Tag: rant

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Humor My name Nonfiction Self improvement

Evidence that dentists are the worst

Sorry, it’s nothing personal, if anyone happens to be a dentist. In fact, the dentist has always been the second-least-scary doctor to visit, in my opinion (the ophthalmologist being the least-scary). But I’ve noticed that dentists seem to be doing all they can to keep the surprisingly popular fear of dental visits alive and well.

Steve Martin in "Little Shop of Horrors"
Steve Martin in “Little Shop of Horrors”

First of all, the pre-appointment chit chat is terrible. Here’s what happened to me on my most recent exam visit.

Hygienist: How’s your day?
Me: Good, how are you?
Hygienist: Good, good…so how are you?
Me: Um. Good.
Hygienist: Great. Having a good day?
Me: Yes…?
Hygienist: How do you pronounce your name?
Me: Syche.
Hygienist: Syche…Sychay.
Me: You just said it correctly, then incorrectly. Did you do that on purpose?

Okay, that last line didn’t happen. But the rest did.

Secondly, they shame you for not flossing three times a day. Frankly, that seems excessive, and quit acting like you’re surprised that we don’t floss! Why are you all high and mighty about it? Maybe you could figure out a different way for us to get clean teeth.

(Although, I have to admit, since I’ve been flossing this last month or so, they haven’t asked me about it, so maybe they actually do see the difference and don’t need to shame me. So okay. Well played, dentists.)

Finally, the dentist is where you get the largest amount of patronizing medical jargon while you lie there helpless. It isn’t enough that you have to be in this supine, submissive position, while they raise and lower the chair in a sick display of power – now they will talk from behind their mask (which hides their face so you can’t tell what they’re thinking) to the hygienist (also wearing a mask) and the two of them will use lots of terms you’ve never heard of to talk about you like you’re not even there.

Hygienist: *mumbling unintelligibly*
Dentist: What’s that, Milton? Did you want to do a probe now?
Hygienist/Milton: *mumbles*
Dentist: Okay. Starting with lingual binding. *starts stabbing gums with tiny pitchfork* 4, 3, 2, 3, 2, 3, 3, 4, 3, 2, 3, 2… *this goes on for awhile while I stare at the ceiling and avoid making eye contact with the stranger who is 6 inches from my face*

Dentists, please tell us what you’re doing before you put anything into our mouths. And give us some props for having only 1 cavity in almost 30 years, or for having all 4 wisdom teeth, or for remembering to brush/floss/drink water/not eat anything before coming to our 8:30am appointment.

And for the love of God, put some posters or word searches or something up on your ceilings so we have something to look at while we’re stuck in your chair.

==

Disclaimer: I don’t really hate the dentist.

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"Other people" Being a girl Children Drew Family Fashion Nonfiction Not awesome Parents Writing

In this case, E stands for “erroneous”

Stuff like this drives me crazy.

I realize this is just one little e-card. It’s not even a physical thing – it just exists as a jpeg. (And however things on the internet exist.)

This was probably a Mother’s Day card at one point. But I just saw it today, because this “your ecards” thing has somehow merged with Facebook and George Takei to create the unholy trinity that I like to call, “Why is my news feed now composed entirely of semi-funny, oft-shared pictures??”

Anyway. “9 times out of 10 children get their awesomeness from their mother.” What’s being said here? Why are we leaving out the fathers?

I’ve been running into a lot of father-bashing (or father-ignoring) on all the pregnancy boards to which I am now addicted. A common occurrence is that a woman will start a thread about being upset with her husband about a specific incident, and then comments will quickly pile up about how “it’s different for the men” and “they don’t understand” and how “they’re not interested in the pregnancy.”

Based on this and similar stories, Drew and I started a running “joke” about how much more important mothers are than fathers, which is basically us just repeating how the baby doesn’t even know who the father is until they’re 3 years old, 7 years old, 10 years old. (We just keep exaggerating because that’s what humor is.)

But this morning, I had to stop and say, “We’re both just kidding…right?” because it’s kind of getting to me. Enough is enough. Dads love their children too, and contribute to their health and well-being and yes, even to their awesomeness.

Maybe I just grew up in a very lucky kind of household, where my parents shared responsibilities and were around us equal amounts of time. I would say I get 50% of my awesomeness from my mom and 50% from my dad. And I would say that with a totally straight face.

It’s possible I’m overreacting to a stupid Facebook share. I mean, such things happen. (Some time last year, a WP blog post about bullying made the FB rounds, and everyone yelled about how their kid is such a special snowflake, and they would kill anyone who said anything mean to their perfect and sensitive child. I’m sure my coworkers enjoyed my attitude that day.)

On the other hand, maybe we’ve seen enough of FB e-cards, and enough of comments under-appreciating fathers. Hmm?

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"Other people" Food Memoir Nonfiction Not awesome Pregnancy Theatre Tomato Work

It’s not rocket science; or, “Sandwiches Snadwiches”

Yesterday I found myself back at the Safeway in Mill Valley, which has given me great stories in the past.

I stopped in there to pick up a sandwich for lunch before the final 2 performances of God of Carnage at MTC. Sandwiches are great, and probably on my favorite things list, even though I’ve been eschewing turkey (and that’s just one of several things) because of potential harmful effects during pregnancy.

So I just wanted to stop by and get a cheddar, avocado, and veggie sandwich on sliced sourdough.

A good sign: there was no one in line when I walked in. So I went straight up to the counter, where a super polite young man said, “I’ll be right with you.” Then, he went on to say, “Good afternoon, what may I get you?”

Wow, such service. I started explaining what I wanted.

“So you want a veggie sandwich – would you like me to describe the veggie sandwich to you?”

“Um, that’s okay,” I said, “What I want is actually a “California Dreamin'” without the turkey and bacon.”

“The “California Dreamin'” now goes by the name “Turkey Bacon Avocado,” he said.

“Okay.”

He began to assemble the sandwich. Kind of sloppily. I don’t understand why sandwich-makers at Safeway don’t know how to make a sandwich. They always pile everything on the center of the bread. Don’t you know you have to spread the avocado to the edges? And you shouldn’t just stack all the tomatoes in the center? It’s not rocket science, people. Make the type of sandwich that you would want to eat.

And it’s not just Mill Valley Safeway. It was in Mountain View that I watched a guy squirt mustard on one slice of bread, and then pick up both slices, one in each hand, and stare at them, puzzled, until he slowly smashed them together and rubbed the mustard around.

Wow.

When Mill Valley guy was finishing up (having just placed a large pile of pickles in two square inches), he said, “Now, our policy dictates that I charge you an extra fifty cents.” For avocado, I assume? “But I’m debating in my head whether or not to charge you that. That policy is in place to deter people from ordering sandwiches like this. But I don’t think we’ll suffer any damages – any long-term damages, that is – because I don’t think many people will order sandwiches like this.”

“Um…okay.”

WTF? For the record, here is the part of the menu that makes me think that it’s acceptable – nay, encouraged – for you to actually order what you want to eat, rather than just choosing from the 8 pre-designed options.

The key word here is “choose”…

Finally he handed it over. And I walked 10 feet away, found the voice memo application on my phone, and dictated what he had just said, because I was worried I’d forget part of it.

Then I called Drew and told him about it.

When I got to the theater, I found he didn’t even cut it in half for me. Which is kind of the most annoying part. I mean, who wants to pick up an entire sandwich?

Apparently the bane of Safeway’s existence – a product of theirs that someone ordered and paid for.

First world problems, am I right?

When the actors started arriving, one of them (with whom I had just bonded over orchids the prior day – I’m starting to think we might be some kind of soulmates or something) started telling a story about how he’d just stopped to pick up a sandwich at Safeway. We then went on to bond over our annoyance at the crazy people working there, and how in New York, you can just order food and then get it and then get out in record time, but here it seems to take people forever to get anything done.

Yeah, we were those people.

Anyway, the sandwich was okay, the shows went great, I was home by 10:30 and in bed by 11:15, and I got to sleep in until 8:30 this morning. So overall…life is good.

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"Other people" Not awesome Technology

Fail at life

Okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh.

But I don’t think so.

Today, The Hunger Games posted this picture on Facebook:

It’s nice, right? I mean, it’s kind of a cool poster. People seemed to like it. I think it’s fine.

But Jonathan and I started reading all the comments, and making fun of them. The most random and ridiculous we hit “like.” Some of them were composed of text speak and annoying symbols (~~~*** etc). One of them was like a chain letter in a comment. (We totally followed the instructions, although we didn’t post it on 15 other people’s walls.)

But then this comment popped up:

Uggghhhhhh…this comment really bothers me for some reason. I think it’s partly the combination of absolutely no punctuation (except for the 4-dot ellipse), spelling errors (kmovie), text speak (idk), and blatant ignorance (“are ready” = “already”). But the icing on the cake is that “there were like this big dogs or something,” but, despite this being the climax of the movie, she didn’t really get what was going on.

And yes, I understand that the kids commenting on this FB post are probably all like 14 years old. But since when is that an excuse? This is still life. You can’t get through life like that.

Is this really the generation that’s going to be in charge in a few decades?

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"Other people" cars Children Memoir Nature Not awesome

Whining on Board

Dear people on the internet,

Why do you take such offense against these little yellow Baby on Board stickers that hang in car windows?

I mean, I kind of get it. I used to be one of you. I assumed that the sticker was there as a way to tell me to slow down and drive more carefully around the baby. I thought that was the equivalent of a mom shushing me in a public area where I should be allowed to talk freely, just because her child was sleeping. (In both cases, I should probably just restrain myself a little better. But also in both cases, I disliked having a stern stranger tell me what to do.)

Here’s a little story: once in high school, I was driving from Lakeport over to Fort Bragg. Between Willits and Fort Bragg is a 30-mile stretch of winding road through the trees – it’s gorgeous, but it’s one lane, with a single passing lane available about 10 miles in from the coast. There are plenty of places to pull over and let someone pass you, though.

Photo from http://www.trazzler.com

I was stuck behind a car rattling along with a Baby on Board sticker. This car would not pull over, no matter that it had been nearly 20 miles, which was unbearable to me, a teenager in a 2-door car with a stick shift. Finally we approached the passing lane, which incidentally was on an uphill stretch, and as I moved over to pass…the jalopy sped up! I barely made it past them, and then I continued on my way…at which point that car tailgated me for the remaining 10 miles of the trip.

I reached the coast and pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store…where the jalopy pulled up behind me, parking me in, and an irate woman got out and began yelling at me about “almost running her off the road” and how she had “a baby in the backseat.” All I could do was stand there in shock (I have never been good at confrontation) – but what I wanted to snap back was that she had plenty of chances to let me pass, she didn’t have to speed up while I was passing her, and she certainly didn’t have to speed up in order to follow me the rest of the way.

So. She was crazy, and should not have behaved that way. Because of her I am now totally paranoid about being followed and trapped in a parking lot, and I always have a contingency plan if I think someone is tailing me.

But, here’s what I started out to say. I realized something, many years later.

The Baby on Board sticker is not there to tell you what to do: it’s just to alert you, the other driver, that the car with the baby is likely to drive slower, more cautiously, and to view yellow lights as “stop now” signals rather than “go very fast.” So if you need to adjust for that, then feel free. I’ll be here, in the right hand lane, signaling carefully and going the speed limit.

Hope this helps, whiny people on the internet!

Categories
"Other people" Being a girl cars Nonfiction Not awesome

A Dashed-Off Motorcycle Rant

Today I saw a motorcycle zoom all the way up a line of traffic waiting at a stop light, cut into the left turn lane (which was actually in the process of turning), weave to the inside of the lane, and then flip a u-turn and speed away.

Why are motorcycles allowed to break traffic laws and behave carelessly? It’s just a question I have.

The way I understand it is that at one point in history, the motorcycle engines were cooled by air, so that’s why they were allowed to weave between stop-and-go traffic – because if they also had to sit and wait (heaven forbid) then their engines would overheat. But – the way I understand it – air-cooling is not the case anymore.

It’s not the egregious speeding on open freeways that bothers me. It’s not the weaving through stopped traffic – I mean, we’d all do that if we could, am I right? But when traffic is traveling, but slightly heavy, I still see motorcycles cutting dangerously close to other cars, and that bothers me. Because if you cut in toward a car in front of me, and that car swerves a little and knocks you into my lane, and you end up flying into my windshield, I’m going to be traumatized for life, and possibly injured.

Okay. That’s all I wanted to say. Motorcycles, I think you look dangerous, albeit sort of cool. But not cool enough to make it okay for you to traumatize and possibly injure me.

Update: Open Letters, a (hilarious) tumblr of open letters to randoms, totally did a motorcycle one a month ago, LOL.

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"Other people" Writing

English major annoyances…

…I know I’m not alone in such things.

There’s this commercial on the radio right now. It begins with a woman’s voice:

“Saying the holidays are ‘a little stressful’ is like saying Kim [Kardashian] and Kris [Humphries] were ‘a match made in heaven.'”

Then crazy radio sound effects, then they tell you how you can win a trip to Disneyland which will alleviate some of your holiday stress and give you a much-needed vacation.

My major problem with this is that the two are not compared correctly. The implication is that saying the holidays are “a little stressful” is an understatement. But saying that Kim and Kris were a match made in heaven is not an understatement…it’s just flat-out wrong. (For anyone who doesn’t know – a) I’m jealous of you for avoiding this knowledge, and b) they were married for 72 days before filing for a divorce.)

I have heard this commercial a bunch of times – they’re pushing this Disney giveaway right now – and it’s getting annoying. One of the writers was asleep on the job. There are other ways to sneak in a Kardashian (or any pop culture) reference, if that’s your main goal.

Also, I’m jealous and want to win a Disney vacation.

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"Other people" Children Nonfiction Not awesome Self improvement

It’s Either This, or the Plague

You’ve probably heard that Earth recently welcomed its 7 billionth person. Not of all time. But at one time. You’ve also probably heard that in 1950, the world population was about 2.5 billion. That’s a 4.5 billion people growth in 60 years. Perhaps then you’ve also heard that the UN projected world population of 2050 is between 7.5 and 10.5 billion.

Where are these people going to go? I ask myself. Also, Is this going to trigger Nature to do something to help control population growth, a la Stephen King’s The Stand? And finally, How did we let this happen??

Well…I think I know how. In many parts of the world, thanks to society and forward-thinking and liberation, we have very specific views on sex and childbirth. Namely, that both are A-OK no matter what your status in life – age, marital status, finances, etc.

This is where I’m going to tread semi-carefully, because I definitely know people who have gotten pregnant out of wedlock and who have loved and cherished their babies and raised them up (or are in the process of raising them up) to be decent, upstanding, hardworking people.

BUT. The way I understand it – and I wasn’t there; I could be wrong – in the 1950s and before, you just didn’t start having sex with your boyfriend when you were 15 and then accidentally get knocked up before you graduated high school and then keep the baby because you can make your own choices about your own body. But these days…that’s par for the course. Now take that one scenario and multiply it by a billion. Then multiply that again for all those second children that those people just have to have because they love their first one so much. And plus, you know, they already have the first one…

It gets glamorized, being a young mother, on shows like Teen Mom and True Life. Film crews romanticize having a ton of children, on Table for 12, 19 Kids and Counting (don’t get me started on Michelle Duggar being pregnant with #20), Raising Sextuplets, etc. Moms who get artificially knocked up with multiples that come in potentially unsafe droves become celebrities – Kate Gosselin, Nadia Sulemon.

The TV personalities – they aren’t really any of my business. I don’t watch those shows (well…I used to watch Jon & Kate Plus 8 back when it was innovative and sweet) and I ignore the “celebs.” But then I start thinking about them in terms of the population growth, and it just irritates me.

There’s something I like about the idea that each couple on earth gets 2 kids – one to replace each of them. But if one couple is out there having 8, or 12, or 20 kids – well, that’s just greedy.

And the 20-somethings out there, each with their own kid or two, will one day meet and fall in love with someone, who also has his or her own kids. And then they’ll come together and have to have more kids, as proof of their love…or of their total inability to grasp the concept of birth control.

What annoys me is that I want a family someday soon. I don’t want 12 or 15 or 20 kids. I just want one or two. And I resent that here I sit, thinking about the world population and wanting to do my part to reduce growth and help the human race avoid apocalypse – but oops! Here’s one more 19-year-old on Facebook, spilling her guts about accidentally getting pregnant. Or oops! One more 40-something celebrity pretending it’s just an unexpected blessing, when really she went through a bunch of medical treatments, because she just had to have a fourth child.

I think we – as a society – need to get back that some of that healthy shame about sex. It needs to not be totally acceptable for 14-year-olds to be doing it, and maybe some people should get shipped off to visit their spinster aunt to cover up their pregnancy, or something. (Cross my heart, this is hypothetical.)

On the other hand, I’m also advocating for more accessible birth control – possibly just pumped into the water? Because even in my heightened state of anger here (yeah, I think I’ve actually reached the anger stage), I know that I can’t stop a couple billion teenagers from losing themselves in the moment, or however we’re going to justify this. (But seriously, pumping something into the water – that’s not a bad idea.)

I’m not saying this only out of a selfish place. I’m just thinking of the human race and what’s best for us. Surely we don’t want to bring on a plague or an epidemic or something, just because everyone forgot to buy condoms? And also somehow forgot to use a backup method? (Use a backup method, people!)

The way to fix all the world’s problems can be summed up into, “Everyone take some responsibility.” Everyone: just take some freaking responsibility. Lest we reach a point in society where the government just randomly (?) sterilizes a percentage of the population.

Parents – don’t give your 14-year-old the freedom to start having sex.
TLC – stop showing shows that promote getting as much use out of your uterus as you possibly can: just because you have one doesn’t mean it needs to be in constant rotation.
Kids – save yourselves, if not for marriage, at least for love. And if you can’t do that, then get thee to Planned Parenthood.

I’m just trying to ensure space for a couple of my own offspring one day, okay?

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"Other people" Awesome Memoir Tomato Work

New York’s Weirdest Habit, And My Special Spinach Salad

Tonight was kind of a frustrating night at work. It had nothing to do with my own co-workers, for which I am grateful. However, it does have to do with people I have to interact with on a regular basis, so some of these issues will come up again. And probably again.

But, it’s come to my attention over and over again lately that I can’t really keep any secrets in this forum. That’s partly because I keep linking my name with this blog. So I guess it’s my fault. This is about 90% blessing and 10% curse. Sometimes I wish I could just bitch about something or someone – but I can’t.

That being said, in 2007 I worked at this deli-type place in New York. Every week we had a “special” salad, and one week, I convinced the owner to name the special after me! Here’s proof:

Anyway, I worked as a cashier, and took orders over the phone. It was often an annoying job. Also, it was way less fulfilling than my job now. Except I did get free food everyday. And I often took extra food home for Drew. We didn’t pay for very much food during the 8 months I worked there.

One day I made a list of all the things customers did at the register that drove me crazy. I have carried that list around – inexplicably – for 4 years. Since I can’t very well talk about all the things that frustrate me now, here is a list of annoying things that customers used to do.

  • Leaving trash on the counter for me to throw away
  • Setting things down and then going to get more stuff – especially when there’s a line behind them
  • Waiting until I’ve bagged all their food to say they want to stay
  • Wanting me to bag their drinks*
  • When I say “Is that all?” and they say “Yes. And also…”
  • Digging for change while I wait, and then they don’t have any change
  • A guy who only has a $5 bill out to pay for a tuna sandwich (it’s $5.75 before tax)
  • Paying with a credit card for a small soup**
  • Talking on their cell phone, then acting all “why are you interrupting my call?” when I try to talk to them
  • People asking for stupid things (forks, napkins, etc)***
  • Handing me money all folded up
  • Throwing their money on the counter
  • Giving me awkward change (like if their total is $11.65, and they give me $20.05, so their change is $8.40 – fail)
  • Looking pained while doing any of the above

*This still baffles me. The weirdest New York thing I discovered, was that they put your drinks into a bag for you. Not just your bottle of Snapple – but your coffee in a styrofoam cup, or your fountain diet Coke. Drew and I discovered this in Brooklyn, when one day out of desperation for normalcy we walked about 40 blocks to the closest McDonalds, and the bored cashier put our Sprites into a bag and handed them to us. We were all like, WTF is that about? But they do it there all the time! It’s so weird! Please don’t put my coffee into a bag – if it’s too hot to carry I’ll take a sleeve or a double cup…

**I am guilty of doing this now. So I can’t really complain anymore.

***I’m not sure what this is supposed to mean. In retrospect, it’s okay if they ask for forks. I think it’s stupid because they just watched me put a fork and napkins into their bag.

There. I feel better. /rant