Dear Diary,
So the other day I needed to make a stop at the post office to mail an extra large package. As I'm approaching the door, a woman noticed I was carrying this extra large box so she paused to hold the door. Apparently I did not walk fast enough and pausing for the extra five seconds it would take me to get to the door was just too much for her because when I was about three steps away from the door, she let go and walked away. Luckily I was able to catch the door before it closed, however, the next door simply slammed in my face. On this door, she did not even try to hold it open. I would like to add that there was not a line and I was RIGHT behind her by this point. Thankfully, a pregnant lady (and I mean pregnant) came and opened the door for me. Non-pregnant lady will not hold door for five seconds longer but pregnant lady will take the ten steps out of her way to open door. Go figure!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The House Guest
Dear Diary,
You know you may not be invited back when…
I recently stayed with some friends over the weekend. They so graciously allowed me to bring my puppy. My “puppy” is just over a year old so she’s mellowed out quite a bit. She travels well so I was not overly worried about keeping an eye on her after her initial sniffing out of the place. This was probably not an excellent choice because by the time I was curious about what she was up to, she too had become curious… about the contents of the bathroom garbage can. Diary, I know you probably already know where this is headed. I leave the kitchen to find my puppy with toiletries of the female sort strewn about the living room. I reach to take them away, to scold her, and turn only to see she’d left a trail from the bathroom. Out of pure puppy mama instinct, I begin to pick up the female hygienic paraphernalia so the home owners are not burdened with my puppy as a guest. I pick up as far as the bathroom door when I realize this particular mess is a tad on the personal side and perhaps better left for the lady of the house to tend to. It goes without saying she was mortified by my pup’s indiscretion.
The moral of the story: the next time I visit with puppy and the hosts ask what they can do to puppy proof, I reply with a suggestion of garbage cans with lids or closing bathroom doors.
You know you may not be invited back when…
I recently stayed with some friends over the weekend. They so graciously allowed me to bring my puppy. My “puppy” is just over a year old so she’s mellowed out quite a bit. She travels well so I was not overly worried about keeping an eye on her after her initial sniffing out of the place. This was probably not an excellent choice because by the time I was curious about what she was up to, she too had become curious… about the contents of the bathroom garbage can. Diary, I know you probably already know where this is headed. I leave the kitchen to find my puppy with toiletries of the female sort strewn about the living room. I reach to take them away, to scold her, and turn only to see she’d left a trail from the bathroom. Out of pure puppy mama instinct, I begin to pick up the female hygienic paraphernalia so the home owners are not burdened with my puppy as a guest. I pick up as far as the bathroom door when I realize this particular mess is a tad on the personal side and perhaps better left for the lady of the house to tend to. It goes without saying she was mortified by my pup’s indiscretion.
The moral of the story: the next time I visit with puppy and the hosts ask what they can do to puppy proof, I reply with a suggestion of garbage cans with lids or closing bathroom doors.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Late Night Grocery Shopping
Dear Diary,
Before I begin telling you this story, I need to provide you with a key. Here it is:
……………………….=the amount of time you pause while speaking and your internal monologue starts to tell you to start speaking again
A few evenings ago at the usually empty grocery store, I get in line after a family with many many groceries. As I begin to unload my cart, I realize there is a guy behind me without a cart or basket. I continue to unload my cart and realize it might be a while before I get through. So I turn back to the young gentleman and say, “Would you like to go in front of me, since you only have……………………….one item?” It is during my ………………………. That I have decided against naming the single item he is purchasing because I have seen that it is a box of condoms, and there is a very long line behind him. The amount of time it has taken you to read this, picture the mental image of my cheese ball grin forming as I ask this, and start laughing is about how long it took him to actually respond to my offer. Wait, it might have been just a touch longer. Finally with a smirk he says, “ok thanks.” As he steps around me, he realizes there is not room on the conveyer belt for his box of Trojans and stands there awkwardly while turning around to smirk at me some more. By this time, my face is buried in my cart trying to contain my laughter. (Please note: This is not hilarious because he is buying condoms, wrap that baby up! Rather it was because of his obvious discretion being blown by me and the intentional effort to keep it cool that followed.) So now I am left with four options:
a) Comment to the guy that it is a good thing he went around since he clearly has someplace to be.
b) Ask whose place we’re going to.
c) Let the mounding laughter burst.
d) Play it cool and not embarrass the guy any more.
I really wanted to opt for option (a) but decided against it since he was already blushing. Instead I held in my laughter and played it cool which was very hard when he turned to thank me and smirk one last time before leaving the line. I made it to the parking lot before I burst out laughing, and this little piggy went ha ha ha all the way home.
Before I begin telling you this story, I need to provide you with a key. Here it is:
……………………….=the amount of time you pause while speaking and your internal monologue starts to tell you to start speaking again
A few evenings ago at the usually empty grocery store, I get in line after a family with many many groceries. As I begin to unload my cart, I realize there is a guy behind me without a cart or basket. I continue to unload my cart and realize it might be a while before I get through. So I turn back to the young gentleman and say, “Would you like to go in front of me, since you only have……………………….one item?” It is during my ………………………. That I have decided against naming the single item he is purchasing because I have seen that it is a box of condoms, and there is a very long line behind him. The amount of time it has taken you to read this, picture the mental image of my cheese ball grin forming as I ask this, and start laughing is about how long it took him to actually respond to my offer. Wait, it might have been just a touch longer. Finally with a smirk he says, “ok thanks.” As he steps around me, he realizes there is not room on the conveyer belt for his box of Trojans and stands there awkwardly while turning around to smirk at me some more. By this time, my face is buried in my cart trying to contain my laughter. (Please note: This is not hilarious because he is buying condoms, wrap that baby up! Rather it was because of his obvious discretion being blown by me and the intentional effort to keep it cool that followed.) So now I am left with four options:
a) Comment to the guy that it is a good thing he went around since he clearly has someplace to be.
b) Ask whose place we’re going to.
c) Let the mounding laughter burst.
d) Play it cool and not embarrass the guy any more.
I really wanted to opt for option (a) but decided against it since he was already blushing. Instead I held in my laughter and played it cool which was very hard when he turned to thank me and smirk one last time before leaving the line. I made it to the parking lot before I burst out laughing, and this little piggy went ha ha ha all the way home.
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