I've been trying all week to think of something hilarious to put up here, as this blog is supposed to be that. However, this week has been so craptastic that I can't even think past the very minute I'm in, as it's just way too depressing.

Therefore, I will write a haiku in honor of my favorite food, cheese, and then go make some French toast for breakfast and see if that helps at all.

smooth and creamy cheese

sometimes you smell just like feet

but it's not your fault

Merry Christmas, everybody. 

Dear My Neighbors,

I realize that you won't read this, as you are highly religious people and probably do not read frivolous things, such as blogs about farting and my love of cereal. That being said, I need to let you know something.

You guys are kind of jerks.

See, I am not religious. I am a Christian, and to me that's different, because it doesn't just mean I have a bunch of rules to follow. It means I have to love everyone. Every. One. Even you.

That's about it. I still drink beer, have a multitude of friends that I'm pretty sure you consider unacceptable (much in the way that I consider religions that denigrate women, ethnicities other than Anglo, and non-hetero people to be unacceptable), and have chosen not to use my fully functional ovaries to produce children. I know that in some people's eyes that lessens me and my family. It's okay; you don't have to like me, I am still trying my very best to love you, even though loving someone who is so openly judgmental of my life is really, really hard for me. But I'm trying, because in my humble opinion, there's no point in calling myself a Christian if I don't love people. That's pretty much the whole entire point.

At any rate, don't you think it's a wee bit hypocritical for you to look down on me because I'm not the right kind of religious, and then to steal from me?

Yep, if you get my mail and/or packages, then open it up, that's stealing. Point blank. Now, keep the circulars and credit card offers all you want. I don't care about those. What I do care about is the package that I ordered for my husband for Christmas that mysteriously disappeared for two days, then showed up on my doorstep last night in the middle of the night.

Sure, it's a possibility that the mailman came out and made a delivery at like 2 a.m., but then he's the one who tore open the box, pulled all of the wrapped items open, then folded the plastic over and taped the box back with regular tape.

I'm pretty sure he would've used heavy duty packing tape in that case. Seriously. Who wouldn't? I'm going to notice that one. That lightweight regular house duty tape looks nothing like the packing tape used on the bottom of the box, plus they don't send stuff out from the warehouse all opened and looked through like that.

So I know it was one of you guys. Nice.

Look, I don't want to make this a bigger deal than it is, but how dare you look down on me when you're a thief? Maybe try just being human beings together in a non-hostile way. We all have to live here together, and we don't have to be friends, but we could just be kind. That's all.

And, just so you know, I would never, ever steal your mail. That's crappy.

Love and Kisses,

The OCD Lady Who Notices Everything

Because it's all snowy and lovely, yet I still have to put on boots and go to work, I would like to present you with my top ten list of things that are just the worst. 

10. Having to get up at 5 am when it's not light until almost 7. That is poopy, and the story of my winter life.

9. Rashes. Especially rashes in areas where scratching in public is embarrassing or potentially illegal.

8. Running out of the good salad dressing, but not knowing it's gone until after you made the salad. Then you're stuck with a pale imitation of the salad of your dreams.

7. When your boss is talking to you and she farts and then says, "Excuse me." It would be easier to just ignore it and then giggle at your desk, but what are you supposed to say at that point? "No, I won't excuse you...that was nasty."? And you can't laugh, because that's not adulty.

6. Sticky stuff on the floor in the kitchen. Grandma Corky, I feel you on this one. It makes me die.

5. Making a huge batch of jam that doesn't set. I know it can just be used as syrup, but it's so much work and terribly disappointing.

4. When you run out of the comfortable pants and don't have time to do a load of laundry so you're stuck in the pants that make your butt look presentable but make life miserable for the whole day with their stiff scratchiness.

3. Getting a hole in the fabric part of your favorite pajamas, so you know you can't just keep mending them, as the fabric is so thin it's see-through, but realizing how many years it took the pajamas to get that soft and nice, and that you may have to do that all over again.

2. Looking at puppies online when you don't have a dog and know that with your allergies, you'll probably never have one again. Sigh. Puppies in Christmas sweaters, especially.

1. And the worst of the worst? When I get a sandwich at a restaurant and they cut it in half, which ruins it, because sandwiches should be eaten outside in, with a perfect middley bite in the center to save for last. They just shear that thing apart with no regard for my middley bite. Jerks.

So there you go. Enjoy your day.

Is it a new thing to go to appointments of one kind or another straight from a workout with horrendous b.o., looking like you've just been sprayed down from head to toe with sweat?

Apparently it is. At least, in my neck of the woods.

The real problem, especially in winter, is ventilation. It's just too cold to open a window, but if I'm gagging too hard to be polite, what else can I do? And then I say something ridiculous, like, "Hot flashes!" even though I know you know I'm not quite to the hot flashes stage yet, and then I feel guilty for hours, because I didn't want to sweat-shame you. I just didn't know what else to do.

I try to time my workouts so that I can shower after. Just, always. I would never, ever subject someone else to my post-workout hair, for one thing, and although I don't sweat very much (it's kind of weird), I am sure I don't smell like unicorns and rainbows. 

But within the past four days, I have already had two people show up for appointments fresh from the gym, only not-so-fresh.

Did I miss yet another memo? Is this okay now?

I don't know if I want to live in a world where people don't shower and then bring their aromas into my space. I just don't know, man. That is definitely NOT the Christmas spirit.

There are a lot of people in their 20s out there. Like, a lot. I guess they've always been around, but as I get further away from my 20s and closer to my 40s, they get weirder and weirder.

It couldn't just be me.

At any rate, they are out in full force on the interwebs, trying to be deep and educated and whatnot, and, for the most part, failing miserably. Kids, deep has already been done by the likes of The Cure, Fiona Apple, and Shia La Beouf. Give up and move on.

I get that you're educated and you're just now discovering Steinbeck and Hemingway, but everyone else has read that stuff too. As a matter of fact, some of us read it in our teens, because teens were smarter back then than they are now. Deal.

Also, why is it so important to tell everyone you know how altruistic you are, all of the time? I don't get it. When you do something good, that's great, but it diminishes it significantly when you have to rush to tweet it, like it's some sort of societal badge of honor. I mean, that's great that you spent your weekend at a soup kitchen, but posting a selfie on Instagram of you with a homeless person doesn't really make your deed any better. It's just you, seeking validation.

Also, try to keep in mind that everyone who is older than you is tougher than you, simply because we have survived longer. You don't know it all. I promise. 

Finally, talking about how very young and cute you are to all the people who are 10-15 years older than you isn't young and cute. It's annoying. Youth is not really an achievement. We've all done that, and then we move on. Calm yourself. If you want people to tell you how young and cute you are, go visit your grandma. That's what they're there for.

Yes, it's Monday. Why? Oh, my inner curmudgeon is showing. Oops.

So yesterday was the day of the gross.

I've been on this closet cleaning out thing for about a week now, because this weekend I'll be completely emptying two closets, cleaning and painting the inside and adding some storage thingies, and then putting everything back in.

I don't want to have to replace things I don't use.

Anyway, I've been selling some stuff on the interwebs and then meeting people in town, so I've been parking a lot more than usual. Yesterday, I was parked in a lot for a store, waiting for the person to come pick up her earrings, when BOOM. I turned around and this lady was projectile vomiting out of the door of her car. So much barf. And her feet were outside, so they were getting covered, and I kept turning away, but she just kept barfing. I almost did it myself after a minute or two. Whoa. It was pretty crazy. I have to remember not to park in that part of the parking lot there for a while. 

Then, I went to someone's house, and discovered what true filth is. I vaguely know this person, but not well, and I should've noticed when I was standing on the doorstep, which was covered in rat poop, and smelling the stinky funky house smell from outside. Did I run? Nope. Didn't want to be rude. Let's just say that the inside was way worse than the outside. It was a cornucopia of smells, including dog pee, rat pee, 30 years of cigarette smoke, and all kinds of old food, left out on the counter. Yeah. I about died. 

Immediately after that, I had to drive home to teach, so there wasn't enough time to shower, so I hung my 'dry clean only' jacket in the garage (of course, I wasn't wearing something washable...sigh), changed all of my clothes, and washed my arms and face to try to minimize that lovely crackhouse  smell. 

So gross.

At any rate, I hope today is cleaner. If not, I may die.