Barbie Buyer Beware

If you are the parent of a little girl I think...no, I know you will understand me when I say I'd like to slap the sadistic bastard who designed the packaging concept for Barbie. Even if you're not the parent of a little girl, I'm sure at one point or another you've either heard someone bitching about how ridiculously hard it is to open, or maybe you've had the joy of having opened one yourself. It's a Barbie for crying out loud, not an explosive device—although at times I've felt like I'm deactivating a bomb...scissors...should I cut the twisty wire...no, the straight wire...maybe I should un-twist the twisty wire instead of cutting through...Forget using scissors! You actually need a small explosive just to open the box. At this point, your knuckles are scraped and bleeding from blindingly slashing through the outer layer of box only to reveal the tangled mess of wires, strings, tape and plastic that bind Barbie mercilessly to cardboard confinement.

All of this goes without saying that you can't hurt, damage, break or bleed on Barbie during this whole undignified process....you don't know why...she's just going to wind up naked on the floor by the end of the day. Careful little eyes watch your every move being sure to give unsolicited advice whenever possible, which makes you grit your teeth to keep from unloading a barrage of curse words at the lowlife executive scumbag who decided all of this was necessary in the first place. Then there's all the minute accessories that are even harder to break free! Yes, my girls have already started their Christmas lists, and the only thing they have asked for thus far...well you can probably guess.

I'll be needing eggnog, a Xanax, scissors,...and a small amount of C4. Okay, at the very least I'll have band-aids and hydrogen peroxide standing by for all of my superficial wounds!! Ahhh the things we do for love... ;-)

Life Goes On

It's quiet here—out walking my dogs this morning I was filled with an overwhelming sense of serenity and calm that has been absent from my spirit in recent days. The morning was overcast, breezy, and there was the faintest smell of rain approaching far off in the distance. Birds, perhaps sensing the urgency of time, soared high, dove fast and sang to one another, their melodies a symphony rising to the heavens on that same wind that will eventually bring the rain. I stood there for a long time...lost in the moment, and the beauty of it all. I realized something then...life goes on...a cliché' to be certain, but never more true for me than today, this moment.

Sometimes things happen in your life that bring you to your knees. You feel as if you'll never be able to get up and get moving again. You make mistakes, you say things that shouldn't be said, you lash out for no good reason at the people you care most about, you lose yourself in want and selfishness, you sabotage any chance you have at happiness because maybe you feel you're just not that worthy. Well let me tell you something friend, we are all worthy of the gift of happiness. I was happy this morning being in the quiet stillness of my surroundings. I learned that sometimes in order to see, we need to close our eyes, relax the soul and just be. No matter what kind of drama may be playing itself out in your life, the world keeps on turning, the sun keeps on rising, the birds keep on singing, and life does go on. 

Push away from the computer, turn off the Blackberry, switch off the TV, and go experience life...experience happiness...and companionship, love, laughter, spontaneity. GO! Life is out there going on...what are you going to do? Will you chose to let stagnation and mediocrity rule your existence, or will you embrace all the great, exciting, wonderful things out there just waiting to be claimed? Carpe diem...seize the moment people!

Bad Drivers

There is a serious component to driver's ed that is not being implemented, or at the very least it has been forgotten. It is so simple, and yet people refuse to learn to do it properly—parking. It doesn't matter if the lines are slanted on a diagonal, straight, narrow, or wide. I rarely find a vehicle large, or small that falls in between the stripes on the ground. Why even bother painting the stripes in the first place? Chances are, when I return from whatever store I have been in to run whatever errand is on my to do list, there will be a super sized Suburban, or jacked up truck with a swinging steel scrotum sac parked next to me that has haphazardly pulled into the space next to mine. The wheels are always chalked sideways, never forward. The ass end is sometimes over the line, and in my space leaving a gap so small that my nine year old wouldn't be able to open her door much less me open mine. It is at this moment that I wish I drove a piece of crap car, so that I could release my aggression by slamming my driver's door repeatedly into the side of said behemoth. At the very least I'd love to have the balls to leave a nasty message, but I realize all that effort would be lost on an idiot like that, so I go around to the passenger's side of my car and climb over the stick shift cursing like a sailor. I used to drive a gas guzzling Expedition, but I knew how to park the damn thing, so I have little patience for those who don't stay between the lines.

Sometimes I park a mile and a half away from the store just to avoid the parking challenged. Doesn't matter. I'm a magnet for them. They see my tiny little Toyota Corolla and park next to me just to piss me off. I've gotten in the habit of trying to park against a curb, then at least one side of my car is protected. That doesn't matter either. The girls and I still wind up sucking in our guts in order to slide through the twelve inch crack that has been so thoughtfully provided by the asshole who could not manage to park between the white stripes on the ground. I used to park next to the shopping cart return...NEVER do that people, or you'll wind up with a scratch all the way down the side of your forty thousand dollar car compliments again of the thoughtful retard who can't hit the stripes on the ground much less the cart return, which ironically is usually constructed between the lines in the parking lot! 

I don't understand why some people feel entitled to park, or drive for that matter, in any manner they choose. Best I can tell, no one uses that little known safety device attached to the steering column—it's called a blinker, or as the UK more precisely calls it, an indicator. U.S. automakers could save millions by eliminating this useless gadget from their parts list. I just love playing that game (oh, you know the one), why is the car in front of me riding the brakes? 'Cause they're getting ready to turn, only you don't know which way because they aren't using the blinking stick so kindly provided for them by GM, Ford, Volvo, Lexus, Honda, and the list goes on. I wish I could carry around a bag of rotten tomatoes and hurl one at every jackass that doesn't provide a directional signal. I've seen people whose hands are too full trying to juggle cell phone, cigarette, coffee, and steering wheel; making it physically impossible for them to even reach their blinker. Call me crazy, but if memory serves me correctly, it takes two hands to operate a motor vehicle, not two knees. 

Clearly, I have issues when it comes to bad drivers! I just think people should exercise a little common courtesy when they climb into their rides and head off into the world—acknowledge me with a wave when I let you turn out of a busy intersection, use your turn signal well in advance of turning instead of at the last minute, or not at all, park between the lines provided in the parking lot, use your cell phone sparingly, or get a Bluetooth accessory, which will free up both of your hands, if people are passing you in the fast lane for god's sake move over, find your gas pedal when you pull out right in front of me, and finally, for the love of God, at least drive the posted speed limit! 

Rant over. 

Be Exceptional

Friday night in America. Somewhere a family is gathering up towels, flip-flops and water wings after a long day at the pool. Another family is headed out to dinner and a movie, yet another will throw hamburgers on the grill with neighborhood friends...talk, laugh and listen to good music. Someone is driving the family Suburban home after one last beach vacation before school starts on Monday. The sound of the tires rolling down the highway lulls the kids to sleep, and the inside of the SUV smells like old leather, sunscreen, and wet towels. As the sun dips below the horizon, fireflies begin their hypnotic dance, avoiding the little girl in pigtails trying to catch them...bats come out of hiding to feast on pesky mosquitoes...honking geese are heard from overhead...a train blows its whistle somewhere down the tracks. 

Somewhere there is a woman who longs for some normalcy in her life. These idyllic musings are what define normal for her. She thinks about her life....her whole life, and realizes that nothing about it has ever been normal by definition. She tried so hard for a "normal" life and failed. Perhaps it is not in the cards for her to ever be normal...perhaps it has always been up to her to be exceptional....to live an exceptional life. She will have to sit with this awhile. She really has no idea where her life is heading, but she holds a vision in her mind and hopes.