Things I Hate

There are some things that really bug me.  For example, I hate it when you’re in the men’s room, like Senator Larry E. Craig and you go into a stall and your foot “accidentally” brushes the foot of the guy in the stall next to you.  Repeatedly.  And then, when you wave your hands under the stall in an up and down motion, letting him know you’re ready (and willing and able), he flashes a badge at you and then arrests you.  All because your foot brushed his.  I mean, come on already!  It was an accident.  My foot is always wandering when I’m sitting on the can in a public restroom.  You know you’ve done it too; we’ve all done it.  So give the guy a break.  It happens

Or when you’re in the restroom and some woman is using the “diaper free” method of potty training and allows her baby to pee in the sink.  Thanks to Nancy S., I got to see that tidbit on the internet.  Now I know urine is sterile, but geez people!  I don’t generally wash my hands in the toilet!  If I catch you letting your kid whiz in the sink, I’m going to follow you home and whiz in your sink.  If I can get my knees to bend.  

I hate it when someone asks you to take an innocuous sounding position on the PTO and you are stupid enough to accept it, trusting that the vague description of “Oh I think you have to write some letters” is accurate.  After it’s too late, you discover that you have actually volunteered to assemble decorative treat bags for every teacher in the school to commemorate his or her birthday.  I hate making treat bags.  It makes my hair stand on end.  But today I assembled forty of those f*****s and tied them off with curling ribbon.  Never accept a PTO position without a full, written job description, including financial statements.

I hate when my husband tells me Monday night that he is going to an optional dinner meeting on Tuesday  night.  I hate it when I tell him he can’t go because we have too much happening on Tuesday night and he goes anyway.  So he went and had a free dinner at Thai Emerald.  I got to go to a high school open house, with all three children.  I had to leave in the middle of it to take Amy to soccer, even though it was lightning and they were playing on a field surrounded by trees and it was likely to be the last practice she ever had of anything.  Then I raced back to the school.  It’s a three story school and John has classes on all three stories.  I hiked up and down the steps, cursing Tim all the while.

At 8:00, we left the school, I rushed to McDonald’s, then rushed them home, then rushed back to the soccer field to pick up the charred remains of my daughter.  On the way, I aspirated a french fry and wet myself copiously as I tried to hack up the rehydrated, trans fat laden, reconstituted potato.  By the time I got to the field, my throat was sore, my seat was wet and I was ready to join the Foreign Legion.  Anything to get away from the madness that is my life.

I am going to bed now and I will dream of diaperless babies peeing on my treat bags while I watch in horror as I choke on a french fry, powerless to stop the babies.  Maybe it’s time to up my medication.



  1. Posted August 28, 2007 at 9:33 pm | Permalink

    OK. I’m just gonna go ahead and say it.

    I love you.

    You are just toooo funny! I hope you didn’t get charred remains all in your car. I’m sure they are pretty damn hard to get out.

  2. Kiki
    Posted August 29, 2007 at 1:47 pm | Permalink

    I worry about you, I really do, especially on Tuesday nights!

  3. Bill
    Posted August 29, 2007 at 4:36 pm | Permalink

    I’m telling you, watch some Sponge Bob. It will help.

    That will be another $25, please.

  4. Posted August 31, 2007 at 9:22 am | Permalink

    Obviously Senator Craig has never seen this video on men’s restroom etiquette:

  5. Tina
    Posted August 31, 2007 at 12:11 pm | Permalink

    Your essay on the assembly of treat bags really struck a nerve with me! I HATE TREAT BAGS!! Whether they are for the commemoration of a teacher’s birthday or for the appeasement of some snotty-nosed brat that has just blessed you by attending your child’s birthday party, they are all basically the same thing– junk that the recipient really doesn’t want. If there was anything worthwhile in a treat bag, it would be able to stand on it’s own as a real gift instead of being clumped together with other worthless goodies. Many times while assembling these junk bags, I have considered skipping the treats and just sliding a nice, crisp $10 bill into each one. Everyone likes to get money and what is a mere $400 when compared to my time and sanity. Shucks, $400 won’t even cover the copays for my stint at Bryce Hospital!

  6. dailydiatribes
    Posted August 31, 2007 at 1:15 pm | Permalink

    Tina, I am soooooo glad it’s not just me!! It seems stupid to be so irritated about making treat bags, but the very act of stuffing them grates on me!!

  7. Kiki
    Posted August 31, 2007 at 3:32 pm | Permalink

    And yet, I feel so guilty when the kids go to bed and I throw it all in the garbage, so I don’t have to look at a Shrek “3” noise maker for the next 2 years!

  8. Gina
    Posted August 31, 2007 at 4:46 pm | Permalink

    Kiki, that’s your problem. You worry to much about silly things. I don’t even wait until she’s gone to bed. It’s more of a, “Anastasia, if I see or hear that damn thing one more time I’m going to set it on fire!” 😉

  9. merediff
    Posted August 31, 2007 at 5:33 pm | Permalink

    urine is not sterile. at least not once it exits the body.

  10. Teensy
    Posted September 1, 2007 at 7:11 am | Permalink

    I wish I could find the woman who first started treat bags and set her on fire. Stupid things to have at any event!!! Sorry, time for pain pills.

  11. Kiki
    Posted September 1, 2007 at 8:58 am | Permalink

    I’m all for the $10 bill Tina suggested–lots easier than shopping for all the crap and tooth rotting stuff anyway, and you aren’t sticking people with the garbage that appeals to your 6 or 7 year olds’ taste i.e.Scooby, Shrek and who knows what else–My Little Pony, I guess. My mom gave my 11 year old girl an excellent b’day party last year–tea party themed and each girl took home a tea cup. Pretty cool and a lot more thoughtful. And when the 10 year old had her ice skating party, my mom crocheted ascarf for each and every girl/boy invited. My mom rocks!

  12. Nancy S
    Posted September 1, 2007 at 9:48 am | Permalink

    When I was growing up, we got a party favor, like a cheap bottle of bubble mix. Somehow that got morphed into a full blown treat bag. I remember when T.J. was little, the treat bags seemed almost like a competition to see who could spend the most on a bag of junk, or whose could look the best. I remember shopping for the crap that went into the treat bags, plus the bags themselves – I think Tina’s plan of a $10 bill each would have been cheaper! I hope the treat bag is ancient history by the time my kids have kids.

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