But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple....
("Warning--When I Am An Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple", by Jenny Joseph)*
Things I Do Which Blaine Claims Drives Him Insane(or: Things I Do Which I Think Are Perfectly Fine But Other People Don't Think So But I Don't Give a Dang What They Think)*1. Blaine claims that I frequently "embarrasshim" at Walmart. Well, what the hell. Okay, so once when we were shopping there he made a rude comment about me "not having a brain" -- and in reply I energetically burst out singing the Wizard of Oz Scarecrow Song "If I Only Had a Brain" while merrily dancing down the middle of the canned foods aisle. (And let me add here that I did get applause.) He also doesn't like it when I sometimes make exuberant declarations which nearby Walmart shoppers can hear, like "For God's sakes, Blaine, why should we spend a fortune on brand-name cat food when the stupid cats aren't even GRATEFUL?" But, truly, I think his complaint is completely invalid because there are times when Blaine creates a scene himself by farting loudly and then exclaiming: "Bo!" --- like it was me who farted, which usually results in both of us dissolving into waves of mad giggling to the stares of nearby shoppers. *2. Blaine complains that I talk to myself.... all the time.Okay, they say that talking to yourself is okay just as long as you don't "answer yourself". But I will admit here that I not only answer myself, but I hold debates with myself, argue with myself, plead with myself, bargain with myself--- and sometimes hold a round table discussion group among several of my selves. And well....like the other day. I may have been spotted on the makeup aisle in CVS Drugstore having a discussion with myself about the benefits of a new Covergirl foundation. I was debating the fact that their new foundation contains Oil of Olay Regenerist face cream, but their other foundation is much less expensive. However, I argued with myself, I needed to figure in the fact that I had a $2 off coupon for the expensive foundation---and that Blaine was going to get $3 off our total bill because he had accumulated store points with the use of his CVS "store card"--- which would mean that I could get the expensive foundation for $13.99 minus $2.00, minus another $3.00 --- which comes to a grand total of........and then Blaine spied me and rudely exclaimed: "What in the HOLY HANNAH are you talking to yourself about NOW?"(Once I pretended to be talking to a potted plant when my therapist, Fred, came to retrieve me for our appointment. The utter mortification on his face was totally worth whatever crap he subsequently scribbled about me on his ever-present little notepad.....)*3. Blaine says my habit of talking "at" the television irritates him. But I can't help it---things just burst out of me, you know? Like if we're watching the Nancy Grace show and it shows some heinous criminal denying everything, I might blurt out "Wait till the jury sees what's on your computer's hard drive, you MURDERER! " Or, like when I see yet another fast-talking infomercial host talking about how some kitchen product only costs $19.99--- and then he adds that you can get a second appliance for free if you call "in the next ten minutes" --- I might holler out at the TV: "Do you think I'm stupid? It's not really 'free' if you jack up the 'shipping & handling' charges to TWICE the actual worth of the thing!"(Which they do, you know?) And about those ads which promise something if you "call in the next ten minutes" --- if I see one of those ads I might call their 800 phone number and ask: "Okay, did I make the ten-minute deadline?" And when the person replies with a yes, I'll blurt: "WRONG! You're lying! I waited a full 18 minutes to call! So if you guys are lying about the ten-minute thing, then why should I believe anything else you say about this product?" while Blaine rolls his eyes... Or else when I'm watching "Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares" I might tell the restaurant owner on the screen to just "hush up and make the meatballs like Gordon says or your stupid restaurant is going to go bankrupt and your mother will be out on the street". Blaine will invariably sigh and ask "Why do you talk to the people on the damn TV when you know they can't hear you?"(I don't know. But I do know that a TV doesn't talk back.)*4. Blaine thinks it's "cruel" that I torment telemarketers or creditors who call our home. The minute an annoying telemarketer asks for myself or Blaine, I quiz them with: "Are you a telemarketer or creditor?" and then listen to them squirm while making excuses. Or else I'll say: "You just pronounced my last name wrong---and unless you pronounce it correctly I'm going to hang up on you." And then I'll laugh maniacally and say: "Nice try, but NO CIGAR, stoogerino!" each time they make another fruitless attempt to pronounce it correctly. Another time I might feign timidity while fearfully asking: "Um...who is calling, please?" And then when the caller repeats themself, I'll suddenly SCREAM at the top of my lungs something like "DAMMIT, I ASKED YOU WHO THE HELL YOU ARE!" and then laugh like a hyena. (But my favorite is when I'll ask in a friendly tone: "Could you hold on a second?" and then put the phone down.... for several hours.) *5. Blaine thinks it's ridiculous that I send "complaint" emails to companies who irritate me. Okay, so I sent one to Quizno's Subway Sandwiches because I object to their current TV ads where a sandwich oven is talking to the cook in an erotic tone, referring to how they "both enjoyed" some prior physical event (upon which statement the cook looks down at his private area)---and then the oven demands that the sandwich cook "put the torpedo-shaped sandwich in him". And then, additionally,the oven instructs the cook to repeat the cost of the torpedo-shaped sandwich in a "sexy manner".For all that is holy, spare me this sordid type of advertising!! I'm sorry, but I think that a sandwich oven lewdly begging to have a torpedo-shaped sandwich "put into him" is a disgusting method of advertising. Give me a break! What if children hear that? Call me a prude, but I think this commercial is just outright SANDWICH PORNOGRAPHY. Because what happens if the poor cook refuses to be goaded into participation in such sexual activities? Would he then be discriminated against for his refusal? Would he be retaliated against by the "good ole ovens network"? I believe that this ad sexually objectifies sandwich cooks. And thus, I think that victimized Quizno's sandwich cooks have every right to sue for sexual sandwich discrimination.*6. Blaine complains that I like to buy "tacky", useless souvenirs whenever we're traveling. So what if I like the typical "souveniry" stuff that you find in any airport, beach shop, or cruise ship dock? What's wrong with that?(Is 'souveniry' a word?) It happens every time Blaine and I go on vacation. He'll be in a hoity-toity shop buying some elegant Battenburg lace napkins or crystal candlesticks --- and I'll be outside on the curb bartering with a wizened old street vendor for a sugar bowl shaped like a big smiling lobster--- with matching salt and pepper shakers shaped like the lobster's claws.*7. Blaine says I have too soft of a heart and tip too much at restaurants and the beauty parlor. Hey, those poor waiters and waitresses work their butts off for minuscule wages and so I feel sorry for them. And absolutely NOBODY in this entire town but Shirley knows how to cut my hair. She's the only hair stylist in Kansas who knows what the "FarrahFawcetthaircut" is.(And I'm so very weary of teeny-bopper hair stylists who reply: "Don't you mean 'The Rachel'?" )*8. Blaine thinks it's wacky that I believe in angels--- and that they are hanging around nearby. But seriously, haven't you ever wondered what in the hell your stupid cats are looking at that YOU CAN'T SEE? My cats are constantly looking at "something" in the air over me--- and their eyes follow it all around the ceiling of whichever room I'm in---and it drives me crazy that I can't see whatever the hell they're seeing. Because I'm telling you, they're definitely seeing something. Call me crazy, but I'm convinced there's SOMEBODY there.....and I have been told that it is angels. And so I choose to believe that it IS angels. (Who else would it be?)*9. Blaine thinks I'm crazy for making remarks to the above-mentioned angels. It just irks Blaine no end when I say to an invisible angel: "Hey--you there! Don't go telling The Lord that I covet our neighbor's new Rav4 Sport Edition with 4-wheel drive. My damn Jeep is shot to hell. And oh yeah--- please also don't tell The Lord that we never go to church..." Blaine will always roll his eyes and sigh, while remarking something like: "I don't think the Lord needs a silly angel to tattle on you---He can see what you're doing His-own-dang-Self!" And then I reply right back: "Hey, it says right there in the dadgum Bible that angels are MESSENGERS, Blaine --- MESSENGERS!"*10. Blaine doesn't appreciate my oft-used habit of heavy sarcasm. For example, once, after tiring of Blaine's endless sophmoric attempts to amuse himself with loud farting, I thought I had devised a way to embarrass him. And so the next time he made a really loud and long fart-- and then looked at me with his usual idiotic proud expression--- I put on a bored expression and wordlessly held up an Olympic Games "score card" on which was written a shameful score of "2.5" . (But my tactic failed miserably when Blaine calmly retorted: "Oh, I think that one merited at least a '6'...." ) *11. Blaine thinks it's stupid that I ridicule TV commercials for not being more "honest" about what they're really trying to say. I mean, for God's sakes, don't you get tired of those Activia yogurt commercials where Jamie Lee Curtis claims that the yogurt helps her "sluggish digestion"? Just once I'd like to hear her say: "This yogurt helps me poop better".*12. Blaine says some of my pranks are "moldy oldies". Okay, I admit it--- whenever a hapless pharmacist asks on the microphone at the Walgreen's Pharmacy drive- thru window "Can I help you?" --- I nearly always reply with "Pardon me, but do you have any GreyPoupon?" (The other times I might reply with: "Uh..yeah... I'd like two Big Macs, a medium fries....um... and a cheeseburger Happy Meal with a female toy, two apple pies, and a Diet Coke. Thanks.") )One time a sassy pharmacist replied with: "We have Pepsi, not Coke"...*13. Blaine claims that living with me is resulting in his being "color brainwashed", due to my love of knitting with bizarre, psychedelic color combinations. When I modeled the just-completed Mystery Project (which he had previously ridiculed as looking like "Mrs. Bozo's Jacket") he was extremely surprised to find that he truly liked it---but then he just as quickly exclaimed: "Oh,geez--- either I'm starting to actually like your weird stuff..... or I'm just as crazy as you are!"(I have NEVER claimed to be sane....but I do take offense at the words "weird stuff"...)*14. Blaine thinks it's ridiculous that I enter what he calls "dumb contests". Okay, BIG DEAL---so I entered the "Design Your OwnDunkin' Doughnut" contest. I defy anybody to come up with a more delicious and attractive bar-shaped doughnut than my "Bo's Kansas Cornfield Silo".* 15. Blaine doesn't appreciate some of my frequent practical jokes. Okay, so one time I replaced the "wallpaper" screen on Blaine's computer with a photo I had taken of him bending over, revealing a large portion of his...um.... buttocks area. But if you could have seen the mortified expression on his face as he watched his derriere appear on the screen-- HEH! ---it totally cracked me up. (Get it? Cracked me up? Get it?)(....I guess you had to be there...) *