Good samaritan award

It was good samaritan day, which is great, because it obviously was NOT Getting Errands Done Day (I got so frustrated at the supermarket that I abandoned my basket and fled. Hey, Vons, when 15 people are in line it's time to call another checker.)

I was at home about noon when I heard a woman yelling for someone to get out of her car. Over and over.

"Crap," I thought. I once made a vow to always help women in abusive situations. I don't really want to, but a vow is a vow, ya know?

So I went out to the street in front of my house and talked to this couple who were drunk and having a fight in their car. I asked the woman if she needed help or wanted me to call the cops. The guy told me not to get involved. I ignored him and stayed until they drove off.

It was all inane and jumbled and stupid in an alcohol-fueled kind of way, and I am not sure I did any good, other than to let a woman know that when she yelled, someone was listening.

Yes, I know it was dangerous. But if I ever get killed by an enraged boyfriend, please have them put "At least she tried to help," on my headstone.

Then tonight my friend Alicia and I went to see the Gin Blossoms play a free concert in the park in Camarillo. It was super fun, a perfect summer night in the park kind of thing with tiny lights in the trees and lots of glow necklaces.

On the way to the show, we noticed a whole row of cars with parking tickets on them, with a cop busily writing even more tickets. There must have been 25 ticketed cars in a line, but there were no "No Parking" signs.

"We should ask the cops what is up," I said idly.

"You want me to?" Alicia asked.

"YEAH!" I said.

The cops told us that there was no parking there.

"Where are the signs?" we asked. They could not find any signs. We left them still buzzing around, trying to figure out what was going on.

When we came out, all the tickets were gone off those cars. Twenty-five families whose nights wouldn't be ruined by stupid parking tickets! Alicia and I high-fived each other.

"They'll never know," she said. But we did, and that was pretty damned cool.

*******
If any of The Rats are reading, how much does Jesse Valenzuela of the Gin Blossoms look like Joe DoHo?? I spent the whole concert thinking: Did Joe just not tell us he is also a rock star?

My sonic overlord

OMG there's a christian rap music concert in the park a block away. Of all the genres of music, christian rap ranks right down there with death metal in my book.

It is so loud in my house that I want to poke my eardrums out with q-tips. Actually, I look like this:


And it is so hot that I can only bear having the windows shut for a couple minutes at a time (no, we don't have A/C. This is the beach, baby) lest we feel like this:


Forget finishing the laundry. Goldie and I are getting in the car and going Anywhere But Here.

Wanted: sweet little lies

My "team" at work is joining forces with a different, unknown-to-us team three time zones away.

As part of the effort to get us to work together, we are attempting the following fun exercise during our next teleconference: Tell 3 things about yourself. One must be a lie. The other associates will guess which are the truth and which are lies.

The problem is that my life is an open book. My co-workers know everything about me (well, maybe not about those sailors during Fleet Week, but almost everything).

(See, that was a lie. I am not even sure when or where Fleet Week is).

What I need is a good, innocuous, work-safe, probable lie. Something that might happen to me. YOU know me.

Hit me with your suggestions in comments. The winner receives a somewhat valuable prize.

You take the good you take the bad

In yesterday's mail:

Checks totaling $389 from my health insurance company (a long story). I was fairly excited about this development.

A notice from the IRS that they think I owe them $371. I was not so excited about this.

Why does it always go like this? Your work bonus comes through and the dryer catches fire. A freelance check you had forgotten about finally arrives and your brakes start making that awful grinding noise.

Any scientists out there? Can you tell me: is this some kind of natural law that keeps the universe in balance? If I get money in the mail without having an expense soon after, will Pluto spin out of orbit?

Randomosity

1. I am loving all these comments lately. What did I do to deserve this?

2. Why doesn't everyone subscribe to Linkateria? It would make me so very happy.

3. I know I have sworn not to talk about work on my blog. But you can always email me.

4. Why does everyone do nothing but complain about their spouses/partners but then, when I say I am single, try to remedy MY situation??

5. Another one for the Suebob: Supergenius category: the other day I told my investment advisor that if I was going to invest in an international fund, it wouldn't be China because I felt there were more scandals on the way. Lead paint, anyone?

6. I complain about housing prices here all the time (average home price: $650k). But a couple times a week, my heart just bursts with love over how beautiful and wonderful this place is. Does that happen to other people, elsewhere?

Fitting in and getting out

This post was inspired by Mothergoosemouse's latest post about not fitting in.

I have often said "I'm not exactly a people person."

Not being a people person is easily misconstrued. Lisa Stone wrote about me using the Red Stapler as an icebreaker at BlogHer 2006 and someone commented that I was so sweet and shy.

Uh, I wouldn't say SHY. It's not that I am uncomfortable in social situations. It's just that they wear me out, so I usually skip them. At the time, I am perfectly happy.

Later, when I come home, I need time to recover. I spend 4 hours at a party, and then need to flop around lazily for 8 hours to get my strength back. Then the weekend is over and my carpet still looks like it is in the "before" stage of a vacuum demonstration.

People who love to be in groups just can't understand the need for solitude. Being with friends and family fills them up and gives them energy. What could be more fun? Why don't you want to join in the fun?

Most of my readers are other bloggers, so I think I am preaching to the choir, here. Because you usually don't become a blogger because you love to socialize in groups. You become a blogger so you can lob your little idea-bombs from behind the safety of a computer screen and receive your contact with the outside world in a controlled, manageable manner.

I might say I'll call you, but I will probably email. If I get really brave, we could IM each other.

How about you? How much social interaction do you need? Do you have to recover afterward?

Vindication

Last winter, I sent a nice letter to Yankee Candle suggesting a name change for one of my favorite scents (Vanilla Cookie) to Creme Brulee (doesn't everyone love Creme Brulee?) to make it sell better, since they were discontinuing it.

In return, they sent me an oddly-worded letter basically telling me to go to hell for even suggesting such a thing:

While we would like to accept all of our valued guests' suggestions and ideas, unfortunately, we are unable to do so at this time. Please accept our apologies for your disappointment regarding this matter.

I just got my new catalog. Once again, I am right and the rest of the world is wrong. Dang, it feels good to be Queen of Everything.