Good Behavior

While waiting in line at the grocery store, there were two mothers with their children in front of me. Both mothers appeared to be of middle class social status, mild mannered and completely composed. They both had little boys around the same age, probably about 3 or 4 years old. To an outsider looking in, it would appear that they used similar parenting styles.

But alas, the first little boy had to be dragged out of the store, kicking and screaming with the mother scolding him in an angrily muffled, yet extremely embarrassed tone. The cashier looked at the second mother with an expression that seemed to say, “Wow, some people really aren’t fit for parenting.”

When it came time for the second mother to pay the cashier, her son stood on his tippy toes and with more politeness than most adults contain in their entire body, he managed to squeak out, “Thank you very much mam! Have a great day!”

Only after I lifted my jaw from the ground, still astonished by his excellent behavior, did I see him quickly leap up and snatch the large 5 lb. bag of penny-candy from the cashiers bagging station.

I’ve got a 10 dollar bill that says the first kid asked his mom for a midget Tootsie Roll and she told him no.

Excuse me?

It all began in the 2nd grade.

It was the year of my first mean teacher. At the time, I was completely convinced this teacher secretly worked for Satan. You know the kind. To make matters worse, in the 2nd grade, I was completely devoted to convincing my mom that without a Skip-It, I would just die...

Unfortunately, I wasn't at all concerned with learning how to add and subtract money. Hell... I'm still pretty bad at that. (Thank you, overdraft protection.)

So, when the morning came for me to turn in a money worksheet that we had been assigned to do for homework the previous evening... I was forced to think fast. "Make up a good excuse for why you didn't finish it... and don't use the words "skip" or "it" if you want to live to see another day."

Needless to say, I did not attend recess that day. Instead, I sat in the hall and sulked in my own self pity while completing my late assignment.


I still have yet to forgive that mean, old geezer.

The reason for this anecdote is, I've recently found myself making a lot of excuses, for myself, and for others. Reasons for why I don't do things, or why I do. Rationalizing treating others poorly or letting others treat me with less than what I deserve. I think it's human nature to do this; it's something we don't even think about most of the time. But, once you take a step back and realize how many excuses you come up with daily... it's a pretty scary number. And strangely enough, most of the time... our excuses suck. For example...

"My boss only lectured me because his kid puked on him this morning. I know I'm doing a good job.  So, I needed an hour or two to play solitare and clear my head, sue me."

or

"I'm sorry officer, I normally stop at red lights, but I just spent more money than you can possibly imagine on new brake pads. Let me off with a warning?"

or

"You know I love you. I only kissed that guy from the bar in front of you last night because he told me I looked like Angelina Jolie and then he bet that I couldn't kiss like her. I thought he said he was Brad Pitt. I was drunk. I had no way of knowing that what he actually said was that he was a sad Brit. Yes, I did think it was odd that he had suddenly acquired a British accent. You can't seriously be mad at me for this?!..."

We all do it... we make up excuses in our mind to cover up the sometimes embarrassing, and often ridiculous mistakes we make. The funniest part of this mind process is that we actually begin to convince ourselves that our rationalizations make complete and perfect sense, and that those people who don't buy into them are somehow betraying us.

I've always tried to take responsibility for my actions, but I am well aware that there may have been times I've swept the actual truth of situations under my brain's rug.

I'm hoping that my awareness of this vice will allow the truth to soon set me free... which, will then turn my luck around, or re-align something in my stars, and eventually, millions of dollars will fall out of the sky, right into my lap.

Highly doubtful, but a girl can dream...

Diets should start on Tuesdays

Well... they should. I am living proof that they should NEVER start on Monday's. And this is why...


It seems like most of my Sunday nights are spent reflecting on the week before. My mistakes, things I could have done differently, stuff I want to do in the upcoming week, etc.

I can never fall asleep on Sunday nights. It feels like I've taken a huge hit of crack or something before I brush my teeth and change into my pj's. So, I lay in the dark and think. Then, I turn on the T.V. and try to make myself tired by watching some sick and twisted episode of Criminal Minds. But, I never make it all the way through those shows, because I psych myself out, believing the creeps that the so-called "writers" come up with are waiting to murder me, lurking outside my bedroom window. (By the way, people who think of plots and characters for murder mysteries, secretly wish they could be involved in similar scenarios... it's probably the one thing they never got the chance to check off of their bucket list. The thought of this gives me the heebie geebies.)


Anyways, so I turn off the T.V. because now I'm scared and restless... but I just continue to lay there. I try to count sheep, but that is the most ridiculous concept of all time and whoever came up with it should be thrown in the looney bin. I get sidetracked, trying to think of what a sheep actually looks like. Then, my mind wanders to something else, like when the last time was that I painted my toenails. Suddenly, I remember that a friend once told me that staring at a computer screen or T.V. before you go to bed messes with your brain and keeps you awake for hours, even after you turn it off.

Faaaaaaaantastic.

So, it's 2:30 in the morning and I decide that it's time to get down to business and take two benadryl.


Which causes me to sleep through my first three alarms I set for myself in the morning. My exhausted mind tells me to "rest my eyes" for 20 more minutes instead of showering, because the only person that could wake up for a shower at 6:30 a.m. would be Clark Kent. And he had to wear a suit to work, so he doesn't count anyways.


Resting my eyes for 20 more minutes turns into snoring for 45. I am unable to have my morning coffee because, while I can recall every minor faux pas I committed in the previous week, I can't remember to run to the grocery store on Sundays to get coffee grounds. Now, without coffee, I am completely useless and might as well be drunk as a skunk. 

I always think I have enough time to grab a cinnamon roll from  McDonald's, which I most certainly do not, and I also forget that I was supposed to start a diet today, and I might as well have stopped at the nearest malls Cinnabon... the arch nemisis of dieting, as well as the organ commonly known as the heart.


I'm rushing to work because I can't find a parking spot, eatting my cinnamon roll on the way, and then look down only to realize I have created a masterpiece on my shirt from the dripped icing, but hey... it kind of resembles the Mona Lisa.

Cool.



I'm depressed by this point because I forgot the turkey sandwich I packed for myself on the kitchen counter, and will have to shamefully eat my second fast food meal of the day for lunch.


By quitting time, the only thing I want to do is plop down on the couch, watch 4 episodes of Desperate Housewives, with a box of Bon Bon's comforting me on the next cushion over.


...


I can sleep on Monday nights. I am well rested on Tuesday mornings. Which is why I have designated every Tuesday from now until I'm 6 feet under as "Diet Kick-Off Days".

Quirks

To bring in the new year, I'd like to address the subject of "quirks" because, to be quite frank... we've all got 'em. They are weird. They make us seem crazy. They annoy the crap out of the people around us. And yes, I think they need to be addressed.

Side-note: I find words that have two different meanings completely mind boggling. Address, as in the exact postal location of something or someone. Or address, speaking on a subject matter. 

So quirks... (Side-Side-Note: I love the word "quirks"... it's just a blast to say, really.)

It really chaps me when people get embarrassed and try to hide the crazy things that make them the person that they are. Without all of our small weird habits and "mommy-issues" we'd all be a bunch of boring nobody's, bobbing around like chicken's in a chicken coop.

Side-Side-Side-note: I just got extremely creeped out because I imagined chicken's pecking my eye balls out. I hate birds. They are conspiring to kill me, I'm 93% sure of it. If you see me in person, please do not argue this theory, unless you would like to look stupid.

Anyways, to help all of you who cannot come to terms with putting all your wacky ways out in the public's eye, I'm going to share with you a few of my little offbeat personality characteristics, to spark up some courage in you sheepish cowards. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.

• For some odd reason, and I think it may have something to do with my control issues... I like things to be symmetrical. Not in a normal, "Hey, these mirrors would look nice hanging exactly 12 inches apart from each other approximately 5 feet high." kind of way. Things in my life have to be symmetrical, as in, I will change displays in department stores so that they have the same amount of product on each side of the display and if there is a remaining piece of merchandise, why, I will center it in front of the two rows, of course. It affects my writing even. And heaven forbid there be one word at the bottom of a paragraph that just won't fit in the line above it. Should that happen... well, if you have ever read this blog before, you now know the reasoning for my rambling. Yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah. You don't understand how much more tidy this looks.
• I must to do my shower routine in a very specific order, that only makes sense to me. I've tried to break this habit and mix things up a bit, but it always backfires, something goes wrong, and it just throws my whole entire day off. And we can't have that now, can we?
• Sometimes, I sing. Loudly. In public. And by sometimes, I mean all the times. Do I have a good voice? No. Do I feel that I'm entertaining? Yes. Does my mother agree with me on this subject matter? Not quite. My favorite song to randomly perform is "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria" from The Sound of Music. And yes, I can and do change my voice for all the different nuns of the abbey. If you're going to do something, you should do it the correct way.
• I like to add "Mc" to words when in casual conversation. For example, one could say... "That guy was so buff at the gym today. He was definitely a stud." and that would be perfectly alright. But doesn't calling someone a Stud McGud give you a much better visual?
• I suck on the shells of peanuts before I open them and eat the actual peanut. Something about the salt on the outside... I don't know what it is. It makes me salivate just thinking about it.

The point that I am trying to make is that you should embrace the things that make you, you. So... you still sleep with a night light. Or you peel the labels off of every container within arms reach. So, what?! As long as you aren't committing a felony I say, no harm, no foul.

Every year around this time, we all get so wrapped up in trying to change ourselves and cover up our flaws that we forget the fact that some of our weird little quirks will always be a part of us. Perfection is dull. And if you want to change something about your life for new years, I suggest you make an attempt to be more comfortable in your skin. And when the people at the grocery store look at you as if you are a crazy lunatic for playing Yankee Doodle on your harmonica in the produce section, you just look right back at them and laugh... like the insane maniac you know you can't wait let loose.