Grumpy Old Men

I am not picking on old men, in general. I've known many wonderful senior gentlemen who are deserving of kudos for their old-fashioned etiquette and polish. Then there's my neighbor. I'm a fairly reticent neighbor - I far prefer to be left to my own devices. I have no loud parties, I have no children, I don't have domestic disputes with a significant other, and my dogs bark only once before they are ushered back into the house. I don't have extensive house repairs or renovations done starting at 7 am on Saturday and Sunday mornings and I don't have a motorcyle. Nor do I crane my neck out of doors, windows or over fences to see what the other folk are up to.

So I find it infuriating that I am forced to submit to all of those annoying events from other people, but in particular one neighbor who is a man of senior age. He answers the door in his tighty-whites (eww is the word that sums that experience up). He paws through everyone's garbage and carries home his treasures, which he piles up in a sort of Depression-era lean-to (against my fence, and on my property). He rummages through these heaps while muttering and cursing to himself loudly (that I can hear through my bedroom windows). He curses frequently, as a matter of fact, about anything and everything and sometimes - it seems to me - about nothing at all. His door slams numerous times morning, noon and night. His bright side light shines into my windows, giving me cause to comment that we could land a helicopter in the back yard with the brilliance.

But even more disturbing is his anger and contentiousness. I heard him exclaim loudly to another male neighbor (someone who has thankfully gone back to prison or to another state to escape the tax collector) that "the only good woman is a dead woman". Now that is downright scary. But just a few weeks ago when I politely made a request, he bellowed at me, "You're a f__cking pig! A f__cking bitch!".

Now, really. I've never spoken more than a few words to the old fart.

Whatever happened to courtesy, good neighbors and sanity? I ask you!

The Subject of My Ire?

Well, today, lo and behold .... that would be moi. Me, myself and I. On the hot seat and in the corner with the dunce cap on. Little old Lise. Why, you ask, am I pissed at myself today? When there are so many worthy subjects to be focusing my disgust on? The people who cut ahead in line, the people who talk on cell phones on the bus and train, that guy last night who really ought to re-consider his steroid use who squeezed into the middle seat and then proceeded to SWELL - I kid you not - until I was squished between him and the winow, my poor aching back in AGONY ... well, hey, with all those folks, why pick on myself? Why take me to task?

Here's why. I'm guilty of felonious procrastination, that's why. It's not REAL procrastination - actually its avoidance in the first degree. I've managed to find a gazillion chores that need doing (and admittedly, yes, they all do need doing - when last I checked the dust bunnies were holding elections for their new democracy formed under my sofa). I find myself weak with exhaustion after draining days at work where bad news abounds - including no raises for the next 12 months, no more overtime, and lots of stress, pressure andfrustration. But that never used to stop me. Instead days like that made me redouble my efforts to produce, to utilize the personal time I did have on a bad day to "fight back", as it were, to show everyone there's no stopping me.

Now I seem to have stopped myself. Full stop, no forward motion, whatever that law of physics that says a motion at rest tends to stay at rest? Well I'm here, Einstein. Motionless.

I haven't given up - but my little half-assed efforts seem to be puny, at best. The "before" picture of the muscle-bound guy on the beach getting sand kicked in his face. I'm down, but I'm not out.

So pardon me while I take myself into the back room and beat some sense into me.

Get A Dictionary, Stupid!

One of the most infuriating things I have to put up with is the multitude of people who use the words "retarded" and "retard". Because my brother is, in fact, mentally retarded, and yet is the most generous, kind, sincere and giving soul I know, it is most irksome. Because he, and his fellow "retards" battle every day to dress themselves, care for themselves, help one another, and, in my brother's case, go out into the community doing jobs that make others' lives better. Like the elderly people he helps shop for, or rake yards for. Or the people who visit the college campus where he works on the grounds. He gets his miniscule paycheck and cherishes every hard-earned penny.

And there are lawyers of my acquaintance who drop the "R" bomb every other sentence.

Ask my brother and his fellow mentally-challenged friends twhere to go to look up a word and they'll tell you:

Get a dictionary!

STUPID!

They Ripped My Arms Off and Threw Them Over There!

Ever feel like the Scarecrow after the Wicked Witch's flying monkeys get done with him? When I am being pulled in dozens of different directions by dozens of people who are all blithely oblivious to the fact that HELLO! YES! WORKING AS HARD AS A WOMAN WITH TWO ARMS CAN, that is exactly what I feel like!

Allow me to answer some of those questions I get on a daily basis:

NO - those mental telepathy courses haven't paid off yet and so you WILL have to spell out those urgent requests that I get grief for not having followed through on when I didn't know I was supposed to do something in the first place!

NO - I didn't finish ALL of the assignments I was given that, on his best day, would have Hercules babbling and begging! And the concept that everything has a priority, and that priority is FIRST? WRONG! Multi-tasking doesn't mean cloning myself so I can do everything, for everyone, all at once.

NO - I haven't been able to survive without eating and yes, indeed, I will need to take that lunch hour!

NO - See above re: sleep.

NO - I will not give up my personal life. It's pitiful, sure, but it's MY LIFE.

I'm notorious for being the poster girl for "can't say no". In my next life (and yes I believe in reincarnation because hell, I deserve a real humdinger of a great life next time after this!), I'm going to be a woman of few words.

And they are all going to be: NO!!!!!!!!!!!

Go Green, Or Else

I'm not asking a lot, really. I'm not asking that folks all re-design their homes with solar panels or wind machines in the back yard to power their wide-screen TVs (though that isn't a bad idea - maybe they can package the two together).

What I am asking is pretty simple, really. And the only people who don't do it are stupid and lazy. And rude and inconsiderate and we should take it out of their wallets when prices go up on our stuff!

One. Park in a freaking parking space at a store, and DON'T leave your engine running. Especially, particularly, if you are driving a big honking SUV. Sports Utility Vehicles should not be sold to any individual who can't or won't walk a brisk block. If they are such slugs that they have to park RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SUPERMARKET ENTRANCE then they can't have the car. Make them drive VW bugs - it'll make them humble

Besides, I park wherever I find a spot even if I do have to walk a few hundred feet (for crying out loud you are going inside a store where you are going to, HELLO, walk around!!!!!!). I don't drive around for an hour looking for the closest spot. I just park it.

And a side point, I have a handicapped tag in the car because it is my Mom's. She's handicapped. She uses the tag. I AM NOT AND I DON'T USE IT. If you are one of those millions of people who got a tag because your left eye twitches when the moon is full GIVE IT UP. If you use the tag that belongs to your great uncle Milt who limps because he's got a pin in his hip from fighting the Japs on Iwo, then STOP IT.

It isn't a "Lazy Person Tag", its a handicapped person tag. Nuff said.

But back to my main rant.

Be green, OK? Instead of idling that mother Hummer in front of the Stop and Shop, park it. And walk a few feet.

THEN, when you get to the check out line, do not double-plastic bag your groceries. Do not even single plastic bag them. Collect the freaking recyclable bags that they sell everywhere for 89 cents or 99 cents and USE THEM.

Do you really think you are so important, so busy, that using them, refolding them and storing them until your next shopping trip, is simply too much time taken from your vital activities? You aren't, so get over it.

And last, but not least, use a little muscle, folks.

Got leaves? RAKE THE LITTLE SUCKERS UP. You can even have a compost heap and not stuff them in plastic bags, but let them decompose and use them as humus for your garden. It's GOOD for the earth, OK?

And don't hire the little lawn locusts with their un-regulated leaf blowers that blow leaves, detritis and small children all over the place (like into my yard). Make them rake and bag for cripes' sake.

Got snow? How about a shovel, dude? Instead of your snow blowing ear-drum blowing machine, heft a shovel and burn some calories.

I guarantee you that gut will thank you. So will your blood pressure.

C'mon, people. Being green isn't easy. It's REALLY EASY.

Do it or Mother Nature will make you very sorry.

Can you say drought? Hurricane season? Floods? Heat wave?

Face the facts, OK?

Times are tough. I thought I'd spread the news in case you have been hibernating for, oh, the last six months. (I'd say 8 years, but I think that's gotten across.)

The economy tanked. All over the world folks are thanking us, again, for leading the way. AIG guys got the first $$$$ and took a nice trip. Automakers flew (economy? nah!) to a meeting in DC to beg for cash. The NY financial bigwigs are taking bonuses and getting golden parachutes, with which they are bailing on the industry they have totally fucked over.

And who's paying the price? Oh, why, you and I, of course. But at this point it is all water under the bridge. What we need to do now is fortify that freaking dam so the next time there's a fiscal high-water problem, it doesn't spring a leak the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger (can't spell the name, not gonna try).

We're in for a tightening of the proverbial belt and I wish folks would just get over it.

Today's headlines here in the Big Old Apple are all about Governor Patterson being a "Grinch", asking for taxation of all those necessities - beer, music for our iPods, etc. C'mon. I'm a Bud Lite girl myself, but I'm fully prepared to have to pull a few extra bucks out of my wallet if I have to in order to enjoy my favorite beverage. Because times are uber tough and our State is in financial difficulty just like the rest of the country.

Sure, my Mom gets a Star tax exemption and those may well be a thing of the past. Not fun.

But we are a Democracy. We run on the wheels of taxpayers' money. That's how it has been, that's how it has always been. Have people forgotten this?

I heard someone say during the height of the bailout talks, "And they're going to use my tax dollars to pay for this!".

Well, shit, Sherlock, of course they are. JUST LIKE THEY USE YOUR TAX DOLLARS TO PAY FOR EVERY SINGLE THING!

From Bush's golf trips and Cheney's Halliburton buddies' windfalls to the war in Iraq and the contaminated FEMA trailers. We foot the bill for EVERYTHING.

So that is why you might want to consider this when casting your vote, whether it is for a local alderman, a DA, a State congressman or a Commander in Chief.
That's why the country bellied up to the voting booths this year and made it a CHANGE WE CAN BELIEVE IN. Because it isn't just about your rights, it is about your wallet. Pick the guy you believe will spend YOUR MONEY wisely.

But for now we have to bite the bullet and pull ourselves out of the muck, we're gonna have to pay for the cleaners ourselves. Just like always.

So stop whining. If we want social services, if we want our State operation to keep running, so our lives can be as normal as possible, and so that our fellow citizens suffer as little as possible, we're gonna have to just deal.

And then remember it when the next group starts getting too rich, too quick, and we aren't seeing the benefits trickling anywhere but up.

No one paid attention when the going was good and now that it's gotten tough, everyone's placing the blame.

Pay attention from here on out and maybe it won't hurt so much next time.

Not A Hard Concept, Folks

What does this sign mean? Easy question, right? Apparently not. APPARENTLY, many, many people think this sign is the acronym for "Slight Tap on Pedal".

No, ASS HOLES, it means STOP - as in come to a complete rest, all motion ceased, your car no LONGER MOVING, the opposite of GO.

Every morning - and evening - I risk my life trying to cross at 3 and 4 way intersections with prominently placed STOP signs, all of which are utterly ignored as folks (usually the jerkwads are on cell phones, too, also an illegal bit of business) zip right on through. Occassionally a momentary slowing (from 40 in a 30 mph zone to oh, say, 39?) before hitting the gas.

This morning I was nearly run down by a cop who also, apparently, didn't recognize the old red octagon for what it means.

I hate these people.

No, really, I do.

People on a cell phone, in a car packed with kids, don't stop at a STOP sign and nearly run over pedestrians. And did it ever occur to them that a big old semi bearing down on them may actually EXPECT them to stop, and when they don't?

Squashed kids.

Please. When you see the red sign with the white letters, do what it says. STOP.

The kid you save may be your own. Or, at the very least, the bumper. Like the one I saw lying on the side of the road this morning.

And you won't have me flipping you the bird in the rear view mirror.