The Golden Years

The Golden Years (or the retirement age) are depicted on TV as the peaceful time when one can go fishing, run with the grandchildren and the dogs in slow motion over beautiful green grass and contemplate the horizon seating in a rocking chair on a white veranda.

You know you have arrived to your Golden Years though when you start getting advertisement of items and services you don’t think you need…yet.

Walkers, hearing aids, cemetery lots and cremation services are some of them. The last one I received is Seniordating.com: a beautiful collection of member photos of plump old ladies with too much makeup and bad dentures.

I guess it is the typical consumerist tactic: they start creating Halloween in September, Christmas in October, and the golden years when we are still wearing Silver Sneakers…

Look me in the eye

Last night I went to an event at a friend’s home where I didn’t know many people, even though it was a small event among people from the neighborhood with similar cultural background. The fact is that while “working the room” I was introduced to this gentleman who owns a small coffee shop where I go occasionally for coffee and some special pastries.

He recognized me as the occasional client I am and we got into an animated conversation about themes of relevance for our community.

We were seating side by side on a sofa but somewhat sort of half facing each other. I had my back to the entry door. I noticed that every time someone new entered the room and I was talking to him, he would move his focus of attention from the conversation to the new arrivals, to the point that he would totally disconnect from what I was saying and wander into his own thoughts and the drink he had in his hand.

I was pretty annoyed with his behavior and started thinking that maybe my conversation didn’t interest him, but every time I started to get up and go somewhere he would come back from his haze and restart the conversation.

I realized that there are people that have a “tangential” way of establishing a rapport with their interlocutor, just like a lady I know that while talking to you is always looking at her own reflection in a mirror, a glass door or the glass of a picture on the wall across from her.

Hey! Look me in the eye…please!

Got change?

Call me obsessive. My kids think that I'm borderline obsessive/compulsive with certain things.

Yes, I tend to be organized. I carry my trademark Man-purse (more like a bag across my chest) where I carry everything: from my wallet to my cell phone, including my money bag (or "chacarita" as my father used to call it). There is a compartment for bills and one for loose change in it.

All that is great. It helps me keep everything at my fingertips.

The problem is when I go to the supermarket and I pay cash. The cashier is trained to put the receipt, the bills and the change right on top of it all and hand it to you with the left hand while starting to scan the merchandise of the next client right behind you with the right hand. The "bagger" on the other end holds the bags in front of your nose with a big smile encouraging you to hurry up and go.

That means that I don't have time to pull out mi "chacarita", put the bills in its place, the change in its pocket, the receipt in the trash can and get the bags, all in twenty three seconds

Where is the inner peace and the harmonious rythm of life?

Ohmmmmmmm!
The supermarket and I are not the best of friends!

And now what?

A few days ago I had a business meeting with three ladies. We met at (where else?) Starbucks. Believe me, I'm not being sponsored by it! Unfortunately!

As the trained gentleman that I am, I offered to get the drinks for all of us. I'm not embarrassed to say that my knowledge of Starbuckisan language is very limited. I get all confused with the alto's, latte's, etc.

I any case, part of the order was a small hot chocolate. All the drinks were small (or alto) as they call it.

Everything was fine until the "barista" (i knew that one) asked me if I wanted whipped cream with the chocolate.

Now, I think that most women are very much aware of the calorie intake and such. I'm also aware than many people are very self conscious about hidden messages in someone else's attitude.

So here I am, suddenly, debating weather adding whipped cream to the chocolate and risking being considered insensitive to women's concerns or not adding the cream and having the lady think that I'm thinking that she has a weight issue and shouldn't add more calories. Total confusion and the barista is pressing for a decision

What to do?I finally decided not to add the whipped cream. I later explained to the lady that I made my decision based on general health concerns. A polite smile and many thanks put my conscience to rest (or did it?)

Say what?

Getting exposed to other cultures is an exciting experience: new ways of thinking, different foods and foreign languages.

Nothing better than learning to speak a foreign language because doing so we learn to understand that there are different (not necessarily better or worst) ways of doing things.

But learning a language doesn't come without its doses of annoyances.

I had been living in the States for a relatively short time when I realized the importance of some phonetic nuances that a foreigner's ear doesn't distinguish easily.

I was starting in a new job when I was assigned to inspect the work in some new homes being built. I was presenting my oral report during a morning meeting with the entire office when I was asked the status of the construction. I told the group that they were installing the sh*t rock (I meant sheet rock) and to my surprise everybody burst out laughing. I felt totally embarrassed and not because of what I had said, but because I didn't know why they were laughing. I couldn't hear the difference between "shee" ans "shi". Actually I didn't even realized there were two different sounds.

The same thing applies to beach and b*tch, and some other difficult sounds

What a pain. It can be very embarrassing!

Handshake

A handshake is a ritual way to greet people. Said to be in use by the Greeks in the 5th Century BC it is no wonder that for as long as I can remember a handshake is ....well...a handshake. It seems to have originated as a gesture of peace, showing the other person your unarmed hands.

Now the handshake has evolved, like almost everything else. There are cultural and generational variations that add interest and make hand shakes somewhat challenging.

When I came to live in the United States I didn't know, for example, what a Hi Five was. Someone I knew used to greet me like that and I didn't know what to do with it or how to respond to it until someone pointed it out and explained it to me. Awkward!

These days people touch fists in different ways and have developed all kinds of handshake-like greetings.

The one that annoys me is the Thumb-wrap. A new friend of mine uses the thumb-wrap. I haven't been able to manage it quite yet. The idea is (I think) to end up with your hand wrapped around your counterpart's thumb (see illustration).

When I greet him with a regular hand shake he manages to move his hand up around my thumb and move it all up to chest hight (!). I have tried to go straight to the chest-height-thumb-wrap but it doesn't work. I think that part of the pleasure is to create in the other person a sense inadequacy . The greeting starts with the hand at waist height and a forward movement like a hand shake but then, surprisingly, the hand slides up your palm and grabs the thumb.

Hmmmmm. I miss a regular, standard, safe and predictable hand shake

Belts

Getting dressed in the morning is easy. My size 32 pants fit me perfectly well. I feel full of energy, ready to conquer the world...I'm a morning person, what can I do.

As the day goes by, especially after lunch (no matter how light lunch is) my waist seems to grow a couple of inches. Size34 pants would be great now, but I'm still wearing my size 32ones. The belt constrains me, especially when I seat; but letting it go a notch or two doesn't help unless I unbutton my pants. Not a pretty picture to see a man with unbuttoned pants!

By Happy Hour time I'm starving, needing size 40 pants and a stretching belt. I'm fearing dinner by now, especially if I'm in the company of strangers.

After dinner my name changes to balloon man. Not because I sell balloons at night, but because I feel like I swallowed all the balloons I could be selling.

So I rush home, change to loose fitting, soft cloth old rags, sigh and start the decompression period.

Wouldn't it be nice if fashion designers would take the daily waist metamorphosis into consideration?.

What ever happened with elastic waist pants?

Boinnngggggh!

Food

Food can be a great source of pleasure and joy. When I think of it an image comes to mind that connects with my taste buds and the aroma of that meal...

Driving along the coast road on a chilly and breeze Mid-october afternoon in Bretagne, France, we stopped along the road in one of the simple restaurants in front of the ocean.

Simple indeed in its architecture the restaurant is where fishermen bring their seafood catch every morning. The infinite assortment of oysters, mussels, shrimps, lobster....you name it, was impressive. This bounty was displayed in big, thick baskets and garnished with the gifts of the ocean. The smell or the sea and seaweed made the seafood look even more apetizing. Our selection was placed in a large tray on crushed ice with slices of lemmon. A chilled bottle of crisp white wine complemented the feast. Even today I can recreate in my mind all the wonderful sensations I experienced.

Today I'm at a client's house in Miami waiting for some deliveries. It was lunch time and I went to one of the chain restaurants that sell sandwiches, etc. nearby. I ordered (and eat, which is even worst) one of the worst-tasting and looking panini in my life. Described as a grilled chicken Tuscan panini (it should actually be panino in correct Italian, no panini: one panino, two panini) it was a microwaved piece of plastic chicken, a slice of melted Kraft "cheese", two slices of rubberized bacon and a cup of BBQ sauce, pressed between two pieces of pale and depressing imitation ciabatta bread. I guess it was, in its own way also a memorable meal.

So much so that I'm writing about it

Ughhhhhhh! Annnnnoying!

The dream machine

The dream machine

We all dream. Not all of us remember what we dream but we do dream.
I dream in technicolor and high definition! How about you?

The issue is what comes next. Let's say I'm having a great dream ...I'm on an island, at the beach, with turquoise warm waters......you get the picture, right? I wake up with a beatific smile on my face and a sense of peace and happiness and I want to stretch those images for a while. What annoys me is that the fabric of my dream starts unraveling in my mind as I regain consciousness and after a few seconds I can't remember what I was dreaming.

It gets even worst when I have a "serious" dream. The type of dream that I know has a meaning, that moves me, that has a connection with something deep inside me. I want to remember it. I want to come back to it and analyze it, find the meaning.

Sometimes I remember it when I wake up but the images are so fragile that fall like sand between my fingers.

why, oh why...

I have made a point to have a note pad next to my bed to write my dreams, but ever since the dreams elude me. I'm starting to reprogram my mind so that I remember. In the meantime dreaming has become... another little annoyance

Password?

How many times a day do you need to enter your user name and password to log in a site?

And in how many new sites do you have to register per week?

In my case I've counted 55 different websites I' m registered with. That means that I have many, and I mean many passwords or combination of elements to make them different enough.

Some sites require numbers, capital letters, eight characters, etc.

A friend of mine said to me that he has only one!!! That's easier, but what about hacking? I don't know why anyone would like to hack my accounts, but it has already happened to me, so I have a lot of combinations of elements to make my passwords.

I decided to write them all down. Most of the times I have to look them up. But at times I'm hyper-confident and trust my memory. If I'm lucky, it works right away. When not, I get really frustrated: I forgot the capital letter, it was the wrong combination of user name and password, or I forget that they required that I change the password 13 days ago.

Weren't computers supposed to make life easier???

I know, I' dating myself. I'm a pre-computer dinosaur

Love peanuts?

I don't like peanuts and I tell you why. Listen to what happened to me recently. I had ordered some stuff on line. I was awaiting the shipment since it was for one of my projects. Finally UPS comes with a fairly large box. I was surprised because I had ordered several small items. I concluded that everything should had been consolidated in one shipment.

I open the box and it's filled with green peanuts!

I'm not talking edible peanut here, I'm talking packing peanuts: that annoying peanut shaped foam stuff that clings to everything! So I had to "dive" into that tub of peanuts like a kid in one of those pools filled with multicolor balls but without the fun.

Let's think logically, I said to myself. I don't want that stuff all over my office floor but I have to make sure that I find all the small pieces I ordered. So I picked a plastic trash bag to start scooping the peanuts into the bag, right? Wrong. The plastic bag and the peanuts suffer of "too much attraction". They are statically charged and start attaching to the inside and the outside the plastic bag.

I decided to move the operation outside the office, next to the trash can, thinking that it would be easier to dispose of them. My guilt was killing me with the recycling and all that stuff but, I just don't like those peanuts.

The next attempt to scoop them out was worst than the first. IT WAS WINDYYYYY!

I had to run around like a maniac behind every peanut that floated happily away from me. After scooping them all out I was still missing one part. I had to do it twice until I had all my pieces.

No more peanuts, please

Brrrr!!!

Many of us have to go from time to time through long hours of seating for a whole weekend in a hotel meeting room during some type of seminar, be it a continuing education course, a preparation course for an exam, a training course or a working session.

Last weekend I took an interesting seminar. Saturday and Sunday from 9 am through 7pm. As interesting and engaging as it was, we all had to endure what I call the "battle of the thermostat". Boy, it was cold...Brrrrrrrr!!!!

Having been at both ends of the room, as an instructor and as a student, it's almost impossible to find the perfect temperature. While the instructor is active talking, moving around and thinking on his or her feet, students are just seating still fighting sleep. So right there there is a difference in temperature perception.

The bigger the room and the larger the group, the most difficult it is to reach the ideal temperature. While the front of the room is cold, the back is worm and vice-versa. He best suggestion is to go to those sessions dressed like an onion, in layers.

Stripping down and dressing up will keep you busy and distracted, especially if the course is mandatory or boring and you'd rather be doing something else. It is also an opportunity to show your fashion sense, by combining many pieces of clothing and accessories to protect yourself against extreme temperature conditions. So go ahead and be creative...

Word crutches

You now?, I'm starting to kind of writing this post, you know, and it's like trying to say something, you know?, that at the end of the day sort of makes you feel like, you know?, you said a lot but not really, you know?.

Would you use crutches to walk if you don't need to?

Why then do people use so many word crutches to speak?

It's a trend, I know. But an ugly one, like many of the horrible shoes ladies are using these days. The shoes make them look like they have swollen feet and the word crutches sound so repetitive, like someone's banging your head everytime you hear them: bang, bang, bang.

We do it unconsciously, like we do many other things. But for communication's sake, let's try to talk with a continuous flow of words to make communicating among us more pleasant. Maybe we could even get to try and listen to one another and put our heads together to get out of the confrontation mode we are all immersed in. Huh?

The world at your fingertips

It's been a while since my last posting. Life became a "big" little annoyance for a while. Too many things that didn't go as desired: Expectations weren't met, efforts weren't compensated, etc. At the end of the day (this is one of the verbal crutches that annoy me) it's all in ourselves. The river of life goes back to its course, or we get easily used to its new course. Whichever way it is, we go from one side of the river to the other without drowning.

It all goes well until your video on demand system doesn't work!

I know, I know. It sounds so vain, so empty, right?... Video on demand! Is that the worst thing that can happen to us? No, it is not, but it is one of those you can joke and laugh about.

It all started a lazy Sunday night: Preparing for the Sunday-syndrome night sleep one wants to unplug and immerse oneself in an easy viewing movie.

So, resigned to pay $6.99 for the privilege of watching a movie all for me, and nobody else, I pressed the button: SELECT.  NO WAY BACK!!! I Own it!!!

Ten minutes into the movie a window pops-up: "An error has occurred. Message SRM8114". Go Figure!!!!

It has happened before, so I unplug the cable box, and count to 20. Plug it back again. Wait 3 minutes. It's coming back...It's back... Go back to one screen, then the next, and the next. Here comes the movie,,, No. Not again. Message SRM8114.

Now is the moment to call the cable company. I dial it and get an upbeat music with all the offers for movies, games, etc. Then comes the first menu. I press 2, then the second menu, I press 4, then the third menu. At that point I press 0 and start yelling: Agent!, Representative!, Agent!

More music. This time more mellow..."Do you know that you can check your problems on line?"... More music.

Thank God for speaker phones. 18 minutes later, Shelly answers with her melodyc voice and her well rehearsed speech. "Thank you for calling Comcast. This is Shelly... How can I help you tonight?"

I go on explaining my frustration just to hear her ask me for my account number, my wife's social security number's last four digits, my password, my pin number and the answer to the secret question we selected two years ago when we opened the account!

All alarms go off. I don't know where all that information is. I want to watch my movie. That's all I know and that's all I want.

Shelly patiently helps me go through all the hurtles. She assures me that she's going to help me solve my problem and that she's really sorry for the inconvenience. All she needs to start is the serial number of the cable box. It should be in the back of the box on a sticker with a bar code.

I sit on the floor and start pulling out the cable box. There are fifteen cables behind it, all tangled up. I can barely turn the box 90 degrees. I am finally able to take a peek at the back of the box to discover not one, but five stickers with bar codes.

She needs the number that starts with MSN. The numbers are reeeeeally small and it's dark inside the cabinet. I start calling my wife, asking her to get me a flash light. All this time Shelly is waiting and I get all flustered and sweaty.

The flashlights that are where they're supposed to be have no batteries. Ten minutes later, here come the flashlight. I locate the number on the sticker. It is, as expected, the last sticker in the farthest corner of the back of the box. I read the number for Shelly four times until she gets it right.

Please unplug the box, she says.

NO, I say. I already did and it doesn't do anything. We argue back and forth and she says that she's going to send a "refresher signal" to my box. That will live me without "on-demand" for half an hour, but she assures me that everything is going to be fine after that.

It's too late now and I decide to go to bed. I'll watch the movie tomorrow.

Well, tomorrow is not much better: back to square one! This time it's not Shelly, but Shoshanna. We do the same dance. Same questions, same answers, but this time I refuse to go down and pull the box to give her the number. Shelly didn't write it in her report. Of course she understands that I'm frustrated. Of course it shouldn't happen, but she can not credit me the $6.99 for the movie I didn't see. I had a full 24 hours to watch it and I didn't.

More refreshing signals and reprogramming vibrations!. I have to wait again for the signal to come back. Another night without the movie.

One week later, here I am talking this time with Amy. She seems to know what she's talking about. I'm optimistic. She's making all kind of noises with the keyboard and asking the same questions that, by know, I know the answers for by heart. I even learned my wife's whole SS Number and who her favorite actor is (the answer to the secret question).

I'm able to convince Amy at this point that I'm so frustrated that she has to send a technician to solve the problem. She puts me on hold to get the appointment and....guess what....we get disconnected!!!!!!!!

AAAAgghhhhhh!!!! I'm going to kill someone!

One final phone call and I get Tony (from Bangalore, India...) on the phone. I yell at Tony. Scream, threaten to take my business somewhere else, and end up answering the same set of questions. This time, though, I get the appointment with the technician for the next day, get my $6,99 credit and get to lower my monthly bill $50.

I went to bed relieved. Got the TV box repaired earlier today and here I am writing this post, rather than watching a movie I'm not interested in watching any more.

So is life.....

Smile

We usually walk around so absorbed by our own thoughts, which in general are not the most uplifting ones, that when we face some "stranger" that smiles openly looking at us in the eyes we get surprised.

It happened to me recently at the supermarket, and then I found this bumper sticker.

This is the quite the opposite of an annoyance and therefore worth mentioning here

Lady luck

My father used to say..."One should always leave a door open for good luck to step in..." So following his advice, I went to buy a lottery ticket at the supermarket yesterday. In front of me was a lady who was buying several tickets from several games for different people. She also had tickets from past draws that needed to be checked.

The young man at the lotto machine evidently couldn't register all the different requests at once and got totally confused.

One of the tickets he checked had won $4.00 that had to be added to the amount of money used to buy new tickets. Some of the money had to be applied to two different groups of tickets in two different games.

After 10 minutes trying to figure out all the different operations he had to do, the customer was about to jump on the counter and and kick the machine (and the the guy), and he would look at her with crossed eyes.

So, very patiently the lady broke down the operation in one-single-order segments and was finally able to get her tickets.

I guess it wasn't my lucky day. I waited in line all that time and lady luck decided to pass me by.

Schmack, schmack...

I get really irritated by the open-mouth, bubble-popping, gum chewing people

Schmack, schmack...

A vestige of evolution

Until today I never thought about the similarities between a tie and my pinky-toe.
They're both good for nothing. A tie is the only piece of menswear that doesn't have a function but to get in your soup. Your pinky-toe serves no purpose other than get caught by the bed frame leg, or a cabinet corner.

Ouch!!!!!!

Evolution hasn't gone far enough yet to get rid of either one. Some fashionistas say that a tie is the only piece or wardrobe that expresses a man's personality. Do you agree?

My pinky-toe has a lot of personality since it broke in a crash against a door edge.

#%€^*!!!

Does it make sense???

Lately I’ve been fascinated with our need to communicate without words our views on politics, religion, sexual preference, social and moral issues, financial and social status, family composition, etc. I guess this is nothing new, since from the beginning of times ancient cultures used body decorations, garments, and accessories to establish their position in their society weather it was their cast, their share of power or their civil status.

Nowadays we do it using our bodies (tattoos), our clothing (showing off the brand), our homes (see Mc. Mansions) and especially our cars.

I want to start a section in my blog presenting the most interesting messages that we see in cars. Therefore I’d like to request from you, my reader, to e-mail me your pictures of some of the bumper stickers and/or plaques you see around in cars. Notice also, what brands have the more signs (most Mercedes, Jaguars, or Bentleys don’t have any. Why?)

It’s very easy, just get close (but not too close) pull your phone and click. Remember, don’t text and drive….

See for instance this picture:

Does it make sense?

Defying Gravity

I think it's fortunately a dissappearing trend, however when I see pants defying gravity I can't help but wondering why is there a need to show the underwear and Walk like a Geisha, with small steps so that the pants don't just fall freely on the floor.

I miss suspenders...

Say what...?

It really bothers me when someone calls my machine and leaves me an impossible to understand message that I have to play over and over again to try and figure out what it was that he or she wanted.

So, here are my rules for effective voice messaging:

- Greeting (good morning, or afternoon)
- Identify yourself (my name is so and so)
- Say your message concisely and slowly (don't just keep a conversation with yourself)

blah, blah, blah, blah....
- leave your name again and your phone number
- I usually repeat the phone number to make sure the person gets it

And don't think that I'm obsessive-compulsive. It only seems that way...

What's it for?

Going to the gym very early in the morning has a lot of great advantages (I know, if you're not a morning person, blah, blah, blah). One of them is to watch people sort of in their basic appearance, before showering, getting dressed, wearing mousse, make up, etc.

One of the fashion statements I don't understand that early is the wearing of hats (baseball caps, visors, sky caps, etc.). To start with, at 5:30 am is still dark out, so no sun protection is necessary. Second, we're indoors, so no rain protection necessary. One could think that it's a solution to unruly hair, right? Now, explain to me this middle aged skinhead guy that wears a visor backwards placed in a dorky fashion in the middle of his head...(see illustration)

Any comments, fashionistas?

How'bout some tea?

Sometimes I sit to watch TV in my comfy chair. The space is great. A nice family room opened to the kitchen. But, but, that may become an issue.

When the supersonic electric teapot is turned on in the kitchen a gradual shushhhhh starts barely audible to become a "white noise" background that erases any vestige of sound in the TV. For more than three minutes I have to resource to my undeveloped lip-reading abilities.

"you know that shushhhhhhh yesterday. When shushhhhhhh was completely shushhhhh, they did shushhhhhh on...

I hate that shushhhhhh teapot!

In the parking lot

Driving to go grocery shopping can be an adventurous enterprise. Have you noticed the danger of abandoned shopping carts that roll by themselves toward the center of the driving area between rows? It happens often with strong winds, or when people are in a rush or when people with bad pitch-calculation sense (!) leave them precariously abandoned.

Sometime it happens while the “customer” (I hate that word) leaves the loaded cart unattended to try and open the trunk or the car door. Those loaded carts can be pretty heavy and run fast to bang against another “customer’s” car, hopefully not yours. Bang!

It's not you, it's me...

I know what you're thinking. It's the cheesiest line ever.

But I'm not trying to break up with anyone. It's just me talking to my cell phone.

See, I hate cell phones. They're a big annoyance hidden behind an immense convenience. In spite of myself
I've grown dependant on it and now looking at the little red blinking light has become a sort of an obsession that makes my heart rate spike depending upon the time of day (or night) that I glimpse at the blinking light.

That's why I say that it's not the phone's fault, but mine for letting it dominate me.

Can we start a selective "go back" movement along the lines of  the "slow food" movement, or free cellphone weekends?

Sorry, I have to go. The light is blinking. I must have a call, a message, a pin, an e-mail or a what's up message...

Clear Vision

I thought that my rearview mirror had transformed itself into a magnifying mirror. I could almost distinguish the pores on the face of the guy driving behind me (it’s always a guy).

That wasn’t the case, of course. It was that the guy was driving so close to my rear bumper that it felt like he was going to roll over my car roof to go ahead. Swinging left and right, he was looking for a minuscule opportunity to squeeeeeeze between two cars.

Vrooom, Vrooom!

I hate tailgaters!!!!

Unsolicited Wetness

Unsolicited wetnesssss...That says it all. Grosssss.

It comes from three sources: splash, spray, and on surfaces. None better than the other
Ughhhhh!

Customer Service

The other day I went to a restaurant where the service was, let's say... too good.
How, you may ask?. Well, let me explain: the waiter did everything by the book. He was nice, but not convincingly nice.

The problem was that once the food arrived he stopped at our table every two and a half minutes asking: Is everything OK?

 After the tenth time I wanted to kill him.

Is there such a thing as too much of a good thing?

Peace and Quiet

I'm a napper. So, for me to have the opportunity of taking a short nap on a Saturday afternoon is heaven. The problem is that my "landscaper" (a.k.a lawn mower) decides to cut my lawn while I rest.

Do you know more annoying noises than the mower and (even worst) the grass blower?

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.... 


The end of peace

Vibratherapy

For a moment, I was just seating there with my mind on hold; not thinking of anything. Suddenly my gut started to vibrate. Softly first. The vibration was in crescendo taking over other parts of my body: my head and ears, then the seat, then the rear view mirror until the whole car was vibrating.

Boommmm, boommmm, boommmm.

I was just waiting in my car for a long lasting red light to change until a fellow driver with a hundred thousand hertz of subwoofer stopped behind me.

Boommmm, boommmm, boommmm.

1000 Little Annoyances: The toughest test.

1000 Little Annoyances: The toughest test.: I take this test more often that I'd like: We have a social event. I'm instructed to be dressed impeccably and I obey. When I'm ready I se...

The toughest test.

I take this test more often that I'd like: We have a social event. I'm instructed to be dressed impeccably and I obey. When I'm ready I seat and read, watch TV or...wait.

Then I hear the sound of steps (meaning high heals) coming down the hallway and I start trembling!!!

Here comes the question: "How do I look...?"

I know that there is no right answer to that. Imagine what would happen if I say...I don't like that dress, or ...mmmm, your hair looks... The better answer is...you look beautiful, as always...

The comment is: "...yeah, right. ...You didn't even looked at me! Let's go!"

Ufff. I survived once more

Look who’s driving

What a shock, even though it's not the first time…

I was driving in the middle lane. A car driving on my right decided to move to my lane without even noticing I was there and cut me off. Hey, what’s that! Look who’s driving!!!

Woof, Woof

Fido was driving..., or at least it looked like it. Fido was just seating on the drivers lap, showing it’s delighted face and tong through the open window. The driver didn’t see me because Fido was blocking his left field of vision.

Is it me, or are we too complacent with our pets. Try to do this with a kid and see what happens. Everyone should respect the rules, on and off the road.

Don't you agree?

Parade Makers

I just don't like when I have to take part in a parade I don't want to be in.

I'm talking about people that drive way under the speed limit blocking everyone that's driving at or "slightly " over the speed limit.

Com 'on, move, you #€£¥%

beep, beep, beeeeeep!!!

Flying solo

For me, the time I spend on a plane is like taking a break: I’m not expected to do anything other than seat tight, relax, read and listen to music.

I’m always concern with who’s going to sit next to me because even though I’m a talker, it’s only when I feel like it, not when my seat companion wants it.

Isn't that called freedom of speech (one way only?)

Thank God for noise canceling headphones, kindles and face masks

Time Traveling

To those of you old enough to know what a blackboard is, I want to invite you to a short time travel.

Close your eyes and go back any time during your school years. Visualize the big blackboard. Someone is writing on it with white chalk.

Engage your hearing now. Do you hear the screeching sound of the chalk scratching the blackboard?

Screeeeeeeeeech!

I can still feel my teeth wanting to pop like popcorn. I hated it!

And what’s that????

Don’t you hate it when you put your hand on a surface or grab a handle or an object and it is wet and sticky? Ughhhhhh!

Imagine when it happens and you’re in the company of clients, or people you don’t know well?

Thank God for Purell…

Dishwasher

Call me obsessive (maybe I am, but just a little…) When it comes to loading the dishwasher I have my own method so that I can get a full load in it, everything washes fine and it’s easy to put it all away.

Small dishes on one side so that I can place bigger ones next to it, forks in one basket, teaspoons, in another, and so on. The issue is when somebody else partially loads the dishwasher. I find myself confused on how to continue. Three pots and two plates fill the whole thing!!!

I secretly reorganize everything the way “it should be” before turning it on.

Is it too bad?

Weesh, wash, weesh, wash…

Cracking fingers

Some of us have the unconscious habit of cracking our knuckles. And some people can’t stand hearing the pleasant crack, crack every now and then. Do you hate it?

Why can’t everybody just be like me, hah?

AM or PM?

As we all know, some of us are morning people and some night people. One of the most difficult things is to share space with someone from the group opposite yours.

I declare it publicly: I’m a morning person. I get up full of energy. I get active: empty the dishwasher, make breakfast, sing a tune or two.

Some members of my family are NOT morning persons. They’re the type that says: Don’t  make noises, don’t get near me and please, please, don’t talk to my until I’ve had my second cup of coffee.

Man’s best friend

I know I’m going to hurt some people’s feelings. Most people I know have pets and they’re mostly dogs. The great majority of them are very well behaved. However in my line of work, when I visit clients and some friends I’ve come across dogs that are not necessarily..let's say... discrete.

I’m not talking about the ones that bark incessantly demanding attention, or the ones that cross your path in extreme excitement making you trip. No, I’m talking about the ones that consider necessary to stick their noses up in your “derriere”.

Pleeeease, go way… It’s so embarrassing!

Pumping gas

It bothers me immensely that when I go to get gas and the gadget that locks the gas pump nozzle in the on position is broken. I don’t know about you, but I use the time while pumping to clean my car from papers, wrappers, plastic bottles and such, in addition to cleaning my windshield and side windows.

I've tried unsuccessfully different tricks to keep it going. One of them is to stick the gas cap under the lever, but being round and plastic, it pops sometimes and ends up rolling underneath the car.

#@%&*%>

Next time I’ll go to a different gas station!

Stand-by lights

With the profusion of electronic gadgets the darkness of a room has been perforated by a myriad of little lights, some red, others green, yellow or blue that come from all the electronic components in the room.

Let’s say you go to a hotel room. I anticipate a great night of sleep protected by the total darkness that give me the wall to wall, floor to ceiling heavy drapes. To my dismay there is a TV with a yellow light, the cable box has a red one, the router on the desk has a blue one, the clock window has green numbers and so on.

I use every available pillow, brochure, towel, etc. that I can put my hands on to cover all those lights. It feels like I’m sleeping on a branch of a Christmas tree.

It usually takes me two or three trips back and forth between my bed and the electrnic things until I get them appropriately masked. Ufffff!

Got milk? (For Camila)

Camila is feeling like having a delicious bowl of cereal, maybe with fruits or something yummy. She grabs the bowl, cuts the fruit, adds raisins and cereal. She then goes to the fridge to get the milk, only to discover that there are only two drops of milk left in the carton.

Kawabunga!!!!!! Why is it that whoever used the milk last didn’t:

a. Use it all up? (not leaving just a little bit)

b. Go out and by more?

That means Camila has to go out, all bundled up in winter, and by more milk.

By the time she comes back home she’s lost her appetite for cereal and is REALLY annoyed