Hater Dater Later Gator

Miss me?

While I was away someone told me about a dating site that matches people up by the things they hate, which sounds like a good idea because matching by likes is totes for 15 year olds.

Of course the thing I hate most is dating sites. And dating. So, already we’re in an infinite existential loop like when we program the system to put the catalog of catalogs in the catalog of catalogs. Or something.

Just in case you think I’m making this up in order to have something funny to blargh about (as if), here’s a link to the app.

And here’s an article that sorts hates by state. It’s a strange list. Then again… people. Right?

Whaddayagonnado.

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In Which I Force Myself to Pay Attention

Some days I get down in the grumps and wonder why X keeps happening. Depending on the day/month/year, X could be any number of things. Which is why we’re using X…

I remember once thinking that I was really unlucky with tires and got way more flats than other people. Maybe there was something weird about the way I drove, like I was a nail magnet or something? When I mentioned that to the tire guy, he said, oh, everyone thinks they’re unluckier than normal about their tires. That was pretty funny. I haven’t had a flat since (now I will since I wrote this).

There are days I think I’m in horrible pain all the time, like this morning (when I was in horrible pain from a migraine with stabby neck throbs and nausea), but that’s not true. It just seems true when I’m suffering… and then when I’m not, I forget to notice. Why? Because though I have chronic pain, it’s actually normal for me not to be in horrible pain ~ there’s a difference, and it’s important to acknowledge this. I need to notice the times I feel OK, like now, and remember them.

I’ve said I’m a magnet for certain types of people, but I’ve noticed others saying the same thing. You know the types we mean ~ the drama royals, the narcissists, the nutcases. If you’re not one of these, and even if you are, you’ve surely encountered them. After a few instances, we announce, “I must be a magnet for them!” Well, no. But our interactions with the “types” are so much more vivid than our interactions with ordinary folks that we focus our attention on the types. Hence we decide we’re a magnet. If I force myself to recall more interactions, it turns out that I’ve had many more with ordinary people than with the types. They just aren’t as memorable.

At the risk of sounding a little bit woo, I need to focus my attention more on things that bring me pleasure (writing, good health, organizing plans, etc.) and less on things that make me unhappy (flat tires, horrible pain, the “types,” etc.) It’s just common sense.

Next up: crystals and aromatherapy.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Magnet

Regarding Yelling

I’ve become very spoiled lately, living alone and leading such a quiet life, despite having a very vocal kitteh. The more time passes, the more I find I can’t tolerate any loudness. Perhaps it has something to do with the tinnitus (as discussed); or perhaps it’s just that I’m in the habit of indulging my own preferences only… and they run to the white noise varieties. During my childhood, my parents argued frequently and were in the habit of yelling at each other to the point where it seemed that violence was imminent (though it rarely ever came to that), and this was often scary for a little kid, though one does get used to things. However, one also gets used to the absence of such.

Nothing gets me in a bad mood faster than sustained bursts of noise. I find I’m unable to focus on anything else. Raised, angry voices literally make me cringe in fear, even if they have nothing to do with me. Saturday afternoon a group of young men appeared to be having an argument in the parking lot of my apartment complex, and I was scared to go out to my car. It was silly, but I began to worry they’d start physically fighting, even though there was no sign of this. I thought it could happen. They were nowhere near my car, but even so, I stayed inside for a while until they quieted down, and I was slightly late for my meeting ~ because I was afraid of nothing really.

Ironically, my meeting was in a public place, and it was loud there too, which eventually put me in a grumpy mood for a while until the crowd thinned out and the noise volume lowered. Geez, I’m such a crabby old lady now. Guess what? IDGAF about that. I like what I like… and more importantly, I dislike what I dislike.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Cringe

Stuck in the Meddle with You

I don’t like to meddle, or even give advice really. I don’t know anything! But most people lurve to give advice… omg how they will tell you what you should do if you give them half a chance. Even if you don’t ask, they’ll tell you. Even if you obviously have it way more together than they do, they won’t hesitate to explain how you could do better. That’s just the way people are, or at least the ones I’ve encountered. I guess that’s a topic for another poast ~ the kinds of people who gravitate toward me. Yes.

But we’re here today to discuss meddling, since that’s the WOTD.

I’ve tried so hard to stay out of other people’s stuffs and yet… and yet… I know so much about other people’s stuffs. How did this happen? Why do people confide in me so often? It’s one of the biggest ironies of my life. Probably because I don’t meddle or even judge really. Why would I judge anyone, since I’ve made so many mistakes? I just sit there and listen, wondering why I’m so trusted, which is probably why. Weird!

It’s hard not to feel like you’ve meddled, even when you’ve only listened and agreed with what the person wanted to do all along. My standard “advice” is just hey don’t do what I’ve done, which is silly really since I’m not that bad off, I suppose. Sort of. Depending on your definitions. Whatever!

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Meddle

Housekeeping Notes

A friend said that he had put new blog entries up recently, but I hadn’t seen them in my WordPress feed. I went back to look and this list happened.

1. I found new blog poasts by other favorite bloggers that I had missed even though I go through my feed daily. Apparently what happens is that poasts are not always appearing as they are timestamped. You can’t assume that just because you read your feed new entries won’t pop in earlier in the line later. This is really annoying!
2. But what you can do instead of reading your feed the usual way is click to the “manage” tab and sort your bloggers alphabetically. Then under each one it will say the last time they updated, which will give you a clue whether you read that entry or not (unless a blogger updates multiple times daily, eek). If there is no update statement, it’s fair to assume that someone hasn’t blogged in a while and you’re OK. This is sort of like the days of olde when we had the whozit list on the side.
3. Of course you might not care enough to do that, in which case ignore item 2 above.
4. If you are considering the switch to the “Managed Tab Feed Read” (MTFR), another positive benefit is that your feed won’t be cluttered with pictures and suggestions, so you get a nice, neat list of blogs instead of a huge pile of crapadoo.
5. Blogs that are still on Blogger have a different kind of feed source and back in the day I C&P’d that into my WP reader. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. I don’t know why! Apparently the friend whose poasts I was looking for (remember him? this is a song about him) was one of those bloggers and his poasts were not feeding right. That’s the best I can do for a hi-tech explanation here. (Need lizard halps.) Anyway, none of that matters now because WP has learned that most of us are idiots and has figured out how to grab the feed code itself. So, I searched for friend’s blog in the WP feed searchy bar; WP found it and added it, viola. I didn’t have to go poking around for XML or whatever the eff.
6. I caught up with friend’s poasts and all is good.
7. MY DAUGHTER IS GETTING MARRIED IN TWO MONTHS OMG OMG OMG.
8. I highly recommend using the MTFR instead of the normal WP feed so as not to miss any bloggity goodness, especially if you have a lot of blogs in your feed (I have 279 at the mo). I needed to add this item because (a) I like to have 8 things, and (b) I had already defined MTFR and once you do that you have to use it.

That’s all.

Portland Memorial 2015

I’ve been a blogslacker lately and I don’t have an excuse. Today’s prompt word search brought up this photo from my trip to Oregon, and, as it turns out, it’s only a few days late for Holocaust Remembrance Day.

It was a very sobering experience to pay my respects at the memorial.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Roots

The Story of The Thing

Every year, for many years, I have had a standing order for The Thing via Mega Corp. This year was no different, except that I found The Thing for one-third the price on Amazon. Since Mega Corp was late in sending The Thing anyway, I called them and said hey I’m gonna order The Thing on Amazon from now on, so don’t send it, ‘k?  I got Mega Product Support on the phone, who said I needed to email Mega Customer Service to deal with this, so I did that.

Mega Customer Service said nope, sorry. See, unless you notify us by such and such a date, we must ship out The Thing. We can’t communicate with Mega Shipping after that date. But what we can do is this… send us the Amazon info, to prove to us you really did find it for less, yada yada, and we’ll send you a return label. When you receive The Thing, just pop it back in the mail and we will pay for return shipping.

I sent Mega Customer Service the Amazon info and waited for my shipping label.

The Thing arrived from Mega Corp.

I waited for the return shipping label. And I waited. And I waited. Weeks of waiting.

(I hadn’t ordered The Thing from Amazon yet.)

I emailed Mega Customer Service to remind them about the shipping label. No reply.

In the meantime, Mega Billing sent me an invoice for The Thing.

I called Mega Product Support to discuss the shipping label I was supposed to receive from Mega Customer Service. They said they’d send it. More weeks wobbled on.

Mega Billing sent another invoice.

I sent another email to nudge Mega Customer Service and told them I spoke to Mega Product Support. I received an apology and a promise that the shipping label would be sent immediately. Nope.

Mega Billing sent a delinquent notice.

This made me mad, so I called Mega Product Support again to express my outrage and to complain that Mega Customer Service never sent my shipping label. How could I return The Thing if I didn’t have the shipping label? The Thing was sitting right here on my desk! I’d love to return The Thing, but I could not! At this point, Mega Product Support said I should simply keep The Thing for no charge and my account would be fully credited. They were very sorry I had to wait so long yada yada.

OK, then. I finally opened The Thing and did what one does with such things that are The Thing. I tossed last year’s version in the trash. I tried to put the whole episode out of my mind and move on.

Closure!

But…

Today I received a final notice from Mega Billing saying they were cutting off my credit and were no longer going to ship The Thing to me ever again.

Odd Ducks

I live in an apartment building with an interesting architectural design, like a Spanish mission, with a large central courtyard. In the courtyard is a swimming pool, which, I assume, would have been used by the padres and visiting dignitaries and such, back in the olden days. It’s rare that I see anyone in the pool, and I have never used it myself. But last summer we did have a couple guests, who stayed for about a week or so.

~*~

Via The Daily Post Photo Challenge: Rare

The Lure of Luxury [Dating Story]

It’s been a minute since I treated you to a dating story. Did you think I’d used them all up? Ha ha ha ha. We should be so lucky.

Names and some deets changed to protect the guilty. Also, my memory sucks.

I met this one at the Long Beach Marina. Let’s call him… Benzo cuz he zipped up in a shiny new red MBZ sports car. Hot guy, in good shape, wore jeans, black leather jacket, had a nice smile. We went upstairs for a drink in an upscale bar overlooking the water. So far, so good. (Back then, my headaches weren’t as bad and I still could have occasional alcohol without dying.)

We talked about me for a while. I was only separated then, not divorced, and very much into complaining about my S2BX. Not a great time to date, but we wouldn’t have all these fun stories if I hadn’t, would we? I told Benzo a little about my divorce woes, and he began ranting about his divorce and how his ex-witch stole his business yada. Then he went into a new rage about how college was stupid and a waste of money and I shouldn’t be sending my kids. What?

Despite the few annoying convo twists, I was overall having a good time with Benzo and we ordered some appies and another round of drinks (non-alcoholic for me). Now we were talking about him. He was in real estate, which was our initial one thing in common. What did he do, exactly? Well, he was a bit vague… some sort of partnership dealio with the ex, where she stole everything, as noted. Currently, he was in an “investment pool.”

“What’s that?” I asked. I never care if people think I’m stupid; in fact, I find it amusing.

Benzo babbled about how he and some otter dudes were going to make a shit ton of money on some sketchy properties and bla and bla. I didn’t ask how he managed the new MBZ if this hadn’t happened yet, given that the ex, etc.

“Do you want to live with me in luxury?” he said.

“Oh, sure. Where would we be living?”

“Wherever you like! Beverly Hills or Newport Beach or Santa Barbara. We’ll sleep late and then tell the cook what we want for breakfast. What’s your favorite breakfast?”

“French toast.”

“Fantastic!”

“I’ll need to bring my cat.”

“We’ll have ten cats!”

This guy was some salesman, amirite? He kissed me and it was really nice. I was starting to think about seeing him again, despite his weird anti-college tirade. Who cared what he thought about that? It was totally irrelevant. But I needed to get going ~ it was a weeknight and I had to work the next morning.

The check came. Benzo looked at me. “You’ll never believe it,” he said.

Turned out, Benzo had been so excited to meet me that he forgot his credit card. OMG! And he didn’t carry cash because that’s dangerous. If you’re driving a flash Mercedes you do tend to make yourself a target. Best not to have paper money floating in your pockets to further tempt any bandits. Makes total sense.

So, I paid. Of course. I picked up the tab for the hot guy in the luxury car who has probably made so much money by now from his RE investment pool he is tripping over stacks of cash on the way to his gold-plated toilet every morning.

I didn’t see him again.

~*~

Via The Daily Prompt: Luxury

Wordless Wednesday