Puppy Love: Deadly Edition

You know what drives me nuts? (Stop! Stop listing things! It was a rhetorical question!)

People who choose to drive around with their dogs on their laps. That's right. People in the driver's seat who think it's somehow acceptable to have a living creature sitting on top of them while they're operating a motorized vehicle. Add to that the fact that they're doing so these days on roads covered with ice, slush, and snow, and I'm significantly more irritated.

Then I see the ShePound today and I get really steamed.

She's driving around, grinning like the Cheshire Cat (seriously, folks, she was about as crazy-jolly as they come) and was attempting to manoeuver her minivan around a corner with not one, but two dogs on her lap. And, though we're not talking great danes here, we're also not talking about tiny pipsqueak dogs (which would also bug me, so don't drive around with chihuahuas on your lap either). Definite mid-sized breeds. One is sitting on her lap, face pressed to the window while the other is somehow being clutched to her chest with one arm while she turns the wheel with the other.

You, my dear, are a raging idiot worthy of the accident you will someday have.

Space Invader

So, I finish work tonight and head across the street to the parking lot in which my car was hanging out, waiting for me. I head through the lot, approaching the aforementioned vehicle and WHAMMO! What do I see? Someone, whom I can only assume is a card-carrying moron, has parked beside me on my driver's side. Right beside me. RIGHT BESIDE. About THREE INCHES beside me. Literally.

So, yes. I had to get in my passenger's side door, clamber over to the driver's seat in my MANUAL TRANSMISSION vehicle ... meaning I had to circumvent the seats, the stickshift, and the emergency break along the way to start my car. Of course, it had been snowing this evening, so I had to clean off the car. I ended up backing out into the aisle VERY VERY CAREFULLY (since there were mere inches betwixt the cars, you will recall) so I could get out my door and brush it off. (Of course, a van came by shortly and wasn't too happy with me for cleaning my car in the aisle of the lot, but deal with it VanBoy!)

And so, to the owner of a grey sedan who parked beside me, I say, "You're an idiot."

Dear Woman with a Starbucks Cup,

Do you really need to carry your Starbucks cup with you in Wal-Mart?

Is it that you are desperately thirsty or, more plausible, hopped up on caffeine and needing to maintain your buzz so that you don't crash, take a look at your life, and end up drooling in a ditch?

Or is it that you are hoping that the act of walking around, browing with coffee in hand, will give you the feeling of being in a high-end, by-appointment-only boutique where they serve coffee and champagne while tightly wound ladies show you dresses or jewelry? Because that's not going to happen.

And will you really stretch that drink out until you return to your car, sure to dispose of it suitably? More likely you will become one of those egocentric individuals who leave their garbage on shelves randomly throughout the store. It may surprise you to learn that the entire world, contrary to your understanding, is not your garbage bin.

Dearest woman with a Starbucks cup, it's quite likely that I've overwhelmed your tiny brain by badgering you with so many questions. Allow me to say, in short, that I shake my head at you and your ill-timed and misplaced beverage-drinking schedule.

Sincerely,

Me.

P.S. Do you also take chocolate bars from the shelf and eat them while walking around, only to present the cashier with an empty wrapper? I'll be sure to come to your house, sit on your couch, and watch your television, asking permission to do so only as I leave.

Unrelated Items

In a pleasant week of theatre going (which helped to reduce the likelihood of "post show blues" settling in), I was off last night to see Seussical: The Musical in Hamilton. What a great, fun production! The cast is strong, the design of the show is brilliant, and it was a great romp all around. Even the unexpected guest appearance by the fire curtain couldn't detract from the fun! If you're anywhere near Hamilton and want a fun night out (with the kids or without), I'd certainly recommend Seussical. [And so does this reviewer.]

***

On an unrelated note, know what bugs me? "Plump, juicy raisins." I remember even as a youngster being annoyed by Post Cereal's commercials, which promised "plump, juicy raisins".

Listen here, and listen closely: If I wanted plump and juicy, I'd eat grapes.

That's right. Grapes.

Because that's what grapes are: plump and juicy. What do you get when you take the plump and the juicy out of grapes? You've got it! Raisins. If you say you've got plump, juicy raisins, it's like you're saying you've done a shoddy job of making raisins out of grapes.

"Yeah, we just didn't bother completing the raisinification of the grapes. We figured we could save a couple of hours by leaving them plump and juicy."

Next thing you know, they'll be advertising for soft, moist toast.

Irritation with Blogger

1: Wrote a lengthy post about tonight's Amazing Race.

2: Went to post it.

3: Blogger had done all kinds of wonky formatting things/errors with it.

4: Tried to fix them.

5: Blogger declined to cooperate.

6: Got irritated.

7: Deleted the whole thing.

8: Wrote this instead.