I Got the Duty

Well folks, I have been summoned for Grand Jury duty on Monday. I was very excited about this, as I have been waiting to be called for a jury for some time. Then it kicked in. I just started a new job, I’m still learning a bunch of stuff, and it’s super busy in the Fall. It’s just not a good time. Can’t they call me in April when everyone goes to Florida? In any case, I started thinking of ways to get out of the duty. Not that I think any will work, but a girl can dream.

The following have been mulled over: 

-Enter the court room chanting “FERGUSON, FERGUSON, FERGUSON.”

-Break out a Limburger cheese sandwich for breakfast. (Sandwich will not actually be eaten, that’s gross.)

-Wear my t-shirt that says "YourFace, 6 Million People Dislike This." 

-Ask the clerk where they keep the Keurig.

-Tell the judge any of the following:

·        If they arrested him, he must be guilty.

·        What time do you meet until? I normally nap at 1 p.m.

·        Is break time at 11? That’s when The Price is Right is on.”

-Read a book entitled “Litigious America, How Unnecessary Trials are Bankrupting America.” No such book exists, but I thought I could make a fake cover in Word or Publisher, print it out and tape it over a real book.

-Talk loudly with my neighbor about how I’ve been watching a LOT of Law & Order and that I feel I could prosecute the case myself.

Thoughts, folks? 

I already know your thoughts. You know I’m too chicken to pull any of these off so I’ll just go in there, answer the questions and pray that they give us breaks to fill my coffee mug.

The Ultimate WTF

Listing the Grand Staircase first?

That's cold, man.

That's cold.

How Do You Feel?

A while back I posted a picture of myself pre gastric bypass surgery on Facebook.  People commented that they couldn’t believe her how different I looked, how great I had done. Someone asked me if I felt any different.  This is something I never wrote about before, because I don’t think about it much.  And that’s not because it’s not on my mind. It’s because what I think isn’t great.

I grew up heavy.  Most often the largest person in the room. I grew up not making eye contact with people in the hallways of school. Mostly because I was afraid that they might yell something.  I have vivid memories of 9^th grade when I was innocently walking up the hallway, and a senior walked up to me, pointed in my face and said “You are fat.” I was mortified.  Not because I didn’t think it was true, but because other people were around and had heard him. I did my best to stay under the radar, lest someone decide to do that again.  I always had friends.  I had people who loved me, and didn’t care what I looked like. I tried to be pleasing, I tried to be funny.  I think I succeeded for the most part. But when you grow up the way I did, you do everything a certain way. You look at a room full of tables and think “what is my best exit?’ You have to look for spaces between chairs that you won’t get caught in.  If there are none, you just wait. You can’t be the one drawing attention to yourself; you don’t need that negative attention. You are normal, right?

Fast forward to 2014.  I am down 220 lbs. Yet the old girl is still in there.  I walk up a hallway and if someone laughs, I immediately think they are laughing at me. I sit on a seat on a plane and think “no way is anyone going to sit next to me, I’m taking up too much room.” I see a set of chairs in a banquet hall and hesitate to pass between them, because I won’t fit.  I will fit, but my brain hasn’t caught up to my body. Is this a bad thing? I don’t know. I do know what is bad. The way I was treated in school. There are a handful of people that I still can’t forgive.  I never did anything to them. Not one thing. I was there, minding my business. They treated me like shit because I was different.  I graduated from high school 20 years ago, but the way I was treated then shaped my entire life. How do you let that go, how do you “forgive and forget?” I don’t want to sit here and say I haven’t forgiven anyone. I have. But some wounds cut deep. And those are the ones that I can’t seem to heal.

So how do I feel? I feel great. I have more energy. I can walk without breathing heavy and thinking “can I sit down yet?” Chasing my kids and my nieces isn’t painful. I don’t have to rest after anything physical. I run races.  Actually run. I’m not fast, but I’m running. I do more now than I ever did, and I encourage anyone who has enough extra weight on them to consider weight loss surgery. That said, how do I feel? I feel cheated.  I feel like people (not all, but some) didn’t know me. Not saying they would know me and like me, let’s face it. I’m not for everyone. But was I a girl who you should look at and call a name? Was I a girl who you had to snicker at as she walked by? What did I do? I didn’t do anything.  They say you should not focus on people like that. But how can you not when the hurt from years ago never really goes away? When it’s always sitting in the back of your head? I guess you just have to. You have to remember that not everyone is like you. Everyone grew up differently and the people who put you down must have had a tough life growing up to treat others like that, right? Right? Yes, that’s what I’m going with. Even if part of me hopes they end up pumping gas in Alaska.

So what's the moral in all this? THINK before you speak. If what you are about to say is meant to hurt their feelings, perhaps you should just keep it inside. Maybe you'll thank yourself later. Maybe the person you were gonna say it to will thank you 20 years from now.

 

More Sage Advice

I'm full of great advice. Ask anyone.

Why just today, my friend posted this photo on Facebook.

This thing (thing is the only name I can use to describe it because I am NOT going to use the word animal) crawled out from under her sink while she was brushing her teeth. The first thought one would have when that happened is to freak right the hell out. I mean, I would. But since it wasn't my house, I could keep a level head and give her this sage advice.  Move.  Just pack your shit and move. Then I thought for another second and said "I take it back. Leave your shit behind. You can buy new shit." Serious, she should just get her keys and her purse and leave. Cause if that came out, chances are there are MORE coming. It's the rainy season after all!

Do you have a problem? Maybe I can help. Send me any issues you might be having and I shall solve them.

Real Conversations from the Week

Each week I have some fun conversations with people. I felt the need to share a few here.


Co-worker: OMG, who is taking your place?
Me: Silly, that's impossible. I'm irreplacable!
Co-worker: No, really.
Me: (That didn't justify a response, justified a punch in the face!)

Me: Paul look, in my job description it says they want someone that exhibits tact, maturity and diplomacy.
Paul: Must be looking for a change.

Co-worker: You look especially skinny today.
Me: (No response, just fought the urge to open mouth kiss her.)

Me: Mom, I was in last place at the race, the police were right behind me.
Mom: That's good protection. Except if it's the Buffalo Police. Your safety might be in question.

Jeff: Look what I'm buying (sends me photo of Jason Priestley book).
Me: Awesome, can I borrow it when you are done?
Jeff: Of course!
Me: Try not to get the pages all sticky.

Me: Look at the title of this PowerPoint. A Penetrating Study. Huh Huh. Huh Huh.
Co-worker: Oh My God, Lori.
Me: Huh Huh, he said penetrating.

Us, in May

This is Paul and I, every May. I think we're gonna make it. And we shall savor all two months of no asking about gym clothes, lunches, homework, book reports, agendas, band concerts and house keys.

FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!

Nice Kitty Soft Kitty

Went to Target and saw these on the clearance rack. Shocking, no? I asked Duncan to try them on, seeing as they matched his sneaks, and he said no. What a hater.  I mean, who doesn't need a nice pair of shiny, stretchy pants with cats on 'em? Please note the whiskers on the crotch area. I didn't see those at first glance, but my cousin Jennifer's keen eye picked up on it.  Time for a shave, pantaloons.

Now I'm no fashionista and I'm sure no designer. I'm not into the low rider jeans (no one needs to see that) and I wouldn't say you'd run to me for advice on what's hip. But I have yet to find a person who saw these pants and said "Oh yeah, I gotta have those." And from what I gather, Target hasn't either because this wasn't the only pair on the reduced rack. So I ask you this. What exactly went on in the purchasing department for ladies clothing? Are you telling me that someone rolled out a bolt of this fabric and someone else said "Oh HELL yeah, we gotta get some of those made into pants, STAT!" And why not pants that weren't super tight? Imagine these in an XL.  Do you even want to see that print on an XL ass? No, you do not. You don't want to see it on a S, M, or L ass, so there ain't no WAY you want to see it on an XL ass. And it's not like you are ever invited to an ugly pants party. Ugly sweater, yes. Ugly pants? No. Although if you did get invited to one, you'd be set with this beast.

And not for nothing, but the day that I saw these pants in the store? The day the Target CEO went bye bye. Just sayin'

Roar.