Strangers in the night, exchanging glances

A few nights ago, I was walking my dog through the neighborhood after dark. I do this most nights and usually see nary a soul. But on this particular night, I was more than a little unnerved to see a lone figure moving slowly toward me. Something about the situation just weirded me out. Maybe it was the fact that I was a lone female, or maybe it was just the way the person was moving so slowly. Almost deliberate.

I attempted to cross the street with the dog and walk opposite this slow-moving person. My dog growled, which caused the shadowy figure to look up and I realized …

This was a person out looking for Pokemon.

They had no interest in trying to jump me or anything sketchy.

They were simply in pursuit of catching ’em all.

I felt much better after that.


Intro to the Women’s Restroom

I thought that since the women’s restroom has been a hot topic in the news lately, I would provide any newcomers to the ladies loo a quick synopsis of what to expect.

Overall, women are just as gross as men. You wouldn’t think so, but the inside of the little girls’ room is just as nasty as the place where the dudes go. Sure, sometimes we have mouthwash, little mints, nice-smelling lotion, and every once in a blue moon, sometimes for no apparent reason, there’s a restroom attendant inside who does useless things like hand us a paper towel when we are fully capable of doing it ourselves and then for some reason expects a tip for such a useless thing.

Some fancy ladies rooms have these sitting rooms when you first walk in the door. There’s usually some kind of lounge chairs inside, looking somewhat comfy and inviting. Perhaps there is a ficus or some other large-leafed, tropical plant. There might be a table with an upholstered chair, suggesting that you come fix your makeup there. Back in the day, a golden ashtray stood nearby. Ladies probably used to congregate in here, smoking cigarettes from those fancy cigarette holders. They probably wore silk gloves. Last time I checked, no one does that anymore, unless it’s Halloween or ComiCon.

Nowadays, those lounge chairs look out of place. Why would I want to stay here longer than I need to? The only thing I’m doing in here is taking care of a bodily function and maybe making sure my dress isn’t tucked into the back of my underwear before I leave. If I want to lounge, I’ll put on some yoga pants and do it at home.

Your typical ladies room has none of those frills, however. If we’re lucky, we have a tampon machine. I’ve never personally had to use the machine, but I have to imagine that what’s inside would be made of chunks of fiberglass and cardboard. You’re welcome for that little visual.

So picture your typical mens room, minus the urinals, plus the tampon machine, and perhaps minus a few pee stains on the floor. That’s one thing I’ll say about the ladies – we usually make it in the toilet.

But …

I’m not kidding. It’s gross in there.

Take, for instance, the restroom at my office. It never fails to surprise me how my fellow ladies are total pigs and don’t clean up after themselves. One thing that drives me nuts is the sink. There is guaranteed to be a huge puddle of water covering the surface of the sink. I really don’t know why or how this happens. But I always grab a huge wad of paper towels and soak up as much of it as I possibly can. Of course, the next time I’m in the restroom, the sink is right back to being waterlogged. If I fail to wipe off all the water, inevitably, I lean against the sink and get a nice waterline right near the crotch of my pants which ends up looking like I had some kind of pee accident.

So here’s something I never understood. If someone forgets to flush the toilet, and you’re the next person to walk into the stall, WHY don’t you just flush it? What is going to happen to you? Lots of women will see an unflushed toilet and make a hasty retreat to the next stall over. What’s the big deal? If it bothers you that much, then just take care of it. People make mistakes and forget to flush sometimes. I’ll just flush it. Unless it’s overflowing, which sometimes it is, I don’t feel violated by flushing down someone else’s pee and TP. I consider it a public service.

Paper towels are a problem. If you miss the trash can, can’t you bend down and pick up your paper towel? Apparently some ladies in my office cannot. I get that you might not want to touch the floor. But there are sinks and soap just steps away! That is just pure laziness.

I don’t care if you don’t clean your bathroom at home on the regular. That’s your business. But when you’re at your place of employment, some protocol should be in play.

Anyway, my point in divulging all this is to say that I really don’t care who is using the restroom with me, as long as they aren’t a pig and can clean up after themselves.

Pinterest makes me feel like shit about myself

I have lost interest in Pinterest. Truth be told, I never really understood what all the fuss was about. I had friends who were just all “Pinterest is the BEST THING EVER” and spent hours, literally hours, combing the site for the top 10 kid’s crafts made from fingernail clippings and how to upcycle old melon rinds into a stunning chandelier.

Women were joining in droves and starting to pin their little hearts out. It became yet one more venue for me to feel inadequate as a parent. It’s bad enough I have to see all the perfect little families of my high school friends who are so #blessed with their annoying little asshole kids on Facebook. Now I have Pinterest to thank for the fact that these same people make heart-shaped sandwiches to pack in their little shitheads’ lunches whereas my deprived little ones are buying because I didn’t have time to go to the store and get lunch meat.

I’m not saying I was never into it. When it first was a thing, I’d be on there checking out what my friends were pinning. I tried the mason jar candle thing when that was big. I’ve done some things with Mod Podge. I didn’t even know what Mod Podge was before Pinterest.

Now it’s just a barren wasteland where all I see is sponsored content. Once again the marketers have ruined everything. (I’m in marketing, so I can say that.)

The worst? I personally hold Pinterest responsible for the fact that I now have to hide a friggin’ felt Elf doll for 24 days in a row – often after I’ve started to drift off to sleep, where I awake in a cold sweat, remembering that Cookie – its goddamn name is Cookie – is still in the same lame spot I put him in the night before. People have a lot of time on their hands if they can create a skating rink for their Elf, or knit it a goddamn scarf. My Elf moved from the basement to the kitchen and back to the basement, occasionally doing shit like drawing a Minion face on a banana – thank you Pinterest – because I didn’t have time for this other nonsense. Who are you parents that do? Three words: get a job. Don’t get me started on the Elf. It has caused me more pain and suffering than I care to discuss.

Back to Pinterest.

You know the #nailedit hashtag? Where people post the shit they tried to bake based on recipes they found online? THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. There’s no way I can make a tye-die cookie look like your fucking blog post. I shouldn’t even try. Or pancakes shaped like stuff. My pancakes will be shaped like blobs, and they will taste delicious, TYVM.

I just start to feel like a failure when I see some of this stuff. I should be able to follow simple instructions. And yet, some of the projects I have attempted off Pinterest look like my cat put them together. (Note to self: look up “crafts for cats” on Pinterest because I’m sure they  exist. I can make my cats feel inadequate as well.)

Can we all just go back to when we traced our hand and made a turkey and called it a Thanksgiving? Or when we linked strips of paper together for a Christmas garland? I’m not going to strand together popcorn or glaze it with glitter. Can I just buy Halloween decorations at the store?

I come away from Pinterest completely depressed. I’m depriving my kids of holiday joy by not coming up with some over-the-top craft/recipe/gift wrap. Listen. I can barely dress myself in the morning. I bake cookies from a roll of dough. I hate my crock pot and everything made in it. I don’t believe in casserole for breakfast. If I want a fancy pizza I will order it. I don’t want to know any uses for kale, let alone 25.

That being said, while scrolling through Pinterest to find things to hate on for this post, I pinned like six things that I legit want to do.



I’m a little late to this party, but …

You guys. I think I have a problem.

Like, a legitimate problem.

It all started a few weeks ago when I was at Target, and decided to stop at the Bucks on the way out for my  usual chai tea latte. However, I got a notion in my brain for mocha. It just sounded good. I’m not usually a coffee drinker, but when it’s loaded down with sugar then it’s tolerable.

The mocha was decent. Not the best I’ve had in my life, but ok.

Well then a couple days go by, and I passed a Starbucks while driving who knows where, it could have been anywhere, because hello, it’s freaking Starbucks. And I thought, man, I could go for another mocha. So I stopped and got one.

A couple days later, the craving hit me again. I actually planned my errands around the closest Starbucks so I could stop and get a mocha.

It’s been happening all the time now. I think about Starbucks several times a day and try to plan when I can get my next fix.

You can’t tell me they don’t lace their coffee with something addicting. Because I’m completely hooked. I even get second-rate mochas at local coffee shops when there isn’t a Bucks in a good radius of where I am. It’s a serious issue – I could possibly be facing bankruptcy if this continues down this path.

Please help.