Conversation at a Gas Station Bathroom

We were traveling out of state.

It's inevitable that you have to stop to use the bathroom.

So we stop at a gas station.

Lucky us, it's one of those where you have to ask the clerk for the key because the unisex bathroom is not inside the gas station.

By the time my daughter and I got to the gas station door, Bimbette, another customer, had the key in hand and was standing on the sidewalk leading up to the entrance.

Bimbette, key dangling in hand, calls out to pump no. 7: "Darling, do you want to use the bathroom first? Do you want me to pump the gas?"

Darling needs a few moments to register that Bimbette is speaking to him. He's an elderly gentleman, perhaps hard of hearing.

Bimbette repeats the question. "Darling, do you want me to pump the gas, or do you want to use the bathroom?"

Darling mutters something incomprehensible as my daughter and I attempt to refrain from doing the I've really Gotta Pee dance in hopes that someone will make a decision soon. Because, if neither Bimbette nor Darling want to use that key, my daughter and I will take it.  I could tackle Bimbette while my fleet-footed daughter grabs the key and makes a run for it.

Darling wanders over slowly and takes the restroom key from Bimbette.

www.keyring.com

My daughter and I follow at a discreet distance and que up outside the bathroom door.

Darling exits the restroom and looks slightly puzzled by our presence.

I smile brightly and say, "I can take that off your hands," and indicate the restroom key.

Darling says, "Oh. Ok. Just be sure to give it to Bimbette over there, she's waiting to use it."

I say, "Sure," thinking to myself, "No fucking way. Bimbette has caused enough discomfort to my bladder already today." I hand the key to my daughter and she uses the bathroom.  My daughter exits and hands the key to me. Bimbette is nowhere in sight.  I exit the bathroom and hand the key to my husband who says, "Just give it back to the clerk. Nobody's gonna need that."

"OH no," say I, "Bimbette has been waiting to use the bathroom and she'd have held that key captive until your daughter and I had wet our pants if Darling hadn't taken it from her. She had planned to hold onto it until they were all done pumping gas. So unless you want someone unlocking the door on you mid-stream, I suggest you hold onto it."

My husband looks mystified, attempting to sort through this new information.

"And just return the key to the clerk when you're done," I say, hoping to save another bladder-weary person from the I want to be in charge of the key Bimbette.

I amble back to my vehicle, ignoring Darling and Bimbette, who are ministering to their vehicle as if they haven't a care in the world.  My husband soon appears, and still Darling and Bimbette are flossing and shining their vehicle. Guess Bimbette didn't really need to pee all that badly after all.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking to myself, Hey Bimbette, if you've gotta take a piss that badly, then just go - don't be dangling the key in front of the entire parking lot and casually asking your Darling if he'd rather go first, and then take your time about things. OTHER people might like to use that restroom.
And don't think you get to hold onto that key while you wash and wax your car at the pump, either. Because I might have to cut a bitch if that happens.

That, or pee on your tire.

 

More Monday Miscellaney



lolcats - icanhascheezburger.com

It's Monday, and I've got "It's Friday, I'm in Love," on the brain.  I guess this means it's time for more Monday Miscellaney.  Lucky you!

• There's nothing like your pre-teen telling you the computer keyboard is frozen to start your day off right.  After a change of batteries, some messing around with clicking this button or that, running the virus scan and restarting the computer, the keyboard works again. Whew. Double whew. I'd be lost without the home computer.
• I'm thinking Halloween is my favorite holiday, hands-down.  I mentioned to a relative last night that "We're getting ready for Halloween, here," and got the response, "WHAT? It's only October 3!"  That gave me pause for all of five seconds.  I'll blame it on having kids, though I suspect that even without the kids, I'd have gotten out the pumpkins and skeletons anyhow.  At least I waited until October 2nd to do it.  I like the costumes, the free candy (though, at my age, the candy isn't free anymore), and the decorations.  It's rather low-pressure, unlike Christmas.
• It's weird to start seeing people you know in the obituary column who are your age.  This isn't a new phenomenon by any means, but it always takes one by surprise. 
• Why is it that during 40-degree weather, I still see people wearing flip flops? Seriously? I can't wait until snowfall.  Wonder how many will be losing toes to frostbite.
 



totalfilm.com

"MY TOES! MY TOES! Why didn't

I wear my fur-lined boots?"

• I feel privileged to help serve Mass at our local parish.  My family is on the schedule once a month.  For the last 6 weeks, however, we've not only served on our scheduled date and time, but also been pinch-hitting for others who don't bother to show up, let alone arrange for a substitute.  My husband has lately taken to asking me, "Are you scheduled to do anything, this time?" My response is usually, "No," which he quickly follows up with, "Yeah, until you get there."  Then he stifles snickers of "I told you so," when someone taps my shoulder and says, "Can you fill in, today?"  I really don't mind - except that I'm starting to feel resentful toward those who are finding it impossible to fulfill their commitment.  To them, I'd like to say, "You signed on for this.  It is one hour, one weekend, per month.  If you can't fulfill the duty, then ask to be taken off the schedule, and until that happens, find someone to fill in for you.  You aren't the only person who might like to sit with their family now and then during a church service.  It is extremely rude and inconsiderate of you to skip out when you know you're scheduled, and then when you do show up, it's within two minutes of start time - leaving everyone to wonder if you'll even be here.  You can do better than that!"
 



thegreenhead.com

peanut butter & jelly spreader

• Wow, but I'm tired of fundraisers.  Every year, our school does the same fundraiser. In my opinion, the catalog is full of stuff that could be purchased elsewhere, and for less. For example, those handy suction-cup containers you can stick in the shower - the catalog had them for $2.00 more than the local Meijer.  The chocolates look mouth wateringly delicious until you get them.  Then, you discover they're all about the size of a fifty-cent piece and 2/3 of the box is raised cardboard with the chocolates artfully spread on top of that to make the container look like it's brimming with sweetness.  And I really need to spend $7.50 on a "peanut butter & jelly spreader."  I'm thinking most of this stuff probably comes from the Lillian Vernon catalog to begin with.
• Excuses, excuses. I do feel badly, sometimes, when kids tell me they've lost an important piece of homework, or that they couldn't do the homework because they were being shuffled here and there, often at the parent's whim and will, and no one had time to sit down and help with the work.  Other times, it's generally a case of the kid being extremely disorganized and sitting in front of the computer or video games instead of prioritizing what really  needs to be done.
 



sweetcatastrophecakes.blogspot.com

• At what grade, in school, do you remember the teacher having to tell the class, "In order to get a birthday treat, you need to be seated at your desk and not swarming Alfred.  I expect to hear a 'thank you' to Alfred when he brings your treat to you."  Now, I'm not so old as to believe that my elementary school days are filled with rosy-cheeked, well-behaved children.  I'm sure we were little monsters at times - in fact, I know we were.  But - I seriously don't recall my teachers ever telling us to be seated at birthday treat time. I don't think most of us dared to swarm the birthday kid, hoping to pick over each decorated cupcake in hopes of getting the one with the most frosting.  Really, kids?  You're ten and eleven years old now. What happened to manners?
 



makeupadviceforum.com

• Of course, what can I expect when I see what's left in the staff room of the rolls from a meeting.  Someone took out the center part of the roll and left the rest in the box.  My reaction was laughing disbelief: This is something we'd do to each other, at home, I thought - recalling the days when my brothers would say, as one of us eyed that last piece of pie or cake, "That's mine - I spit on it."
• That lipstick you were so happy to find that cost $1.99?  It's going to go on your lips like $1.99, too.  Ever try to color your lips with crayon? Not even a Crayola, but one of those generic off-brand crayons? That's what $1.99 lipstick is like. Don't waste your money.  On the other hand, if the lipstick is $1.99 because it's been marked down from $12.00 or something, stock up.
• While I'm on the subject of lipstick, why is it when I look at the wide array of colors available I end up purchasing something nearly the same shade as what I have at home? I guess I'm just meant to wear one shade of lipstick.
• Where art thou, 2 yards of black lace? I've searched high and low for this lace now that I want it for a Halloween costume, and do you think I can find it?  Just my luck, I'll find it November 1st.

Parent Peeves

Peeves the Poltergeist
Harry Potter novels and films
totalfilm.com

What is a 'Peeve,' anway?

Sometimes a "peeve" seems like that obnoxious poltergeist from the Harry Potter novels.  Othertimes, we consider it "just an annoyance."

Mama Kat is tapping into her follower's peevedom by asking what the top parenting peeve is.

Is it. . . screaming children? tarted-up children? parents who do everything for their child?

If you're not sure, but wonder if you made the list, here are some bloggers to check out:

• Mom*Vana  -"I saw a woman with a little army of 6 children all trailing behind her with GIANT cups of soda from 7-11. I wanted to slap her. I am sorry but that is ridiculous. On a hot day, give your kid water." 
• Parenting by Dummies  - “I’m going to count to 5…”  And then what?  And why not 3?  Personally, by the time you get to 3, I’ve had it with you, your kid, and your useless counting, so why bother going all the way to 5? "
• My Perfect Little World - "How about once they're in college, you let them pick their OWN classes?"
• My Memory Art - "I also stopped telling pee, poo, food, sleeping, sickness, behavior, and embarrassing narratives about my kids while they were anywhere within hearing distance at a very young age. "
• The Raven's Spell - '“Shhhhhh” is far louder, disruptive, and just plain annoying than a kid getting excited to see hyenas appear on screen. If you plan to take your child to a movie, guess what, they are going to have a few things to say.'
• Footprints in the Sand - "I remember seeing a five year old boy at the grocery store last year, submissively following behind his father when he accidentally bumped into the aisle causing a jar of pickles to drop on the floor.  It was an accident.  In less than five seconds the father turned around and yelled at his son in such a way that I started crying. "
• What the Grimgirl looks forward to-" When I was a child, it seemed as though my sister and I were the only kids on the block who wore shoes in the summer. It wasn’t that the other kids didn’t have shoes; it was that my mother would not let us out the door without them."
•  

  

  homeimprovementforparents.com
  Hey - let's cut those strings,
  shall we?

  Because my life is fascinating - I" don't care if this goes into a "college fund." By the time she's of age for college she's going to be such a bimbo that she'll be beyond repair. And don't tell me you're trying to boost her confidence. Getting judged for how she looks in a bathing suit at age 10 is NOT going to encourage ANY confidence."
• Shit in the bathtub: Adventures in crap-tastic mommy moments - "But when I look over while driving and see a car full of children and the parents in the front driving and smoking (windows cracked or open) – let me tell you – I not only judge you, I consider that child abuse and neglect."
• So this is the good life - "I know a lot of parents who keep their child up late at night (11:00, midnight, sometimes even later) so that they will sleep in the next morning so the parent can sleep in too."
• Mommy's Lounge - ". . . there are lots of baby-talking-mommies out there! (Can you say, “annoying to the nth degree?”) I feel so bad for the kid who misses the opportunity to develop vocabulary, proper inflection, syntax and all that good stuff."

My own commentary on parental pet peeves is here, and based on what I've read from the funny ladies who post at the blogs above, there are a lot of people out there who are on the same page.

So - what's your biggest parental pet peeve? 

Sharing a Room

According to this article,   sharing a bedroom is one way to help kids learn how to compromise, become good friends, and develop social skills.  One parent says it's good practice for college dorm life and marriage.

I shared a room with my two older sisters.  I don't remember when that arrangement started - but I have very few memories of ever not having shared a room with a sibling.  My older sisters were newly installed in the recently renovated attic, which was a veritable kingdom at the time - spacious for two kids, two beds, two dressers, and some toys.  They were a year apart in age, so it seemed a natural to put them in the same room rather than with a sibling who was 3 and 4 years younger.

Apparently I was a brat, because that arrangement didn't last long.  The veritable kingdom soon became a cramped peon's hut with three kids, three beds, three dressers, and more toys.  Plus - my sisters had to keep the noise level down because I was younger, which meant lights out a bit earlier for just me - a challenge, when you share a room.

I suppose it was fortuitous on my parents' part to put us all together, because a few years later, there were two new kids in the house who took up the bedroom I was to have reigned over, downstairs.

shelterpop

Now - in our house, it was just a given that somebody would have to share a room.  We had a three-bedroom house, after all, and no basement.

I was rather envious of my friends, who had a bedroom all to themselves - and they even had siblings.  But, each child had her own room - no squabbling about turning out the lights, whose turn it is to vacuum or dust, and whose stuff is strewn about where.  Though, I was amazed to learn that one of my friends and her sister wanted to share a room - even though there was plenty of space for each girl to have her own room.  I thought they were crazy.

Now, this article , may I remind you, also says that sharing a room is good for kids because they'll learn social skills.

Yep, I learned social skills, all right.  I learned enough social skills that when I got to college, which sharing a room was supposed to prepare me for, I was probably the worst roommate on the planet.  I lived in a dorm that was old and outdated, with the living space consisting of two rooms: one room for "study," which opened onto the hallway, and one room for "sleeping," which was the "inside" room.  Bathrooms were down the hall, community-style.  That was fine by me - no roommate squabbles about whose turn it is to clean the toilet.

homesickdesigns.com

Other girls looked forward to decorating and coordinating their dorm rooms, envisioning they'd spend hours confiding and chatting into the wee hours of  the morning.  I, however, completely didn't mind claiming one of those two rooms for my own - I had no interest in sharing sleeping quarters with my roommate.  Fortunately, the roommate didn't seem to mind, either - so we each had our own "study/sleeping" space in our own space.  For us, it worked.

I never had to put up with someone borrowing my clothes without asking, though the room I shared at home had a closet all three of us girls used. Yes, it was a huge closet.  Remember - the room was a converted attic, so dad built the closet as big as we needed.  Lucky us!  With toys, I don't remember anyone borrowing anyone else's toys unless they asked, first.

amazon.com

Those are things the experts say kids should always be taught when they share a room.  I say they should be taught that whether they share a room, or not.  I am newly astounded every time a student raises his or her hand and says, "Jimmy has my book/crayons/pencil/eraser/etc."  And then Jimmy says, "Well I just BORROWED it," while admitting he didn't ask permission to borrow anything, even though the item in question was tucked away in a desk, out of sight.

Evidently, no one ever taught Jimmy that one should ask permission before taking what doesn't belong to one.  Mayhap if Jimmy had to share a bedroom, the apparently condoned practice of "borrowing without asking permission" would be halted in its tracks.

I don't know why, all of a sudden, it's considered "trendy" for kids to share a room.  It's something kids have done for ages, and will likely continue to do for ages.  For many kids, it's just a fact of life.  I personally don't feel that my social skills are any better or worse than those of the kid who didn't share a room growing up.  Sharing a room as a kid didn't make me any less sensitive to someone else's snoring, dirty clothes on the floor, or general clutter here and there.  I don't think it made me any more sensitive about my own snoring, dirty clothes, or general clutter.

I guess I just don't get what the big deal is.

What I'd like to see the experts tackle is how seven people in the same household sharing one bathroom teaches kids how to get along.  Now that's an article I'd like to read.

brownstoner.com

March Miscellany: 2009

Apparently, I had a lot of random thoughts in March of 2009.  Here are a few more:  

So has everyone survived winter?  I know we're just rounding the mid-March point, and today is officially the first day of spring, but I thought I should ask.

Some parts of this state aren't finished with winter, yet.

Others have completely given up on winter wear, though, and I admit I'm one of them.  The winter coat was dry-cleaned recently, and I'm refusing to wear it until this coming October, when temperatures dip to freezing again.

In other mundane news, there are just a few things that have been on my mind lately, and I thought I'd share.

• First, it really annoys me to no end when people call and then don't identify themselves when they leave a message.  We have caller ID, and also an answering machine.   Far too often lately I get phone calls from people who just say, "Hey! It's me. Call ya later!"  I check the caller ID because I don't recognize the person's voice.  I don't recognize the phone number.  I ask myself, Who on earth was that?  Of course, the person never calls back, and anyone I see in subsequent days never says, "So, did you get my message?"  Please, people, when you leave a message for someone, leave your NAME.  If you have the phone number, obviously you are special in some way -- but I don't have automatic voice recognition.  Sometimes, you HAVE to leave your name at the beep.

• Another annoying  behavior occurs when people let their youngsters use the telephone, completely unsupervised.  Two words:  Please. Don't.  You might have the nicest, most wonderful child in the world -- but when that child gets to call someone and you aren't right there, only God knows what's going to get left on the answering machine by that child. 

• Cell phone users?  The list of annoyances is long.  For now, I'll stick  to those who use their cell phones in public places.  I can't tell you how many times I've been pushing that cart down the grocery aisle, and I hear someone talking.  I turn, because I don't want to be rude if someone is addressing me.  I realize whatever was said wasn't directed to me, and turn away -- but not before getting an indignant look from the person who spoke.  Why so indignant?  Because the person was on a cell phone, talking, and felt that I was intruding on their conversation.  Uh, people? If you're on a cell phone, in a public place, trying to have an intimate conversation, then it sure as Hades isn't my fault or problem if everything you say is overheard by other people.  Get over yourself.

• I try to be a polite person.  I really do, and kudos to my parents and other family members for trying to beat some common decency into me when I was a child.  If I'm entering a building, I'll hold the door for someone if they're entering closely behind me, regardless of their age.  Most people will nod their heads, smile, or say, "thank you."  Not one ungrateful teenaged boy, who sashayed through the open door to our local 7-11 as if it were his God-given right.  Acknowledge even with a mere glance the person holding the door? Meh.  It was beneath him.  It might just as well have been an automatic door, for all he was aware.  It was awfully tempting to try to close that door just enough to catch his heels so he'd trip and spill his super-sized fountain drink, but I'm attempting to be a polite person, so I restrained myself. 

• While I did have some common decency beaten into me, sometimes it fails in especially trying and frustrating situations.  Recently, I was trying to register online for a college class.  The process went smoothly until I clicked "submit."  For some reason, I couldn't register for the class I wanted.  I called the registrar's office, and explained the situation to a very nice woman named Irene, who answered the phone.  She explained that I was not flagged in the system as a student who would be ordinarily taking that particular class, and would need an advisor signature or instructor approval to take the course.  While I didn't raise my voice, my response was impatient.  I apologize, Irene, because certainly you don't make the rules at the college.  But it really bugs me when there is no indication in the course description that there are all of these requirements.

• So now I'm moving on to pay for a class that I'm really not wanting to take, but I have to take SOMETHING, so there ya go.  Now it's time to pay the piper.  This can also be done online, which is a handy thing for many people.  Does anyone out there remember the dark ages, when you stood in line for hours on end, clutching scads of paperwork in the hope you'd brought all the right things so when you got to the window you could pay and not have to lose your place in line because you forgot something critical and so had to drive home to get the forgotten something and then get back in line and wait two more hours? Ahh yes, the good old days!  Now you can make those long waits disappear by paying online.  I attempt to do this, using the payment system the college has contracted with. I enter all the pertinent data, click submit, and . . . voila!  Discover that the system does not accept Visa.  WTF?  I'm thinking.  For those of you who recall this is a family web site, "WTF" also means, "Wow, that's freaky."  I place yet another call to the college, and the polite young man who answers tells me I can pay in person, using cash, or by personal check, or cashier's check, or money order.  But they don't accept Visa.  I thanked him for making this such an easy transaction.  Again, it's not his fault someone came up with a ridiculous rule -- and I apologize. 

• Winter temperatures in Michigan often dip below 10 degrees Fahrenheit, and often below zero.  I often wonder what's wrong with the able-bodied, and supposedly mentally capable, adults who are carrying young children with no winter coats or hats on.  The adults are fully covered with all-purpose winter gear, but the kids are coatless and hatless.  WTF? Wow, that's freaky. I 'm not talking about kids who refuse to wear the winter coats because it's cooler to be freezing cold.  I'm talking about the kids who can barely put on their own winter gear without assistance of some kind.  Parents, smarten up.  The kids need to be covered.  Frostbite is not pretty, and even though it may be warm in the mall, it's a cold trip from the parked vehicle to the door. 

•  In today's U.S. mail, I received a card from . . . well, I'm not telling you the name of the company. I don't think they deserve any mention from me by name.  This company tells me they already know what my lawn needs for its first treatment, because they've already tested it.  So, uh, is this company telling me they trespassed?  And for the low, low, introductory price of $39.99, I can get this first treatment.  Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.  Anyone who reads this space regularly knows that I'm too cheap to pay any lawn service to come and spray chemicals on my lawn when I can get my husband to do it for free.  Besides, my lawn is natural. And if that includes a few dandelions to offend the neighborhood, then so be it. 

• It's also incredibly annoying when you're trapped in the pharmacy drive-thru.  One car ahead, one car behind.  The car ahead takes twenty minutes to complete their transaction.  At least, it was twenty minutes when I started counting.  As I pull ahead to finally pick up my prescriptions, the clerk apologizes for the delay.  "There were problems with the order," she explains.  I'm sympathetic.  These things happen.  "But," I said, "that customer did have time to drive away and pull up a few rows and find a parking place."  The clerk's jaw dropped about a foot at that news.  This sort of thing has happened before, back in the smaller home town of Tawas City.  One belligerant couple had pulled up into the pharmacy drive-thru to wait for the prescriptions to be filled.  The drive-thru is for drop offs and pick ups.  Apparently, the rules don't apply to them -- and so, because I had a very sick child who needed medicine yesterday, I had to park the car, take that sick child inside, and drop off the prescription.  All because some idiot decided the rules didn't apply to him.   Folks, if there's that big of a problem with your order and you're at the drive-thru, park the car, and GO INSIDE. 

• I'm continually amazed at the number of items that show up in our school's lost and found.  I joke with other adults in the building that I'm going to start shopping in the lost and found bin because there is some pretty nice stuff in there.  How is it that parents don't know their children are missing snowpants, backpacks, lunch boxes, expensive hooded sweatshirts, jeans, shoes, or t-shirts? 

• While we're on the subject of school, how is it that there is always a cadre of parents who believe their child is never to blame for anything?  Come on.  If your child is witnessed by several reliable adults doing something to another child, or breaking school rules, and is reprimanded for it, why is it always a conspiracy against your kid?  Family loyalty is to be commended, but sometimes, when you're wrong -- you're wrong. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.  And don't you think it sends the wrong message to your child when he is not held accountable for his actions?    As much as we all complain about our society, it really isn't to blame for everything. 

• I still haven't figured out why socks come in re-sealable packages, and why the packages always tout this as if it's some new and amazing claim:  "Now! In resealable packages!"  Whoopee.  Like I'm going to wear one pair of socks continually, and when they wear out, then take out another new pair?  Oh! I know!  What I'm going to do is take out a pair for myself, and then re-seal the package and give it to someone as a gift.  Uh huh.

Well, that's about all of the mindless musing I can come up with for now.  What are you wondering about, lately?