Friday, June 12, 2009

Effective immediately, we will be imposing a PITA Tax. (Pain In The Ass Tax)

The next time someone is whining incessantly about something insignificant ... hit the offender with the PITA Tax. Or if someone is driving you insane using all means they have available, ... tax them. For example...

Slow driver in front of you? PITA Tax.

Customer ahead of you at Starbuck's asking the barista for his/her opinion on what each and every coffee drink tastes like? PITA Tax. (Hint: They all pretty much taste like coffee. Hence the name, "coffee drink.")

Jackass on his/her cell phone speaking loudly about personal matters? In public? PITA Tax.

Same jackass speaking just as loudly in the movie theater? PITA Tax. (And I think you get to give them a free smack upside the head, too.)

It's time we benefit from the annoyance provided by others. No longer will they shred our patience or tap-dance on our very last nerve. You annoy me or make my life a living hell? I'm going to tax you. Then I'm going to take the money and go buy myself something nice.

Or pay bills.

Probably both.

Have a delightful day. Now, go forth and TAX someone! :)

Thursday, June 11, 2009


Sometimes you just need a little Niecy Nash.

If you know not of whom I speak, you can find her hosting Clean House on TLC or on Comedy Central's "Reno 911," where she plays Raineesha Williams. While "Reno" has it's irreverent comedy merits, I prefer seeing her on Clean House, since that's where her personality absolutely shines.

There's just something about the way she'll glance at the camera when faced with some hopeless family who has literally disabled itself due to the clutter in their home. Niecy calls this, "mayhem and foolishness."

Amen, Sister.

Watching her and the Clean House crew take a family from a hopeless disaster to the hopeful promise of a new beginning is inspirational. And when necessary, she'll gently address delicate situations -- loss of a loved one mostly -- and remind people that they need to honor the loved one's memory by living the best life possible.

But mostly? She listens to lame excuses for why there are rabbits roaming (and pooping) freely in the master bedroom or how the kitchen has no counter space or running water (!!!) and gives them an emphatic, "Mmmmm-hmmmmm." Because you know inside she's got to be thinking, Thank you Jesus that they're paying me good money to get these hoarder-freaks squared away, and NO HE DID NOT just argue with me about keeping a mason jar full of teeth that came out of his very own mouth..."

So when you feel like you've met your personal daily quota for encountering idiots ... people who make you want to rip your hair out and scream ... get yourself to a television and catch an episode of Clean House. Hopefully Niecy will be there in all her glory. Don't bother to sit through the show if either of the two step-in hosts are on. You won't get the full effect.

God bless you Niecy, for cutting through all the mayhem and foolishness.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

The one in which I declare myself an idiot...

In a perfect world, scads of people would be wild with anticipation for each blog entry. They would sit at their computers every morning, cup of coffee in hand and click on my blog for their morning "fix," then proceed with their days feeling uplifted, entertained or just really good.

But I have to be realistic.

I have seven people who follow the blog enough to actually click on the thingy (technical speak is not my forte) to show their photo on my page as "Followers." Seven. And I don't even know if all seven actually log in and read my blog every day, but I think there are at least a few regulars. And I probably know who they are, too.

Lately, though, when blogging, I've noticed there weren't as many comments as I used to get. Not that there were a ton, mind you. Just those few people who just might have a funny comment or one-liner to accompany the day's entry. I so enjoy reading them all. But all I kept seeing was "0 COMMENTS." I thought my lazy ass leisurely blog schedule had made readers lose interest. Today, however, when logging in, I happened to notice "10 comments awaiting moderation" at the bottom of the screen.


Apparently, at some point in the recent past, I was tinkering with my settings and enabled "comment moderation." And I didn't realize/remember it. And I thought the lack of comments meant everyone left.

(This is where you'd feel sorry for me for being such an idiot so technologically challenged.)

And I'm just emotionally vulnerable enough right now (read: PMS-ing) that I could just cry. Not because I'm sad, but because once I saw there were comments, I realized some of you still DO read my blog. And I'm grateful. For all three of you. Or seven. Whatever.

Don't let my sentiment mislead you. I haven't gone all rainbows, puppies and sunshine. I still have my dark, snarky, (very) often inappropriate side. In fact, I believe I told Lindy today that if I did not heed my body's craving for a cheeseburger today, my mood could quickly swing to, "You wanna piece-a me?! 'Cause I'll take you down like a Christmas tree! Fo shizzle!"

Now,... thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Ladies, please... if you are over, say, the age of 10, you are TOO OLD FOR PIGTAILS. Especially in a professional office. Casual Friday or not -- just stop it.