Monday, September 18, 2006

So Where Was I?


In an effort to be more regular (without resorting to fiber therapy), I've decided I'm going to try to throw in some shorter posts to counteract my longer rants. That way maybe I can post a little more often.

Of course, after making this decision, I stored up about 4 shorter issues and didn't post them. Oh well. Best laid plans.

1. A call to all ladies. The spandex bicycle short should never be worn anytime your posterior is not actually on a bicycle seat. Never. Ever. And especially not in line at the post office. Especially not in line at the post office with your oversized baseball jersey (which calls for another post all its own) and white sandals. Especially not in line at the post office with your two squalling brats. I was really torn at first. I didn't know whether to give you a little hug and say, "hang in there, sister!" or give you a bitch slap upside the head. But then your darling little tot stuck her tongue out at me and when I made a face back at her, she started squalling. Loudly. And you did nothing to quell such squalling (notice - I take absolutely no responsibility for such episode). Therefore, consider yourself mentally bitch slapped upside the back of your head.

2. Dear teenage houseguest. You are here because I really would like the POD to make new friends at her new school. You appeared like a good candidate. However, when I tell you that we will be cooking out hamburgers and hot dogs and you respond "can we get Wendy's?", you tend to set my teeth on edge. When you then proceed to preheat the oven as you help yourself to a frozen pizza, you have woken the beast. Side note - you are 15, I shouldn't have to use the phrase, "we don't rough house inside" at all. Go home and whine to your parents that you've been bitch slapped.

3. Note to client. I do realize that you have not been privy to my previous rants on proper attire for the courtroom. However, that is no excuse. Let me make this as clear as possible. We are going into court to put forth a legal position that has no basis in the law AT ALL. We need the judge to either like you or pity you and frankly, I don't care which it is. When needing the favorable light of others, you do not wear your jorts (jeans + shorts = jorts) to court. I could go into how you probaly shouldn't wear jorts anywhere but that is probably for another rant. The mind reels when it realizes you have been waiting for this court date for an entire year so on your big morning you pulled out your nicest pressed shorts and best gold chain - brings whole new meaning to "dressed to impress". I'll be billing you extra - consider yourself bitch slapped. And I don't care if that knocks you out of your wheelchair or not.

Well, I feel like I have righted some wrongs. Carry on.