Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle, I want to ride my Bicycle I want to ride my Bike

Guten Tag, and Good Morning to you, on this Friday of Memorial Weekend. I will assume you are all busy packing your coolers full of Bud Light and Zima and Gatorade and trying not to forget your sunscreen or fishing pole or Nerf football or swimsuit as you get ready to embark on what is sure to be a glorious Memorial Weekend get away. I'd like to stop here, and take a moment to let you know that as you get ready for your superfunhappytimesexypartydrinkfest this weekend, I sit typing during my lunch hour, trying to enjoy the $6 chicken sandwich I just bought at a deli across the street. As if that weren't depressing enough, a coworker about 4 cubicles away keeps making this awful hacking sound, in an attempt, I assume, to remove the giant ball of phlegm that must be coating his throat.  

Because of this, I can no longer bring myself to eat another delicious french fry, which is a shame really, as the one covered in hot sauce that was on course for my mouth, just had to be set back down since I was this close to vomiting all over my keyboard. I would like my $7.99 back sir. 

Alright so me and my husband looked into the mirror a few weeks ago and were both like, shit. We are getting fat.

**Side Note**For the love of Christie Brinkley, do not correct me. I get that there are people larger than me out there, and that when anyone smaller talks about being fat, an alarm goes off in their head, and they freak the fuck out and get all angry and sad and crap. I understand where that reaction comes from. I really do. But everyone has an average, comfortable body weight, and once that weight has been breached, it should be socially acceptable to announce to the world "I'm on my way to getting fat". So, here goes:

Because of this recent breakthrough in acceptance of how we actually look, as opposed to how we think we still look, we decided that purchasing 2 family sized delight pizzas from Papa Murphy's for dinner once a week--that's the second time I referenced them in 7 days, I'll expect my check in the mail sometime next month Mr Murphy--probably isn't the most effective way to keep a trim figure. Also, the blasted MN winter hasn't helped, as after about 4 weeks of grey and cold, your body immediately goes into "not doing shit" mode, and your couch and ass automatically grow opposing magnets that are so powerful, it is near impossible to remove one from the other, so come June, you are lucky if your entire lower body hasn't atrophied and you are still able to walk.

So, since we--mostly me--cant handle not eating delicious food--as in I'm not dieting, kiss my growing fat ass--we came to the conclusion, that we will work on smaller portion sizes, and actually do something active after work. And because we--me--cant run worth dick--unless I'm being chased by a rapist--we decided to start riding bikes. 

And I have to tell you, I absolutely love it. Riding bikes is the shit. Your 9 year old self didn't lead you astray on that one; having your own bike and being able to ride it all around the town in the sunshine and look at all the animals and people and junk in the world is one life's most rewarding activities.

Now, like everything else in existence, there are people out there that will find a way to fuck bike riding up. They can take this simple act and morph it into something over complex and trendy and obnoxious, essentially killing the soul of what should be a fairly simple, lovely process. Riding my bike makes me feel at peace and one with the rest of the universe, which is no small feat considering the rage and anxiety disorders I am privy too generally make me want to kick the shit out of  99% of the population 75% of the time. So meeting anyone who dresses riding a bike up, or turns it into an exclusive activity is an automatic downer for me.  Luckily, I do know many people who are avid bikers, and not douchebags. They are helpful, and kind and not exclusionary, and willing to pass on their knowledge to you. These people are wonderful and should be held in the highest regard. That being said, I have some choice words for the rest of you aholes out there.

I have nothing against being competitive--in fact me and Jimbabwe--shout out to my Boo Andrea H for coming up with that kick ass nickname for my lifepartner--often get competitive as hell with one another while riding, and will see who can get to the top of a hill fastest, or who can ride no handed the longest. PS-Its not me. I don't ride no handed because I'm not a douche and because I'm too much of a pussy. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, that's cool if you want to ride your bike competitively. I don't care if you want to sign up for races and buy lots of expensive equipment, and wear spandex even if you shouldn't. Go you. What I do mind is when I pass you on the street and you don't wave back or acknowledge my head nod because I'm not dressed like you or not wearing a helmet or  not sponsored by Erik's. That's when I get pissed. Because you are taking something I love, and turning it into something shitty. So really please, all I'm telling you is,

Hipster scum, don't think you are absolved of this crime either. You also practice exclusion, just in a different, more subtle form. Yes, I bought a new road bike. I didn't find it in my Uncle Marty's garage and fix it up myself because I don't know jack about bikes besides the fact that all Pink and Teal Huffys from the 80s rode better if they had neon colored clackers on the spokes. My bike didn't come with a cool shoulder satchel backpack, and I don't roll up my trendy thrift store-esk Urban outfitter jeans when I ride because I wear cutoff sweatpants like a normal person since I enjoy being comfortable. I don't pretend I think driving a car is equivalent to beating a litter of children to death with a sack of oranges because I'm a realist, and get that its not always plausible to ask someone to ride their bike 25 miles to work every day from the suburbs.  So if we happen to run into each other in the bike shop since I got a flat tire and I want to learn how to fix it, I would appreciate it if you didn't roll your eyes when I ask someone to show me what I need to buy.

All I'm asking, is that for this Holiday Weekend, we all just be cool with one another. We all like riding bikes. That's what its called. Not Cycling. You're riding a god damn bike. End of story. So lets all be nice and give each other head nods and smiles when we pass each other on our two wheels these next few days. Lets let riding a bike, be just that, and enjoy the sunshine and animals and fresh air and not having to be at work. Wow that was emotional. See, I told you riding a bike makes me a better person.

Have a good weekend Muffintops

~Maria

Crap in my Purse

Well good morning! I trust you are doing well. Last week Blogger was down for like 2 days straight, hence my lack of a new post. Lucky for you, I wait until 7:50am to start these things now, so my procrastination resulted in your misfortune. Or for the few people that have told me this blog sucks in so many words, congratulations, last week must have been exciting for you. By all means, keep coming here to stare angrily at my words and drawings.

Even though blogger was broken, I did create a paint picture. For the 3 of you that aren't actually friends with me on FB, this will be fun. For the rest of you, quiet, I'm allowed to recycle pre-used material if it means I get to sleep in an extra 20 minutes. So here you go:

Part of me thinks it would be funnier to not explain this, but I want to give credit where credit is due. This is a picture of my good friend Madrad's--shout out Part 1--guinea pig Beepers that she had when she was a child, and a talking tampon named Tampi inspired by my other friend Barb. So yeah. That was so fun for everyone.

 Last Friday I was planning on showing you the kind of random shit that ends up in my purse because I clean it maybe once a month and because I'm a nerd and like to think that having a shoe horn, an old broken cell phone charger, and a half eaten nutrigrain bar might save me at some point in life since I think I'm MacGyver--I had to look up how to spell his name.

Currently, I am rocking a fucking giant behemoth off-white mom purse that I bought at a tiny shop in the St Paul sky way that's only open once every 3 months and I bought it solely for the fact that it was on sale, and because I feel like carrying a big purse will make me seem more feminine. True story. Here it is: Hollllla

Please note my inspirational quote about motivation from a Jay Z song in the background, as well as my OCD need to label everything.  I'm sure the people I work with love me. 

So lets take a look in here shall we? We shall.

Item 1) Dirty athletic sock-1

I'm guessing this was in my car for some reason, and one day I must have decided to throw it in my purse in case having one used dirty sock would be beneficial to me at some point in the distant future. In any case, I promise you I have no fucking clue where the other one is, and you now know I ruin every pair of socks I own because I walk around outside with them on without shoes on since I think its fun since I'm an adult and I cant get in trouble for it. 

Item 2) Engineer Pin

The last time I visited my mother in law, she gave me this pin to give to my husband (her son for those of you feeling a little slow this morning) who is an engineer. If you are having trouble reading it, it says "Inspired Engineer". If you're also wondering why its still in my purse, and not hanging from my husbands shirt collar or attached to his backpack, that's because after I finally remembered 3 weeks later to show it to him, his response was, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?" , so back into the purse it went. To live out its days until I finally decide to throw it away in 18 months. 

Item 3) Massive amounts of lip gloss

I collect these like stamps, or coins, or locks of hair, or whatever it is people collect now. And at any given time, I wont be able to find any of them in my purse, even though I swear to Yahweh that I always put them back into the same one tiny zip up compartment thing, hence my need to carry 17 of them at once. Also, that thing on the left with the black cap is actually 'Basic Instinct Sex Attractant" that I bought at one of those sex toy parties because I'm a scientist at heart and I wanted to experiment and see if it actually worked. Since I bought it at a time in my life when I go out to bars only on the anniversary of Halley's comet passing earth, this was a poor purchase since I have yet to remember to put it on when I'm in a public setting. It's effectiveness remains a mystery. 

Item 4) Cemetery Rating Sheet

So on Mother's Day I went to my mom's grave, and as my husband and I drive through the cemetery entrance, we are stopped by a lady handing out single flowers and pieces of paper. I rolled down my window, she hands me an ugly pink carnation--i don't care if its free, my moms way too classy for these old people flowers--and then says "oh and if you wouldn't mind filling out our Comment card to let us know how your visit was today". I almost shit my pants. How my visit was today? Well considering I'm coming to a cemetery on Mothers Day, Id say my visit was the most fucking fun Ive had in weeks!! I got to eat a hot dog, and bought a key chain, and the line for Wildthing wasn't even that long!! Super fun!! This is a cemetery. My visit sucked. Except for the fact that my mom is buried next to an old Marine named Milton, not much makes me laugh when I'm there. In conclusion, the Comment card remains in my purse so I can show people and mock the hell out of whatever manager decided this was a great way to get feedback about cemetery procedure. 

5) 3 Sonic Ketchup Packets

To be fair, last Friday I had brought 2 cheddar brats to work with me, and was planning on eating them for lunch, but actually ended up eating them at 10:12 since I was too hungry to wait. So its not like I normally carrying around single serving condiment packets in my bag. Unless its Culver's Ranch, or McDonald's sweet and sour sauce. Those I would carry with me to the ends of the earth. 

Item 5) Random Gift and/or Business Cards

I know you are jealous of the PaPa Murphy's gift card. I would be too. The thing is, every fucking time I go there, I forget I have a gift card in my purse. I don't remember until I get in the car. And by then its too late. Much too late. And that second card is a business card for a taxi drive that we met in Jamaica who drove literally 100 mph and talked about how he doesn't take shit from bitches ever, and that's why he looks so good at the age of 55. He did really look like he was in his 30s, so maybe he has a point. Don't take shit from bitches, and live longer. 

Item 6) Wedding Day Jewelry

This is the jewelry I wore on my wedding day.....in Mexico....over 16 months ago. Why is it a new purse that I bought last month? I couldn't tell you. I have no idea how or why this is in there. I try not to wear it very much since the beads remind me of berries and I feel compelled to bite them, and I don't want to leave teeth marks on something I wore the day I got married. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. Is it not normal to feel compelled to bite things? I feel that all the time. 

Item 7) Lots of Pens

This is actually a fairly new edition to my bag of wonders. It stems from the fact that I never usually carry a pen since no one under the age of 83 writes checks anymore, and I'm always the douche that has to ask to borrow a pen when you are filling out paperwork in a group setting. And I got sick of looking like an irresponsible asshole, so since I know myself, I make sure I have at least 3 in there at all times now since I'm going to lose at least 3 of them before the day is out. 

Item 8) Bootlegg Kanye CD

As of today, I'm also carrying a Muse cd, a GaGa cd, and an old school Weezer as well. I carry these with me, usually carelessly thrown in and without a case, because I have to listen to music at work to prevent from jumping into the river. Music helps me focus, so I think I might be mildly autistic, which I'm ok with. 

Item 8) Unpaid Bills

I'm covering up my address so I don't find any of your creepers hiding in the one bush in front of my house. Also, I use forever stamps because I'm a baller. These bills are due sometime in June. I will hang on to them until I get paid. If I don't have them in my purse, I will forget them in my desk drawer, or under a seat in my car, and in July will receive a statement that I neglected to pay last months charges. I'm trying to be a good citizen. Also, if anyone from Walters Recycling is reading this, we now have 3 garbage containers since when the city of Shoreview decided to be a dick and switched up the bins on us, we happened to be out of town and didn't get the memo about leaving your old bin on the curb to be picked up by Walters. 

Item 9) An Apple

I carry this around because every day I tell myself I'm going to eat it with lunch, but then every day lunch time comes around, I remember that I don't like biting into apples, that I like eating them cut up, and that there aren't any knives in our kitchen because everyone steals silverware, and that I don't really want to eat it anyways because its been sitting in my purse for a week and its not all nice and cold out of the fridge. I hope it eventually dries up, and I'll make one of those creepy apple-head carvings and hang it in my cube. 

Item 10) Crayons...I took from Buffalo Wild Wings

I love to color. Not with crayons though. But for some reason I felt compelled at one point in my life to take these crayons from a Buffalo Wild Wings. I am a frequent visitor of this establishment mainly because I could eat the Asian zing and mango haberno every day of my life, but I almost always get the wings to go since I don't want anyone to see that I'm buying 12 of each kind with the intention of eating all 24 by myself. I think I have only sat down in Buffalo Wild Wings 5 times in my life. So how these crayons ended up in a purse I bought a month ago, I will never know. 

And there you have it. I also have credit cards and keys and wallets and tampons and gum, but those are all things you would expect to find in a purse, and thus not interesting. Thanks for taking this journey with me. I hope you have a nice weekend.

~Maria 

All old people suck except my grandma: My struggles with Ageism

Well good morning to you!

Ok so over the last week I have seen these two geese that have apparently decided that this tiny ass puddle in the front yard of some kind of insurance company by my house is a great place to raise their family. I have seen them there 5 days in a row, so I know its not just a resting place: these birds truly think they have found a good spot to build a nest. I also saw a duck trying to swim in a puddle in a McDonalds parking lot yesterday, and so help me Kelly Clarkson, I was this close to running it over with my Corolla. For some reason, this kind of stupidity angers me greatly, no matter the source, or its brain size. Like I get  really mad that these geese cant tell the difference between this puddle and a nutrient rich, life sustaining pond. Does it look like there are fish in there? Or bugs or snails or whatever the hell it is you eat? You can see the grass poking through the water for fucks sake. Come on geese. Come on. Stop being assholes.

 

Like many people, I have a grandma. Actually I have 2, but for the purpose of this posting, I will discuss just the one since we lived in the same house together from the time I was 3 until I turned 24. Her name is Marie and she is 4 ft 7 inches tall. According to a billboard I saw once, 4 ft 9 in is the height where children still require a booster seat as normal adult seat belts aren't safe for them yet. This concerns me every time I see it since not only do I allow my grandma to ride in a car without a booster seat, but if you are good at math, you will also note she is 2 inches shorter than the requirement. Check below for proof-See, I only make up like 15% of what I tell you.

Anyways, this is her. Isn't she cute? Those glasses are called Jackie O's. Very exclusive.

So my tiny grandmother is going to be 86 this year. And she is one of the only old people I can handle being around. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the fact that she is a cool old person, and is still hip looking, and since she reads the paper front to back every day, she is up to date on current events and whatnot. But in general, I am a huge ageist, and 75% of people over the age of 70 make me so angry I want to fucking explode. They suck at driving, they think because they are old they can be complete assholes for no reason at all, and they walk really slow in front of me when I'm trying to get somewhere in a hurry which is all the time since I'm always late. So yeah. They piss me off for the most part.

But I also understand that if by some twist of fate or if congestive heart failure is somehow magically cured in the next 15 years, and I happen to live past the ripe old age of 50, I will also have completely stopped giving a rat's ass about what anyone more than 10 years younger than me thinks, says or does as well. I mean, I already do that now with college students and younger, so it stands to reason that I will be one of the biggest douchebag old ladies ever. And I'm ok with that. But for now, I am still young and relatively agile, and thus can use their age against them.

Now, even though I love my grandma and can stand her more than others, her age-disease sometimes gets on my nerves as well. When this happens, I like to go through her home and look at things that old people exclusively do that make me laugh, which in turn lowers my blood pressure, and helps the anger dissipate in a safe, non-repressive way. Lets see some examples shall we?

GIANT BUTTON PHONE

All old people have phones with these huge ass buttons on them. Like abnormally large. I can understand why this would be helpful if one was starting to lose their eyesight, but I have seen perfectly vision capable elderly people with the same set up. I'm convinced that once you hit a certain age, a phone like this is just sent to your house, and whatever you were using before this evaporates, or is sent to Sri Lanka or something. 

CONFUSING PILL CONTAINER

 I understand that getting older means your doctor is going to pump you full of all these chemicals that supposedly help keep you alive for longer. I get that he is going to tell you take them at all hours of the day, and that with the amount you are taking its going to be confusing. But I when I look at one of these things, I just get more confused. Wait, so I'm supposed to go down and not across? But a calendar goes across, not down...I don't read a calendar, Monday, Monday Monday Monday. There is no way my old ass is going to be able to remember that, so expect to read in my obituary in 30 years that I died from an overdose of fish oil since I went across and not down like a jerkoff. 

WATCHING BIRDS AND CRAP

  When she was younger, my grandma could have given 2 shits about children or animals. Gross. Ick. No thank you. They are expensive, and dirty, and will wreck your shoes or get stains on the dress you were planning on wearing out dancing to the Marigold Ballroom. But since she has become age-ed, she fucking LOVES animals. Loves them. I will go over to her house and she will tell me a 45 minutes story about how she saw a blue-jay. I shit you not. I buy her 25lb bags of birdseed for Christmas and she acts like I just bought her a new car. It's pretty fantastic.

BUY GROSS CANDY AND OFFER IT TO EVERYONE

 The only candy my grandma ever has lying around is Werthers. For some reason all old people love these golden wrapped shit nuggets. I don't know if it has to do with growing up during the Depression, and getting used to eating things that tasted like cardboard since all the sugar was going to help the Boys overseas, but for real, these things are nast. And every time I go over there, she has some on the counter or coffee table, and every time she offers some to me, and every time I have to be like "no grandma, that candy is disgusting", which she thinks is funny. 

There are probably a hundred more of these, but my ADD is kicking in and I need to go upstairs and buy something out of the vending machine before my stomach eats itself. So the morale of this story is, yes old people suck for a large majority of the time. But when you are feeling enraged by something someone over 70 has done, try and think about all the funny shit they do as well. I'm going to leave you with a picture of my grandma petting a dead deer carcass in my garage because I think its a perfect example of why I have decided not to smother her with a pillow yet:

 Have a lovely weekend tricks. 

~Maria