catheroominations

If I leave my house at a specific time, I always see this little red-haired girl driving a Honda Fit. She is putting on her eye makeup. WHILE SHE IS OPERATING A MOVING VEHICLE. I’ll admit, I have been one to apply the M.A.C. ProLash in my car, but I do it at a red light, and only at a red light. Or at a stop sign. OK, and sometimes when traffic is at a dead standstill. But while I am in motion, operating the heavy machinery known as my Accord, I am all about paying attention to the road. And the person I’m talking to on the phone while I drink my latte of course.

Back to the redhead. You’d think that maybe one day she’d consider getting up a little earlier and doing her makeup while standing still in a stationary enclosure such as a bathroom. Much less likely to be involved in a collision and inflicting pain and injury to others. Could be that she’s got ADD, and has to occupy herself with various distractions while driving. Perhaps it works for her, the multitasking of clutch, shadow, gearshift, liner, gas pedal, and mascara. It’s just not for me.

Yesterday I passed a woman driving on the freeway who had a towel wrapped around her head, like she had just gotten out of the shower. I think she was wearing a robe too. Or a very thick cowl-neck sweater. At least the ladies who drive in curlers make it as far as the style-in-process phase. When I saw the woman bedecked in Wamsutta Egyptian cotton, I thought “maybe she’s taking one of her kids to school?” But there was no kid in the car. Just her. I wondered where she was going in such a hurry, and would she arrive at her destination, keeping the towel on? Or would she pull the towel off to reveal glorious flowing tresses like in old-school shampoo ads? Was she hiding a bad haircut? One would think a hat would be sufficient, and draw much less attention.

Then this morning, I saw a Prius on the road that was labeled as a courtesy vehicle for a local car dealership. The male driver was maneuvering his electric razor all around his face. How courteous of Toyota to offer their customers the use of a razor in their loaner car. If they really cared about their customers, they’d have a barber in the passenger seat.

What’s next? A woman waxing her legs? Someone flossing their teeth? Or clipping their toenails?

I was just reading on Zach Braff’s blog about a recent episode of Dateline and I gotta speak. A 29-year old mother of 5 announced she had cancer, with only 9 months to live. Her friends and family rallied around her, supporting her financially by raising money to help pay her outrageous medical bills. They offered emotional support, standing by her, crying with her, and praying while she went through the ordeal. She posted regular updates at online support sites, describing her horrible chemo treatments and how sick she was. She also wrote that she was weakened by the illness, unable to eat, in terrible pain, vomiting blood, and experiencing other cancer-related atrocities. But that’s not the worst thing about this story.

keep reading There are no words

“Are you pregnant?”

A co-worker of mine asked me that the other day. A female co-worker. You’d think she would know not to utter those three words, being a woman herself. But I was snacking at my desk, and apparently pregnant women eat, so I can see her confusion.

I assured her I’m not with child. And was too stunned to say much else, like, “that’s a rude question!” or “why would you ask me that?”

Now I’m self-conscious about eating so I will have to resort to wearing control-top chonies, and taking my snacks into the bathroom stall to eat. Next, co-workers will accuse me of being bulemic.

While waiting for the traffic light to change, I looked over at the car dealership on the corner. There was a convertible MINI Cooper on the lot for sale. I love MINI Coopers. They’re so cute and small and zippy. I would look so good driving around in one of those.

A used MINI on a non-MINI car lot doesn’t seem so out of the ordinary, I know. But it was parked next to a HUMMER, as this was a HUMMER dealership. You could practically drive the MINI up a ramp and into the back of the obnoxiously huge and outrageously overpriced gas guzzler. You could transport your little car around for those times when you feel the urge to zoom around with the wind blowing through your hair. The MINI would also be handy when you dont’t have the $100 required to fill your HUMMER tank, acting as a reserve tank.

I wondered what kind of person makes such a drastic change in their preferred method of transportation. Who trades in a MINI Cooper to purchase a HUMONGOUS HUMMER?

Well duh.

Goldilocks, of course!

Last night, as I slumbered, I felt a little tickle near the top of my forehead. Not so much a tickle, really. More of an itch. I groggily raised my hand up to brush aside the random hair, or whatever it was. My fingertips fell upon something round and firm, about the size of a peppercorn. I tried to wipe it from my head. Somehow, in my dream state, I suddenly realized I had no reason to have a peppercorn-like object on my head, so I reached up again to check it out. It was still there, but it would not just wipe away. I grabbed it, pulled it through the strands of my tangled hair, and flung it onto the blanket.

This morning I saw what it was. A spider. A big one. A big, dead spider. Oh, and it was bigger than a peppercorn.

A spider with a body larger than a peppercorn had crawled on me. ON MY FACE.
You’re all itchy right now, aren’t you?

As today is June 6, 2006 (aka 6-6-6), I am maxing out my credit cards. Please leave your wish list in the comments. It’s on me. Because with the coming apocolypse (I’m guessing it’ll arrive after business hours?), I won’t have to pay off the bills. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some miles to put on my new Italian sports car.

Just to clarify…that whole end-of-the-world thing does happen today. Right?

Right?

If not, uh…could someone loan me a few hundred thousand dollars because DAMN it! I’m in some serious trouble here.

*Courtesy of Peter Mulvey. Is it courtesy if I used it without asking first? I can ask him tonight, at Don Quixote’s. Because I’m going to see him, for the second time in a week. Nice Wisconsonian. (Wait a minute…that’s redundant.)