I'm old and itchy...

The itchy part I'll get to in a minute.

I'm going to harp on the old part of my life. You're going to have to get over it. I'm turning 30. I don't complain about too much, but you will have to listen to this. I'm getting old and I know it. Eating a cookie makes me put on 10 lbs. I want to be in bed before 10pm. I creak. If I don't move for long periods of time, my body actually hurts from it. My eyes are getting weaker. My hearing is not too great. Sometimes, when I laugh, I pee. Not a lot, just a little, but enough to remind me I'm getting ooooooooold. Oh, and forget my mind. I have to write down everything that I want to make sure I accomplish, otherwise, I will forget and not do it. (Literally, one of the things I have to do this week is figure out what day mine and Erica's tickets are for The Hunger Games. I have to write this down, otherwise, we will either miss it or show up to early.) I care about my rug in my house staying clean. Teenagers piss me off. I'm ooooooold!!!

It's fine. Really, it's a part of life and in spite of the fact that I'm getting old, I'm really happy with this stage of my life. I'm officially on my own with Ray and Eli. I have my own house that I may operate any way I please. (It's usually chaotic and wild and loud, but if it wasn't any of those things, it wouldn't be me.) I still wish some things were different, maybe that me and Ray weren't parents yet, because it feels awkward sometimes, when it seems like nobody else has kids. But, I am older than most of my friends, so I don't feel but so bad. Plus, Eli wouldn't be here, and that kid, he's my heart. Even when he's driving me crazy with his wild temper tantrums and ridiculous amount of energy and I'm almost dropping him off my shoulders because I'm desperate just to get him to calm down for 5 minutes so that I can have an adult conversation. (Plus, he's not old enough for me to let walk off while I watch him out of the corner of my eye, even though some people act that way. With my luck, he will figure out how to operate the lawn mower he's climbed onto, or he will grab the half open beer, or end up with the screwdriver up his nose. I KNOW my kid.)

Anyways, in spite of what I am talking about, there are things that I'm not talking about. I've developed the itchies. That's the only way to describe it. I can pinpoint the moment it started because I was terrified it was something else entirely. I had a delicious lunch of fried clams and shrimp. I love shrimp. Oh mylanta, love love love. I'm always terrified that I will develop an allergic reaction to it and never be able to eat it again, so I'm a bit paranoid about it. So, I had delicious lunch and then proceeded to move on with my day. I noticed I was a bit itchy, but just chalked it up to randomness and moved on with my day. 24 hrs later, I am laying in bed, dying, because I'm itching everywhere, my feet, my head, my face, my lady parts. I'm going insane, finally I can't take it anymore and march out to my mom who takes me to the hospital to get me checked out. 2 hours later, the doctor looks at me like i'm wacked out, gives me pregnezone and sends me home. I'm still itchy, but less miserable and move on with my life. But, i'm still itchy. It has disipated a ton since I moved out of my parents place and sort of have our finances figured out. But, I still get itchy. Mostly at work. My general doctor says it's not seafood, so it's a mind thing. Great. I'm really crazy. I don't know what exactly brings it on, because on occasion, it does happen when I'm not at work. But, mostly now at work. So, hopefully the college will call me soon, tell me I'm perfect and hire me. Then, hopefully the itchies will go away. The itchies are stupid.

Yep. I'm old.

Reasons Why People Are Too Uptight These Days...

Reason # 238: They take themselves waaaaaaaaaay too seriously.

For real, seriously, I mean I know I take myself pretty seriously sometimes. Sometimes, I lose my sense of humor, but whatever. The point, is that 99% of the population takes themselves entirely too seriously for their own damn good. Its not healthy. Its why people are dropping dead of heart attacks at 40. My dad may not be in the best shape of his life, but damn it, he's 72, and after getting shot in Vietnam, having a brick thrown at his car (partially destroying part of his face), having two kids after the age of 40, an angina attack (backwards heart attack), triple bypass, diabetes, knee replacement surgery that put him in ICU before it was all overwith, and the latest bout of health problems, he's still alive, kicking and laughing about it all. My dad knows how to laugh and just be happy, no matter how tight things get in his life.

The point of all this, is that the other night, I got full proof that people take themselves way too seriously.

Here's the deal...I don't talk about my job much. Its not the favorite part of my life and dwelling on it after I've left just leaves me way too stressed, which is bad for the jellybean. But, this story is just so...silly, I can't help but share it.

My job involves a drive-thru. Primary reason #1 why it sucks. But, in that drive-thru, I experience more crap from crazy people than the law allows. Here's why people take themselves waaay too seriously.

Me: "Hi, Can I take your order?
Customer: (Engine Roar) "BLOAOIHERKJNBEURIBRT CAN I GET AHDIUGHUIHWEBIUWBERH?"
Me: "Ummm, i'm sorry, can you repeat that for me?
Customer: (still with engine roaring in background) "CAN I GET A NBHEURITHUIWEJHTGJB WITH A COKE?"
Me: "I apologize sir, can you repeat that for me one more time?"
Customer: (engine roar still in full effect) "CAN...I....GET...A...NUMBER...8...WITHOUT ADFIHAUIH...WITH...A...COKE?"
(Hi, i'm not stupid. If you would not park the engine of your car right beside the speaker, I would be able to hear your lousy order. Mmm, k, thanks.)
Me: "I'm very sorry sir, but i'm having a tough time hearing you. Is there anyway you could speak up?"
Customer: (engine roar dies down) CAN...I...GET...A...NUMBER...8...WITHOUT PICKLE...AND...A...COKE?
(Again, not stupid. Please stop speaking to me like i'm 4.)
Me: (Super, super nice voice) Sure, no problem, Total's blah blah blah. Please pull around.
Guy pulls around...Oh great, your Mr. Mid-life crisis, driving a pretty new Chevy Camaro. Just freaking great.
Me: Hi, sir, you're total's blah blah blah.
(I wait, while he gets his money together and proceed to take another order. He leaves his hand hanging out the window with the money in it.)
Me: Hi sir, I can go ahead and take your money. (Waits for him to acknowledge to me, then gently pulls on the money, he turns gives me a dirty look and hands me the money.)
(Process order, get change together and receipt, hand him the receipt, he closes his fist just I go to hand him his change, change bounces off of his hand and on to the ground.)
Me: Oh, I'm so sorry sir. (Customer glares at me and opens his car door without saying a word.)
(I proceed to take another order, then look over and realize the guy is still sitting there and open the window.)
Me: How can I help you sir?
Customer: I hope you didn't scratch my brand new Chevy Camero.
(You have got to be f-ing kidding me. WTF?)
Me: (Looks at car first.) Well sir, it doesn't look like I did, but if I did, I am very very sorry sir. I did not mean to if I did sir.
Customer: You know, you have been EXTREMELY rude to me during this whole entire time.
Me: I'm sorry, sir. I was not trying to be rude to you at all.
Customer: Whatever. (Pulls off to next window.)

Are you freaking kidding me? Would you like to sue me for the cost of the scratch on your car? I make $8.00 an hour and work less than 40 hours a week. Get the f over it!

By the way, he bitched about me to my boss. My boss's response..."Well, she's 7 months pregnant, so it kinda comes with the territory." Haha.