There's this person I know who's not exactly a friend, really more of an acquaintance, who has this issue that I am constantly wrestling with: She's always got stuff hanging out of her nose. Always. I mean, every time I see her, at some point in our time together, there is an attempt at escape by one of her nasal prisoners.

What to do?

I don't feel like I know her well enough to say, "Hey. Look. Here's some Kleenex. Why don't you give it a whirl?" but on the other hand, I wouldn't want to walk around flashing my nose gold and not have anyone let me know.

She's got to know, though. These aren't those tiny things where it could possibly be just a little flake of skin or maybe a speck of dirt. No, these are ginormous, and definitely the kind where I'm always tempted to ask if she's got a sinus infection or something, but I've known her for long enough that if it's a sickness, it's got to be a perpetual sickness. Not only that, but they're so huge, there's no way she's not feeling that action.

So I just don't ever look her in the eye. The boogers are like tractor beams, and once I see them, I can't look away. I've tried looking at her, then looking at the box of Kleenex, then looking back and her, and so on, but she never takes the hint. I've tried saying things like, "Whoo! My nose gets so stuffy when the juniper's acting up. How about you?" but still, no dice. I've even tried putting the Kleenex by where she's sitting and saying, "Here you go, in case you might need one." Even then, she doesn't do anything.

Then we reach the point where she's talking to me about two feet away from my face, and her hanger-on is moving in and out with her breathing, and it makes me so panicky that I can't think of anything except escaping without getting snotted. 

Does no one else notice this? I can't be the only one; as previously stated, these are large and in charge. Does this woman have no friends that are comfortable enough with her to tell her about her issue? I mean, I only really see her around, I've never actually socialized with her, so I don't feel okay going any further.

Life is so tricky sometimes. Tricky and gross.

New Mexico is a great state. I love the landscape and the skies and the lack of traffic and pollution where I live. However, there is an issue that is making me a wee bit ashamed of my home state: Our news sucks.


There, I said it. It sucks. Sucks sucks sucks. That is the only appropriate description of NM's news outlets. There are a few good newscasters who can pronounce most of the words without stumbling (I love you, Tom Joles), but for the most part, the young newspeople look like idiot refugees from a used-car dealership. Someone should tell them that using a lot of makeup and hairspray won't cover up their stupid.


The worst part of this is the printed/online news. There isn't a decent newspaper in the state, and the online versions of the news stations aren't any better. They're a sort of gossip column, but expanded. Take yesterday, for instance: I'm cooking dinner while my husband is reading the online news from a major TV station in Albuquerque. He starts laughing and says, "Oh my goodness. Did you read the article about the cop who got in trouble for looking at porn on his cell phone?"


Wow. Apparently, that's a major news item. A cop decides to look at porn on his phone, and then have a little...ahem...personal partay in his car WITH THE DASH CAM ON. Okay, so it's hilarious, but it also makes me wonder why the news needed to describe it in such detail. Maybe that guy has a family and kids who don't want to hear about what he does when he's bored at work. Granted, I think they tell the cops that there are dash cams in their cars, and I think the cops know that they record sounds and stuff, but still, it's just tacky.


So why am I talking about it? Well, for one thing, this isn't a newspaper, so there's no guarantee that any of this stuff isn't made up. I could've just invented all of the crap on my blog for kicks. Also, I have no life, and I've never made any secret of that fact. So anytime anything even remotely funny happens, I store it in my ginormous cranium for later use in my blog. Finally, I never said I wasn't tacky. Deal with it.


Maybe I should become a newsperson. Nope, I would giggle anytime I had to report a story like that. "The police officer then...hee hee hee...they heard a zipper noise...hee hee hee...apparently talking to the woman whose picture he was...snort." I guess that wouldn't be too effective. Not that the ones they have now are effective, but really, they're just reporting gossip for the most part, so does it matter?


I think they should just have pictures of puppies and kittens on their websites. And babies. Wait, I think they do have pictures of babies sometimes. Well, anyway, they shouldn't put in details that are gross. Now, every time I pass a police officer on the road, I'm going to think he or she is looking at porn on his or her cellphone (I'm trying not to have gender bias here...maybe some lady cops do that, too, but I like to think they'd be smart enough to have a dash cam "malfunction").


I wonder what the news is like in other states. I'm sure in places like Kansas and Nebraska it's got farming info on it, and in places by the ocean, they probably have oceany types of news. I don't know. Maybe I should've paid attention the last time I was in another state. I do know for sure that Colorado's news isn't much better, so that's comforting. At least, their TV news isn't better. I'm not sure about their print news, since when I'm there I'm usually on vacation so I don't read the papers.


Point? Wait, was this supposed to have a point? Naw. I just like to tell other people what they're doing wrong. Oh, and I needed a story involving our lack of good news along with a cop having way too much fun on the job to round out the subject matter on my blog. Now I need to be on the lookout for a good topic that involves Christmas trees and toothpaste.

Okay, people. Really. Come on.


You know that Tina Turner song, "We Don't Need Another Hero" from that Mad Max movie? Well, it's a lie. We do need a hero. We need a special kind of hero that can edit other people's mistakes out of advertisements and mailers. I think even Tina Turner would agree with me on that one.


Misspellings in things are driving me nuts. Not that I wasn't already halfway there, but this is ridiculous. Yesterday, I got my Premium Shopper's Guide in the mail, and I can't even tell you how many coupons say, "...of equal or lessor value..." Lessor? Really? You sure that's the spelling you want to go with? This is a pretty big mailer, and you'd think they'd at least have some sort of an editor, but I guess not. At least not one that knows that lessor does not mean what the advertisers want it to mean, unless they're giving the value only to people who grant leases.


There was also a huge, 1-page ad for a pizza place that informs us all that they are, "better then the rest!" Yep. Apparently, the better part only applies to their pizza.


Argh.


I realize that in everyday situations, people don't feel that they need to know the difference between their, they're and there, and other common misspellings, but THEY DO. Please learn. For the love of Mike. (Yeah, I went there. It bothers me that much.)


There was one typo I saw yesterday that I loved, though. It wasn't a misspelling; rather, it was a word that snuck in that the typist must not have seen. It was in the mailer that our church sends out and it was the word "tit" where they meant to put "it" and it made my day. Hahahahaha. 


Yes, I am four, and yes, I did laugh about it all day. I'm still laughing about it. That's what makes me so fun.

Since when did being an obnoxious twerp become a requirement for being a receptionist? I mean any kind of receptionist, be it at a doctor's office, in a hotel, or working at a customer service desk in a store.

Silly me, I thought it was part of the job to be helpful to people and try to keep them coming back to your establishment. Apparently, I am very wrong about that. Apparently, the job of a customer service person is to play Angry Birds on her iPhone (with the sound on) and ignore me for five minutes while I'm standing there, waiting to be checked in. Apparently, her job is also to look annoyed every time she has to do anything at all that doesn't involve her phone, and to tell me, "I don't know how to do that" and stare at me blankly until I give up.

I guess I'm not doing my job very well at all, then, because I would never do that to a customer.

This situation was especially annoying because over the weekend, we experienced another case of horrible customer service and were talking about how the customer service is on a cruise, and discussing the possible reasons why it's so much better. Our experience has been that the customer service on a cruise is way better than the service in everyday situations because people seem to actually WANT to be helpful. They don't treat the job like every moment of it is excruciatingly painful and is killing their soul. They seem to be pleased with their job choice.

Imagine that. Not being mad that one has to help out other people because one is being paid to do so.

Maybe it's because there are schools in other countries that teach the hospitality trade, and many of the people working on cruise ships are not from America, or maybe it's just a difference in culture; I don't know. I just think it's really sad when helping another person out is that painful. We all have days where the last thing we want to do is go to work and actually be friendly, but part of having a job is the act we put on when we clock in: Acting like we don't really want to be wearing sweat pants and sitting on our couches, eating Doritos and watching game shows all day. Acting like we actually give a crap and want to make sure the customers we're assisting get what they need to get.

It almost seems like this woman felt as though she was the only person in the world who ever had to do something she didn't want to do. Come on. Who loves their job every minute of every day? I sure don't, but I try to pretend, at least most of the time. I can honestly say that never in my life have I treated a customer the way I've been treated lately. I'm kind of sick of it. I realize that I'm not perfect, and I make mistakes just like everyone else, but the difference is that because I'm being paid money for performing a certain set of tasks, I'm going to do my best at it, regardless of how tired or bored or irritable I am. When I'm the one paying the money I want the service, which, in my opinion, should include looking pretty darn happy for having any job at all and receiving a paycheck for it.

What can we do about this? Honestly? Not much. I'm not in a position to fire these people, even though I totally would if I was their boss, so I just complain, frequently, to the corporate office. I figure if enough people speak up, maybe these people's bosses will take notice and do something about it. Maybe if people feel the threat of being out of work in today's job climate, they'll try a little bit harder. Maybe I'll wait for Ms. Angry Birds in the parking lot and steal her hooker boots and make her apologize for her attitude before I'll give them back. That seems like the responsible, adult thing to do.

Or maybe I'm just cranky because I'd rather be at home in my chair with my trusty Doritos. That's probably it.

I love the box where Facebook asks what's on my mind. Rarely, if ever, does my status reflect what's going on in my brain. Usually, my thoughts run along the lines of, "What did we need to put on the grocery list? I know we ran out of something yesterday but I can't remember what it was, except I know it was really important" or, "Wow. Do I always look that fat in this shirt, or did I suddenly gain about 50 pounds?" and the ever-popular, "What show was that girl on? I remember seeing her on something. It was some kind of action show in the 80s, and I don't think it was Magnum, P.I."


Those are pretty much the same three thoughts I have, all day, every day.


Oh, I forgot:   When I'm learning a new piece, that also takes its turn running through the vast caverns inside my head. Don't you have vast, empty caverns inside your head? Yeah, that's what's in there. Sometimes I shout, "Hellooooooo," just to hear it echo back at me.


So every time I see that box on FB, I think, "Should I be having deep, life-changing thoughts that I could share with others in order to make the world a better place?" but then I can't come up with anything good, and I end up posting something about farts, puppies, and/or cheese. Then I feel like a really shallow person, unlike all my friends who post about their feelings. Then there are the people who post about their kids. I love those posts. I could read about other people's kids all day long (for once, this isn't sarcasm; I totally mean it). When I see pictures of some chubby-cheeked kid running around with messed up hair and paint on his shirt, for about 30 seconds, I forget about all the stupid crap in my brain and I think, "Aawwwwwwwwwwwwww. Look. Aaaaaawwwwwww."


Then it returns to normal in there. My neuroses take over and I'm back to being myself. I start worrying about whether or not I'm over-sharing when I write that if I was a cartoon character I'd be Charlie Brown, or if I posted a non-funny picture that I was being overly emotional.


So I hit delete, of course, but then I worry about whether the computer saves some of the stuff that I write and then delete, because if it did, that could be very embarrassing. Or maybe I didn't delete all of it, or deleted it improperly, so it's still floating around out there.


I forgot....am I supposed to be worrying less? I think I am. I think I made a New Year's Resolution (in capitals) to worry less and be more optimistic.


Maybe that should extend to Facebook. Maybe I should just post whatever pops into my mind and not worry about whether other people like it, because they can always unfriend me. Maybe I should just be like that all of the time, and I should say more when I'm around people and not be so shy, as I stand in the corner over-analyzing my every move. Maybe I should just be myself and be comfortable with that.


Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...like that's going to happen. Of course I'm going to continue making fun of everything in my brain and being a neurotic person. That's just how I roll. Facebook, you will never know what's going on in my mind, and you're just going to have to live with it. I'm content to let my random thoughts float about in the cavernous expanse inside my skull. 


Life is way more hilarious that way.

Today is my mom's 60th birthday. That is a big one. We thought for weeks and weeks about doing something really big for her, but nothing ever seemed to work out, so we decided to do what she likes best: Let her pick her own birthday.


For me, that would suck. I always have to pick my own birthday, because I tend to be the member of the family who plans everything out, but I love surprises. The whole fun part about birthdays and other holidays where you get a present is the part where you know you're getting something, but you don't know what it is. That's almost better than getting the present. Well, for me. Not so much for my mom.


So, I will be spending my morning making my first lemon meringue pie (I'm kind of a master at pie crust, but I've never made this kind of pie before, so we'll see). That's what she wants for her birthday dessert, so that's what she's getting.


I personally want a Baskin-Robbins chocolate peanut butter ice cream cake. With chocolate cake. However, since we don't have a Baskin-Robbins here any more, I guess I'll be out of luck.


Alright, enough stalling. I must go make the pie. Maybe, if it's pretty, I'll take a picture of it. If it's ugly, I won't, but you can imagine it. I can just feel the excitement in the air...

Life is returning to normal, which may or may not be a good thing; I haven't decided yet. This past weekend was one of the most fun AND funniest (the two don't always go together) I've had in ages. My sister came to see the last weekend of my opera and we all stayed in a hotel in Albuquerque. My aunt also came to join in the frivolity, which was great, since we hardly ever get to see her, and she had to come a really long way.


Friday night, I got to go out to dinner with my mom and aunt and some friends from my town, who drove all the way to Albuquerque to come see my show, which was very sweet of them. They got to see my particular brand of bizarre pre-show behaviors, which include: asking for room-temperature tap water (which I got the first time, but the refill was cold water which had just had the ice removed from it, so I had to wait until it warmed up to drink it...argh), and ordering something with no onions or garlic (which is harder than I thought it would be at that particular restaurant), and then having to leave way before everyone else because I had to get to the theater early so I could get into my costume not in front of other people, because, come on, no one wants to see that. Doesn't sound that bizarre, I guess, but when you couple it with the weird noises I make all the way to the theater and the amount of water I drink the morning of a performance, so I have to pee every five minutes, it makes for an interesting experience.


So the opera was on Friday night and Sunday afternoon, leaving all day Saturday free for activities. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but when I'm singing, I can't laugh too much because it makes my throat swell a bit, almost like having an asthma attack would. I don't know if that's weird or not, as I've never thought to ask anyone else about it. So if I'll be spending the whole day with my sister, if I have to sing that night I have to be very careful. We kind of laugh a lot, because other people are hilarious. We, however, are completely normal. I swear.


However, since I didn't sing Saturday night, I didn't have to worry about laughing too much, which turned out to be a good thing. We spent the whole day going around to thrift/antique stores, looking for puppets and purses and plates (well, my mom was looking for plates and my sister was looking for purses, and we were all looking for puppets). It's an incredibly fun way to spend a day, especially because some people sell some pretty ridiculous crap, and it's also free unless you happen to see something you want to buy. We also went to Wendy's and got a Frosty, which is pretty much the best thing man has ever invented, if you don't include cheese. There was a homeless guy who came in and dug through the trash cans and left with an empty cup, which was a little confusing, but I guess he just really needed a Wendy's cup.


I also got a gift from my sister, which consisted of two record albums, one of which is an unopened Muppets/John Denver Christmas album, which is going to be in heavy rotation at my house, a German DVD of a pretty bizarre movie, and the funniest book I've ever read. It's a book of postcards entitled, "Why Is Daddy in a Dress?" Yep. It's as hilarious as it sounds. I highly recommend it.


After our day of thrifting, we spent the evening playing Oh Hell, which is a card game children in our family are taught to play pretty much within ten minutes of being born. It's kind of like Spades but with no partners. Sounds like it would be pretty tame, but my mom got tired about an hour into it and went to bed, and the rest of us stayed up and played another game of it, and the conversation degenerated to a level that I won't even discuss. Let's just say that we were all pretty slap-happy, and I laughed so hard I couldn't stop crying. There were several moments where we all laughed that kind of silent laughing where it hurts your stomach but you can't stop, and then you hear everyone else's silent laughing, which makes it even funnier, and it just keeps getting more and more humorous until everyone's heads explode. It was beautiful.


Sunday morning was a usual hectic pre-show morning. With the show being a matinee, I had to chug massive amounts of water (I live in NM...it's dry here) first thing when I woke up, which involved me pretty much living in the bathroom all morning, and the hotel maid coming to our room while I was in the shower warming up (I think she's in love with me now, because I was making weird cow-like noises at the time, and they're pretty super), and then we had our show (which was amazing, by the way), and then a quick stop at the cast party before we had to head home, since we both had to get back to work this morning.


I hope I get to sing with some of those people again. There was some funny stuff going on backstage, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I will miss that cast. I also wish my sister lived closer, but then I'd probably throw up a lot more, what with the laughing and all. 


This weekend was so funny, I want to bottle it. Oh, wait, they have that in a bottle already. It's called beer.