The Kind Of Day It's Been

I am about to complain - big time. So, this is my disclosure. If you don't want to hear it, go read something else. Otherwise, this is the kind of day I'm having!


So, my day got started off on the wrong foot this morning, when someone called my cell phone at 5:30 am inquiring about the desk I'm selling. You've got to be kidding me, was all I could think when I finally hung up. What a retard, no offense to the actual retards out there.


(Sorry, I know I shouldn't say retard, but I just can't be that politically correct, no matter how hard I try. I'm not that girl. I'm the girl who quotes Dennis Leary to make my point "I'm into freedom of speech and freedom of choice. I'm the kind of guy that could sit in a greasy spoon and wonder, gee, should I have the T-bone steak or the jumbo rack of barbecue ribs or the side order of gravy fries? I want high cholesterol. I would eat bacon and butter and buckets of cheese. Okay? I want to smoke Cuban cigars the size of Cincinnati in the nonsmoking section. I want to run through the streets naked with green Jell-O all over my body reading Playboy magazine. Why? Because I might suddenly feel the need to. Okay, pal?” Yeah, my thoughts exactly, so I apologize for saying retard now, and I apologize, in advance, for any future uses, of which there might be many, of the word retard).


Ok, back to my day - the 5:30 wake up call, yeah, that sucked. Then there's the fact that, for the second day in a row now, I have spilled an entire Venti Cinnamon Dolce latte on myself. I have really shallow cupholders. Really shallow. Like, if you're using them to hold a coaster, maybe they're deep enough, other than that, they seem to be very oddly shaped. And, lazy bum that I am, I just can't get myself to grab one of my twenty-seven no spill, commuter mugs on the way out the door. So, yesterday, as I was taking a corner, at like 60, my entire cup of coffee tipped over, the lid popped off and it soaked my pants in yummy cinnamony goodness. Causing me to cuss. Like a sailor. At least my car smells really good now.


But then this morning, the same thing happened. At that point, I couldn't even be frustrated, the irony was too much to get mad at. I just laughed. "Really? Really Starbucks? Really?" was all I could think. There was no way I was going to just write this one off, either, which is what I did yesterday. Uh-uh, that'd be like what, at least $9 down the drain. So, after I wiped most of the latte out of the cuffs of my cute black pants, I decided to hit the Starbucks here in Eden Prairie, on the way in to work, and get a replacement.

The good news is that they replaced it, fast and free. The bad news is that some snooty, entitlement-issues, Kenneth Cole purse swinging blonde Dobby lookalike gave me grief for what she called "cutting in line". I was in no mood to deal with it! There I stood, as she tossed her perfect little blonde, bobbed blow-out at me, and with her face that could make a baby cry she muttered something about waiting my turn, under her breath. Oh, if she only knew.


It kind of got me to thinking - I will never look like the typical Minnesotan. I know this, as I observe the hordes of blonde, perky nosed Scandahoovians I'm surrounded by, both in downtown and here in Eden Prairie. At least in L.A. there was enough diversity that I could pass for most anything - Armenian, Mexican, Italian, Persian, whatever. The irony is that I passed for all those things, but no one would ever have guessed at the German/Spanish (like from SPAIN, not Mexico, those are Mexicans)/Portugese that I really am. I could always blend into the melting pot of California culture, and never felt that my ethnic looks were counted against me, or somehow made me inferior or unattractive. Till I moved to Minnesota, and realized I look like everyone's maid or nanny. Seriously. I was out with the Cuolon kids at Target one day, and realized that I looked like I was the help, out doing the shopping for the Missus. Yikes!


Anyways, I digress. That's just the grumpy mood I'm in today. Back to my coffee - or at this point what's left of it. So, I get to work, and as I'm walking up the stairs, 5 minutes late, I run into B., the cute Tech Services supervisor that I want to be flirting with a little more. And what do I do? I trip on my pants as the heel of my shoe catches in the cuff of my pants. Causing me to spill my coffee, again. Not the whole thing this time, but enough to splash my chest (big surprise), and look pretty stupid, and for him to notice and ask me if I was ok, and for me to blush.




From there on out, the day kind of improved, except for dealing with another grumpy co-worker, who gets on my nerves anyways. Every single day she looks like an unmade bed. I don't know why it bothers me, but for some reason, today it did.

The highlight of my day, and enough to redeem most all of this - I got to talk to Kaya, who had her first day of preschool today. Yeah, she learned about the letter N. I got to hear all about it. She is so precious, and I know she will excel, both in intelligence and charm, in her scholastic career.

As for the rest of my day - it's not over yet. There's some Rangpur with my name on it, in my freezer at home, and I'm just digging into East Of Eden by Steinbeck. I have plenty to keep me busy, with taping and painting my room and kitchen cabinets. And right now, I'm just venting. I feel okay with that. Tomorrow is a new day, it's a holiday and as the song goes "Bet your bottom dollar, that tomorrow, there'll be sun".