An Ode to the Colossally Stupid...

Is it just me, or does anyone else feel a 

Monday Manifesto 

in the air?

Are you ever in a group of people...perhaps even a crowded room...and find yourself all alone?  I don't mean, "feelings of loneliness" or "having to wind yourself up" or any of the other time-to-get-your-meds-adjusted buzz words.  I mean, you make the worst pun ever and groan to yourself because you know you should be ashamed but no one else seems to have even noticed.  I mean, you have a task, an obstacle, a challenge you just can't overcome...no matter how you try...and you refuse to quit...and call it your "White Whale," and are met with blank stares.  I feel like this is happening more and more often lately.

So I thought I would compose, tho I suspect it will only be the first installment...

An Ode to the Colossally Stupid

That this will in no way be anything that could be confused in any way with anything either lyrical or poetic is of no consequence...the Colossally Stupid won't be making the connection between ODE and Lyrical Poem.  In fact, it's quiet likely that they are still googling "White Whale."  

The New Nanny Diaries?  Colossally Stupid.  

Dear Diary, 

It is far too taxing on me to babysit little Tommy under these conditions.  Fine, John can't come over.  Whatever, he has football practice anyway.  No drinking?  Really?  Who parties before 10 if it's not a Jamaican Me Crazy party or a tailgate?  But seriously, there's got to be a line somewhere.  Take last night, ok, so Tommy was sick and he hurled all over my new sweater that I was going to wear to Ladies Night at Main Street Pub this week!  Everyone knows as long as you have a student ID they don't card!  Not only is my sweater ruined...they didn't care, btw, didn't offer to dry clean it or replace it or anything...but I was so traumatized I couldn't make my 8:00 Psych 201 or my 10:30 Geology...which I only took so I could help John pass...Rocks for Jocks...hello...and seriously, I don't know when I'll be emotionally prepared to babysit again.  I mean, I only babysit to shop because my parents think I shop too much...and whose fault is that?  You teach a girl how to drive in a Jag, buy your way out of taking her to Midnight Mass with your fur, and move her into college with an egg crate, mattress pad, 600 thread count sheets (who knew you could get them in extra-long, not that 600 would be my first choice, but apparently I'm supposed to be learning personal responsibility or something.  Don't they have someone for that?), silk pillow cases so as not to leech moisture from her hair and face, and line her drawers with Crabtree & Evelyn scented liner because, among other reasons, ewww...other people's clothes have been in there!  Why not just go...gasp...bowling!  So whatever, they limit my spending money...I'll rebel against that later...for now I have to supplement my allowance!  After Tommy's foray into bulimia...I'm at a loss.  I mean...there's one of those give and get sales coming up at Banana...and you know me, I'm a giver...but I have to babysit to make the money to shop properly and I'm way too freaked out!  I need that stuff.  Like that whatdoyoucallit that construction workers get when stuff falls on their heads so they have to stay home but they get money.  I should totally get that.  I'm entitled.  I know I must be because people tell me I have entitlement issues all the time!  And while we're at it...why do Tommy's parents need a sitter?  Ummm...I've been sitting for them for a while now and I KNOW why they need a sitter!  They need a break from Tommy!  There's TWO of them and only ONE of me and he doesn't have to do what I say...where's my break?  Hang on...Larue's texting.

OMG!!!  Diary, guess what?!?  Larue said that those crusty dudes in Sacramento...God, who goes to Sacramento...are voting for me to get that construction worker thing-y...she said it's called "workman's comp insurance," I can't imagine why she knows that...but that will teach Tommy to go all Exorcist on me.  AND she said we can ALWAYS babysit together so instead of paying attention to Tommy, we can get ready to go out after his parents get home, because they will have to give me breaks...and some kind of paperwork to show those social security people that Mother and Father hate because they keep saying thay will never see all that money they gave them.  Should I send a "Thank You" muffin basket to those crusty dudes?

Ok...so...that's awesome right?  I mean, for me.  But when I grow up and have kids, I'm not giving some college student construction-worker-hit-in-the-head insurance and a bunch of breaks so they need to bring a friend and both get paid, 'cause for real?  I'm not stupid.  I know why I need breaks and stuff...I know you won't tell, diary, but I don't really NEED breaks to babysit for 5 hours and I sort of got that "stain" out of my sweater by throwing it in the delicate cycle with woolite...but I still know...and this is ME!  I'm soooo telling Tommy's parents they owe me!!!

Thanks Diary, you're the best...

Gidget

Workmen's Comp+10 min break every 2 hours+30 min break every 5 hours+detailed pay stubs (and the list goes on)=Colossally Stupid

Laws about Bed Linens?  Colossally Stupid.  To be filed under: You Can Not Make This Sh*t Up!  There is a (potentially even more Colossally Stupid) bill facing the California Legislature...I promise you, this is real...I googled it after I saw it on the news and then I had Husband google because I still couldn't believe "my lyin' eyes," as the uber-fab, Judge Marilyn Milian would say.  I have confessed my pathetic obsession, my dirty little secret, my addiction for which there is no 12 step program...judge shows...to you in the past...so don't judge me, damn it!!!  She says that all the time and love her.  There...I said it!  If you're done laughing at me we can get back to the Bill.  Are you ready?  I mean Really READY?!?  It is a bill to make flat bottom sheets in hotels, motels, b&bs, etc...ILLEGAL!  Not like when your mom said you couldn't go out and play until you made your bed, grounded kind of illegal...courts and lawyers and judges ILLEGAL!!!  Now, we know that California and the USA are in debt in the billions.  We have wars, poverty, unemployment...not even going down the health care road...you're just waiting for me to say immigration, not today, my friends...but as God is my witness, there is an actual bill introduced by an actual state senator waiting to be voted upon OUTLAWING FLAT BOTTOM SHEETS!  (Hey...isn't that a Queen song?) Apparently 4 hotel maids said making hospital corners hurt their backs and said state senator listened...to them...and ONLY to them.  I don't mean ONLY to them as opposed to the industry that stands to lose $15-$30M if this were to pass, in the cost of bed linens alone...but I mean to all the tens of thousands of other hotel maids (maid is likely not the PC term and if that's the case, I'm sorry, but I don't know of an alternative...oh...wait...housekeeping) who are very against this change because, among other things, it would increase each maid's per-room speed, thereby, again, not only driving up the costs industry-wide, but decreasing jobs.  And last I checked, a huge increase in cost to the hotel industry=an increase in room prices=a less viable tourist destination=less $$$ to a state that is in so much debt it's going to have to sell itself to Mexico to see daylight=can you feel that Colossally Stupid on the horizon?  Husband says math is fun, so let's take this one just a tiny bit further to make sure it's Colossally Stupid.  Room price increase/reduced tourism=fewer jobs for hotel maids in a state...and Country...plagued with an unemployment problem...coinciding with the need for fewer maids because of the illegality of flat sheets, still funny, regardless of the implications...illegal sheets...but I digress, increased, per-room, turnover speed (because fitted sheets are the bomb, yo! (I can't pull that off, can I?))=fewer jobs for hotel maids=increased unemployment.  Normally my circular logic makes sense, at least to me, as it is constructed, at least in part, for my benefit.  I've got no dog in this fight.  (Save all of your tasteless Eagles/Michael Vick jokes, I'm making them in my head)  Anyway, I've always preferred English to Math...you know, like back when a perfect score on the SATs was a 1600 and schools didn't make up random, bs GPAs, a 4.0 was a 4.0, a perfect score, same as a 1600, and I think my wee choo-choo of thought is starting to derail a wee bit again...but here's where I'm going...my math may be off...BUT I'm pretty sure that if you take the 4 maids (no offense to any maids a-milking or calling birds to which one refers in December) and then there's an X and Pi and something exponential to the square route of the number you get if you add up all the digits in your birthdate you get Y.  And apparently, my dog isn't just killing rats, but torturing them for information, and a rat told Lilac Water that Y is the constant for a whole bunch of hotel maids losing their jobs and increasing the unemployment rate...on top of, well all those other problems, and at this point, do you really want me to rehash...again???  No?  So we agree...Colossally Stupid.

Hiking in Iran?  Colossally Stupid.  Let's break this down.  Maybe I'm wrong and there is a shadow of the tiniest bit of a chance that this is simply Marginally Stupid.  As children, our parents taught us to walk.  As we got older, mastered the walking thing, they taught us to cross the street.  Look left, then right, then left again.  Remember that?  Ok.  Let's apply that earliest of lessons of "when it's safe to cross" to our genius hikers.  Go to Iran.  Face north.  Look to your left.  What do you see?  Iraq.  Look right.  What do you see?  Afghanistan.  Look left again?  Still Iraq.  Is it safe to cross Iran Street?  NO!!!  Just as I suspected...Colossally Stupid.

Glad I could clear that up.

XOXO

~CAT

PS-If anyone knows of a state senator looking to back a bill that gets bloggers paid (minimum wage, sure, but hey, nice work if you can get it!), construction-worker-hit-in-the-head insurance (because I walk into things, hit my head, and fall down more than you can imagine), and mandatory breaks, forward me his email!!!