August 29, 2011
1) Complaining is my cardio
My general complaint is that technology has not made my life easier. I don't even like technology. Everything is so interconnected and complicated and always needs updating. I avoid plugging my iPhone into my iMac because even though all I want to do is download a few pictures instead I have to upgrade and reinstall iTunes, then there is a new software update for your iPhone, do you want to download and install it? If you don't download and install it, this icon on your desktop will just jump up and down spastically until you have a seizure anyway, so forget getting that picture of your cat on your blog, lady, you're in for two hours of updates and restarts. And iPhoto is now part of iLife One Million More dollars, want to purchase that now? My God people. Someone invent a button for "quick cat picture transfer."
2) Yet I have no desire to fix my problems or yours.
I find people utterly fascinating. No matter what I complain about -- and sometimes it's just sheer fun to complain humorously about upscale human problems that aren't the least bit dire at all -- there will be someone somewhere who NEEDS to TELL me how to FIX the problem RIGHT NOW. Sometimes of course this is hugely helpful and does actually fix a problem, which is always an unexpected treat. But usually it's useless stuff that only makes the fixer feel smug and vastly more intelligent than me, things like, "Buy a new computer with more memory, upgrade to the new phone and update your shit every day." (By the way, I would totally take that advice if you gave me your credit card number for those purchases.) What is even more fascinating is that I never have the urge to help someone fix their problems. I just assume they are complaining for the sheer joy and exercise of it and will eventually solve their own problems like a normal human being. Perhaps this points to a shallowness in my character. Perhaps it means I just like funny complaining. Perhaps I am also the last person you would ever want trying to fix your technology stuff (see: "That time I stuck a butter knife in the DVD player.")
3) I yelled something really mean to someone in traffic this morning.
No, it was really, really mean. Like I almost felt the fiery flames of hell licking at my heels. I was on Sunset Blvd. and an ambulance was coming in the opposite direction so I moved from the far left lane over to the shoulder like you are supposed to do when an ambulance is coming. Contrary to what most people in Los Angeles think, you do not actually stop in the middle of the road and block traffic when you see shiny red lights. The woman behind me in the silver Mercedes decided to use this opportunity to get ahead sixteen whole awesome inches! And she nearly clipped me in her fervor to leapfrog over traffic. As I pulled to the right I saw with horror that the ambulance had to wait for her as she breezed the intersection. SERIOUSLY.
After the emergency vehicles passed, I began to merge back onto the roadway carefully, just like you are supposed to do according to the California Driver's Handbook. And what do you know, traffic on Sunset wasn't moving and I managed to pull up just beside the horrible Mercedes driver at the next light.
So I moseyed up next to her, waved out my Jeep window until she rolled down her fancypants Mercedes window that cost more than my entire vehicle, and I said some choice words that I won't repeat because I'm sensitive to the amount of hate mail I can generate in a single day. Then I took a picture of her on my cameraphone that I will never be able to download.
4) This morning I woke up still upset about Joe Guidice being a mean drunk.
Sure, I may stop people in traffic to tell them what I think about their driving and tell them emphatically how they need to reevaluate their priorities as a HUMAN BEING, but I would never say that to my purple-fur-wearing wife in front of our kids and all our friends, and especially not after I just chipped my tooth on the marble floor of the foyer while doing drunken gymnastics.
That paragraph alone should be the TV Guide's summer recap of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
I may not ever be able to understand all the ingredientsces that make up Teresa Guidice, and I may deeply fear for the lives of all the Real Housewives castmates once Milania is tall enough to reach the big knives on the countertops, but now I have to add in the implosion and drunken cartwheels of Joe Guidice. It was too much for my delicate sensibilities so soon on the heels of the Hurricane Irene news coverage. During the hurricane, cable news channels showed repeated interviews with New Jersey coastal residents who refused to evacuate even when their scary Governor practically begged them to go to a Sheraton and drink mai tais for the night on the state's dime.
It's pure schadenfreude. As a Southerner who grew up horrified at the continuous, nonstop TV and movie portrayals of unwashed, backwoods rednecks can I just tell you what a relief it is to see someone else in this glorious nation being demonized so thoroughly and with such vigorous bedazzling? When I was a child I never understood why people across the country thought Southerners were all stupid, slow, overall-wearing pig farmers who never owned shoes or had more than three teeth. Didn't they know TV was fake? Mork did not live with Mindy, people!! Alan Alda was not actually in a war!! Southerners do actually have teeth and manners and an excellent vocabulary!!
But now I revel in the sweet certainty that a whole generation of young people from Mississippi to Louisiana to Middle Tennessee will grow up think New Jersey is full of loud, drunk, orange people wearing glitter and clown makeup and dressed in giant fur coats made entirely of skinned psychedelic care bears.
Man, it's good to be alive.
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Posted by laurie at August 29, 2011 12:42 PM