Death, Taxes & Textual Purity

First Written Thursday, March 5th:

There are few certainties in life. They say Death & Taxes are two of them (not, they, Benjamin Franklin, to be exact). I guess after 6 years running now, we can put my mom's failure to come visit me in Minnesota in that category as well. This year she really did sound like she was going to come out here and visit. She had me check into tickets, and I took time off work already, and was planning a trip for her and Nathan to see Mt. Rushmore, and the whole shebang. I probably should have known she would flake in the end. But for some reason this year it seemed almost real. Strangely tangible, like she really was close. Hmph, maybe next year then. If death or taxes don't get her first.

I'm grumpy today - I don't know why, or for what, but I just am, and that's all there is to it. I really don't have much to be grumpy about. I've got a good life - I've got the Lord, I've got a good job. I've got amazing friends and family, all who love me. I'm going to see Watchmen on Saturday with a new friend, matter of fact. But here I am, inconsolably grumpy. It could be the fact that I hate salad without dressing (hello lunch), and the little slice of amazing, homemade cheesecake that my friend Lee brought in gave me a migraine (three cheers for Dairy!!). Or it could be that even though I really want to go to Happy Hour with the guys (a true honor to be invited out on Guys Night), I know that I have errands to run after work that I've put off for two days now, and I'm tempted to ditch them and go eat wings and drink Cider instead. Or could it be that I'm just sad over my mom not coming out here? I think that could really be it.

In other news... I have a confession to make. I'm not textually pure. Yes, I've hopped on the bandwagon of using that phrase, to indicate the fact that I love to text. Actually, it was my oh-so-creative & quirky roommate who first introduced me to this new figure of speech. I've been on the texting wagon for years now. I love text. Not that I don't love to talk, but after talking to a million people all day long for my job, when it comes to my personal life, I could get by without a lot said. Let's just say I covet my quiet time. A lot. So, texting is a perfect medium to communicate with people without all the blah-blah-blah. And since I'm kind of a "straight to the point" kind of girl, it works well for me.

But recently, someone I would never have guessed as a texter signed her & her families SEVEN (yes, seven) phones up for unlimited texting!! YAY!! Someone new to cultivate an abbreviated relationship with, as we text back & forth. I'm loving being able to connect, no matter where we are at, without having to even speak to one another. And yes, the grotesque irony of this is NOT lost on me.

In other texting news - said roommate called me today with a texting story, that I promised I would blog. So, here goes:

While out on a route today, R (for Roommate) was in a public restroom. Which, like most cultivated, civilized people, is a step of courage in and of itself. Like a lot of people, he shares a particular abhorrence for using public restrooms. Apparently enough so, to keep him away from sporting events, but the fact that he's an artsy-farts is probably more to do with that. Me, personally, I can't go if I'm camping. Just something about being in the woods freezes me up like a clogged drain. Anyways, while at the Pee Trough, because from what I hear, that's literally what it is, he happens to catch, in his peripheral vision, a glance of the man next to him. In his defense, I know he's not gay and wasn't checking the other guy out - I have to listen to the whole "man is she hot" thing enough to know, dude ain't gay! But anyways, he happens to notice, subtly & discreetly, I'm sure, that the man next to him has in one hand his phone, on which he is texting, and in his other hand, well, his business. You know? As Roommate tries not to stare in disbelief, the Texter finishes using the restroom, and walks out with, without having washed his hands, with his cell phone in the hand he was using to pee with!!!

Can I just get an Eww Gross for the male race right about now? I mean, wow. Apparently too, he was young, metro and totally good looking, with, what the roommate referred to as "that trendy spiky hair". I happen to really like that hair actually.... like Ted on How I Met Your Mother (which, if you've ever watched this show, you might agree with me that Ted's cute hair is about all he has going for him). Anyways, it just goes to show, that you can dress up an ill mannered jerk in all the Ermenegildo Zegna you want, and in the end, he's still just an ill mannered turd. Suit up bros - but do me this one favor, don't text me from a urinal.

Thinking about all this made me realize that I guess I lucked out, on the roommate front that is. He's clean, chill, hilarious, and shares an amazing taste in movies, music and books. And if I didn't know him better, that would spell gay as the day is long. It's all good I guess, since no one is perfect - he's not a texter. Urgh.

Well, another blog over and out. Time to hit the road, and go do .... well, whatever the mood strikes me for on the way home. Death and taxes are certain, but the night is full of endless possibilities.