over that one… leaving the first guy sad and confused.
While that was minimum… its only noon. There will be more miserable bastardness to come… this is promise!!!
RS
We’ll despite the naysayers, I did just that. I was a wonderful man for 40 days….
But now that Lent is over… the first thing I did when I came in this morning is to tell my office counterpart (who wanted to talk about the NCAA Brackets of which I have been out since round one) that I wasn’t in the mood to hear any of his shit! Fuck him…. This verbal lashing was made even better not 15 seconds later when another officemate came and wanted to talk Redskins… I was all over that one… leaving the first guy sad and confused.
While that was minimum… its only noon. There will be more miserable bastardness to come… this is promise!!!
RS
Friday, April 2, 2010
A lesson learned on when to scream! LB
Spring is in the air, the sun has returned and so have the bugs. Usually any chance encounter with a bug in my apt is met with a myriad of screams, prayers, tears and followed by an minor emotional break down. This is all due to the fact I believe bugs will automatically crawl into your ear and lay eggs in your brain while you sleep.
The breakdowns were all fine when I was the only person living on my floor. But that is no longer the case. My apt is all full and the walls are paper thin. I know this because I literally hear my neighbors breathing, coughing or sneezing. Many times I find myself saying, "God bless you" across the wall.
As a single woman living on her own for the first time, I realized, you don't want to waste your screams.
I was listening to the news this week. Apparently, there's a man in my neighborhood, who likes to break into single women's homes in the middle of the night and fondle himself in front of them. With my luck, he's probably also an avid fan of this blog.
It was then I realized, it's important that my blood curdling screams should be saved for freaks like that. Not for the stink bug that happened to find it's way into my bedroom. The solution is easier said than done. I thought about just covering my mouth, but I don't want the neighbors to get used to my muffled screams, as those are also a cry for help.
I believe I will start singing old negro spirituals to give me the strength to do what I need, to defend my new apt from 6 legged intruders. And I'll save the real screams of fear for the 2 legged ones.
LB
The breakdowns were all fine when I was the only person living on my floor. But that is no longer the case. My apt is all full and the walls are paper thin. I know this because I literally hear my neighbors breathing, coughing or sneezing. Many times I find myself saying, "God bless you" across the wall.
As a single woman living on her own for the first time, I realized, you don't want to waste your screams.
I was listening to the news this week. Apparently, there's a man in my neighborhood, who likes to break into single women's homes in the middle of the night and fondle himself in front of them. With my luck, he's probably also an avid fan of this blog.
It was then I realized, it's important that my blood curdling screams should be saved for freaks like that. Not for the stink bug that happened to find it's way into my bedroom. The solution is easier said than done. I thought about just covering my mouth, but I don't want the neighbors to get used to my muffled screams, as those are also a cry for help.
I believe I will start singing old negro spirituals to give me the strength to do what I need, to defend my new apt from 6 legged intruders. And I'll save the real screams of fear for the 2 legged ones.
LB
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
God Looks Out for Babies and Fools... RS
There is an old cliché that says God takes care of babies and fools. I believe this to be true because this past weekend my little girl turned 10 yrs old. She is my baby… and I am a fool… and God has taken care of us both.
Have you ever had one of those moments as a child where you looked at your parents and just wondered how and why they were granted the right to be parents? My daughter has one of those moments every time she’s in the same room as me.
Flash back eight years or so. My family was slated to arrive in town. I forgot to set my alarm clock. Shit! Now I’m running late to pick them up from the airport… Now I have to hurry to get me and my kid ready.
OK, how am I going to do this? Well, I guess I should just get myself ready while she is still asleep, then get her ready when I am done. Or, I could wake her up, get her cleaned and dressed and then let her eat while I’m getting ready. Or, I could get ready and just pick her up and put her in the car asleep. Or, I could put her in the bathtub and let her play in the water while I wash up in the other bathroom. Or I could just leave her here with my roommate and his girlfriend. The possibilities were endless. Sensory overload set in.
After sitting there for 20 minutes deciding how I should handle the situation, I realized that I had in fact just wasted 20 minutes. I sat there for another five minutes stressing out about how I had just wasted 20. After reconsidering all my options one last time, I finally made a decision: get her washed, give her something to eat and then you get ready.
I hastily picked her up from her crib.
In case you don’t have children you might not know: you should never hastily pick up an 18-month old. It’s just stupid. Picking her up so quickly startled and woke her.
But being awake wasn’t a problem. Her screaming because I’m a dumbass was. I tossed her on the bed and took her clothes off, amidst her cries and pleas for help. I figured once she was in the tub shit would be cool. Kids love the bathtub. They can slosh water around, they can play in the bubbles, and they can eat soap. The tub was the answer.
At that moment the worst thing that could have possibly happened did happen. I had a great idea.
I’m not going to put my 18-month old in the bath tub. That would take too much time. I’m going to give her a shower.
Yes, the shower. This is going to be great. I’m going to save time, and everything is going to work out for the best. My mind was racing at 100 mph as I took handfuls of water from the shower and dumped it on her to get her wet. Never mind that now the bathroom floor is soaked. It’s cool because this is all part of my plan.
It gets worse. Implementation of the next stage of my master plan... putting soap all over her. Let’s step back for a minute, and take a good look at what is actually taking place. A naked, freezing, screaming 18-month old girl in the middle of a bathroom; her idiot father sitting on the soaked bathroom floor, in his boxers, lathering her up with Dial Body Wash.
It gets worse still. After feverishly lathering up my offspring, I put the finale part of my masterpiece to work. I got up off the soaking wet floor, picked up my soapy, slippery angel, turned on the shower and shoved into the path of the water. She screamed like there was no tomorrow. Figuring the water to be too hot, I turned up the cold water and shoved her back in the H2O’s violent path.
The screaming continued, but I figured it was cool. I had about half the soap off her at this point, so I was confident that she was going to make it thought the ordeal. The only problem was that I really couldn’t rotate her 180 degrees, without actually getting halfway in the shower myself. I was kind of leaning and twisting and turning, but I was just missing too many spots.
By this point I was so wrapped up in plan execution I had forgotten her screams. I now had one leg in the shower, and was trying my hardest to get the last of the soap off -- while she kicked and yelled and spit water at me. I just didn’t know why. The water was nice and warm.
Hearing the screams for help… my roommates girlfriend came to assist me… She walked in and there she saw… a naked, soapy, dripping 18-month old held captive in a stream of rapidly moving water. Her father standing there in soaked boxer shorts, with one leg on a slippery floor, and the other off-balance in the shower…
“What the fuck are you doing,” she asked. Rightly so I think.
People should have to pass a test to have children… I’m unfit to be a father even now… but I continue to try my very hardest…
Happy Birthday Baby Girl…
RS
Have you ever had one of those moments as a child where you looked at your parents and just wondered how and why they were granted the right to be parents? My daughter has one of those moments every time she’s in the same room as me.
Flash back eight years or so. My family was slated to arrive in town. I forgot to set my alarm clock. Shit! Now I’m running late to pick them up from the airport… Now I have to hurry to get me and my kid ready.
OK, how am I going to do this? Well, I guess I should just get myself ready while she is still asleep, then get her ready when I am done. Or, I could wake her up, get her cleaned and dressed and then let her eat while I’m getting ready. Or, I could get ready and just pick her up and put her in the car asleep. Or, I could put her in the bathtub and let her play in the water while I wash up in the other bathroom. Or I could just leave her here with my roommate and his girlfriend. The possibilities were endless. Sensory overload set in.
After sitting there for 20 minutes deciding how I should handle the situation, I realized that I had in fact just wasted 20 minutes. I sat there for another five minutes stressing out about how I had just wasted 20. After reconsidering all my options one last time, I finally made a decision: get her washed, give her something to eat and then you get ready.
I hastily picked her up from her crib.
In case you don’t have children you might not know: you should never hastily pick up an 18-month old. It’s just stupid. Picking her up so quickly startled and woke her.
But being awake wasn’t a problem. Her screaming because I’m a dumbass was. I tossed her on the bed and took her clothes off, amidst her cries and pleas for help. I figured once she was in the tub shit would be cool. Kids love the bathtub. They can slosh water around, they can play in the bubbles, and they can eat soap. The tub was the answer.
At that moment the worst thing that could have possibly happened did happen. I had a great idea.
I’m not going to put my 18-month old in the bath tub. That would take too much time. I’m going to give her a shower.
Yes, the shower. This is going to be great. I’m going to save time, and everything is going to work out for the best. My mind was racing at 100 mph as I took handfuls of water from the shower and dumped it on her to get her wet. Never mind that now the bathroom floor is soaked. It’s cool because this is all part of my plan.
It gets worse. Implementation of the next stage of my master plan... putting soap all over her. Let’s step back for a minute, and take a good look at what is actually taking place. A naked, freezing, screaming 18-month old girl in the middle of a bathroom; her idiot father sitting on the soaked bathroom floor, in his boxers, lathering her up with Dial Body Wash.
It gets worse still. After feverishly lathering up my offspring, I put the finale part of my masterpiece to work. I got up off the soaking wet floor, picked up my soapy, slippery angel, turned on the shower and shoved into the path of the water. She screamed like there was no tomorrow. Figuring the water to be too hot, I turned up the cold water and shoved her back in the H2O’s violent path.
The screaming continued, but I figured it was cool. I had about half the soap off her at this point, so I was confident that she was going to make it thought the ordeal. The only problem was that I really couldn’t rotate her 180 degrees, without actually getting halfway in the shower myself. I was kind of leaning and twisting and turning, but I was just missing too many spots.
By this point I was so wrapped up in plan execution I had forgotten her screams. I now had one leg in the shower, and was trying my hardest to get the last of the soap off -- while she kicked and yelled and spit water at me. I just didn’t know why. The water was nice and warm.
Hearing the screams for help… my roommates girlfriend came to assist me… She walked in and there she saw… a naked, soapy, dripping 18-month old held captive in a stream of rapidly moving water. Her father standing there in soaked boxer shorts, with one leg on a slippery floor, and the other off-balance in the shower…
“What the fuck are you doing,” she asked. Rightly so I think.
People should have to pass a test to have children… I’m unfit to be a father even now… but I continue to try my very hardest…
Happy Birthday Baby Girl…
RS
Friday, March 26, 2010
The new microwave... LB
On Monday the microwave at my office died. And I being the least senior person in my office with a corporate card was tasked to purchase a new one.
As I looked at the old microwave so unceremoniously removed from it's perch atop the kitchenette, I couldn't help but to reminisce. I had a lot of memories with that microwave. Like how it always smelled like bacon from when I made my morning and usually afternoon bacon snacks. The rest of the office complained, but I never understood how someone could not love having the sweet smell of bacon welcome you everytime you open the microwave door.
I also remember the day I set a small to moderate fire inside of it. Good thing our smoke alarms don't work! BTW... my fire had nothing to do with the untimely demise of the microwave. I set that fire a year ago The blackened ceiling of the microwave served as a cautious reminder that metal thermouses do not belong in the microwave. All in all, it was a good friend that served our office well.
Before you go... can we take a moment of silence for a fallen camrad.
As I looked at the old microwave so unceremoniously removed from it's perch atop the kitchenette, I couldn't help but to reminisce. I had a lot of memories with that microwave. Like how it always smelled like bacon from when I made my morning and usually afternoon bacon snacks. The rest of the office complained, but I never understood how someone could not love having the sweet smell of bacon welcome you everytime you open the microwave door.
I also remember the day I set a small to moderate fire inside of it. Good thing our smoke alarms don't work! BTW... my fire had nothing to do with the untimely demise of the microwave. I set that fire a year ago The blackened ceiling of the microwave served as a cautious reminder that metal thermouses do not belong in the microwave. All in all, it was a good friend that served our office well.
Before you go... can we take a moment of silence for a fallen camrad.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Key to looking important at the office... LB
Hello Readers
If you have ever watched Seinfeld, one of funniest episodes was when George explained how looking annoyed all day at work made him appear busy to all his fellow coworkers.
I thought it was ingenius, so I decided to take my own spin on it and share two very important tips that have carried me far into life... and high up that corporate ladder of lower middle of nowhere management
Part 1 - Keep your desk an unorganized mess
I can find stuff in that heap of garbage I call my office desk, but others, not-so-much! This is good because it prevents people from rummaging around and finding stuff like drafts of my posts for this blog. But also, when people see stacks of papers, all around you, they assume it's because you have a lot to do. When in actuality, I just save everything in a misguded attempt to CYA... I've become one of those horders on A&E.
Part 2 - Make em wait....
This also happened by accident. Typically people come by my office and ask me for help. Usually I am more than willing to oblige but I never simply get up right then to assist them. Why? Well usually because I keep my pants unbuttoned for maximum comfort at the office and standing up would not be a good idea. This also means I have to be UBER vigilant about open zippers when walking down the hall, but you know what. It's a small price to pay. My coworkers, think the delay is because I'm finishing up some important report, perhaps synthesizing a plan for world peace. Who knows, but it works like a charm. Sometimes, while they wait, they may figure out a solution, and leave me free to continue doing whatever non-work related activity I was doing before they interrupted me.
Readers, take these tips to heart and maybe, just maybe, it will land you the promotion you've been dreaming of.
LB
If you have ever watched Seinfeld, one of funniest episodes was when George explained how looking annoyed all day at work made him appear busy to all his fellow coworkers.
I thought it was ingenius, so I decided to take my own spin on it and share two very important tips that have carried me far into life... and high up that corporate ladder of lower middle of nowhere management
Part 1 - Keep your desk an unorganized mess
I can find stuff in that heap of garbage I call my office desk, but others, not-so-much! This is good because it prevents people from rummaging around and finding stuff like drafts of my posts for this blog. But also, when people see stacks of papers, all around you, they assume it's because you have a lot to do. When in actuality, I just save everything in a misguded attempt to CYA... I've become one of those horders on A&E.
Part 2 - Make em wait....
This also happened by accident. Typically people come by my office and ask me for help. Usually I am more than willing to oblige but I never simply get up right then to assist them. Why? Well usually because I keep my pants unbuttoned for maximum comfort at the office and standing up would not be a good idea. This also means I have to be UBER vigilant about open zippers when walking down the hall, but you know what. It's a small price to pay. My coworkers, think the delay is because I'm finishing up some important report, perhaps synthesizing a plan for world peace. Who knows, but it works like a charm. Sometimes, while they wait, they may figure out a solution, and leave me free to continue doing whatever non-work related activity I was doing before they interrupted me.
Readers, take these tips to heart and maybe, just maybe, it will land you the promotion you've been dreaming of.
LB
Monday, March 22, 2010
Ordering for One... LB
I don’t want to be that girl who lives alone and orders copious amounts of food. Even if I am that girl who lives alone and orders copious amounts of food. So I make up an imaginary person that I’m also ordering for when I get to register. A typical order will go something like this.
Hi, I’ll take a order of X and a side of Y …. And oh yea… I'll also need to order a large Z as well… for my friend... Yes! My friend will also need a two liter of ginger ale as well. (I really do use those exact words!)
Now I’m at the register thinking I’m a genius mastermind. They’ll never know it’s all for me. But the guy at the register sees through my geniusly crafted façade and will ask if my “friend” needs extra cheese or a particular condiment. The sarcasm drips from his mouth like the grease from whatever I've just ordered. I’ll simply reply, “no” and grab my large bag in shame and rush out the door, usually with a fry or two already in my mouth.
Keep in mind, I do this EVERYTIME I go there. Even though they know there’s no one else eating the food. I feel like I’ve started something and now I have to see it through.
LB
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