The Complaint Department

Hey! Look at Me! I'm Decluttering . . . and I Have a New Identity!

Gosh, re-entering the blogging world is like going to a class reunion!  Truth be told, I'm a little nervous.

 

I've been gone for sooooo long--six months now!  And that was after a long period of fading away with infrequent posts.  Oh, I've been reading other blogs, but have rarely emerged to leave comments.  So, I don't really have to ask "Whatever happened to so-and-so?"  But will anyone recognize ME?

 

Where do I begin?

 

Well, you know, I just had to take that job up in the DC area, so with that, as well as my other obligations up in town, there really just wasn't any TIME to spend on posting and picture-taking.  The long commute was like a Black Hole--it just sucked the life and air out of any spare moments I DID have!  But I sure have missed it all . . . the glamour, the excitement, the awards!

 

I've got loads to tell you, but first things first.  As you can see, I have a new look!  It's cleaner . . . more streamlined . . . don't you think?  I like the spare design, and now I don't have to worry about things clashing too much.  So I can take that off my list of things to fret and complain about.

 

Speaking of complaining, did you notice my new name?  The old God Bless Y'all Real Good created a bit of confusion among some of those who knew me ages ago.  They wondered if I had "gotten religion."  (No.)  One had to be a real "local" to understand the meaning of my former blog name.  It's like if I had called it "Stuffed Ham."  It really has no reference outside of the immediate counties down here in Southern Maryland.

 

Ironically, I'm actually trying to complain LESS, but I've found that now, when I do complain or moan or bitch or fret or freak out about something, it's much more satisfying--probably because I've been holding it all in for so long!

 

Let the complaining commence!

I Gotta Get Out More

A few days ago, perhaps when I was running up and down the road for this, I noticed two of these bumper stickers in quick succession.

!!!!!

 

How long have these things been around?  Not bumper stickers, but this particular language referring to the fight against breast cancer.

Now, I have nothing against juvenile references to breasts per se, but when those references are  combined with a life-threatening disease, they seem. . . well, offensive.  Yes, it would be wonderful if a woman didn't have to undergo a mastectomy, but in the end losing the "ta-tas" often means saving the life.

Is the idea to raise funds for breast cancer research from the middle-school set?

On the other hand, raising research dollars is probably a lot more important than offending the likes of me.

Anybody?

www.savethetatas.com

 

 

This and That: Part 2

Heavy traffic.

 

• I got nailed, AGAIN, by one of those speed cameras when I was up to see my mother a couple of weeks ago.  Oh, and it was the SAME camera.  That's a waste of another $40.  I thought it was Tony who had gotten the citation, because he had already opened the envelope and stuffed the contents back inside, without saying anything.  I gleefully pulled it out, again, ready to mercilessly let him have it, when, instead of seeing his car in the photos, I saw my own.  He surveyed the expression on my face the moment I realized it was me, and NOT him, and derived disturbingly immense enjoyment, cracking one of his rare smiles.  I'm gonna tape a note to my dashboard, and plot my travels to just avoid them all.

 

• A recent conversation with an old friend got me thinking about who will look after all of us aging baby boomers who don't have children or other close family.  Not that children are any insurance against being taken advantage of or abused in our old age, but one SHOULD be able to rely on their kids to look after one's best interests, right?  But, who will go to bat for us childless geezers when we can't really manage on our own any longer?  I don't really mean in the day-to-day sense, but more in an oversight capacity.  Who will come to the nursing home to make sure our diapers are dry and our oxygen cannulas haven't fallen out of our noses?  Who will kiss up to the staff on our behalf, so they'll be nice to us?

 

• Do you think it's a good time to start dabbling in the stock market?  I'm embarrassed to say that I'm a complete naif where investing is concerned, but I've been checking out this site recently, trying to learn me some stuff, now.  I know one thing, though.  If I ever want to have any dough to fool around with, I'll have to make sure to avoid those speed cameras.

 

• I decided to sign Mom up with her doctor's new practice today.  There are a lot of good reasons:  access to the doctor, Mom's advanced age, their long-standing relationship, etc.  But I really made up my mind just today when I spoke with someone in the new office.  You see, she had a British accent; and, before I knew it, I was falling all over myself, trying to be cheerful, witty and agreeable.  I sensed that she was a superior human being.  I know it's wrong, but I can't help myself.  The same, but converse, thing happens to me with the deep Southern accent, say, from Mississippi or Alabama or Georgia.  It doesn't matter what is actually being said.  The accent will overtake all that is rational and reasonable, and I will find myself thinking, "What an idiot." 

 

• Why didn't anyone tell me to increase the font size?  Jeez!  You'd probably let me walk around all day with my dress caught up in my panty hose!  Then I'd have to slap you. 

That's all I got.  Class dismissed.