Thursday, September 26, 2013

Me, me, me

As unartistic and unattractive as it makes me feel, I often get into ridiculous situations or else create situations and react to them ridiculously, very much in the manner of Larry David’s character in Curb Your Enthusiasm.  Here are 2 examples from the past couple weeks:

1.    The other night I couldn’t find my cell phone, so I called it from the land line (so I’d hear its ring and know where it was).  It didn’t work though, and I was on the landline so long I reached someone’s voicemail.  The combination of me having called the wrong number, reaching a stranger’s voicemail AND of how obnoxious the outgoing message sounded made me sort of like jump and throw the phone and go “Ah!”  

   “What happened?” asked my husband, to which I replied, “Well, not only was I calling a wrong number, but then the outgoing message I reached was so obnoxious it hurt my ears to hear it.  It was this cranky woman, and she was talking like she thought she sounded like a valley girl, but really she sounded like a 38 year old spinster.  She was like ‘Um, if you’re hearing this message, it’s because I live in the hills and get really, really bad cell reception here-' and then I had to hang up, because she sounded so horrible.”  But as soon as these words came out of my mouth, I realized that I hadn’t dialed a wrong number and reached a stranger’s outgoing message – no, that was my own slightly valley girl, angry spinster outgoing message that had alarmed and irritated me so immediately and viscerally. 

2.    It’s a pet peeve of mine the way drivers in L.A. are so fixated on  being able to make a right turn on a red light.  Everyone here is in a hurry, rushing to trade up their i-phones or get their eyebrows threaded, they can’t be bothered with waiting 2 minutes max for the light to turn green.  I'm just a bored and harried lower middle class secretary, so I personally don’t need  to inch forward every second of a red light, especially when it’s onto a busy street, like Hollywood Blvd, to try to squeeze in between speeding oncoming traffic, at the risk of only looking left at the traffic and not looking right first to see if there are pedestrians about to walk in front of me (as has so often happened to me and my husband when we’ve been brazen enough to walk anywhere in this town – and I hope our slaps on your hood dented the fuck out of your stupid car if you are one of the people who've almost run us over).  When someone behind me is in a hurry at a red light and I don’t feel like trying to outrun oncoming traffic in my busted 2001 corolla, I often get honked at, which is part of the pet peeve, because honking is for alerting people of a possible emergency, not for being a stupid fuckhead who thinks you’re the only person in the world who matters.  Well, the other day I was turning right onto a busy street to take my son to day care and it was a red light and the person behind me honked at me to go.  Then, guess who should be driving into the same building – the guy who’d just honked at me.  He parked on a lower floor.  I’d seen what he looked like, but that wasn’t really useful information to me, I wasn’t going to call the CHP and be like “Help!  A middle-aged Asian man in a gray windbreaker just honked at me.”  But when I pushed the button for the elevator, it came from the lower parking level, and who should already be on there but 3 men, one of whom I was 85% sure was the honker.  I couldn’t help myself so I said “Excuse me, I know this is uncomfortable, but did one of you honk at me when I was making a right turn onto this street a few minutes ago, because someone who drove into this building did that and I thought it was really uncalled for.”  Yep, I was right, that did make things uncomfortable. Then, I couldn’t help but look accusingly at the guy I pretty much knew had honked at me, and he said, “I’m bipolar, so I didn’t honk at you.”  

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