Tell Me Whyyyyyyyy ???

Why oh WHY must the little old lady who is inevitably in front of me at every single cashier I ever go to, pay her tab with PRECISE change?

I mean, the bill is $7.97 - and she wants to empty her change purse of every bloody nickel and penny she's carrying around, AND it takes her for fucking EVER to count it. And the pennies keep coming, and coming, and they fall, and they roll, and she keeps pulling them out of every crevice in her purse!

WHY?

And why oh WHY must every octogenarian who still drives a car inevitably decide to pull out into traffic directly in front of me, causing me to jack up on the brakes, and then proceed to drive 15 miles per hour? WHY? Why couldn't they just wait another 2 seconds until I speed by, and then they can putt putt along to their heart's content!

Is it a conspiracy? Is there some greater order of old farts who meet in secret, and plot to fray my last nerve at every opportunity?

How did they come to single me out? What did I ever do to them?

I propose that A) All old ladies must use plastic when shopping, and B) Anyone over the age of 70 must have their depth perception tested before being allowed to drive.

Ouch... Ouch... Ouch !!!

I decided that I can't diet off the 10lbs I gained post surgery, so I figured I'd better start working out.

With every good intention, I buy what seems to be a good workout dvd. It entices me by promising that all I have to do is stay with it for a mere 6 weeks, and I will attain the results I desire. Who could resist such a promise? Certainly not I.

So, ever so niavely, I place the devil disc in the player, and hit play. The beginner workout is a measely 30 minutes long, no problem!

And the music begins, and the skinny bitch starts her peppy ... and one and two, and breeeeath. So, off I go. Gangbusters. Pffft! This is no sweat.

Ten minutes into it, I'm thinking, "I hate you ... you skinny bitch" at the poor woman on the screen.

Fifteen minutes into it I'm thinking, "Shit... what did she just do? I can't do that shit! My ass doesn't move that way!"

Twenty minutes into it I'm thinking, "I'm going to die. This is going to kill me. The headline will say, '48 yr old idiot woman exercises to death'

Twenty five minutes into it I'm thinking, "Please let me die."

At 30 minutes, as the skinny bitch is congratulating me for finishing the workout, I collapse on my couch; panting, sweaty, and painfully aware that I have never been so out of shape in my life. But, I felt a strong sense of accomplishment.

This was yesterday.

Today, I'm walking like a 90yr old stroke victim. Every muscle in my body is screaming, and I don't want to go to bed because it means I'll have to wake up tomorrow and do it again!

Piss Me Off !

I was trying to look at new blogs. Places I've never been before. So I clicked on the link at the top of Stacey's blog that says "Next Blog." The next blog that came up was in Spanish. So I clicked on the "Next Blog" link on that one. The next one was in Russian. And the next one was in Spanish, and the next one was in some Asian language, and the next one was in some other language I couldn't discern, and so on, and so on, for about 25 more blogs.

Doesn't anyone blog on Blogger in English????

Who ... Me?

I had my annual review of results yesterday with my boss. (My boss, by the way, is beyond question, the nicest man I have ever met.)

So we go through eight pages of pre-defined behaviors, skills, trends, etc. We talk about my leadership skills, my mentoring skills, my problem-solving skills, the wonderful relationships I have with internal & external customers, the outstanding business results I am enjoying. Essentially, we talk about how absolutely wonderful I am, and how blessed he feels to have me on his team.

And I feel like shit.

Because... I do not work very hard at all. I prefer to work smart.

I do work...

Just not nearly as hard as he thinks I do.