Paranoia May Destroy Ya

I've been getting fresh fuel for my paranoia.

I was tailgated by an elderly couple in a car sporting an extra (demon-red) license plate below the regular one. The car had its left-hand turn signal on for no reason, too.

After I escaped from the clutches of the elderly tailgaters-cum-demonic-license plate-holders, I was nearly bashed into by a car driver by another elderly man. That car sported a special veteran's license plate. The driver didn't react to my repeated blasts on the horn after I slammed on the brake.

A few days later, while I was stuck in local commute traffic, a youngish man in a nearby gas guzzler called out in a gringo (i.e., non-ethnic) accent, "Oy, vaay. Locks and bay-gulls. Oh vaaaay." Then he peeled out in a right-hand turn, honking his horn. My daughter claims the honking was for a woman, walking nearby, who was wearing a bikini top.

Jeebus! Is it time to remove the Gefilte fish emblem from my car, as well as the liberal bumper stickers and the Darwin fish?

Forkin’ the Bird!

This is oddly compelling.

At first, I tried to hold my pinky- and fore-fingers down with my thumb. That was just plain awkward, and slightly painful, like finger yoga for the newbie.

They Can't Take That Away From Me

I have been very stressed, unhappy, and angry about delays and poor communication from our remodeling contractor.

A new blow fell when it turned out that the contractor hadn't contacted the store that sold the tile my spouse had picked out many weeks ago, so it would probably take six weeks for the tile to come in.

The rope fell on our necks when the contractor's office manager called to tell us that the tile my spouse had picked out would cost thousands more than we'd budgeted for.

The trap door started to come loose under our manacled feet when we went to two tile stores together (my spouse went to another store solo), and checked several tile stores on-line, only to find that it's almost impossible to get cost information for a particular tile, let alone project cost estimates, unless you sit down with an employee with an attitude who's working on commission.

Branding irons came into play when I realized that, even if we could get price information on specific tiles we liked, we still wouldn't know whether we were within a reasonable price range for the entire project.

I ground my teeth, and I slammed a door. Later on, I cried.

Do you know what I did then? Do ya? Do ya?

I spent close to three hours measuring the living hell out of the bathrooms, determining likely square footage and linear footage of various types of tile, and creating a spreadsheet we can use to making our own damn project cost estimates.

Assuming we can wring tile pricing information out of someone at a tile store soon, that is.

Gee, I Didn't Think It Was All THAT Funny

Scene: Car. Spouse is driving. Kids are in back seat, and haven’t yet started pinching and elbowing and taunting each other (probably because we’re only a block and a half from the driveway).

Daughter Lisa (alias): David* and I look a lot alike.

Spouse: Gee, I wonder why.

Dr. Rachel Beads (alias; not in the best mood): Especially since you’re both adopted.

Spouse laughs at what I’ve just said, to my great surprise.
_____
*Son David (alias)

Smells Like National Socialist Spirit

The last part of this had me laughing so hard I cried.

My daughter suggests that the idea calls for a music video – old, smug, rich, white guys acting and talking like gangstas.

With no disrespect meant to Matthew (of Defective Yeti), I think Dick Cheney fits the image better than John McCain.