The Update Ramble Style

- A few days ago, a woman came up to me at work and told me she had her father in her pocket. "Well, three tablespoons anyhow," she said. Every time I think I've heard it all, these things happen.

- Also, there's this incredibly sketchy guy at work who sells food outside. All the time, people come up and look out sadly at the cart of food and want to know if they can possibly break the no re-entry policy to get a sausage from this guy's cart. I always look at them like they are insane, because if they took a second and watched how this guy prepared his fare - smoking a cigarette, scratching his ass, wiping his mouth, and handing people their order ALL WITH THE SAME HAND - they'd want to puke. But no. They just keep ordering and this guy stays in business.

Anyway, the guy is clearly a health code violation. People have standing bets on how old his shoes are (right now, 1986 is looking like the best guess). So, a few months ago, I'm reading the Globe at work and they're doing this article on the baby boom that they think happened 9 months after the World Series. They start talking about this couple, Dan and Jen, who are standing outside talking to a vendor. They give his name and location, and I realize who it is, and I start to get a little nauseous. And then I read that he kissed this woman's pregnant stomach while the beaming father, Dan, looked on. I sent the article to a few people, and their reactions were all the same: "I am going to go puke up my breakfast," "I'm going to cry in a fetal position and pretend I never heard this," "That kid is going to come out so fucked up," and "Thanks for ruining my day, I was supposed to go out to lunch." Whoops.

There's really no point to all of this, aside from me sharing about a disgusting, disgusting man. But really, that's point enough for me.

- I lost my navy blue Old Navy flip flops.

- Today, I got a coffee from Dunkin Donuts. We had a huge order, so they labeled the tops of the coffees so nobody would get confused. This was helpful, except for two things: first, the blue marker ran and got all over my nice white computer. This looks to be remedied, but I'd rather not have blue-tinted keys and have to tell people it's from my Dunkin Donuts iced coffee; and two, they abbreviated "French Vanilla/skim milk" "FV skim milk" only it looks just like "FU skim milk." This made me laugh out loud.

Come on, that's funny.

- The Red Sox are the only team in major league baseball that can be in first place but have it feel like second place. You'd think that the game and a half lead was non-existant, the way people are freaking out about the Yankees. I mean, sure, their bullpen is scarier than Kelly Clarkson, but they ARE in first place. I think Red Sox fans are still afraid that if the Yankees catch up and take the division this year, the Sox are going to look like losers. This makes sense because they will, in fact, be losers, and second, because it will erase the fact that the Yankees haven't dominated this season. These two things really can't happen.

- This conversation actually took place:
"Hey, can I go out and come back in?"
"Actually, no, we have a no re-entry policy."
"So can I go out and come back in?"

- I was at the Rolling Stones concert, which proved to be entertaining for a few reasons. One of the main reasons was that I could tell people "You can't always get what you want" after their insane request was denied, which has always been something I've wanted to tell insane customers, but this was the first time I could get away with it and label is "cute" or "quick" rather than "rude" or "unprofessional." So that was a good time. (Incidentally, I could also ask, "You can't get no satisfaction?" This also became a highlight. Some people, in case anyone is wondering, don't laugh at these jokes.)

- Incidentally, some people are also morons devoid of humor and personality. Just a footnote.

- Okay, I bought some munchkins for the staff during move-in shifts, and some woman just asked if she could have one. So I said okay, because I'm not going to be like, "No, you can't have one," and her response was: "Well, if they're not for the public, then I won't take one." This sounds like a reasonable comment, only I'm telling you, the tone was absolutely insane. It was like it was a personal affront that I didn't have donuts for all the people moving in. I kinda just stood there for a moment, until she continued, "Well, I would have them for the public is all. I mean, the public should be allowed to have a donut."

You know what I said? "I agree." Smile.

Stunned speeeeechless.

- No, really, it's a big deal that I lost my navy blue Old Navy flip flops.

- Can somebody puhleaze explain to me this new pants/capris trend that makes every girl have a wedgie? It's not attractive, and yet, every single girl seems to own a pair.

- Two movie recommendations: "The Aristocrats" and "The 40-Year-Old Virgin." Obviously both are for mature audiences only, and by mature I mean people who don't mind vulgarity that's borderline illegal.

- A quick postscript on the above story about the french vanilla FU skim milk coffee. This was funny, only now I see that people have been looking strangely at me and my coffee. And what am I supposed to do, cut them off at the pass and say, "Oh, this coffee doesn't say FU, it says FV but looks like FU"? I don't think that really works, because knowing my luck, the person would be like "Uhhh I was just looking at the paper under the coffee." Or, "What? That looks like FV to me." It's pretty much a lose-lose situation.

I'm finishing the coffee and throwing away the cup.

- And last, people have been wondering why I haven't updated anything since August 11th. First of all, August 11th isn't that far back. And second, as is evident from the update, there really wasn't that much newsworthy stuff that happened. To wrap up, it's still hot and humid, I still have no air conditioning, and no worries, the morons are out in full force.

Status quo.

It's all Talk

Recently, I've been catching a lot of random television shows. So I'm watching "Oprah" right now, and she's got Maria Shriver and her mom on as her guests. And Oprah says, "Everyone's getting so excited about getting THINGS nowadays, nobody's getting excited about relationships. I mean, everyone wants a plasma screen TV!"

Okay. OHHHHHKAY. I have had enough. Of COURSE Oprah doesn't get excited about material things, because she has every material thing known to man. And tell me that she doesn't have ten billion plasma screen televisions in every freaking room of her ten mansions. And then Maria Shriver's on there saying she can't ever remember her mother getting excited over a dress or anything material. Again, what does this prove? Listen, I don't get excited about getting a bottle of water, because I can always buy a $1.25 bottle of water. I can afford that, very easily, and those are readily accessible to me. But a plasma screen TV? Not so much. For the Kennedy-Shriver family, these dresses, gifts, whatever they were talking about - they could afford those like I can afford the bottle of water. It's all relative. Which is why I think it's insulting to listen to Oprah Winfrey talk about how materialistic Americans have become. Until she's living in a hut without a plasma screen TV like she suggests the rest of the population should, I don't want to hear any more of these ridiculous claims. This is the woman who threw a huge legends ball - a ball supposedly about the relationships between generations of African-American women - and made a mandatory dress code (black and white) that she then egregiously violated (a bright freakin fire engine look at me red sparkly dress!). Hypoooocriitte!

In other news, Maury Povich has reached an all-time low. Maury used to have just a regular talk show, but now I think he specializes in paternity tests. I wonder how this guy justifies what he does for a living. "Hi, I host a show where I announce who is - or isn't - a baby's father." Verrrry honorable. I mean, this guy claims to do a service, but why does he air it on national television? What kind of trash goes on his show to be like, "I think you're the father of my baby, but I'm not sure, so I'm going to have Maury Povich prove it." But Maury thinks he's very important in this whole process. He would probably tell people that he can prove whether or not Jesus really is THE son. You know what? He doesn't even perform the tests. He just talks to the guests about how "stressful" this must be. Never is he like, "Well, hon, if you didn't sleep with fifteen different guys within a two-week period, this might be easier." I mean, sure, there are guys who claim a child isn't theirs just so they won't have to support them, so I'm not saying it's all the fault of the women. But regardless, dragging them on this show? Why not just have "trash" tattooed right on your forehead!

So today, the topic? "You're the father of my disabled child." I didn't even know what to do. This just shatters the "Wow, that's the absolute worst thing I've ever seen on TV" record that was previously held by Balki and Cousin Larry on "Perfect Strangers." Those guys had a streak going, too. Really Maury, this is too much. Be sure to send the world a nice postcard from hell.

My brother used to love the Maury Povich show. We didn't realize this until we were talking about baby names we liked. I forget why this came up, but my brother said, "I like the names Candace (but pronounced Candayce) and Evon (pronounced like Eevonne)." We asked him where he found these names. "On the Maury Povich Show," said my eight-year-old brother. He also liked the names Elton and Sacagaweah. My mom's like, "Great. I'd love my grandkid to be Sacagaweah."

This reminds me of when I was younger, like in the sixth grade, I'd come home and watch the Ricky Lake Show and my mom would always laugh at me. Now I know why.

And last: I'm now watching 90210. This show is too much. Steve is in a frat, whose name is Keg. Kappa Epsilon Gamma. Keg. Verrry subtle.

I should be in charge of TV. I really should.

Domino's?!?!?

So, I was getting ready this morning and watching "The View." It turned out that it was a rerun, but I hadn't seen it before. The hostesses were having a pajama party, so they came out wearing pjs and the entire audience was wearing pjs. Then, they were like, "Okay, we're going to give you a whole lot of goodies today!" sounding scarily like Oprah Winfrey when she gives out all her stuff on her Oprah's Favorite Things Show. Now, here's the thing. Oprah's show? People, like, kill to be in that audience. This year, the woman gave away $14,000 worth of incredibly awesome stuff. I'm talking ipods, computers, espresso machines, deluxe chocolates, etc. Seriously, every year, I make sure to catch the show. If I miss it, I'm legitimately depressed.

Thus, I was a little excited to watch the giveaways on "The View." The truth is, I have no idea why this stuff excites me. It should depress me, really, when I think about it: here you go, watch the show where the hostess gives away all this awesome stuff to two hundred people WHO AREN'T YOU. Awesome. But still, I like seeing what she's giving away. No clue why. Psychology is a weird, weird discipline.

Anyway, I started watching, and I kept waiting for them to give something out. Finally, they're like, "Hmm... you know what I'd like right now? How about some pizza!" And I'm waiting for them to give like, the best pizza in New York, for godsake (there are about five million places that claim to have it) and what comes out? Domino's!!! The place went nuts, though, like they couldn't order their very own Domino's pizza for themselves for $5.99 when they drove home to Podunk that night. Insane. Oprah wouldn't have done that. If she had to go with Domino's, she would have given them all huge gift certificates or something, if Domino's even has those. Which brings me to my point: Oprah would never stoop so low as to have Domino's give a single slice of pizza to each member of her audience. She'd tell them about this ridiculously good pizza she had, and then she'd give them a slice of that, something they might not find on their own. The View? Domino's.

Then, five minutes later, they say how they'd like something sweet. Out comes these huge sundaes from Baskin Robbins, and I'm thinking, okay, well, that looks nice. Then they pan to the audience, and they're getting sample sizes! I know I sound like a larder, but this isn't the point. I just think that if you're going to have a giveaway, have a freakin giveaway. On the Oprah show, half the point is that I wish I was in the audience. I didn't care at all that I wasn't in New York to get some Domino's and Baskin Robbins. It came off looking like a segment on the Tony Danza Show. That's never, ever, ever a good sign.

And speaking of "The View," last night I caught a rerun of Larry King Live with Barbara Walters. At least, the shell of Barbara Walters. That woman is something like 78 years old, but her face is only about five. People make fun of Joan Rivers, but Barbara Walters is catching up. It's very sad to see a woman who had some decent wrinkles about two years ago now have a face that yes, looks flawlessly smooth, but also looks like it's so tightly sewed up that if she actually smiles, her skin will fall right off. It's totally disgusting. And her haircut was all youngish looking and she was wearing these hoop earrings. I wonder who made her think that she could look like Jennifer Lopez, but B. Wa wasn't going anywhere last night. I swear, she looked like a 22-year-old had put on a plastic mask with her face and gone trick-or-treating a few months too late. I don't get it. What's so wrong with looking, oh, at least 50?! Someone should tell her to give it up already. I mean, really. It's not like she's 40 trying to pretend she's 35. I get the idea of trying to knock off five years, but fifty? Give me a break. The jig's up, lady. They keep showing those highlights of you when you started the Today show back in freaking 1965. Your skin looked more wrinkly then! I noticed that Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw, both colleagues of Barbara Walters, didn't have the same "Ugh my face is so tight it's giving me a headache" look to them.

Then again, they don't run television shows that claim to have huge giveaways and end up hawking slices of Domino's delivery pizza. What, McDonald's couldn't make it?

I Am Afraid of the Dark

When I was a kid, they had this TV show on Nickelodeon, called "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" where they'd basically show a film version of the book "Scary Stories." As a kid who could barely handle "Scary Stories," "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" was waaaay out of my league. I never once watched the show. In fact, even when I was old enough to stay home alone, I would not even like watching previews of the show. If I flipped through the channels, I would go really fast because I didn't even want to catch a scary image.

I'm a freak, I know. You know those ADT home security commercials? Scared the shit out of me. Even hearing the voice or theme song for "Unsolved Mysteries" gives me the chills. When I used to read those Scary Story books, a few always creeped me out: first, the one about the babysitter who was watching these kids when this psychopath was calling from the upstairs bedroom. The second was about this couple who went to this inn, then went back the next day and saw nothing, and some random farmer was like, "Oh, those people? They died in a fire years ago." That always got me.

I also had an insane fear of witches when I was younger. I basically thought they were real. The Wizard of Oz witch? Scared shitless. My parents would get pretty annoyed with my fear, because I believed the witches could only get me if I was the person on the lowest floor of the house. So, somebody had to be on a level lower than I was, otherwise, I wouldn't like to stay downstairs by myself. I think once or twice my parents punished me by making me stay downstairs, or they were trying to get me out of my insane fear. I don't remember whether it worked, but I can report that I can now stay on any level of my house without fear. (But still, the image of a witch - specifically the Wizard of Oz one, a pointy noise and big black pointy hat - isn't something I enjoy. I get a bit creeped.)

I watched "The Ring" from under my coat in the movie theater. It was the first movie I seriously considered leaving, and just waiting in the lobby for my friends. I didn't even watch enough of the movie to tell you what the whole tape was about in the first place. Just seeing that grainy image - the blueish lighting - was enough for me to throw the coat over my head. Even in the movie theaters later, when the trailer came out for the sequel, I covered my eyes and my ears. Just the sound of the scissors put me over.

I can't watch any scary movies between early May and late August, because there are times between then when I'm on my floor by myself and I get creeped out easily enough without adding any possible "remember that scene from..." ideas. Still, the scariest scenes are vivid sometimes when I really wish they weren't. Take "The Shining" for example. My dad once asked me if I ever thought of the ghost twin girls, while I was on my floor by myself. "The empty building must remind you of 'The Shining,' " he'd said.

Uhh, not till right then, thanks.

Now, if I get a little creeped out, what comes to mind first? A tricycle, speeding down the hallway into little girl ghosts. This is comforting.

Anyway, there's a point to all of this, besides me apparently being a total scaredy-cat freak. (And I've embraced that, by the way. I don't force myself to watch scary movies. I used to. One summer, I rented "Scream" and was terrified to babysit the next night at a house in the woods. Good god. The problem is, any slightly scary or creepy scene in a movie gets me, and so I don't like to watch any of that stuff, even to this day, if I'm home alone or going to be alone any time soon - thus my May-August rule.)

So the point. Last summer, my dad rented this house on the Cape in Truro. My dad knows that I get freaked out about scary stuff, so he told me about this book that the family who owned the cottage kept. Apparently, since the cottage was pretty old, there had been some strange things going on. Now, my father never has believed in ghosts, or anything like that, so he just makes fun of me being creeped out by these things. To him, it was all fun.

So I went to the house with a couple of friends, while my dad, brother, and Aunt Beverly were there. The first night, it was just me and my friend Amanda and Beverly on the second floor of the house. In the morning, very, very early, I wake up to hearing these bells, like very soft music playing. So later that morning, when everyone's up, I ask my aunt what music she was playing. See, the thing is, my aunt is kind of a weirdo who gets up wicked early to do yoga and she listens to that serenity music stuff, so I figured I'd just heard her.

Nope. She didn't play any music. Even more shocking, she hadn't even done any yoga that morning.

So I'm freaked out. I think I've basically been haunted and all, and I'm done. That day, two other friends showed up: my friends Dan and Stef. Because of the room situation, it looks like I'm going to be sleeping on the couch in the downstairs area, by myself, with everyone else in a room off the main room that I'll be sleeping in.

And you know what, this wasn't going to happen. Nope. Not after hearing that creepy music and reading that creepy ghost book and being in this older-than-God house. Do you think ANYBODY let me live this down? Of course not. My friend Stef agreed to sleep in the room withme, thus saving my sanity and life, but my dignity was lost in that weekend. My dad made fun of me. My brother made fun of me. My aunt even made fun of me (an all-time low).

But you know what? I felt better.

Fast forward to last Saturday night. My dad rented the same house this summer, only I can't go, and my brother and sister can't either. So my dad arranged to have some friends stay with him, but he's there a few times during the week alone. So I was talking to him about this at dinner on Saturday night, and he was acting like this was horrible that he was going to be there alone. I didn't really get why, because my dad usually likes to have his own peace and quiet every once in a while, and if you ask my dad, life doesn't get better than an empty beach and a good book. Then he comes out with it.

Apparently, when he was there in October, his girlfriend heard the same chimes/music I heard. Only this time? He didn't make fun of her. I'm not going ot get into how unfair that is, but whatever. Suddenly, I realize: my father is a scaredy-cat.

You know, once, when I was on a plane with both of my parents, we were experiencing some pretty bad turbulence. My mother is a known and self-admitted horrible flyer, so I took one look at her panicked expression and realized I wasn't going to get any comfort there. I was in fifth grade or something, so I grabbed my dad's hand. My hand practically slipped right off, the thing was so sweaty. Forget this guy being the strong one. I ended up being the best flyer out of all of them.

So anyway, I'm thinking this is where my scaredy-cat streak comes from. My father will probably kill me for writing this. I'm half-considering going back, but you know what, no. Last summer, everyone in that room in that house made me feel like a complete moron for being the least bit scared. "You don't actually believe that stuff?" I believe was my father's exact quote. My friends? "Dude, get a grip." Stef just smiled, said I was a little on the out-there side, but ultimately said that she'd stay with me. And come to think of it, I didn't see Dan offering to switch locations, and I didn't see my aunt, who told me I was crazy (actually, that might have been the all-time low), saying she'd sleep downstairs. No. So forget being nice about any of this.

I think everyone's more scared than they'll let on. My father was hilarious on Saturday night. He wouldn't admit to being scared, he just admitted that he was slightly "creeped out" by a few things:

1. The chimes.

2. The fact that he'd talked to someone (I can't remember if it was a family member of the people who owned the house or what) who said, "I love the place, but I wouldn't sleep there alone."

3. The fact that the woman who owned the house with her husband, and who absolutely loved the place, died this past April. I think he's convinced that he's going to see her walking around the garden at midnight, her favorite place in the world or whatever. He's pretty much admitted that he's prepared to see this woman around next week (though, he says, she was real nice in real life, so he thinks if anything, she'd be of the Casper-ghost variety.)

In the end though, my dad wouldn't admit to anything. He was like, "I am not scared."

Riiiight. I told my dad that to make sure, I'd give him a call next week, while he's there alone, and ask him if he'd taken a walk around the garden, or whether he'd seen any freaky shadows or heard any wind chimes.

And then I realized: the same week my dad's going to be on the Cape is the week I'm going to be on a floor all by myself. So instead, I told my dad the following:

"You know, on second thought, that musicy chimey stuff? I think there actually were wind chimes in the sun room. So I think you're set."

I don't know how convincing I was, but my dad replied, "I'll take it."

As for me, do I believe this?

In one week, I'm going to be on a floor all by myself. So yes. Yes I do.