Friday, November 21, 2014

I've learned a few things lately...

Yes, it's true; I still have a lot to learn.

One, I suck at editing my own posts.  I can read them repeatedly and miss the most glaring errors of which the most offensive are usually in the title.  Dammit!

Secondly, posting anything to Google and its little "bits and pieces" or "apps" confuses the Hell out of me.  When I think I'm sending my blog to one site, I get nasty little notices from site admins not to post back-to-back blogs.  I'm sorry.  I don't know what I'm doing!  You're the one who invited me to your little posting party!  I don't get it!  Who gets what from me?  And really, who cares?  Just skip my forty repeated blog postings and just consider me a vain writer because after all, I am.

Also, ten years ago I considered myself fairly capable of working on a computer.  Now, rambling housewife that I am, I get discombobulated attempting to upload a Podcast and make a presentable Web page.  So, dear friends and blog readers, if you feel overwhelmed seeing all my business stuff posted willy nilly on Facebook or elsewhere lately, I apologize because so am I.  This will be corrected as soon as I can figure it out.  Good grief, how embarrassing!

Another thing, one has not lived until you've been shooed out of a cheap nail salon by the Asian ladies giving "spa" (I say this loosely) pedicures.  I went into a store to ask two patrons if either one would be interested in participating in my Podcast. As I was explaining the process, the gloved non-English speaking lady scatted me out like a bug!  I was appalled!  Think about it my friends, we go into these nasty, fungus riddled places to have our toes made pretty and share our private thoughts with these women who - let's be honest - for the most part don't understand half of what we're saying OR probably don't care, and yet they wouldn't let me chat with their customers about life in general..!  Ugh!  It was lucky I'd passed out my business cards or I would have blown a gasket.  Lesson learned; do my own pedicures or earn enough money for upscale establishments.

Friendships are not based on percentages of give and take or a list rules to follow.  There's no magic behind this gift between two people other than mutual respect, trust and common courtesy.

I lost three friends in three months. The first was a fixer, not a listener.  When I finally confronted the situation, this friend chose to retreat and ignore me despite my repeated attempts to reconcile.  I decided to stop chasing and apologizing  - for what?  Being honest?  Exactly that.  I ended what was a constant tug and pull relationship which wasn't good for either of us.  The next one blindsided me.  I didn't expect to hear what I did and it bruised me to the core.  I was the entertainment factor, not the friend I thought I was.  In my life, with all that I have going on, I need friends who'll support me not turn and run when things get dicey.  No, I did not see this fallout until it landed on my face.  The last is perhaps the saddest.  It happened quickly; however, in my friend's eyes she seems to think I've been planning it for a while.  Not so.  No rules here but courtesy.  A simple text with, "I got your message, thanks but.."  It wouldn't have been inconvenient and would have been the right thing to do. A small act of courtesy to not accept my help would have avoided my assumptions, the nastiness, and all the bitterness that followed.  All respect was lost when I privately apologized for airing my complaint publicly which she then followed up later with my public flogging.  I wasn't mentioned per se, but it doesn't take a genius to read between the lines.  It's over.  There's no going back on any of these and strangely, I feel lighter.  Why?  I'm not sure.

Finally, and on a weirder note, despite the fact that YOU believe your cable password is rock solid, realize that your pubescent, teenage, sex-craved son KNOWS it and has access to it.  Check your online statement now before you are shocked at next month's billing amount.  DO IT!  Trust me, this is the last thing I've learned to date.



Thursday, November 13, 2014

The Fine Art of Stalking

A close friend posted a funny comment on Facebook the other day about having a crush on her son’s orthodontist and even went so far as to admit that yes, she’s a stalker and “damn proud of it”.  Now that’s a woman after my own heart!  After all, who among us can honestly say we haven’t perused gossip magazine headlines or stared a little too long into the windows of passing limousines?   We’re all guilty of some sort of deep seeded curiosity of other human beings, which at times, can cross the line of polite discretion.  I too, if you can possibly imagine, am guilty of a wee bit of lurking about.  Now before judgment begins, try to remember dear friends and blog readers, that what you are about to read was all done in the name of passion or something which could also be construed as hormonal insanity.

The first great love in everyone’s life is enormous.  The sun and moon rises and sets by the very essence of this human being.  It was this way with my first crush.  If my young lover told me that the earth was flat then that was the truth.  Nothing he did was wrong.  I swore that I would die gasping his name on my death bed.  When he told me he needed “space” (What?  Why?  Did I cling?  Was I overbearing?  No, Bri.  He liked a guy named, John), I didn’t understand.  What did I do?  I was the perfect girlfriend.  I worshipped him.  I needed him.  So, I resorted to a tactic wholly unknown to me but yet came as easily as breathing, the fine art of stalking.
Stalking is an interesting strategy.  I’ve found over time that it doesn’t necessarily make the receiver of the “hunt” very comfortable.  Strange; I’d find it extremely flattering.
With my first experience, I would drive miles over several Southern California freeways to arrive at this young man’s house.  Subtlety is a huge factor, stealth is extremely important also.  At the time, I drove a 1971 Chevy Monte Carlo with a rattling engine. I didn’t consider the fact that it had a very distinct sound and a backfire which could be heard three signals away.  It also didn’t occur to me that my lover lived on a cul-de-sac with only five houses; his being on the center of the circle with his bedroom window facing the street.  None of this mattered.  What I needed to know was what he was doing.  Was he thinking of me?  How would I know unless I drove by very slooooowwwwly and peered into his bedroom window and of course one drive by would not suffice, NO!  I had to turn around and circle his street several times to satisfy my curiosity.  I was GOOD, DAMN GOOD!  I was there and gone before he ever had a clue, I’m certain of it.  I wonder why he’s never tried to friend me on Facebook?  Odd.

I haven’t had too many other experiences with stalking only because I’ve been married to my very best friend for years; however, it’s not unheard of that married women, such as my friend with the orthodontist, can have “crushes” from time to time.  Our husbands are aware of our antics and can only shake their heads and laugh.
My latest “antic” did involve some stalking.  The man who was on the receiving end of my prowling could not have possibly been aware of it.  I mean seriously, I wasn’t obvious; however, I did drive by his house several times, with my windows open, cackling with laughter at the stupidity of my actions. This may have given him reason to look out his window and notice my car which happens to have my “Rambling Lunatic Housewife” logo blazoned on my back window.  This could have been a bit of a give-away…hmm…subtlety and stealth; part of the fine art of stalking. Perhaps I should work on my technique a little harder?