Archive for 'Mysterious Phenomena'
Florida is funny.
Not that Pittsburgh didn’t have a good run at cornering the panic-stricken weather person market or anything, but the weather people in Florida are hilarious. Because we’ve been having somewhat of a relief cold snap in temperatures, the weather has been the lead story on the news almost every night. And they’re just a tad alarmed about it. Like, “nobody freak out, but it’s going to go down INTO THE 40S TONIGHT! The 40s! We’re not certain you can LIVE THROUGH a cold spell like this! Stay inside! Cover your plants! Better yet, DIG UP your plants, bring them inside, and lodge them in your PREHEATED OVEN! Just to be sure!!”
So, anyway, in a seemingly unrelated turn of events (can unusually cold temperatures blow out transformers? No idea…but I doubt it), our power went out this morning. And, it didn’t just passively “go out” in the middle of the night. No, no. It BLEW out around 6:45 this morning. I mean, there was an explosion-y sound and a big bright flash of light (which I suspect was the light in the pool blowing out). Very dramatic. And, since I work from home, I’ve been forced out into the real world with the retirees.
That’s right, folks. I’m at Panera.
On one hand, it’s nice to be among the humans for the day. However, I’ve learned an important lesson. The coffee-drinking and pastry-eating crowd are LOUD. But, you just can’t make up the stuff that happens to you out here.
So, I get into Panera this morning, and it was totally hoppin’. I order a big, fat cup of hazelnut coffee, get it all decorated with cream and sugar, and carry it over to a table by both a window (for me) and a plug (for my friend, the laptop). As soon as I pull my computer out of my bag, an elderly man appears by my side and says, “oh, are you planning on joining us, young lady?” Hmmm. Pardon?
See, I figured that the two-person table with nothing on it and no one sitting at it was free for the taking. Clearly that was my bad.
As far as I can tell, one of three things happened. Either (1) that was their usual table and they were unwilling to sit somewhere new, (2) they’d had their eye on that table and had subconsciously already put the flag into it, claiming it as their own, or (3) old people are messing with me.
Either way, I’m now sitting at the four-person table directly behind it.
And, I have the urge to see if my power’s back on.
…and, I’m addicted to Facebook.
(Pause for the “hi Christys”).
I honestly didn’t think it could happen, but what with my slight addiction to the Internet as it is (both personally and professionally), I guess I should have seen that it was inevitable.
See, I originally created a profile to spy gather intelligence on a person we were interviewing at work. I never used it after that, though, and that was probably more than a year (or two??) ago.
Ok, ok. “Never” is kind of a strong word.
Perhaps I used it again about six months ago when one of my college roommates was in town for the weekend. We drank wine and sat in front of my computer for most of the night searching for people we’d known in our past life. Needless to say, it was one of those random nights of awesomeness. From the land of Can’t Make This Stuff Up, we found basketball stars turned body builders, dude-that-was-always-last-to-leave-quarter-draft-night-at-The-Dog-turned-finder-of-religion, and way too many people who haven’t progressed from where they were at age 22.
Then, this same friend who force-fed me all that wine and made me dig into the spying powers of the Internet scolded me for turning my back on the site that had provided me with such priceless knowledge. That’s right. We’re talking about the Book of Face.
So, I dove in.
And, now I can’t get out.
Here are a couple of my original hypotheses…and how they panned out.
- I thought Facebook was for kids (you know, like Trix). I didn’t really think people I know used Facebook. It’s not. And, they do.
- When I did really start using it, I thought I’d be able to find people that I went to college with. You know, catch up on the great times. Find people you may have been too hungover to get an email address from on graduation day. I did find those people. However, what’s happening the most is that people I went to high school with are finding me.
Keep in mind, I didn’t keep in touch with anyone from high school except my very best friend (who is still my very best friend). That was mostly by design. I didn’t really like or dislike high school. It was fine. I had fun, and I had a lot of pretty good friends. I was just so OVER it at the end and ready to completely start fresh. I guess that’s what thirteen years together in a really small school will do to you…
So now it’s just freaky that these people are friending me on Facebook. It’s not that I don’t want them to, really, it’s just that I don’t really remember them. Like, of course I remember them. But, I don’t remember them remember them. And, I’m now in a diologue with the girl who was my best friend in, oh, shall we say seventh grade? We did our dinosaur project together if that tells you anything. And, it’s (oddly) really great to catch up with her. And, I’m just so curious now…about how these people - that I have had absolutely no contact with (and haven’t really thought about) in almost 14 years - have turned out. I don’t know how to explain it.
It’s kind of creeping me out.
But, I have to know more…
Plus, how can you NOT LOVE a site that offers you the opportunity of a lifetime: to join a “The Only Person I Hate More Than Peyton Manning is Phillip Rivers” group??!!?
Score.
Ok, am I the only one who thinks that Softsoap smells like crap? Back me up here?
I guess it smells clean or something, but it doesn’t smell good.
This is just a theory I’m throwing around, but I think guys like to use Softsoap because, deep down, they’re concerned about cleanliness or they’re somehow interested in creating a certain lack of bacteria in the house.
Oh, ha ha ha. I just cracked myself up.
What I REALLY think is that guys put Softsoap out because they like other people (and by “other people” I mean “women”) to think they wash their hands…and it helps that it’s basically free. I mean, they’re practically GIVING it away at Sweetbay.
Anyway, I’m generally happy that they’re giving this impression and, in the case of some outliers, are actually washing their hands.
I guess what I’m saying is that maybe I shouldn’t be so sad to see my delicious Bath & Body Works soap demoted to “not close enough to the sink to be the soap we’re going with but not far enough away to actually be considered part of the recycling bin.”
Retaliation will be mine…
I have a touch of OCD.
I know this about myself.
The WebMD site says a common symptom of OCD is the “need for order, symmetry or exactness.” Check, check, and…
…yes, check!
Ironically, I’ve moved in with a guy who has virtually no need for order in his life*. AT ALL. Imagine it….
No, sorry. I can’t either. I don’t get it.
*(Actually, I take that back. Oddly, he has the exact same love of spreadsheets that both my sister and I have. I mean, he keeps track of all the concerts he attends in an Excel spreadsheet!!! God love him. But, hang a towel back up after using it? Um, utter nonsense apparently).
It’s funny, too, because the very last thing my Mom said to me when we were saying goodbye before CK and I hit the Penske to drive down here. “Don’t drive him crazy,” she says. Good advice from the OCD creator herself!
And, I am trying. Seriously. I am. Stuff strewn about…and stuff out of place in general…just drives me absolutely CRAZY. And, I’m not even that clean a person. I’d rather do basically anything than scrub a floor or clean the shower (it’s why I need to invite guests over fairly frequently…the fear of embarrassment is about the only thing that can motivate me to break out the Scrubbing Bubbles). But, I have to have everything put away and in its right place. It’s a sickness, I know.
So, I’m working on not getting irritated by stuff that’s left out (I’m having “a sense of humor about it,” as my Mom suggested). I dutifully wander around the house and try to put away anything that’s getting under my skin (like, WHY must papers be left on the stove?? Fire hazard aside, it’s just freakin’ weird that it would be used as a storage space to begin with. And, why…WHY does the cell phone charger have to be permanently plugged into the wall with the cord dragging along on the floor right behind the chair where I sit to eat dinner so that my foot skids out from underneath me every SINGLE time I go to sit down there?!?!?!?! PLEASE ANSWER ME!!! Hoo, sorry. Holy run-on sentence, Batman).
Because I’m 100% sure the very fact that I’m putting this stuff away all the time is probably irritating the CRAP out of him (he’s got to be thinking, “Why, WHY does she have to put away my cell phone charger when I just have to get it out again in the morning to plug it into what must be the most super convenient location in the whole entire house?!? I don’t get it!”).
Like sands through the hourglass, my friends…
