Miscellaneous
You know what is a tough problem? Sometimes I get a grilled cheese in the sandwich line. Some wheat bread and provolone, grill it up please. That's it. It should be simple, but the sandwich people never get it right. They always take it out and the cheese isn't melted, it's just warmed. So I end up eating a cheese sandwich.
A good question would be why I don't just ask the sandwich-getter to put it back on the grill for a few minutes. I don't really have an answer for that.
I just stand there and hope that the person leaves the sandwich in a few seconds longer. I don't know why I have these confrontation issues, but I guess I do.
Another thing I never speak up about is when the dining hall people just slop on the food onto plates. They get sauce everywhere, dripping off the plate and it looks like they're feeding dogs, but they don't care. That really gets me. But how do you say to somebody while handing them your plate, "Excuse me, but could you please put the food on so it looks like a human will be eating it for dinner?" You can't. Because these things should be obvious, and plus, I bet if they knew they were doing something like this, they wouldn't do it. It's like my dad says: jerks don't know they're being jerks. If they did, they wouldn't be jerks.
It doesn't make me feel any better though.
Last week I went to Newbury Street and I saw this woman with a baby carriage. She was trying to lift it up these stairs, plus she was holding the kid. She's got the carriage basically dangling on the stairs, about four of them, in front of the GAP. SoI ask her if she needs any help, and you know what she does? She says, "Oh great!" and just drops the entire carriage right onto me. I swear I have tire marks on me. I didn't like her very much. And her kid was this skinny drooly thing too, not even a cute kid.
I was once at an event and there was this family with a baby. I told my dad, "That is the ugliest baby I've ever seen." Man was it ugly. I can't help it. The baby can't help it. Worst of all, the parents can't. It's pretty bad though. Think about how many people just love babies. Babies are usually pretty cute, but this one was just awful looking. The kid might turn out to be okay looking and all, but for right now, he was just hideous. I wish I was exaggerating. I mean, if I have an ugly baby, I'm going to be pretty upset because you have to hold it all the time and everyone always wants to see the baby. So if I'm walking around and somebody comes up and asks me to see my baby and I show this person the baby and the baby's ugly, I don't want to have to deal with the reaction. And I don't want to have to shield my baby from everyone, because I think that can lead to serious problems.
Something else that really gets me are people's dogs. I hate when I go to someone's house and their dog is all over me. I just don't like it. And I really hate when small dogs yip all over the place and jump up on you over and over again. And if you don't like it, people are like, "Oh, are you afraid of the dog?" as though you have some fear. No, I just don't like your dog. But you can't say that. So you have to smile and pet the dog and act like he's the cutest thing ever even when he's jumping all over the stupid place. I like my friend Amanda's dog though. That dog doesn't bother anybody.
Maybe it is because I never really had any pets when I was a kid. Well that's actually not true. I once had a hamster. I begged my dad to get me this hamster at the pet store, so he did. My mom flipped out when we drove up with the live box. The thing is, I was a little afraid of holding my hamster because I guess I don't like live things that much, especially live things that are in the same family as rats. Gross. But I wanted this teddy-bear hamster. Probably because my friends all had them or something. I named the hamster Samantha. At the time, I thought it was a good name, because you could call her Sammy. But you know, I think Samantha is a pretty funny name for a freakin rat. My dad though, he never got the name right. He'd always call her Hammy. So she became Hammy the Hamster.
Actually, she became Hammy the Obese Hamster. This thing became the fattest hamster ever. I'm not even joking. She became so fat that she couldn't live in her cute little hamster house anymore. We had to go back to the petstore and get her a fishtank because she was too damn fat for the house we had bought. We got her an exercise wheel, just like parents get their fat kids exercise wheels so they'll get thinner. But just like the fat kids, she never used the wheel. We got her this hamster ball but she didn't like that either, so she just sat around. I didn't really play with her though, so maybe she was eating out of depression. Like that emotional eating stuff. I'll never know. The thing lived longer than any hamster though, even though her cholesterol level was probably through the roof. Hammy died during my 6th grade Christmas party. Someone went over to see what she was doing, and per usual, she was doing nothing. So I didn't even care until another friend went over and said, "Elana, your hamster is dead." And then we all poked at it, and my mom told me to stop and so I did and then my dad buried her in the backyard. No ceremony, nothing. It wasn't because she was a fat hamster she didn't get a ceremony, it was because it was too cold out. I don't know where she's buried. It's not like I'd go out there and have a chat with her or anything, but I think that she probably deserved a little better from me.
A good question would be why I don't just ask the sandwich-getter to put it back on the grill for a few minutes. I don't really have an answer for that.
I just stand there and hope that the person leaves the sandwich in a few seconds longer. I don't know why I have these confrontation issues, but I guess I do.
Another thing I never speak up about is when the dining hall people just slop on the food onto plates. They get sauce everywhere, dripping off the plate and it looks like they're feeding dogs, but they don't care. That really gets me. But how do you say to somebody while handing them your plate, "Excuse me, but could you please put the food on so it looks like a human will be eating it for dinner?" You can't. Because these things should be obvious, and plus, I bet if they knew they were doing something like this, they wouldn't do it. It's like my dad says: jerks don't know they're being jerks. If they did, they wouldn't be jerks.
It doesn't make me feel any better though.
Last week I went to Newbury Street and I saw this woman with a baby carriage. She was trying to lift it up these stairs, plus she was holding the kid. She's got the carriage basically dangling on the stairs, about four of them, in front of the GAP. SoI ask her if she needs any help, and you know what she does? She says, "Oh great!" and just drops the entire carriage right onto me. I swear I have tire marks on me. I didn't like her very much. And her kid was this skinny drooly thing too, not even a cute kid.
I was once at an event and there was this family with a baby. I told my dad, "That is the ugliest baby I've ever seen." Man was it ugly. I can't help it. The baby can't help it. Worst of all, the parents can't. It's pretty bad though. Think about how many people just love babies. Babies are usually pretty cute, but this one was just awful looking. The kid might turn out to be okay looking and all, but for right now, he was just hideous. I wish I was exaggerating. I mean, if I have an ugly baby, I'm going to be pretty upset because you have to hold it all the time and everyone always wants to see the baby. So if I'm walking around and somebody comes up and asks me to see my baby and I show this person the baby and the baby's ugly, I don't want to have to deal with the reaction. And I don't want to have to shield my baby from everyone, because I think that can lead to serious problems.
Something else that really gets me are people's dogs. I hate when I go to someone's house and their dog is all over me. I just don't like it. And I really hate when small dogs yip all over the place and jump up on you over and over again. And if you don't like it, people are like, "Oh, are you afraid of the dog?" as though you have some fear. No, I just don't like your dog. But you can't say that. So you have to smile and pet the dog and act like he's the cutest thing ever even when he's jumping all over the stupid place. I like my friend Amanda's dog though. That dog doesn't bother anybody.
Maybe it is because I never really had any pets when I was a kid. Well that's actually not true. I once had a hamster. I begged my dad to get me this hamster at the pet store, so he did. My mom flipped out when we drove up with the live box. The thing is, I was a little afraid of holding my hamster because I guess I don't like live things that much, especially live things that are in the same family as rats. Gross. But I wanted this teddy-bear hamster. Probably because my friends all had them or something. I named the hamster Samantha. At the time, I thought it was a good name, because you could call her Sammy. But you know, I think Samantha is a pretty funny name for a freakin rat. My dad though, he never got the name right. He'd always call her Hammy. So she became Hammy the Hamster.
Actually, she became Hammy the Obese Hamster. This thing became the fattest hamster ever. I'm not even joking. She became so fat that she couldn't live in her cute little hamster house anymore. We had to go back to the petstore and get her a fishtank because she was too damn fat for the house we had bought. We got her an exercise wheel, just like parents get their fat kids exercise wheels so they'll get thinner. But just like the fat kids, she never used the wheel. We got her this hamster ball but she didn't like that either, so she just sat around. I didn't really play with her though, so maybe she was eating out of depression. Like that emotional eating stuff. I'll never know. The thing lived longer than any hamster though, even though her cholesterol level was probably through the roof. Hammy died during my 6th grade Christmas party. Someone went over to see what she was doing, and per usual, she was doing nothing. So I didn't even care until another friend went over and said, "Elana, your hamster is dead." And then we all poked at it, and my mom told me to stop and so I did and then my dad buried her in the backyard. No ceremony, nothing. It wasn't because she was a fat hamster she didn't get a ceremony, it was because it was too cold out. I don't know where she's buried. It's not like I'd go out there and have a chat with her or anything, but I think that she probably deserved a little better from me.
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