That Just Happened!

Yesterday I went to a bank to meet with a financial advisor and talk about transferring my funds from my current bank (the customer service sucks  so large).  I am totally excited to be there as my Mom has been working with her for years and years and years and she really knows what she is doing.  My Mom and I drove up together because our appointments were back to back.

As we were sitting in the lobby of the bank this man comes in carrying 3 or 4 stuffed grocery bags. He calls out to the receptionist behind the counter “Buzz me in!”, which she does.  At this point I look at my Mom and she says to me “what no good morning?  No thank you?” (My Mom is pretty strict about social conventions. She is the Dear Abbey of our family.)  I laughed a bit and that was that.

My Mom went in to meet with the planner first.  Keep in mind neither of us belong to this bank, our advisor has just moved there and my Mom wants to make the move with her.  As I am waiting the same guy comes back out into the lobby and stands at the counter.  This was their conversation.

“Hey can I have some (blah blahs…I didn’t really hear him)?” he asks. 

“How much?” the receptionist responds.

“You mean how many” he condescends.

She laughs and makes light of it. “Oh I didn’t read my dictionary this morning. I need to brush up on my English.” (She speaks English perfectly well, she just has an accent.)

“Oh don’t worry,” he responds laughing, “I would do the same if I were practicing Russian.”

*pause*

“I’m Hungarian,” she says.

“Oh right,” he says snobbily, “I knew it was one of those Slavic languages.”

*pause*

“It’s Finnish…So how many do you need?” she asks.

“Two.”

“Oh that’s it,” she says loudly, “Do you want me to assemble them.”

“No,” he scoffs, “I think I can handle it.  Hold my calls, I’m busy.” And he storms down the stairs and goes to Starbucks, not even looking my way.

I am a potential client and this is what I hear in the lobby.  Good grief!  It’s a good thing those boxes were white otherwise he might not have been able to handle it.  Ignorance is alive and well.

Yeah, That Just Happened!

 Last night as MPW and I were lying in bed we started talking about my uterus and I found out some pretty frightful truths about MPW’s knowledge of Lady Bits.

He puts his hand on my stomach and says something about my uterus.  I casually say “That’s not my uterus.”  After a moment MPW says “Yeah I know.  Well, where is it?”  Of course I start laughing.  “Where the heck do you think it is?” I giggle.  At this point he chokes and says “I don’t know.”  So I point to where it would be.   He continues to look at me strangely.  So, I say “well, it’s only like this big,” and I hold up my fist.  At this point MPW looks pretty dang confused.  “But, how does a baby fit in there?”  I look at him incredulous.  “I can’t believe you are 28 years old and you don’t know about the female reproductive system.  It friggin stretches you weirdo!  What did you think it was a parachute, all folded up until baby and then *poof* it explodes into being?  Does it look like a deflated balloon in the mean time?” 

“No,” MPW says peevishly.  “You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?  I bet you can’t tell me where the prostate is.”  I really could not stop laughing at the image of this parachute uterus, but this sent me over the edge.  I offered to show him, but he declined.  Maybe me wiggling my eyebrows when I offered freaked him out.  Through my tears of laughter I said sarcastically, “Yeah, and I bet you thought the ovaries are the size of real eggs too.” 

*pause*

“How big are they?”   “You can’t be serious?” I said incredulously, “where is my giant uterus and egg-sized ovaries fitting in here?  Where do you think I’m hiding those?”  He points to a place around my kidney.  “They’re not earphones, man, the tube is not that long and my ovaries are tiny.  They are like this big,” and I hold up my fingers an inch apart. At this point MPW is pretty embarrassed, but I just cannot stop laughing.  And not a pretty laugh, no.  A loud guffawing, hiccuping laugh so hard that tears are streaming down my face.  MPW is tired and pretty irritated at this point. 

After a few more minutes of me guffawing, MPW turns to me and says, “so if I was going to punch you in the baby-maker  I would have been way off,”  rolls over and goes to sleep.

http://artofmanliness.com/2009/03/18/11-manliest-anchormen/

Yeah, That Just Happened!

Today I am going to do something a bit different.  Mama Kat @ Mama Kat’s Losin’ It hosts writing prompts (go here to see the prompt page) and although I have read many of them with glee, I have never participated.  However, “the time has come” as the Walrus said.  This week one of the prompts is:

 1.) Time for your tangent…what is your latest complaint?
(inspired by Jill from I Don’t Want An Oscar)  (BTW, I Don’t Want An Oscar is a Freakin Awesome Blog, you should totally check it out!)

Well, you may or may not know, but I love a good rant.  I’ve done it and I love when other people have them.  Why?  Because it totally means I am not the only one who gets worked up over the small and seemingly insignificant details of life.  I’ve ranted about the Library and the stupid eye-poking tree and now I am going to rant about V-Day.  I shouldn’t really be surprised seeing as how Christmas is starting in Aprilnow, but the posts in bloggyland are coming fast and furious for V-Day gift ideas, treats, activities, blah, blah, blah…

Ooooooo.   *shaking my fist* I HATE Valentine’s Day.  I pretty much always have.  Now, before you go calling me all bitter, hear me out.  I am in a relationship.  In fact, MPW shows up frequently on my blog (usually because he’s made me angry, but whatev).  So, my disdain for the stupidest day of the year is not because I am lonely and tired of making it about friendship love where we all get together and eat raw cookie dough and complain about men (that has never happened BTW).  When I tell people I don’t do V-Day they roll their eyes and immediately ask if it’s because I’m single, so I thought I would put that to rest.

www.fixcas.com

I hate V-Day because I think it is the most  commercial, unnecessary and meaningless “holiday” of the year.  (I even hesitate to say holiday because we don’t get time off. Maybe if we did it would be something I could get behind).  Nope, Christmas is about spending time with family and baby Jesus.  Thanksgiving is spending time with family and giving thanks for your blessings.  Easter is about spending time with family and adult Jesus.  Canada Day is appreciateing your country and spending time with your fellow Canadians.  Valentine’s Day is just an excuse for the men who got their wives insulting gifts for Christmas to get them a better present to make up. Let’s face it, sleeping on the couch loses it’s appeal after 1 month.  Then one week is spent trying to think of the perfect idea; one that will get them off the couch, but won’t be so good they won’t be able to top it next year.  Then 4 days gearing up to go to the mall/store.  Then the day of to pull it all together (which is inevitably why the woman gets to sleep in, because he is running out to get your present).

Okay, so that is part one of why I hate it and dread it each year.  The next part is (which is arguably the most important) I hate that you are told how to feel.  That today, of all days, is the one day that you are supposed to proclaim your love, and be perfect in your relationships, and say sorry.  Why not every day?  Plus, you know that everyone else is doing/saying the same things, so what makes it special?  If you really love me, flowers for no reason on any other day would mean a bucket load more than flowers on a day that you feel obligated and it is what you are “supposed” to do.  All those people going to restaurants with overpriced meals and buying over priced flowers and using up all that red construction paper. It’s just depressing.

I know it’s a month away, but man, the fever has already started. 

On the plus side, MPW is the most envied man in his office. When I met him I told him if he did anything I would break up with him.  He was actually happy to oblige and still is. Now he even stopped asking “are you sure?” and looking at me as if this was a test.

Yeah, That Just Happened!