2008 September

Driving Without Coffee

September 24, 2008 By Mo Leave a Comment

I’m not a morning person. Never have been. Never will be. My husband’s favorite saying is that I am “the most wonderful woman in the world. After 10 a.m.” I’m okay with that. It’s true. I’m not (usually) mean. Just don’t talk to me. Let me ease into things. I need time to wake up and embrace the day.

But I cope. I manage to (sort of) function.

Some mornings, though, really test my patience. Take this morning for example.

First of all, I was wide awake at 5:19 a.m. For no reason. That’s a good 90 minutes before I actually needed to be up. I’ve been deep-down-to-the-bones exhausted lately, so even walking up one minute before my alarm goes off pisses me off. I tried to go back to sleep, but I finally gave up at 6:00 and started to get ready.

Ninety minutes of sleep lost. This put me at a deficit for my daily coping skills.

I finally manage to get out of the house (everything moved s-l-o-w-l-y this morning) and went on my way to Starbucks. I was at the corner of our street waiting to pull out but I had to wait for the Suburban that, upon seeing me, slowed down to about 1.2 mph. She was close enough that if I pulled out in front of her I’d be a bitch but just slow enough that I had to wait for what felt like an eternity.

About 16 hours later (really, it was like 5 minutes) I pulled into to the Starbucks parking lot and could feel the tension leaving my shoulders in anticipation of my morning Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte (add a shot today, please). (Picture angels singing!) While I was in line, a woman walked in behind me with the most shrill voice I’ve ever heard (imagine injured cats screwing), practically SCREAMING into her cell phone because she wasn’t sure she was shrill enough. Now, I don’t expect my coffee house to be as silent at a freakin’ library in the morning, but there should be RULES. Rules like Don’t Stand Behind Me And Scream Into Your Cell Phone About Your Fucking Bladder Infection. Especially when I HAVEN’T HAD MY COFFEE YET.

Another rule should be, don’t interfere with me trying to order my coffee. That bladder-infection-having-caterwauling yowler was talking so loud that the barista asked me to repeat my order four times. Up until then I had managed to control every fiber of my being to stop myself from ripping the phone out of her hand, shoving it down her throat and throwing her through the plate glass window. (I’m really NOT violent. I swear.) But, coffee-less and thus powerless, I couldn’t stop myself from turning around and politely asking her to take her entirely too personal phone call outside so the barista could hear well enough to take my order. (I don’t think it came out as, “Would you shut the fuck up!”) At this, she tells the poor person on the other end of the phone that she had to go, snapped her phone shut, rolls her eyes and lets out a big fat sigh. Really? Was it really too much to ask of you to keep your dirty little details to yourself??

Fortunately, they know me in there, got my drink made quickly and I was on my way.

I got situated in my car and started to put it in reverse and made one last check before backing out. Thank God I did. There were two totally clueless women standing 2 inches off the back of my bumper yammering away, not paying attention to shit. I tried to be polite and give them a minute, but they had no intention of moving. I tapped on my horn to get their attention and they didn’t even look. At this point, I feel it’s fair game to back up and nudge them with my bumper, don’t you? But I didn’t. Mostly because I don’t want my insurance to go up. I did get out of the car, and asked if they wouldn’t mind moving their conversation to the sidewalk. Both sighed, rolled their eyes at each other and moved.

Now, I know I’m not a morning person. I know I hadn’t had enough coffee yet, but really…Am I unreasonable?

Filed Under: A Caffeinated Mo Is A Happy Mo, I'm cranky, Premature Ejacublogging®, Rude

More Torturous Than Waterboarding

September 22, 2008 By Mo Leave a Comment

My office mate brings in her dog every day. He’s a sweet little boy and I adore him, and getting down on the floor and playing a game of fetch is a great way to break even the most stressful day.

But today? Not so much.

He is licking the hell out of his paws right now and it’s like Chinese Water Torture.

Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick. Lick, lick, lick.

Get the idea? Now you know how I feel.

Filed Under: Apropos of Absolutely Nothing, Pets, Premature Ejacublogging®

Repair and Maintenance

September 21, 2008 By Mo Leave a Comment

In this economy everything seems to cost more. And a buck doesn’t go nearly as far as it used to. It’s harder to maintain.

And these days it seems like it costs more to maintain me. And I don’t mean that in a kept woman kind of way. I mean in a keeping things operational kind of way. Think of it as preventive maintenance.

Yesterday afternoon I hit the beauty supply store to get a few essentials to keep me functional—shampoo, hairspray, nail polish—and walked out there $100 poorer. When I got back I told Lesley how much I spent, and she laughed and told me she dropped $101 at Sephora.

I’ve always been a bit of a beauty junkie. I used to routinely blow my allowance (and later, large portions of my paycheck) on mascara, eyeshadow, nail polish, hair color, perms (God, the perms!) you name it. I loved it. I loved creating different looks every day. My parents were not so thrilled with some of them—pink hair? one side of my hair shaved? They thought it was best to ignore it with the hopes that it would change. It did.

I went through a bigger-is-better phase—bigger hair (I worked hours to cultivate the perfect teased bangs), lots of makeup! Long, talon-like nails. To quote Dolly Parton: “It takes a lot of money to look this cheap.” These days I go for a more subtle look, but it seems to take an awful lot of money to achieve that fresh, effortless low-maintenance look (which is anything but low maintenance). I need an “age defying” foundation with moisturizers and collagen. I’m finding that the one I use is more suited to 18-year-olds and drag queens. I’m neither. The feather-light powder I top it with doesn’t come cheap. And neither do the brushes I use to apply all this spackle.

When I was younger, I’d bake in the sun for hours without any regard for the damage it would do later. I knew that Wesson Oil would do in a pinch if I ran out of Ban de Soleil but I didn’t know what kind of havoc it would wreak on my face years later. It wasn’t until about 6 years ago, that I really started to take care of my face. I got lucky, there’s not much damage yet. The wrinkles are minimal and I don’t have sun spots, but now I feel like I’m making up for lost time. There’s the Clinique eye cream, the neck cream, the moisturizer. And that’s just for day. At night, I apply two other products that cost more than a good pair of shoes. Bill hates it because the smell makes him think of Ben-Gay. Some of it is preventative; some of it is full-on repair work to fix things like the turkey neck from burning in tanning beds (what do you mean it’s not safer than the sun?).

Slather, bake and turn

I won’t tell you what I spend to cut and highlight my hair. Haircuts every four weeks; highlights every eight. Then there’s the shampoo, styling products, styling tools (blowdryer, straightening iron) brushes. My four-year-old granddaughter was sitting watching me get ready one day, and when I was FINALLY done she proclaimed, “Mo-Mo! You’re kinda high maintenance.” Sigh, yes, baby, I know.

I don’t think I obsess, but I’m definitely more aware of what I look like. I’m more self-confident than I was during the years of pink hair and sun tan oil. Now it’s less of trying to find my identity and more about refining who I am.

I haven’t done Botox or fillers, and nothing is cosmetically enhanced. Which isn’t to say I won’t consider it at some point. I’m hoping this regular cash outlay prevents me from feeling like I have to do that at some point. I’m trying to avoid a full remodel. I would prefer not to have to gut the structure and start from scratch. It’s easier to slap on a coat of paint.

I’m curious if I’m alone in this, or if anyone else finds themselves throwing money at beauty products, trying to refurbish the real estate to keep the value. (I know, too many home remodeling metaphors.)