This is a short one this week.
I was at the bank, holding the door open for someone else, when the thought occurred to me... What if, after you hold the door open for someone, you ran ahead of them to get in line in front of them? I mean, you would've been in line before them had you not been so polite.
It would be unexpected. I think it would be funny.
Have a Silly Monday,
Lisa
#1 Do Your Research
So, my grandma just turned 94, and we had a big ass Italian party for her. We started talking about how she is so hard to buy for, which brought up one of my well known faux pas, which these people will never let me live down.
Backstory: She loves to read those trashy romance novels with the couple wrapped in desperate love on the covers, being flicked by fire or whatever. I've always teased her about it. I would share my books I was reading- memoirs, classics, award-winning novels- to broaden her horizons, and she would keep pushing me to read those "quivering-member"-romance-books. This went on for a while. A while ago, I decided to back down and be nice for her birthday and give her a romantic book that I heard was really good- made all the lists, etc. I gave my little old cute grandma "Fifty Shades of Grey". Had no idea. Didn't do enough research on that one. I gave an S&M book to my grams. I did see the word "erotic" in the description, but her books blare "erotic" all over the covers, so I figured it would be fine. I think Oprah even said something about this book, but again, I didn't do much research. Heard some things from the family... I think one of my aunts returned it. Since then, I have stuck to religious gifts only for Grams. She can't really balk at anything religious.
This just happens to be one of my go-to stories whenever I need to break the ice or save an awkward, silent situation. I don't know if that's a good thing, but people laugh and seem to relax with whatever is going on presently. I think it's funny.
#2 When Pinterest Fails You
My oldest friend and her family just got a new house. They've been married for years, have two daughters, so they had everything. This was not their first house, so all the normal housewarming gifts didn't feel right. Pinterest was giving me the same old, same old, with the baskets of bread "so you will never know hunger..." and on and on. We all know that one. Snooze. So, I decided to be an asshole instead.
I was really excited about this. I actually think this is THE BEST/WORST (at the same time) housewarming gift. I gave them a basket with Amityville Horror, eye masks, earplugs, and Kona coffee (has to be Kona coffee!), with a card saying "Congrats on the new house!"
Amityville Horror starts with the family buying a new house...
I know. I'm an ass. I would not appreciate that idea being put in my head when I bought my house.
#3 Merry Christmas
We were opening our Christmas stockings one year when my mom just started laughing uncontrollably. Hand over mouth, couldn't talk. So everyone was wondering what was happening and looking at my dad and back to my mom. We could see she was holding a Santa figurine. It was really pretty-blue/silver and sleek. She turned it around, which is the way she opened it at first, and we all saw it. A penis, exactly molded to perfect exhibition. She must have thought for a single second that my dad had gotten her a dildo or some penile sculpture and thought it fine to wrap up and open in front of her kids and grandkids.
So, we drudge it up from time to time and re-gift it to one of us for laughs. I would post a picture but I don't know who has The Santa Penis right now.
It would be a funny "elephant gift". Is that the one you grab something from your house and gift it at company holiday parties? Yeah. I wish we would have stocked up on those santas. Or, when you very much dislike someone and you have to buy for them for the office party, this would secretly say "You're a dick." They won't know. But you will.
Do you have any cool stories about gift-giving? Share them in the comments! Please share this blog if it makes you smile on Mondays. If you subscribe to receive these in your inbox, please add me to your contacts or it will go to spam or "promotions" if you have gmail...
Have a Silly Monday,
Lisa
So, out here in west Michigan, weekends are obviously beach days. The problem is that they are beach days for EVERYONE and their mother, so parking is a hassle. Why they don't expand parking for the big beaches, I have no idea. It's ridiculous.
It's a timing game. I went from the biggest beach out here, which could easily fit everyone in the surrounding cities on the actual beach, but of course the minuscule parking lot was full, to a smaller beach with only six parking spots and I found a spot. Crazy. It's just timing.
So, in my constant search for a beach with parking, I decided to go to one I've never been to yet. It said online that it was secluded, which would be nice. I packed up all my stuff, headed out, and found the last spot in a lot of about five available. So, I grabbed my chair, cooler, roller bag stuffed with blankets, Kindle, writing pad, and set out. This was different. There was a dune. I mean, an actual dune. Not just a sandy hill like we see most times around here.
In passing, I saw stairs going up on my left and a beautiful sandy trail going down to my right. So, I chose right. Why would I go up when I want to get down to the beach? I found out. Going down the dune was not as bad as going up would be, sure, but it was pretty steep and carrying all this stuff, I definitely gave a father and son playing catch at the bottom some very unattractive views. Anyway, better than the stairs! Wasn't so bad.
I get out to the beach and turn around to see where I just came from because there's no way I can climb the dune on the way back. I look at the flights of steps. Freaking Machu Picchu. Aw geeze. I did not pack appropriately for this. I looked around at the very popular beach (can't be that secluded if it's online, right? Where the hell did all these people park?), and everyone only has their towels. No coolers, chairs, bags, etc. Ha! This is going to be fun getting back to my car. My bad. Well, at least I'll be here for a while.
I always think that if I wake up early to fight the parking situation that I'll sleep on the beach. This is never the case. Then I'm just tired, cranky, and irritable at the beach. For example, why is it that people have to be right on top of you? Numerous times people have touched their blankets to my blankets. Their bags or flip flops ON my blanket. Too close. Back off. We are strangers, in bathing suits no less, not best buds. So strange, right? It's like close-talkers, but everyone's practically naked, so it's way more invasive. It's like when my mom goes to a movie (she's like 3ft tall) and the tallest guy always sits in front of her, even though there is a myriad of empty seats. With me, it's the intrusive beach bums, always screaming at their kids or loud eaters. Every time. There is room. I usually look around at all the available sand in an exaggerated way for these intruders to take notice. Then I reach awareness that I am irritated at the beach. I hate that. A day at the beach is supposed to be "a day at the beach".
I moved once. I couldn't take the chomping and screaming. There goes my nap. The lady actually put her feet on my blanket right by my face. Ugh! I was here first!! I had to move.
But all in all, beautiful chill time. As long as I didn't want to leave yet.
Then it was time. The Climb. Carrying all my shit, I looked like a packed mule. I took some breaks along the way. I felt better as 20 somethings were huffing and puffing too. Good, this is normal. Except for that couple, so obviously still in their wooing phase, that was RUNNING up the steps. I don't think I ever thought such foul thoughts about anyone. Someone should trip 'em.
As I'm trucking, my bag that was tucked inside my other bags tipped from my meticulous pack job on my back and poured out a stream of tampons. This stream slinkied down the steps, but also sprayed to the sides on the actual dune. A little boy asked his mom what they were. Only me. I had to go down the damn steps, collect my embarrassing belongings, and then GO BACK UP the damn steps.
Now, I'm pretty active. I play softball, volleyball, and do yoga, advanced-dancer-Zumba twice a week, with weights. I do my resistance training and walk all the time. There is a treadmill in my office. This was just not my forte is all. I have always hated the step machine at the gym. I also really hate running. I hear that most women with boobs do. And spinning- my crotch hurt for a week. I think you just have to accept what you like to do for exercise and what kinds hate your private parts. I did not like stepping. But hey, at least I don't have to work out for the rest of the weekend now...
I got to my car and I was dripping. Panting, I passed some cutie-pa-tootie heading in. Of course. I loaded up and pulled out of the lot. Every car along the woods leading in to the area had a ticket. This parking situation is for the birds. My invaders for sure got a ticket, since they got there so late. I felt guilty for this little evil pleasure, so when I passed the cop still writing tickets I gave him some stink eye. We beach parkers still need to stick together.
I went straight to the ice cream place and got lemon frozen yogurt in a cone. I don't think it defeated the purpose of ALL the steps...
The next few days my ass and hamstrings were tighter than my bathing suit. Ow.
But still, so worth it, our Great Lakes.
I hope this Labor Day Monday is a day at the beach for all of you!
Lisa
So, this just happened. During a crazy chaotic week, I found myself driving without brakes. Yes, the irony was not lost on me. God is telling me to slow my life the bleep down (because He probably doesn't curse like me).
The day before, I had gone for an oil change, and everything was fine. The next day, I found myself with no pressure when I broke, my foot all the way down to the floor. I pulled into the same oil place about the time my brakes went completely nil and asked what was happening, since my fluid was checked. The guys would not let me leave. Both brake lines were shot and I had no fluid. So, in searching for tow trucks on my phone that has low battery and trying to figure out the nearest mechanic that would now be closed, how to get home, and being forced to take the next day off work (I call car troubles Single Gal Strong), these nice boys said they would help me if I waited until they closed the shop and move over to the next parking lot. Oh my goodness! Are you kidding?! That's amazing.
This was after Zumba. I swear, all my car troubles happen when I am in my Zumba gear. Last time I was stranded in the middle of a left turn on a busy cross street, with people honking at me like idiots, got towed and had to ride in spandex feeling very naked with some hillbilly driver side eyeing me the whole time. This time it was laundry day Zumba gear- even worse. Laundry day Zumba gear is not the cute Barbie workout gear we all don- I mean, camel-toe and all. You know, those pants that find crevices that just shouldn't be visible to other humans. Maybe the advertised crevices were why they offered to help, though...
So, I am sweating out of everywhere, starving, on my period without a bathroom, and waiting for these nice angels to close up so that they can sacrifice their night working on my car. My car is loaded like I'm a hoarder because life is busy and messy. I also had no cash on me to give them.
I bought pizza from next door, since none of us had dinner. There goes Zumba. Sometimes, life just makes you eat pizza.
They brought me brake fluid, but needed some parts, so I had to get in this young kid's car and ride nervously while he showed off and drove like an asshole to the store. I felt safe with these two, but I'll tell ya, the female caution tape is automatic and can be ridiculous. I was just aware of it, that's all. It wasn't that bright yellow in my head until my aunt expressed concern over the phone and made me fight some insistent paranoia. Did this place do this yesterday somehow? Was this some sort of scam? The one guy was left alone with my keys and could make a copy-they already have my address... Now I was in a car screaming down the streets with some stranger. He then knew my credit card number as well. When we got back, it was a different situation then the safety I felt before. It was pitch black, the pizza place next door had closed and turned their lights off. It was just me and two dudes in a parking lot next to the woods. Dammit. When they started talking about something else wrong with the car, I let my concern come out a minute and said, I just need to get home. When I drove off, with brakes, one of the guys said to have a blessed night. It made me smile and relax.
It's funny, this world we live in. It's a different world depending on your sex, for sure. These good Samaritans were just that, good. They were a blessing, and the instinct women have is to be overly cautious to the point of paranoia. Maybe it's my upbringing, Detroit logic, or whatever, but it is part of my psyche, whether I like it or not. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. It's been both for me. My instincts have definitely saved me in certain situations. But I always feel guilty when it goes the other way- when the universe sends me love and I question it.
So, I went back the next day and gave them my card and cash for all their help. There are good people in the world. I was so relieved and it was so much more painless than dealing with the normal breakdown Single Gal Strong. I told them if they ever opened up their own shop I would be their #1 PR pro. Ladies need trustworthy mechanics. We even might exchange business, as they need a photographer.
They said to have a blessed day again.
So, what did I learn? Brakes. Slow down. Thoughts are racing, that yellow caution tape, To-Do lists, schedule, life... Slow down. You need brakes.
Also, I need to throw those pants out.
Silly Monday to everyone,
Lisa
I have a big-ass Italian family. So many cousins, great-grandkids, aunts, uncles, and so forth. The grandkids all chipped in to get Grandma an Ipad one Christmas a few years back, for games and whatnot. I didn't know exactly who would be taking responsibility to help her with technology, but it made me laugh picturing it. I live two and a half hours away, so I was out.
A while after this, my parents, sister, brother-in-law, and the kids were up north at the cottage and we found out that Grams is on Facebook! How cute! This should be fun. She asked to friend my sister. My mom. So, I wait and wait... Nothing. Hours go by. Huh. My own sweet little Catholic Italian grandmother did not ask to be my friend. What's worse-- she knew we were all up north together! I swear. There's nothing like family to make you feel amazing. Ha ha!!!
I actually found all of this very cute and funny. I did wonder which shitty cousin of mine was helping her with Facebook. Ha!
So, I get into my work week and go to post photos on my business page on Facebook a few days later. Huh. Still nothing from Grams. "Alright, what the hell?" I thought, while laughing out loud. Old people and technology-- especially your family members-- it's just always a good time. So, I sent the request to friend her. Nothing. Three more days go by.
So, I had to make fun of this and posted something. ONLY THEN did my grams respond ever so sweetly and innocently. Apparently, it had something to do with a battery or whatever.
My cousins had a field day with this one. It's just ironic, because she tells me all the time that I'm her favorite.
It was funny to me.
Do you have a funny debasing family story? Tell me in the comments!
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Monday Sillies. Have a good day!
Lisa