Fun With Flying - Or Why Ativan and Alcohol Don't Mix

I make no qualms about my dislike of flying however I have learned a valuable lesson about how to deal with this common fear.  NEVER, and I seriously mean never (that is why the capital letters) tell the people you are travelling with that you hate flying.  On a recent family trip to California I made mention that I was going to be using all my resources to get through all the flights that were coming up (Ativan it is baby!) but did not  anticipate that I was going to be the source of entertainment for the other six members I was with.  The entire time they kept looking at me (well the three youngsters anyway) waiting with bated breath for me to lose my mind and start screaming bloody murder OR to start puking (both of which are extremely probable).  Well, what I did not anticipate was the early holiday celebration at the first airport!  So one Ativan and two beer later, all is well in the world of aviation!  After a short 45 minute flight to the next airport, subsequent celebration needed to occur so one more beer later (at this point I am starting to understand that perhaps prescription drugs and alcohol do not mix.  Just a hint of understanding however.  No earth shattering revelations at this point!) I am gettin on that plane without a hesitation.  I get seated and promptly fall asleep.  Nice.  This is the bomb...... until I wake up, what feels like three hours later, but is only maybe ten minutes only to find we have not even left the freaking airport yet!  Shitttttt.  It was all I could do not to barf the entire flight.  Of course the adult type people I am with are trying their best to be super helpful by talking to me and trying to distract me (all of which provides me with a difficult situation because if I open my mouth to answer, chances are really high I am going to barf up beer!).  We land, go to the baggage claim area and this is when it hits me - it is way better to pick just one - beer OR Ativan - not both!  Oh dear.  I am, at this point, barely able to function and barely hanging on to the control that is needed to get ones luggage, get in a cab, check into a hotel and all that other crap.  I must have maintained my dignity well enough because the holiday crowd seemed to think I was just tired.  Ha ha jokes on you people.  I was wasted!  (or maybe jokes on me because it was NOT good wasted, it was yucky, not riding this buzz, wasted!) 

 

The flight home I skipped the Ativan AND the beer, still felt like puking the whole time, but made it through.  From now on I will just take my little pill and not tell a soul that I am secretly freaking out.  It has however, since occurred to me that I really am not afraid of flying.  I am afraid of DYING.  So there`s that!

And A Back To High School We Go!

Remember back in high school those people who felt compelled to gossip and make up nasty rumors about other students, presumably to make themselves look better or to feel better about themselves?  Leaving a wreckage of hurt feelings and dismal days for their intended victims?  I believe we called them “catty bitches” be it a guy or a girl.  Now I suppose the school yard name is “bully”.  Well I recently found myself involved in a hornets nest of gossip and lies and I have to say I didn’t see it coming.  Mostly because I was not aware that this behaviour happened outside of the school yard and I thought after one passed 30 this kind of immature behaviour was pretty much behind most people.  Well, not so much.  I stressed out about the lies and gossip for about ten minutes before a good friend inadvertently reminded me that there are so many important things in life to spend my energy on.  That realization brought me back to reality in a hurry.  What is my next move?  Will it be to try to “defend” myself or dispel the lies?  Will it be to launch a counter attack of gossipy lies?  No, No and No.  This girl is taking the proverbial high road.  I will not waste my time trying to undo what has been done because at the end of the day I know that the people who are my real friends know me and know the truth.  Will I lose friends because of these lies?  Probably.  My philosophy is that a good friend will come to you and ask if the rumors are true.  A really good friend will know better.   I will not turn around and say bad things about the Catty Bullies who started this mess and continue to keep it rolling.  Why not launch a fair and reasonable rebuttal?  Because right now, whether they realize it or not, the lies they are spreading and growing are hurting children.  I refuse to take part in any kind of trash fest that will eventually filter down and hurt children.  They deserve better.  I don’t care if it is my child, the Catty Bullies child or anyone else’s – kids have enough bullies to deal with now a days they certainly don’t need to have to deal with adult bullies.  It truly saddens me that this has transpired because the perpetrators were once people I liked and admired and although this has opened my eyes to behaviour I have not seen in so very long, I will not go down that road.  This situation has made me re-evaluate what a friend looks like and definitely made me add a few more lines to that character test of friendship.

I suppose it is important to take away a lesson from every situation be it good or bad.  This was a tough one to see in a positive light so here it is - Lesson learned:  Good friends don’t talk about you behind your back and when situations like this arise it's certainly a good time to evaluate the people you surround yourself with.  

My Inadvertent Yoda

It seems over the last few weeks that I have found my own personal Yoda or unpaid psychologist.  She doesn’t realize it but over the last couple of weeks she has provided guidance and support that only years of personal soul searching and therapy could bring.  It has changed my outlook on some of life's situations.  I do admit that I tease her relentlessly about her inability to say no to people and her desire to help every stray that crosses her path, be it human or animal.  Honestly, that is one of her endearing qualities.  She never says no to someone who needs help and never asks for help herself.  No matter what is going on in her life she is always there for her friends to lend a hand or an ear.  In the same breath she has also taught me that there is always a positive way to look at ones personal struggles.  I consider myself truly blessed that she is a part of my life.

Mrs. Lube? (No! It's not dirty or XXX)

One of the things in life I absolutely despise doing is getting an oil change done on my car.  It's not that I don't love my car or want to take car of it.  The problem lies first in that the minute those greese monkeys at Mr. Lube see a chick pull in they start rubbing their hands together like Donald Trump at a real estate sale.  So I pull in and have been identified as an easy mark right from the get go.  If that's not bad enough I then have to endure the most recent graduate of "the school of upselling".  This entails hearing how my car would benefit from a more expensive oil because "the gaskets in your engine are getting old".  Really buddy, what do I look like Paris Hilton, my gaskets would benefit most if you shut your pie hole and just put a couple a bottles of that nice regular oil in the reservoir and I will be in my merry way.  I had the pleasure this trip of being notified that my engine light was on.  Not shit Shirlock, that sucker has been on for months.  So I politely told the university degree greese monkey that yes, indeed the light is on and when I hooked up the scope to the car it informed me I needed to replace my oh two sensor (nicely spelled don't ya think). Well, Mr. Monkey gave me a look like I just told him my car had a second world war land mine hidden in the trunk and didn't ya know he would be able to get me the part for that.  I said it wasn't a problem, I could pick up the part and do it myself (shout out here to UTube!). Well, he says "the engine can get really hot and we have special heat resistance gloves for that job."  I very politely say "Really! Hot!  Well, how bout I just wait for the engine to cool then?"  University monkey realized right then that I was not a commission earning jackpot and had to suddenly "fix his computer" and pawned my oil change off on the Junior Monkey.  Nice.  So I politely tell poor Junior that I just want a regular ole oil change. I will change my own air filter, cabin filter and go to the nearest auto parts store for that pesky oh two sensor.  Really dudes? Some of us ladies know what a piston and a gasket is.  Seriously! 

This post, as you can imagine, will be filed under the ever growing "If I ruled the world" folder (for future reference of course because you never know when THAT job posting is going to come up!)  My recommendations?  How about a Mrs. Lube?  I will happily help with the start up.  First course: "How to talk to a woman with a little respect Jerk Face!"

Gunfight At The House of Sand And Dirt

Yes you read that right. There's gonna be a show down. A gunslinging, name calling, red neck gun fight. Oh ya baby. It's on! Wait... you probably want to know why?? And with whom? Well let me tell ya a little story (like you could stop me!)...

At around 12:30 pm last night almost our entire family was woken up by a loud, very strange noise coming from above us. I say almost all the family because apparently the youngest money sucker was so tired he slept through the entire ordeal, which in hindsight was probably good because he would have ended up wound up like an eight day clock and would never had gotten back to sleep. Anyway, the old fella hopped outta bed to investigate the noise which sounded shockingly like a pack of angry beasts in our attic thumping, chewing and destroying everything in its wake. I, having heard this noise a few other times, didn't bother getting out of bed. What the heck was I going to do anyway? Fret like a girl? No way baby. Last time this noise happened I called the old boy and he assured me it was a crow on the roof. Well lookey here. Pretty sure the old boy was starting to quickly believe me when I said that had to be a two hundred pound crow to make that racket. So the old boy, deciding against sticking his head through the attic hatch, goes outside with the awake money sucker, who was brandishing a very sinister looking hockey stick as his weapon of choice, to find out what kinda nasty beast is trying to tear our roof apart. I meanwhile stayed put for a bit hoping it was roof, fixer elves because if we didn't need a new roof before this adventure we certainly would now! After not hearing any whistle while you work song I decided to half assed join the fun. I got up and opened the bedroom blind only to see an unidentifiable creature streak below the window at a breakneck speed. All I could think was what the hell was that? Speedy the Possum? I was awake now so I went downstairs to see the old fella with a broken axe handle and a flashlight and the hockey stick wielding ninja boy freaking out because there was a extra large, thanks for leaving your garbage bin open every night, raccoon illuminated by the flashlight. The buggar did not even bother to take off. Just gave them the back ally stare down and dared the two of them to come on up and lets see what you can do with those sticks you have in your hands! Hockey ninja decides to take evasive action and grabs a couple of tennis balls and a lacrosse ball. That should do it. Hockey ninja apparently missed his called as a major league baseball player because he hits the sucker right in the face with a ball! What does the wicked masked roof wrecker do? Gives the two of them a dirty look and proceeds, ever so leisurely, to another section of the roof! Like he pays the mortgage and has every right to be up there! Well the unmasked, bedheaded humans will have nothing of it so they proceed to hit the sucker a few more times with balls (alll the while I am walking from window to window trying to figure out what the hell the two of them are doing). Roof wrecker decides he has had enough of this after being hit in the face three times and makes his way off the roof and lumbers over to the neighbours yard.

After the Coon Warriors got back in the old boy and I had a chuckle about our families weapons of choice. An axe handle, a hockey stick and we figure the other two would have a hockey stick and Xbox games to be used as ninja stars. Oh ya, we are a resourceful bunch over here. My weapon? Of course words would never work on this enemy so I would go with the nearest large object or rocket launcher that I have saved up for the summer time fun.

The next morning the old boy does a roof inspection to see how much damage the little buggar managed to do and I go online to order cammo gear and face paint for the family. You gotta be prepared when going into war.

This Coon does not know what he is asking for trying to turn our attic into his own personal Penthouse. You see we have just spent the last two weeks watching back to back to back to back episodes of Duck Dynasty. We my friends have our red neck on!

Yet Another Road Trip

Yes, I am soon to be embarking on yet another sports related road trip. Why do we get ourselves into these situations? I mean come on– it’s hard enough to find good friends you can travel with let alone a bunch of near strangers! Some years we get lucky and have a pack of really great people to road trip with, other years you end up with every cracker jack in the box. This trip should be interesting, to say the least. There is a group of people attending that will be fun to spend wayyy to much time with. There also is a group of people we could respectfully call “quirky”. One can only hope that, once the bevy’s start flowing, that maturity filters stay in place and the truth remains unspoken, mostly because the truth in this case is ugly. Not showered, wearing yesterdays dirty clothing, ugly.