Its been a while since I’ve ranted, but don’t fear, I’m still keeping a journal of rant topics. Unfortunately by the time I get off my butt and write them out, they’ll be so old that I won’t remember why these things made me so mad. Whatever, you’ll just have to suffer through them anyway.
Since I’m snowbound by the STORM OF THE CENTURY OF THE MILLENNIUM OF THE UNIVERSE, and thankfully didn’t have to go to a stupid company “holiday” party (because my firm is too much of a pussy to call it Christmas and face the wrath of morons that scream “SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND PRIVATELY OWNED FIRM” or something like that), because instead of screwing us out of $35 bucks for the party and canceling it, they moved it to Sunday, where I’m sure we’re now double-booked with someone’s wedding reception and all of the guests will be wondering A.) who are all the drunks, and B.) why do they speak in acronyms and describe the food like “That curry is a paradigm shift outside the box”.
So, instead of wearing uncomfortable heels and pretending like I actually LIKE the people I work with and am not at a party simply because its cheap food and free alcohol and the annual bet when someone wearing a WAAAAY too small strapless dress will fall out of it while doing the electric glide, I’m in sleepy pants with stew in the crock pot procrastinating on doing anything because we’re HAVING An UNPRECEDENTED BLIZZARD OF EPIC PROPORTIONS DURING CLIMATE CHAOS GLOBAL WARMING-VILLE.
Which reminds me of my blog title and you’re probably getting impatient and waiting for me to actually get to the subject... fine, be that way...
I called my mom. Well, actually she called my cell phone while I was pushing a cart filled with heavy dog food in the pet store, which isn’t conducive to answering a phone ringing in the bowels of my bag, but by the time I dug it out and removed the gum wrapper off the case, she had hung up, so I had to call her back.
She spent 20 minutes yammering about life in general while I tried to maneuver the wide load cart through the narrow crap filled aisles until she got to the part where she said “Oh, and I fell down and I wanted to tell you before your sister called and told you.” That stopped me cold in the aisle because the last time she “called before my sister called me” was when she chopped the tip of her finger off with a bandsaw.
Apparently, since she only had cataract surgery done on one eye, her depth perception is crap and she didn’t see that the sidewalk was messed up and she fell, but some nice people (one guy driving by stopped) helped her and made sure she was ok and then saw her to her house and sometimes its nice having your mom live in a small town because had she lived where I do, swarms of idiots would have picked her clean like pirana in seconds. Apparently she cut her chin and scraped her nose and messed up her hand a little, but she claims she’s fine. Of course in the aisle of Petsmart I’m all freaking out because old people bones are more brittle than those balsa wood airplanes you got as a kid and I was picturing one of her arm bones snapping like so much airplane wing with that sickening crunch noise. “Don’t make me put you in a home!” I said, probably too loudly because some woman walking by me stopped and glared at me. “I’ll put my mom in a home if I want!” I snarled at her.
Then I spent the next 15 minutes insisting that I would pay for her cataract surgery premiums but she had to call and make an appointment for the other eye ASAP or else I would put her in a home, which involved the usual “yes, I know you can take care of yourself, no I don’t think you’re senile, yes I know you can save up the money, but why owe an insurance company when you can just owe me money because I don’t charge nearly as much interest as an insurance company, and yes I know those government bastards are trying to take away your medicare benefits and no I promise that I won’t eat you even if you’re made into a tasty italian dish because you aren’t even italian I picture you more as a veal dish, but a lot tougher, and no I won’t break your arm if you don’t pay me back and yes I love you and would visit you in the home if I did stick you in one.” until I could convince her that I wasn’t sending goons to cart her away and she could go back to playing solitaire on her laptop with the tv turned up too loud.
About a half hour later my sister called: “Mom fell down!” she yelled at me all dramatic and freaking out.
“Well, get off the fricken phone and pick her up” I yelled and hung up on her.