How far does a person have to be behind you before it's acceptable to not hold the door and let it close behind you? How long are you expected to hold it open while the person does that weird run/walk thing to hurry and catch up to you so you don't have to stand there forever? If someone does hold the door open for you, especially for an extended period, wouldn't it be appropriate to say thank you or at the bare minimum give the typical "white people" grimace smile (the kind that is given when two white people are passing each other and there is no one else in the vicinity so a toothless half smile that says "I'm kind of uncomfortable about this, but I need to acknowledge you in some way" type face)...Black people are much cooler in this regard and provide each other with a head nod of sorts; this is also better because a smile should only be given when there is something to smile about, the strangers we smile at could be serial killers for all we know. Anyway I digress...
The "thank you" is obvious. People should always say thank you if the door is held for them. If a thank you is not received, the door holder has every right to shout "Your welcome!" or heave a big loud sigh, or a provide the offender with a "tsk ahhhhhh!" The other situations are not so obvious and I find myself faced with these questions daily. Either I hold the door open for a super extra long time because I am trying to be kind, but then I just seem weird for extending myself in this manner for a complete stranger. Or I judge that the person is a reasonable enough distance behind me and let the door close. Then that person catches up to me at the elevator or something and I feel they must be thinking, "thanks for holding the door asshole." I don't know, what the answers are. Maybe someone out there does.
One would think this problem could be resolved if revolving doors were installed everywhere, but trust me when I say, there are complications there as well. Like if you're going out and someone is coming in, you see that person, but do you stand there and let that person get in even if there is not a full door available to him or her (it's like half of one door and half of the other)...? Or do you start to push thus giving him or her the opportunity to step into a full door situation, but possibly chopping their arm off in the process if they don't time things the same way you do? I think I would find myself a much happier person in the mornings if I didn't have to deal with these issues. I think I am happier when I find myself either walking alone so I don't have to deal with pedestrian traffic, or in the middle of a big crowd so someone else has to ponder these issues.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Apologies
I would like to apologize to anyone that has had their comments deleted from my posts (I just did it again). Please know that when they are deleted it is because I think they are funny and I try to respond. Then something happens and I delete everything. I don't know how this happens exactly because if I actually wanted to intentionally delete something, the process seems quite complicated. I think there might even be a way to get them back, but it has proven unsucessful. So, I'm just going to stop trying to comment on things from now on. I guess you hear enough about my opinions from the blog itself anyways.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Sarah and Rob Start Practicing!!!!
I would like to have been in the room when everyone was learning this dance.
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For those of you who might not know, this is the exact dance from Dirty Dancing. Lift and all. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!!!"
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For those of you who might not know, this is the exact dance from Dirty Dancing. Lift and all. "Nobody puts Baby in a corner!!!"
Thursday, March 1, 2007
And tonight on the 11 o'clock News...
"If you thought a Vice Principle selling crystal meth was bad....Well, wait to you hear about the gay porn, sex toys and nudity!"
This was the attention grabbing headline of the evening, used to advertise the NBC10 News @ 11, after The Office tonight. Please note that the news anchor actually sounded excited about delivering this news. "Please join us tonight for the full story, graphic pictures, and an interview with the ugliest, dumbest person we can find. Let us help you make Philadelphia a better place to live. Yay!"
This was the attention grabbing headline of the evening, used to advertise the NBC10 News @ 11, after The Office tonight. Please note that the news anchor actually sounded excited about delivering this news. "Please join us tonight for the full story, graphic pictures, and an interview with the ugliest, dumbest person we can find. Let us help you make Philadelphia a better place to live. Yay!"
I couldn't have said it better myself...
My Mom sent me this forward. It's hilarious and gives you guys something funny to read since I've been slacking this week. Sorry you guys! I have to do better because I do not want to loose my readers. I'm going bridesmaid dress shopping this weekend, so I'm sure to have something funny to say about that.
.......
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and
hand you Kleenex under the door!
.......
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone’s Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and
hand you Kleenex under the door!
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