Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Randomly Annoyed

Why am I randomly annoyed?  Well, I should think that would be obvious.  In fact, I'm annoyed that you don't understand the title of this entry.

Not really.

The kids and I were laughing yesterday, and by kids, I mean Saige and Jethro, though Erma was around to hear some of my diatribe against things that annoy me.  What I mean by randomly annoyed is that, well, in all honesty, sometimes the things I'll write about today annoy me terribly, and sometimes I'm not even truly aware the annoyance is going on and so, logically, I'm not annoyed.


Stick with me.  Let's take a journey through my brain, shall we?  Or not, because that actually seems kind of creepy.  Let's just have a talk, because this is my journal and I feel you all should know what annoys me.  In case.  In case you come to visit and want to talk about Calvary.  In case you're not exactly sure what certain words mean, but you like to throw them around on the internet to show your intelligence.  (And you consistently misspell the word you like to use)  

Ah. I'm getting ahead of myself, and maybe ahead of you, too.  

I told Jethro, Erma, and Saige last night that if I heard one more Civil War reenactor, or Antiques Roadshow appraiser, or even the Commander at Fort Knox that was in charge of the speech on Family Day for Jethro's graduation, exchange the word "Calvary" for "Cavalry", I might have to be mean.  Oh yes.  You heard me.  Mean.  That irritates me to no end, especially when the person is supposedly an expert on the subject.

Put it this way.  If my father started preaching this Sunday, and he's going along, teaching about the crucifixeration (as Jethro once called it.  That was cute.  He was little. I did say I was random, remember?  I never said I was fair) and he continually said things like, "And then they all marched up to Mount Cavalry..."  "And so, Jesus died, on the cross, at Cavalry..."  That would be annoying, right?  

Well, it would annoy me.

Please, please, please...  Learn the words, please?  The soldiers who traditionally rode horsies in the Army are in the Cavalry.  Cav.  Al.  Ry.  Not Calvary.  Jesus was crucified there.  Or, as Jethro put it, when he was a Cav Scout, they never once yelled out something along the lines of, "GO CALVS!"  Makes them sound like a bunch of baby bovines, doesn't it, or a leggy body part some of us complain about because ours are too fatty or too skinny?

Speaking of cows, when I worked at the Airways station at Scott AFB, our antennas were in a field the base leased from a farmer.  This farmer kept his cows in the field, so it made for some interesting times when we'd have to go into that field for one reason or another.  One day we had a pregnant Captain come out to work in our front office.  She said, very seriously, "Is it all right for me to work here?  Could anything hurt the baby?"  The training NCO (Person in charge of training) said, while he pretended to think, "No, no, you should be fine here."  Here he inserted a dramatic pause, then continued with, "Though there have been a few two headed calves born out there lately."  Then he turned back to his desk work.

The captain hastily packed up the few items she'd brought with her, grabbed her purse and her keys, and headed out the door as fast as she could go.

We never saw her again.

The training NCO was lying.  There were no 2 headed calves born in that herd!  

There's no longer an Airways station there.

I am slightly annoyed with some of the reality shows on television now.  Okay, to be honest, some of them amuse me, and some I watch to boost my own ego.  A case in point would be the show Hoarders.  I watch it and even if I'm alone, I will shout out, "SEE?!?!  I am an AWESOME housekeeper!!"  

Keep in mind that I don't have cable television, and a lot of the shows  I watch are ones I can catch online or through Netflix.  Not that it makes a difference, really.  A hoarder online is the same as a hoarder on cable, I'm sure.  I just felt like I should remind you that I don't have cable.

So, I do get some enjoyment or amusement from some of these shows that purport to show reality.  It's a guilty secret of mine, I have to admit.  This admission of mine actually means that this is no longer a secret, but I hope, given time, you'll forget about this and maybe even come to forgive me.

However, these shows also tend to put on people who seem to have serious language processing skills.  While I'm sure hearing someone talk about a woman's "cleavlage" can be amusing, it also makes us, and by us, I mean Americans.  In the same episode of whatever it was I was watching where the young man used the word cleavlage as if he had the correct word, another person mentioned needing to do her "calixthenics" for the day, and another said, "That woman is a "world wind" no matter where she goes!"

I could go on and on, if I'd actually written down enough of those mistakes to go on and on.

I didn't.  I only wrote down those three examples.

Math irritates me.  Not all math, of course.  Not even most math.  According to experts who know the difference between a crucifixion and a crucifixeration, math is beautiful and musical and just, well, it's lovely.  I disagree.  I think some math is necessary, and I'm pretty sure mathematics has a whole lot to do with a lot of subjects, but I find it rather ugly.

For example, I'll give you a math problem, one we run into around here occasionally.  "If a teeny tiny kitten has diarrhea in a rather large hallway,  what percentage of the time will you step in that diarrhea, rather than step over it?"  Answer?  100 percent.  

We are working and working on the rescued kittens, Bella and Lola, to get them litter trained, but one of them has had some boo boo tummy issues, so she doesn't make it.  Plus, they are very, very small kittens, and the litter box probably traumatizes them.

At their age, their mother would clean them, if she were around, or if we hadn't rescued them, they'd be dead or pooping outside.  Here, we just have to keep working with them to go in the litter box, or I'll need to remember to look down as I'm going through the house.

I'm going to stop talking about what annoys me for the moment.  Soon I do want to write about "imperical" data,  how and why religion and science should go together like a rama lama lama ka ding de de ding de dong*, and how tired I am of that old argument, "If there is a God, why does he allow suffering, huh?  Huh?"

I've been rather silly today, I know, but there are some things I want to write about that I've thought about quite often.  Seriously.

In closing, I'd like to say, "Go in peace, be warm and filled."

* Random Grease reference
* If you're not sure what I mean, then you probably didn't grow up singing happily to the Grease soundtrack album, did you?
* Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?

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