I am alive!

Alive!

I have eaten two meals today and both meals stayed where they were supposed to! This is exceptional news!

I spent the day in bed, hoping to survive. I got up around 3 to eat something and the soup I had stayed down. Then later I had some pizza (I know, a big jump but I WAS STARVING), and that made me feel a little yuck but I think it was all that food at once. I now feel okay.

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In side news, something is disturbing me and I feel that it is time to out my feelings. I called my Sister the other day over this very thing and made her promise, PROMISE not to succumb to the peer pressure, ever. No matter if someone else pushed her, to never succumb.

Any ideas?

I am sick and tired and even more sick and tired of every minivan and SUV on the Godforsaken Northside of Indianapolis being adorned with little stickers showing children and/or sports with each child's name.

I mean, seriously folks, do you truly believe anyone on earth, aside from your immediate family gives a raging shit that 'Susie' is a gymnast, 'Joe' is a soccer boy or 'Annalise' is a cheerleader? Seriously?

I find it interesting that in an age where we are so concerned with safety and the safety of our children that people willingly advertise their children's names and their sports. Don't you think (as I do) that this is a safety issue? Why not invite child molesters to follow your minivan home, I mean, hell, they already know what your kids are involved in and what their names are -- why not give them a house key too?

As I live on the northside, you might imagine I see these every day. Yes, I do. Every Damn Day I am behind a minivan, monster SUV or other oversized vehicle with these stupid stickers on them. I am beginning to think this is a sign of the apocalypse. Or perhaps just a sign of overwhelming stupidity.

As a related but not direct thing, I am also 'over' the whole 'In Memory Of' thing on the back of cars with people's names on them. I get that you miss your relative, friend, whathaveyou, but do the people driving these cars honestly believe they are honoring the memory of that person by putting a sticker on a car? A disposable item with a limited lifespan? Why not put that person's name on a gift to charity, a scholarship fund or perhaps a gift to a local park? WTF? Since WHEN is it honoring a person through a STICKER?

Let me say this now: if I kick off, if any of you, I mean ANY of you put my name on a sticker on the back of your car, I am haunting your ass. Yep, full-on poltergeist activity with door slamming, cover-pulling, cold-chill passing, the whole nine yards. It will not cease until the offending sticker is removed. If you feel so compelled to honor me, give to charity or give time to charity. Or just share a round of brewskis and have some laughs. Whatever. Just no fucking stickers, okay?

A Rant.

I've talked about this subject before but apparently I am not talking enough about it. What is it, you ask? What could be so compelling that Athena needs to revisit the subject?

Urine on the Toilet Seat.

As some of you are aware, I drink a whole lot of water every day. I'm not really a pop drinker, like iced tea in the summer but really, it is water for me all day long. After work ... well, that's another story ;)

With my many many many glasses of water all day long, I, inevitably, need to use the restroom. On not one, not two but THREE separate occasions in three SEPARATE restrooms I sat down in someone else's urine.

For the men that read this blog that are baffled by this phenomenon in the women's restroom, please allow me to explain. Men, you are equipped, properly, for aim. Women -- not so much. Some women (apparently yesterday was three different women) don't like to sit on the toilet seat ("too germy" or something), so they 'hover' as they pee. While hovering, given that they are not 'built' to aim, invariably the seat is covered with urine. Now, instead of say, covering the seat with TP before they sit, or perhaps even being a nice person and wiping up her urine residue, these women leave it.

Yes, leave the urine coated seat for 'someone else' -- namely me -- to deal with and discover.

The main problem with this is that these hoverers (as I shall call them), apparently drink a lot of water too, as their urine is nearly clear and cannot be detected by normal observation. It is only by the placement of my ass on said toilet seats that I discover two things: 1) I am sitting in someone else's urine and 2) it is too late to do anything about it.

Upon leaving the restroom I am in a foul, foul mood but nothing like three different times in three different restrooms to bring me nearly to murderous rage.

I do not know why women hover, I do not know why these women do not wipe up after themselves but one thing is clear: I am fucking sick of having an assfull of someone else's piss.

Thank you for listening to my rant.

Donkey-laugh woman in Bazbeaux

Not everyone annoys me, although there are times that appears to be true given my state of crabbiness.

My Sister called today and wanted to have lunch. I agreed, of course, because I had to talk real estate to her. What better person to talk real estate than the one that owns none, right? right.

We meet at Bazbeaux downtown and I get there first, well before the lunch rush that crushes the Bazbeaux door each lunch hour. I get us a seat in the second dining area and within seconds of sitting down I know I've made a mistake.

A trio (male, female, female) are sitting in the corner table, finished with their lunch. The one female starts to laugh, this loud, braying, eardrum piercing laugh which only grows louder by the second. The laugh reaches a startling crescendo and starts up AGAIN. First I think it is just me, I am being a big ol' picky bitch (not like this is the first time, gentle readers), and hypersensitive to the noise. Then I look around and my fellow diners are looking at this woman in a combination horror and shock with a little 'shut the fuck up' thrown in for good measure. My Sister arrives, sits down and immediately takes note of donkey-braying laugh woman in the corner and says: 'what is her problem?'

So it isn't just me (for once).

We eat lunch and get right out, as this woman's laugh has dominated this dining room, leaving every other conversation to become louder to attempt to talk over it, in which case she laughs only LOUDER and finally I develop a headache. Yes, dear readers, 30 minutes into donkey-woman's issues, I have a headache. We go outside where the neighboring construction and street traffic is nearly bucolic meadow compared to the woman inside Bazbeaux.

Talked to Sister about real estate and my urge to move downtown. Thoughts still forming, nothing yet resolved.

Tonight I'll be at Boy Wonder's house with Sister working on some projects so they can sell his house and buy another.