The Adjustment Bureau: Real Life Edition

Lauren and I went to see The Adjustment Bureau today, which is a pretty good movie even though it was supposed to come out like 15 times before they actually released it on Friday. And even though they make it out like a suspense thriller it's really more about being in love and people meddling in your business. So as Lauren and I were driving home from the theatre we started talking about meddlers and it was like LIGHTBULB. Time to blog.

So I pose a question. Why do people who are married or in long term relationships feel the need to ask you if you're in one, why you aren't in one or if there is anyone you are interested in? It's really stressful. I mean I'm not in a relationship so I have to say, "no." The problem is if you say that then more questions are asked of you that you can't possibly answer without coming across looking like A) a bitch B) pathetic C) desperate D) apathetic or E) all of the above. I don't know if it something biologic that just turns on once you find your person, this need to see if others have found a person, but it always feels like you're getting the third degree only to be judged later as to why you haven't managed to find someone. And then if people see a single person spending more than five minutes with someone else they start asking things like, "what's going on?" I don't even know how I answer that question. If you can't tell what's going on then the two people in question probably don't know either. And why are we even having this conversation? Didn't Mark Zuckerberg fix this all for us? It's called the Facebook relationship status. Check it out some time. If your answer isn't there then you can move on with your life. Nothing's official for you to concern yourself with. Speaking for myself if I find myself in a relationship I will send out a damn press release to confirm the relationship status if need be. I won't leave you high and dry and resorting to asking me awkward, leading questions.

I know it's been a long time since I've been in a functional relationship. Wait. Have I ever been in a functional relationship? Maybe I should be writing a blog about that. Anyways, the point is I don't remember becoming more nosey about other people's love lives when I had one of my own. However you look at it there are very few questions that can ruin your day more quickly then someone asking why you aren't in a relationship. Don't you think if I knew I would have fixed it? My life goal is not to be a hermit. Though the questions makes me think you are worried I am headed in that direction. I get frustrated thinking about it. So really, the moral of this story is to back off single people. We need some compassion (but just not from your brother, the guy you met last week, your bartender or anyone else you've been trying to use to set us up and make us feel better). Okay? We thank you.

"I've really mastered how to scroll" and Other Things That Have Tried My Patience

So people have been harassing me about returning to the blog. It got to the point where I was feeling judged, ridiculed and forming a complex. So I'm back! And before I get started I think I need to make a shout out for the Green and Yellow for two reasons. First because my theory of cheering for the team with the cute quarterback worked and secondly for the Cheeseheads in Wisconsin who I don't know, but they read my blog and it makes me happy. And super bowl commercials? Kind of not awesome, except of course for this one.

Where to begin, where to begin? Oh, I know. Valentine's Day. You suck! If Cupid was one of my patients and he was on dialysis and I had to dose his vanco I would let him die. I wouldn't even try to figure out the equations. I would steal his little arrows and break them over my knee. I should have known this was how I was going to feel when the first Valentine's Day themed commercial I saw this year was for KY Jelly. Is this serious? I despise those commercials. I do not want to imagine what anyone is doing with KY and I sure as hell don't need a 5 second clip of fireworks to explain to me how they are feeling. G-r-o-s-s. Why does KY even advertise? Never mind, I can't even think about this anymore. Waste of my energy.

Next topic. My father. The Droid. One week ago my father had a simple flip phone. He did not know my phone was called an iPhone. We were all living in a state of ignorant bliss. But then something terrible happened. He got the crazy idea that having internet on his phone could be useful. So he just went and bought a Droid. Just up and bought it. And he preceded to call me on it. He wanted to make sure I knew he had, "really mastered how to scroll." Congrats Dad, you've passed kindergarden. Wait, who I am I kidding? You passed being two. I want to say welcome to 2011, but scroll. Really? Welcome to 1997. While fine tuning his scrolling skills he also mastered the fine art of making phone calls when you actually think you are texting. I wonder if there is an app for that? And when he finally broke down and asked for help he ended up mumbling about how they just assume this stuff is "intuitive." As Phil Dunphy would sing, "the snowflake button makes it cold, cold, cold..." And a caveat to that, if you aren't watching Modern Family then you SERIOUSLY need to reconsider some of your life decisions.

Last month I got to basically live the dream and go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. I won't bore you with the specifics, but essentially. The. Bomb. But let me tell you what was not the bomb. The way people dress. When I was young my mother taught me a basic concept. You can't wear a dress and play on the monkey bars. This applies to theme parks. Just pretend the roller coaster is a big set of monkey bars. Embrace it. And don't let your children stray. I can not count the amount of times I saw a small child running around with no supervising adult close by. This is not your backyard. There are HUNDREDS of people lurking around. It may be the "Happiest Place on Earth," but guess what kind of sketchy people that can attract? People who like to steal children, that's who. Ugh. Then I feel responsible for making sure I have my eyes peeled for creepers and then my day becomes stressful. So basically if you have a kid, just get it together and watch them when you are at a crowded theme park, okay?

Okay. Those were my recent frustrations. I have tried to lighten them by adding links to YouTube videos all over the place. It's tacky, but just watch them. It was suggested that I talk about dating in this blog. That would first mean I have to understand dating. I don't. But I'll put some thought into it. I'm sure I will be just frustrated enough on February 14th to muster up the energy to dedicate a blog to all the annoying things about dating. Until then meet my Valentine and ignore his current cocaine possession charges.

As always, thanks for reading the rambles. :)

Little Drummer (I Mean Trumpet) Boy

So in the name of full disclosure I have to say that I shamelessly enjoy finding out who's been looking at my blog. This is why I've added the little app to your right which attempts (poorly) to tell me where people are viewing my blog from. So, first the state of Wisconsin is blowing up my blog, so I'd love to know who this person is because I'm excited. In addition someone in Sweden looked at my blog and I was thrilled. I've gone global! But then I did a little bit of research and it turns out Swedish perv had Googled "underage in underwear" and it brought him/her to my similarly titled "Underage and Underwear" blog post. G-r-o-s-s. Maybe while on my site he/she should have read the creeper post.

Now for the real reason for this post. Some of you who know me may have heard me complain about the the kid who lives in the neighborhood behind me. For the first two years that I lived here this kid would go out in his backyard and play half rate renditions of TERRIBLE Christmas songs. This would last for three months. Literally. There would be a few days when he would stop and I would think, "Finally! His parents have suggested he try his hand at something else. Bless their hearts," but then he would start it back up. I could never see him because my view of backyard was occluded by trees, but I always pictured him as this adorable little third grader with glasses who's life goal is to march with his high school band in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. So I gave him a pass. I'll listen to his pathetic version of "Deck the Halls" in order to support his dreams and give his parents a break from him playing in his bedroom. I've been so busy hating school this season that I hadn't even noticed the fact that no windows had broken and no dogs had been rendered deaf due to his inability to play. A Christmas miracle! So this morning as I enjoy not having to wake up for an 8 a.m. class I am thrown out of p-e-r-f-e-c-t slumber by what sounds like someone hitting a hammer to 4x4 OVER and OVER. Shoot me. So at 2:30 this ruckus is still going on. I got outside to see where this business is coming from. And wouldn't you believe. Trumpet boy and his hooligan friends are in the back yard literally just hitting a block of wood with a sledgehammer. What the hell? You have got to be kidding me?! And jerk isn't even in third grade. He's like 14! Where the hell are his parents and why do they think it's acceptable? He'll probably never get to play in the Macy's parade and I don't even care anymore. I hope he gets coals for Christmas.

As a side note, today I read an article about a UGA Ph.D student who started a blog about unnecessary quotation marks. To me this sounds like an unnecessary blog, but whatever. Somehow, someone at the New York Times saw her blog, thought it was quality and wrote about it. Now she has a book deal. All because she wrote about quotations. I've written about creepers and blood splatter and underwear and even Comic Sans. So the point I'm trying to make here is READ MY BLOG New York Times!

Also, I may or may not have watched Pretty Woman two times yesterday and I can never get enough of her going back to the snot of a lady and standing up for herself.

NEWS FLASH: Grey's Anatomy is NOT Looking for Actors at Your Local Wally World

This is all about not dressing like an idiot in your medical gear when you go to the store/out into the regular public. Before anyone tries to give me any grief I would like to fist say that I understand wearing scrubs to school, the grocery store, etc if you are coming straight from work or going straight to work. With that disclaimer out of the way let me share a tale with you so you understand exactly how this topic began to unnerve me more than usual.

The mom, the sister and myself were shopping at our local Wal-Mart; this is probably a good time to tell me that whatever story follows this sentence occurred because we choose to go to Wal-Mart. Rest assured, I knew what I was getting into. Also, I just used a semicolon bitches! Anyways, I'm walking and I look to my right and I see a dude in scrubs, but something here is off. What you ask? The fact that the left, bottom portion of his scrub pant leg is covered in blood splatter. Yes, blood splatter. At first I thought, maybe this is a left over Halloween costume? But no. Halloween blood is red, fire engine red. Real, dried blood is dark scarlet red (also Wikipedia says scarlet is "traditionally the color of a flame. It may also refer to the color of blood of a living person." SIDE NOTE: flames and blood are not the same color), but this scrub pant blood was S-C-A-R-L-E-T. I can not be forgiving of this. No matter who you are. Okay, lets be for real. If Eric Dane (or as the people on Grey's Anatomy like to call him-Dr. Mark "McSteamy" Sloan) was in Wal-Mart with blood splatter on his pants I might give him a pass. Key word, MIGHT. Okay, never mind, I would. Well I try to ignore this tragedy as if it never happened and look over at my sister. Her mouth is literally to the floor and she's jabbing my mother in the side. She mouths, "is that blood?" All I can do is shake my head in disgust. The sister then tries to be polite by saying, "he doesn't look like a doctor," when what she meant was he looks homeless. Which he did, except he was shopping in the milk/yogurt section and we all know that homeless people can not afford milk or yogurt. Can anyone say overpriced?! It's like flowers-way expensive and it's only useful for a few days. But so the moral of this long drawn out story is, DO NOT COME TO WAL-MART WITH BLOOD ON YOUR PANTS!

Now another thing that upsets me is peeps who waltz around with their stethoscope around their neck. I live with a nurse and I have NEVER seen her walking around with it around her neck. I mean, what are you trying to prove? I have a stethoscope too. It means nothing, there are no limits to who can buy one, so a status symbol it is not. I mean, lets be honest. If someone falls out in the Wal-Mart parking lot your stethoscope is not gonna do a damn bit of good. Food for thought, do you think these people sterilize the stethoscope after it's been at Wal-Mart with blood pants guy, in the car with their dog, etc? I bet not. Now they are going to put that thing on your chest. Eeeeewwwww.

Another problem I have. Wearing the things that cover up your shoes while in clean rooms/surgery, etc into a restaurant. And yes, I've seen it. These people need an intervention. For serious. The end.

Now to make you happier: Grover acting like the Old Spice guy.

Underwear and Underage

Okay, so I've been stewing on this for a couple of days. I thought, "Carmen this really isn't a huge deal and you are just at your regular level of complaining so you should find something different to write about." BUT, I get obsessed when I start thinking about things and this has monopolized my thoughts. So here goes nothing.

Victoria's Secret. If you are a man you should not be here. They have a catalogue. It is for you. In fact they sent me one just the other day-glossy cover and all. It's perfect for you to order something nice for your lady or whatever the hell else you might do with a Victoria's Secret catalogue. Oh, you like to practice your green ways? Not an excuse. They have a website. And at the end of this month they have a televised fashion show where you can watch models walk around in lingerie while wearing 80 pound angel wings on their back. Perfect, right? Exactly-so now you don't have to come into the store.

Why am I so bothered by men in the store you ask. Because they all act awkward as hell. This is where I buy my UNDERWEAR. I would like to buy it in p-e-a-c-e. But this is hard to do when the high schooler next to me is hardcore scavenging through a drawer while her recently post pubescent boyfriend is standing with her looking all excited. There is absolutely no reason on this planet that I can think of for a 15 year old boy to need to know what kind of underwear I, or his girlfriend, for that matter wears. So leave. I'm uncomfortable and you're pissing me off. I mean I don't go to Target or wherever the hell you buy your underwear and linger while you're deciding between boxers or briefs. It's weird and you can't say that it isn't. And sometimes men come in there by themselves. This is REALLY where the catalogue can be beneficial. Don't come in there alone. My mom once witnessed a man holding up a pair of underwear with ruffles and shaking it. This led her (and subsequently everyone she told the story to and now you) to get a terrible mental image in her head about what he was visualizing while shaking this underwear. Seriously? How on EARTH am I supposed to enjoy the 5 for $25 underwear while that kind of nonsense is going on?

Additionally, I've noticed that they are now hiring men at these stores. I'm not comfortable with this. In fact, when I walked into the Perimeter location a man asked if I was interested in a bra. NOOOOOOOO. Go away! I'm assuming he's gay, because if he was straight I would have had to punch him. And really even as a gay man, what does he know about bras? I mean that's the equivalent of me going to Home Deport and trying to sell you nails. I don't know jack about nails. So am I the only person stressing over this?

Now for something that doesn't piss me off. While teaching a lesson about medication safety to a bunch of kindergardeners I had a little girl tell me she liked my eye shadow and a little boy raise his hand to tell me I was pretty. Day made.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.

I would like to dedicate today to the creepers. So first off, I'm sorry to Radiohead for using your lyrics for the title of a blog entry that is not very flattering. But it doesn't really matter because we all know Creep is overrated and Karma Police is an infinitely better song. So back to the creeps. Recently the loves of my life (Pauly D, Vinny, The Situation and NEVER Ronnie) have tried to make the art of "creepin" seem legit by acting like it just means picking up girls. But we all know this isn't true and even my man Pauly D looks like a creep when he's trying to make "creepin" happen. So to help make everyone's life easier I have organized creepers into categories. Let's us begin.

Old School Creeper: The main reason this guy is creepy is because he's old. And I don't mean Hugh Hefner old (though that bathrobe rockets him into creeper status faster then you can say I'll meet you in the grotto). And if you didn't get the grotto reference then it's obvious you know nothing about Playboy. For this I commend your ability to stay innocent. Any who, this guy is creepy because he's old enough to have a daughter the exact same age as the girls he's creeping on. So yeah, it's gross. So he's is hanging out in a bar with girls who probably played Barbie down the street with his daughter in 1995, but he has decided to put those memories behind him just so he can buy you a shot (lucky day!). He's probably also dancing to the swag surf song, not realizing that song actually has a dance move called the swag surf, but also not realizing it's like 2 years old. This guy is a pain in everyone's ass because he is either being persuaded by his creepy old man friends to act this way or he came alone. Both of which is beyond unacceptable. This guy will attempt to make clever jokes: (Upon seeing girls in Halloween costumes), "I should have worn my Go Go boots." I'm sorry sir, was that supposed to be funny? It's sounds to me like your a cross dresser for the middle aged set. Go home. I know you have a wife. Don't act like you don't.

New School Creeper: This guy has everything going right, but he's doing it all wrong. He the age of the girls he's creeping on and he might even be attractive. But he's killed all his redeeming qualities by walking into an obvious gathering of some sort where everyone knows one another and he tried to blend in. Dude. If you walk into a bar where everyone is obviously talking to one another and it's pretty obvious this is a party how are you seriously going waltz in a stand in the center of everything while trying to get someone to talk to you. News flash. We are not going to speak to you. You are an outsider who wasn't invited. Go home. Your staring is confusing people. I didn't bust into your frat houses Christmas party, so back off our Halloween party.

The Creeper Next Door: This guy is someone you know. You may even call him a friend (but probably not after tonight). This joker is 100% normal, but you give him a solo cup of hunch punch and BAM! we might as well be watching To Catch a Predator: Collegiate Edition. He's trying to be clever because he knows everyone there and sees this as a chance to up his social standing. DON'T DO IT! Your awkward jokes and sexual innuendo are just making people uncomfortable. You are like Russell Brand style disturbing, but you're not famous so you've going nothing to back it up. You'll regret this in the morning friend.

The Everyone Is Fair Game Creeper: I have very little to say about this person, since they tend to be rare, but they are annoying as hell when you stumble upon them. This person is not showing favorites. They'll creep a girl, they'll creep a guy. Hell, if your grandma walked through the door, they'd creep her too. These people are desperate for attention and tend to part the crowd when they come by. No one wants to deal with it.

The Homeless Creeper: This is the homeless man outside of the bar who tries to give you life advice while asking you for a dime. So basically it's kind of like using one of those fortune teller machines in the movie Big. Useless ramblings in exchange for a coin. This person has also been known to pretend to be the body guard of the establishment he is in front of.

The Reverse Girl Creeper: This is a unique situation. Here the girl is not creepin on guys per say, but she is flocking to any of the aforementioned creepers. She can spot them in a room full of bodies and she wants to make sure they notice. Nothing like flirting the hours away with a certified creeper. She'll probably spend the whole next day telling you about the creeper who followed her at the party when all you really want to say back is, "shut up."

So I'm gonna go out on a limb and say anyone reading this knows about these creepers. And I'm sorry to everyone for having to experience it.

On a lighter note, Zyprexa or "Zyppie," my fish has developed a Pavlovian response to me walking into my bedroom. When you give him food he starts swimming madly around like a crazy fish. Well all he has to feel is the vibrations as I enter the room and he goes crazy associating me with food. This is actually very clever on Zyppie's part because now I feed him even when it isn't time too because he gets so excited.

Okay, ponder the creepers and get back to me with your thoughts.

Desiree; Latin; so long hoped for, crave, desire. Take that Jon Stewart!

So it's been like 2 weeks since I posted anything to this joker. Interestingly, people have been asking for my next blog, but I'm pretty sure it's so they can have a few more minutes of procrastination time, so I'm not getting all excited with my skills yet. So I tried to theme this and then I realized it wasn't going to work. So here goes nothing.

So I went to the Darius Rucker concert last week. He's the bomb.com. Anywho, I just need to say, he may sing I only wanna be with you, but in reality crazy behind me, he doesn't actually want to be with you. So back off my ass so I can enjoy my life. Annoying concert goers literally ruin my day. I'm sorry that I got to the concert 2 hours early and had to stand next to Creepy "I came to the concert alone" McCreeperson while he awkwardly stared so that I could be up front. But while I was trying to avoid eye contact with the aforementioned loser I noticed something. You WEREN'T there. Yep, I'm positive. You weren't. So don't push up behind me two songs before the end of the set, rest your elbow on my back and then look confused when I bow you in the ribs. It is not my problem that you just now realized being close to the stage will behoove you. Stupidity just can't be fixed.

Now I don't want to use this forum to bitch about school because I do that enough in spoken word. But I need to lament on a topic we've recently discussed (mostly because both Creepy McCreeperson and I'll elbow you in the ribs lady could probably benefit from this information). Contraception. There is absolutely NO NEED to encourage people to use any sort of OTC contraception besides the male condom. I had mistakenly believed that at this stage in life you wouldn't have to tell a bunch of pharmacy school students this. And if you let someone walk out of the pharmacy with a sponge or whatever other quackery they've come up with, it is bad medical practice. That's really all I have to say about that, except for I wasted about an hour of my life talking about this crap. And I can't get that hour back.

Now for upsetting things in the news. Apparently some dumb politician called another dumb politician a "whore." Which we all know was a real smooth move. I swear a 5 year old could teach public image classes to these idiots. But anyways, all the major networks wanted to tell the story without saying the word, "whore." So one newscaster said, "called her a name normally used for prostitutes." First, this lady hasn't visited the outside world recently. We call prostitutes, prostitutes. But anyways, in response to this Jon Stewart said "hmmmm...what's a name for a prostitute? Desiree?" Are you kidding me? If I ever get another last name I'm dropping that middle one like it's hot. Side note, when I was little I thought prostitute was another word for "convict." I was pathetic.

Okay, awkward story time and then I'll be done. Yesterday I went to Kroger after school for some necessities. And I was alone and easily distracted so I ended up staring at the wine. And I was like, "I should buy some wine." So I did. Well then I turned around and the Strongbow was just staring at me like it been waiting for me since the day it was bottled. So I had to buy it too. So I make it out to my car and I'm loading my groceries when I notice this Asian kid straight up sprinting through the parking lot in my direction. He was in Kroger attire so I assumed he was doing something beneficial for the company. But he was coming at me. "No," I thought, "no way is dude running to me." But would you believe it? He was. Before I can do anything he has my last two bags in his hands in attempt to help me. Of course my last two bags contain the alcohol. And he says, "here are your...drinks." So then I was like he's been rendered nervous by the alcohol, so he must be like a high schooler. So of course I have to make the situation more awkward by trying to make a joke (mental note: stick to sarcasm as humor Carmen!) and it didn't really hold up. But then he tried to both pretend it was funny and joke back. This was almost as awkward as my infamous Apple Store debacle of 2009. L-a-m-e.

So if all this has you frustrated, disappointed or bored I suggest you go to YouTube and watch Billy Joel's Uptown Girl video. That's what I'll be doing.