Friday, March 16, 2007

Nothing to rant about?


But then again, we have noticed Fridays seem to be blah day, haven't we?

I think part of the reason for the lack of ranty is the hormonalness (Okay, skip this part is you do not want to read about a woman-y issue relating to hormones)(see, once I open those TMI floodgates...But I swear, I promise and swear, I will never ever be one of those women who feels the need to blather on to all and sundry about the current state of her ladyparts. All I will say, just this once, is after having the Mirena coil put in I've noticed a dstinct and horrible upswing in the hormonal depressions. And that is all I will ever say on that subject.)

(You can start reading again now. And we will never speak of this again.)

Actually, it's not really accurate to say I have nothing to rant about. I simply have nothing to rant about that any of you want to hear. Shall I delight and amuse you with tales of how I know springtime is coming because everything smells like poo? Because this area is so, so very rural, and the fields are being fertilized, the scent of manure hangs heavy over my town and its environs.

Seriously. I went to Princess's school today to sell tickets to a school event (because I'm all PTA Queen and all, yo) and right after we got there, as we stood in the lobby, faery informed me she needed a diaper change. (Actually, she didn't tell me, she told one of the other ladies, by way of greeting:

"Hello, Faery."

"Hewo. Poop.")

I couldn't tell the difference between her diaper and the regular air. Which I just realized, may be a bit too TMI as well. Is there no escaping? Have I become one of those horrible people who tells you all about their internal workings within five minutes of meeting you?

Or I could tell you how people keep parking on the side of my house, where I always park, and it's really pissing me off. And the other day I came home from the grocery store and someone had parked directly in my spot, in front of my garage, and as I pulled up behind them (oh yeah, right on their ass), the woman whose car it was appeared, and we shared the following exchange:

Her: Have I parked in the wrong place?

Me: Well, that is my spot.

Her: Do you want me to move?

About which I am still flabbergasted. Do I want her to move? No, I just told her it was my spot because I'm so proud of it.
I actually said something like, "Don't bother" or something, and she then informed me she would only be there for ten minutes or so. I'm still not sure if she was suggesting I sit in my car and wait until she was ready to relinquish my spot, or if she wanted me to go inside and sit around in my coat and shoes until it was time for me to come out and move my car.

Which do you suppose?

And do you have any tales of minor irritations to share? (Okay, I call dibs on "Tales of Minor Irritations" as a title. For a book or a blog. I made it up, it's mine! Mine!)


Anonymous said...

All the people who ask why I'm moving off an island where I have no job because there's no economy beyond the mall, but the weather's so nice, and it's so cold in Winnipeg are really starting to get under my skin.

Robyn said...

Speaking of skin, with spring it's like my whole family is beginning to molt. We're shedding all over the place. And I've put so much moisturizer on my scaly face, now I've got zits. Ugh.

pacatrue said...

I can so imagine you with a big gold clock and a hooded sweatshirt, crossing your arms, saying, "I'm all PTA Queen and all, yo."

I think this is where we all wave our arms and re-enact Naughty by Nature videos.

bunnygirl said...

I had the day off because it's spring break at my university. So my only minor irritation of the day was when the cashier at the grocery store did something that lost my cardswipe data and I had to enter all my info again.

Very minor. Thank goodness! On days when I have to work and therefore interact with people more, my list of minor irritations can grow very long!

kis said...

Okay, explain to me why my husband can lock himself away in his computer dungeon for hours and never be bothered by the four-year-old, whereas I can head down there, plug my laptop into the network, barely get logged on, and there's Blammo bugging me for a popsicle. I tell him to go ask dad, who's upstairs right next to the fridge for crying out loud, he says, "No, you do it, mom."

So after some serious back and forth, I say, "It's not going to kill you to ask your dad for a dang popsicle." And yanno what he says? "Yes. It is going to kill me to ask dad for a popsicle. You get it for me mom. Pleeeeeeaaaase?"

Why is this? Why, why, why? And while we're pondering, can someone explain to me why men call watching their own kids "babysitting?" I mean, they're your kids. When it's your own kids, it's called "parenting."

And Jenn--I mean Seeley--I know exactly what you mean. You know what pisses me off the most is when people say, on the eleventh straight day of rain, with the lawn so wet you sink six inches with every step and a family of goddamn ducks just took up residence in my backyard flower bed, "Well, it's better than snow."

Fuck that. After eleven straight days of rain--real, get soaked on your way to the car, mold forming on your van upholstery, an inch of water in the carport rain, I'd rather have earthquakes, erupting volcanoes and plagues of bible-toting Jahova's Witnesses at my door than one more freaking drop of liquid falling from the sky. Hell, it's maybe not so bad where you are, but the climate up this way is total shite, and I'd take a Winnipeg winter any day, thanks.


Sorry to get all bitchy, December, but you did ask for it.

kis said...

You know, I just went and left a bitchy, ranty comment on Seeley's blog, too. Mus' be the hormones.

December Quinn said...

Heh, I know just what you mean, Seeley! I get asked that here all the time, why did we leave Florida. (It's worse because we're starting to wonder why ourselves...for entirely different reasons.)

Oh, no, Robyn! You know, my cheeks are getting rough patches again? Urgh! I'm glad I'm not the only one, though!

December Quinn said...

Oh, yes, Pacatrue, I am so very ghetto girl, yo! Say hooo-ooo! Say heyheyheyhey!

Ah, bunnygirl, the world would be so perfect if only other people would just shut up and do what we tell them to do, wouldn't it?

December Quinn said...

Oh, kis, I so, so know what you're talking about. I get the exact same thing. It isn't just the computer, it's anytime I sit down or try to do anything. I'll be in the kitchen, they say nothing. The minute I walk back into the living room and sit, they want juice. Or a cookie. Or a sandiwch. Or whatever.

Tell me again why we had kids?

Bernita said...

Why didn't the bint offer to let you park in your space and she put her car behind yours?

December Quinn said...

Because she's the kind of idiot who says "Do you want me to move?" when told she's parked where she shouldn't be, Bernita! :-)

Erik Ivan James said...

Actually, I kind of like the smell of fertilizer on the fields. It is one of the smells of spring. But then, I grew up on a small farm...fertilizer on the the fields is a smell from my childhood.

littlebirdblue said...


This has become the TMI comment section, too. Yowsa.

Arin Rhys said...

I'm visiting my mother, and the whole house smells like boiled cabbage.

I also haven't been able to have a cigarette in hours.

December Quinn said...

You know, Erik, I've actually always liked that smell, too, being a midwestern girl. We used to travel a lot when I was a kid--my Dad was a salesman--so we took long road trips and so the smell is rather comforting and nostalgic to me, too.

But this isn't that clean cow-manure smell. This is pig, horse, chicken, and sheep poo mixed in, and the mix isn't as nice.

December Quinn said...

I guess once you get us started we just can't stop, lbl! Help us before we get really bad!

December Quinn said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
December Quinn said...

Welcome, Arin!

You poor thing! Of course, I haven't had a ciagrette in considerably longer than that (about 2 months now) so I can't sympathise quite as strongly as I might have before,, I still sympathise just as strongly. Right now I feel like I could run over a dog to get to a cigarette. I miss them so!

Thanks for the comment!

Scary Monster said...

Greetings and salutations December.
Monster be here to thrill you with tales of minor annoyances and middling perplexities.
But before me stars, me would like to comment on your post about Mr. Jenni. Me be truly sad to see him go. He were one laugh making man. Me can remember seeing a bit of his about nude beaches in Australia; that just cracked me up when me were just a wee tad pole.

Now for me irritation. Me will have to pop out of the closet a bit for this, but seeing that the post me be working on does the same thing, Me guess that me can stomp a little and not worry too much.
Me has been living in Japan for more than seven years and me gets the most amazing reactions from both Japanese and other Gaijin alike.
During a conversation where I mention how long me has been here a japanese person will invariably ask: Do you like Japan? WTF? No. I hate it me is just a masochist and really want to torture me self on a daily basis. The reaction me gets from other foreigners is: Wow! Your Japanese is really good! No again, me just me a mental midget who can't manage to learn a language while living in a country where me is innundated with it all day long.

Me be waiting for someone who actually has something interesting to say,

writtenwyrdd said...

My peeve of the moment are idiots who take up two car spaces and cutting me off to do it! Gnashing of teeth! I know the salt and snow and mud and gravel can obscure the road marks, but use some frigging common sense you morons...

You know that blogs are all about TMI, don't you?

Anonymous said...

Disclaimer: I don't mean this as a ding or judgement against anyone. I do not intend to offend. But, you asked about irritations . . .

One of mine is when a husband refuses to get a vasectomy and lays all the responsibility on his wife. You, know, the "men" that have their wives get "the surgery".

One big excuse I hear is, "Well, she was under the knife anyway, so . . ."

Get off it. A vasectomy is 15 minutes, in and out, no hormonal imbalance or other side effect. Heck, I would do it again just for the drugs they gave me. When I had mine nearly 25 years ago, it was a pretty major surgery for a woman to have her "tubes tied" but "men" still had their wives go under the knives just because they were afraid of the "v-word".

Sorry about the rant. Just just spilled over from a conversation I overheard last week.

Oh, yeah. A guy parked in my spot when I lived in my apartment so I just blocked him in until he found me. I didn't have an issue again. -V95

Tempest Knight said...

My neighbor has this tree and my patio is completed covered with its leaves.

December Quinn said...

Heh, SM, I get comments about that kind of thing all the time here. "Why would you leave Florida?" Um...because we didn't like Florida. What are we supposed to say to that? "Somebody made us?"

Oooh, I hate those two-space people, writtenwyrdd! And they always do it in a good spot, too. They never drive to the back of the lot and take up too much space there.

December Quinn said...

Rant away, V95...rant away! It does seem rather odd to me that a man will force his wife to have invasive surgery when he could just have a tiny procedure done, but I guess I've never really thought about it much before...hmmm.

Ugh, Tempest! Oh, Id be so tempted to go out there in the middle of the night, scoop them all up, and dump them back in their yard! Grr!