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Monday, November 7, 2011

Say What?

Friends. We all have them. We all want them. We all have at least one imposter in our circles. As someone who is soon authoring an article on the multiple facets of etiquette, perhaps I am overly observant...perhaps I am overly sensitive...perhaps I am surrounded by an overabundance of imposters. It seems that people around me have a knack for saying the most egregious of things either to me or in my presence. Am I crazy? You be the judge. Below you will find 3 of the most recent conversations among "friends" of mine.

Situation 1- I am speaking to someone about making a work arrangement that may be beneficial to both her and me (more her, but that's neither here nor there). I say to her "Is this something that you would want to do?" Her response- "Maria, I think I could be the bigger person in this situation and do it."

Analysis- Hmmmm. I'm sorry, but saying that you are the bigger person technically makes you the smaller person, by definition. (sigh)


Situation 2- Someone is telling me that they recently went back to their home town and visited with friends. After coming to the conclusion that she wants to pursue a PhD, she says to me "And then I realized...I looked around at these people and thought to myself...I'm better than you. I'm way smarter than you. And I laughed."

Analysis- Say whaaaaaat? Who says that? I had no idea that the acquisition of a PhD makes one better than all of their non-PhD pursuing "friends." Besides, why on Earth, even if you were thinking those demented thoughts, would you ever say that to ME? I also do not possess a PhD.


Situation 3 (the last one because writing these is making me lose faith in the world)- Someone and myself are gathering shared clothing and sorting out whose is whose. Harmless, right? Wrong. She pulls out a coat and says "This one MUST be yours. It smells awful." It should be said that she then kept right on talking about previous things and light-hearted topics as if nothing had been said.

Analysis- Excuse me? I was so stunned by her statement, that no response actually came out. Where do I even begin? I guess I could start by pointing out the fact that the garment in question was actually hers...which I politely did NOT mention...because that would be rude.


What do all of these situations have in common? Udder sadness, people. Udder sadness....

As any good researcher, I will now leave you with practical tips for future protocol:

1) If you call a business and desire their services, please do not tell them that the only reason you are calling is because someone else turned you down or was booked. Nobody likes to be 2nd choice.

2) If you see someone in a lab coat, please refrain from telling them your doctor horror stories or that you went to the bathroom to find your guts sitting in the toilet. Also, please fight the urge to ask them crazy questions like "You a coochie doctor?" or "Do you want to see the crust under my breast?" Not all who wear lab coats are doctors, and not all doctors want to hear such ridiculousness.

3) Social filters are a good thing. Please pick one up if you were not fortunate enough to be born with one...or lost it on the bus in grade school.

4) If I introduce myself to you as Maria, please do not reply with "I once knew a Mexican when I was in school" or "Do you speak Hispanic?" Neither are appropriate.

Remember folks, every conversation needs a hero. Be the hero, not the slimy villain.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Neo Was....

If life is like a box of chocolates, then a pet's death is like the chicken pox....let me explain. I have never before experienced the loss of a significant pet. Hampsters, fish, and a stray cat, but never a pet that I had grown attached to or was responsible for. I believe that this has seriously hindered me as an adult. Similar to chicken pox, I think that the older you are when you go through losing a great pet, the worse it is. Right now, I have a severe case of "Neo pox." Friday afternoon, Kevin, Nala, and I said goodbye to our beloved boy, Neo. He went peacefully and surrounded by those who care deeply for him. He was a victim of cancer. He was 8 years old. He was our first baby...But he was so much more than that too. Neo was:


Always smiling



Cuddly


Bashful


Daddy's buddy


not a fan of scary movies


Photogenic


never enthused about taking a bath


Well read


Refined


Playful

Always ready for a party


An expert napper


Good at making himself comfy wherever he was


a great pillow

loved


a good TV buddy


trendy...oooh look at that Snuggie!


rewarding..."good job finding that Geocache, Debbie!"


Obedient (not really, but this picture could fool anyone)


Part of our family


a great exercise partner


An expert gift opener


Guardian of the yard (look out squirrels & opossums)


A very good brother to Nala


Always curious


Obsessed with tennis balls, cookies, and wrapping paper (so put them together and watch out!)


the only dog I knew who needed to wear pajamas to bed


Adorable


.......our good boy.