The above advertisement has been following me around the internet like a bored toddler. It showed up on my email sidebar a few days ago and has stayed with me as I research and read all over the intertubes.
I can’t decide if I’m insulted by the advert’s implication that I’m mature [old?] OR if I’m charmed by its desire to help me look better. Presumably.
Of course if you look closely you’ll notice that there’s no indication of the name of the company that makes this allegedly fabulous lipstick nor where I might buy said lippy.
IT’S A SAD AD IF YOU ASK ME.
But here’s the thing, no one has asked me. It’s as if no one cares about my need for or opinion about the product featured in this unsolicited advertisement that will not go away.
And no matter how much I keep smiling about this advert, and all the other unsolicited ones that clutter my computer screen, I cannot help but feel irritated by the impudence of these wet-behind-the-ears companies assuming I’d want to buy anything from them because they’ve decided I’m mature.
Who am I to stop a friend or acquaintance when they’re on a good rant?
I MEAN, I may or may not agree with them but there are times when letting people vent is the best conversational gambit I know of.
And let me assure you that people in my life are getting quite rant-y. Blame it on the hot weather or the current deluge of Trumpian noise or the alignment of the planets, but the peoples have things they want to say.
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FOR EXAMPLE, one woman, a Boomer, spent a good 5 minutes monologuing about how all Millennials are lazy and useless and entitled and __________ [fill-in the blank]. I think she stopped because she’d run out of breath, not complaints.
Considering she has a child who is a Millennial I thought her rant was a bit odd, but maybe it was her passive-aggressive way of dealing with her frustration about her progeny’s choices.
All I could think to say was “I believe you” because I do believe that from her point of view what she said is truthful to her.
I’m perceptive and empathetic, don’t you know?
• 🔶 •
SOON THEREAFTER, one man, a Millennial, started into his monologue about how much debt he and his friends have and how Boomers never had any debt and that his suffering is the worst darned financial suffering that ever has been. Without any doubt.
Considering he lived at home rent-free [with a Boomer parent] while he was in college I thought his rant was a bit odd, but maybe it was his passive-aggressive way of dealing with his frustration about his job now that he wants to leave the nest.
Again all I could think to say was “I believe you” because I do believe that based on his life experiences what he said is truthful to him.
I’m tuned-in to the people around me, don’t you know?
• 🔶 •
SO WITH the foregoing experiences fresh in my mind, and with the summer temps predicted to be in the 90s with humidity to match, I’ll end this post by suggesting that if you have a rant you’d like to express, I’m here to hear it.
I suspect I’ll be inside most of the weekend and from what I can tell my ability to listen is what the world needs right now.
Lay it on me. What’s been grinding your gears lately? What’s your sorry not sorry? I’m listening.
AS YOU MAY RECALL when last we met I was distraught about what I believed to be the demise of my precious desktop computer, Cora.
However, I was wrong about Cora. Allow me to explain.
You see, Zen-Den decided to help me by unplugging my phone charger from my computer and instead plugging it into the surge protector strip that is on the floor behind the desk on which Cora sits.
He did this so that the round phone charger could sit on the desktop farther away from the round stone coaster on which I put my beverage whilst typing on Cora. There was concern, well-founded, that I’d accidentally, absent-mindedly use the round phone charger as my coaster, thereby ruining the charger.
Nice thought, good intentions.
• • •
THEN Z-D AMSCRAYED OFF to Colorado where he did Important Work Things leaving me with what seemed to be a dead computer sitting on the top of my desk. I, of course, did all the requisite things one does when one’s computer appears to have given up the ghost.
I double-checked that everything was plugged in. I banged on the keyboard. I checked the mouse battery. I turned the surge protector strip on and off.
I swore. I begged. I prayed.
And I texted Zen-Den who told me to do that which I’d already done, and that he’d look at Cora when he got back home at the end of the week.
Which he did.
But here’s the thing, when Z-D had added the phone charger plug to the surge protector strip, he moved all the plugs around on the strip to make them fit, not knowing there was a defective outlet on the strip.
Thus he inadvertently plugged Cora into an outlet that sent no electricity to her, so she did not work for me. However, when he repositioned her plug on the surge protector strip, she came to life. Like a miracle.
And there was joy in the land.
All of which brings me to the fact that I’m back to blogging, properly plugged in, happily engaging with Cora, and ready to share my own brand of flapdoodle & twaddle here.
Overwatered pots of formerly beautiful geraniums and petunias, now looking like death warmed over.
Pots of herbs so wet they are existing in a weird soggy stasis, looking pathetic.
In the parlance of ye olde weather forecasters who claim to know why we’ve had this excessive, soul-sucking rain: there’ve been “numerous ripples of energy” that have brought more rain showers and thunderstorms to the region than are normal.
Uh huh. That’s nice.
However, be that as it may, while the rain continues unabated I’ll just contemplate “am I happy or in misery” while I’m stuck inside the house today in my own version of a caffeinated, irritable, non-psychedelic purple gray haze.
Think about your SENIOR year in High School. The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!
Did you know your current significant other? No. We met in college a few years later.
Make and year of car? I didn’t have a car until I was a senior in college.
What kind of job? I worked at a DQ until it went out of business. I never could master making those DQ swirls on top of the cones, but I don’t think that’s why the place went out of business.
Where did you live? I lived in a small house on a brick street a few blocks away from the high school. I walked to school.
Were you popular? I had friends but wasn’t part of the A-list crowd.
Were you in choir? No. I was in the orchestra and the band.
Ever get suspended from school? Why yes I did. Didn’t you?
If you could, would you go back?Are you crazy? I would not in a million years want to go back to high school.
Still talk to the person that you went to prom with? I didn’t go to prom because no one asked me, therefore I have no one to talk, or not talk, with.
Did you skip school? I liked school enough to not skip it.
Go to all the football games? I was in marching band therefore I was forced to go to the home football games. Our team was not a winning team. *yawn*
Favorite subject? I liked English and I also liked Printing which was part of a graphic arts department. Those two subjects made up for Chemistry and the most boring American Government class that has ever happened anywhere in this country ever.
Do you still have your yearbooks? No, I threw them away years ago.
Did you follow the career path you planned? I had no career path in high school. It was just something to get through on my way to college.
Did you have a class ring? Yes, I had a class ring. It was yellow gold with a dark green stone in it. I still have it [somewhere].
Still close with your best friend? Yes, she comments here sometimes.
Who was your favorite teacher? My favorite teacher was the assistant music teacher who’d just graduated from college the year before. His youngest sister was younger than I was and attempting to think of him as a teacher was almost impossible. He was a hoot, especially when he tried to direct the orchestra, something he did not do well.
What was your style? I was a girl wearing matchy-matchy outfits in bright colors with coordinating jewelry and pretty shoes. Let’s call that style: small-town Glamour magazine teenage chic.
Favorite shoes? I don’t remember any one pair in particular.
Favorite music? I liked rock and I liked jazz. I played classical.
High school hair? I had a short hairstyle that made my mother happy. I stretched my curly hair straight and used about half a can of hairspray each morning to keep the frizz at bay. It was a labor-intensive hairdo.
What kind of cologne/perfume? I don’t remember any one perfume that I used. I’m sure I did, but what it was, I dunno.
How old when graduated? I was 18 years old.
Did you play a sport? No, but I did take all sorts of lessons, like golf and tennis and swimming. But as for a team sport… you gotta be kidding me!
FYI: For the next few weeks I’m going to bug out of the blogosphere while we do homeowner things. Our house is 20 years old. There are problems to solve, issues to address. Therefore, I’ll be busy elsewhere being a responsible adult. Look for me back here mid-June.