DID YOU EVER WANT TO TELL SOMEONE TO DRINK A BIG GLASS OF STFU?

And as I always say to people, if you have to ask, yes, it's you.

But really. What is important to you may not hold the same importance for ANYONE else in the free world. Think about what you are saying and then think about who you are saying it to. And if you are being a bitch just because YOU think it's funny--don't. Because eventually people will notice how nasty you are.

I have been known to have a rampant case of not STFU every once in awhile and I'm about to get another one. So part of the reason I posted this is so that I can read it in a few days to remind myself. But there is another part of the reason too. And all I can say about that is that sometimes you gotta take a big girl/boy pill.

THE ROCKET SCIENTIST

I have a shirt that says "Rocket Scientist. Ask me about my scars". I love this shirt. It is a shirt that a friend created for me, due to the fact that even though I may BE a rocket scientist, I am still a dumbass occasionally. The scars in question are from a hand held steamer. You know, the kind that have a big warning label on them that says "Do not use while wearing the clothes you are steaming". I have 4 perfectly round scars on my hip to demonstrate why. Actually they have faded now, but I still remember how much it hurt.

Anyway, I was sitting in my friend's kitchen one morning and her husband asked me a dumb question (both Deb and I thought it was dumb). And I replied, "I AM a Rocket Scientist, you know." Deb added "Just ask her about her scars". And the shirt was born.

So I had this shirt on Saturday. It is normally a shirt that I don't wear in public, just around the house. But I wore it to get my nails done on Saturday afternoon. There was an older lady sitting across the lobby from me and she said "What does your shirt say?" I told her and she said "Bottle Rockets, right?" Um, no, I actually have a PhD.

"Well, what does the scar part mean?" Um, for having an advanced degree, I'm not very bright sometimes.

"That's the way it is. Usually people only know what they are trained in." My doctorate is in safety engineering.

"Oh. My granddaughter worked for ______ and she went out this summer and took pictures at work sites of everything everyone did wrong. She knows a lot about OSHA, but she fell from a ladder--15 feet up and landed on her head." Hold up--if she took a header off a ladder from 15 feet, chances are she's dead. But the lady went ON--so by the time she went back to her appointment, I am seriously doubting her story. That and she didn't know shit about OSHA.

So, note to self--don't wear Rocket Scientist shirt in public anymore. It gets way too annoying.

Softball update--We have a month to go in the season. I think I am ready for the season to be over. I have been hitting the crap out of the ball, but had about 5 unforced errors last night. Most involved me backhanding the ball--had the g.d. ball in my glove, but then the ball jumped OUT of my glove and hauled ass into the outfield. Then there was the play that was mine all the way that the first baseperson effed up because she doesn't think I can play.

Before the game started, I called our shortstop a dumbass. He told me that if I got on base (I was coming up to bat), I could call him dumbass the rest of the game. The manager of the team told me I could call him that even if I didn't get on base last night. I went 5 for 5. I guess I should call him dumbass more often.

We lost--again. Wasn't for lack of trying.

I'M SO HAPPY THE NEW TV SEASON is starting. Although, we have some shows to wrap up from the summer. Talking about Rock of Love, people. I was discussing this about a month ago with some professional colleagues and they were stunned that I would watch such drivel, that I wasn't the type. Please. Don't you just love watching effed up people that are not you or anyone you know? THEN, they say--it's just editing. People. You cannot edit in crazy. Either it's there or it's not. Let's take um LACEY for example. Grade A crazy. I'm sure it was "editing". um hmmmmmmm. Presidential scholar? WTH. That's a high school program and she is NOT in high school anymore and NOT applying to colleges, so who cares.

My particularly favorite line was when her equally batshit crazy dad told Bret Michaels that he would have to sign a pre-nup. Bret's just looking for a good time as far as I can tell. Fabulous trainwreck. Can't wait for the end. Because THEN it is I love NY 2 and Flava of Love 3!!!!

Then we have Kid Nation. Parents--I feel bad for you because I'm pretty sure this is what just regular every day life is for you. I just loved the little brave kid Jimmy who said he was too young to be there and went home. Bless his heart. And I don't mean that in the Southern translation. My favorite little one on the show--and I mean that in the Bless his Heart Southern translation--was Jarred from Georgia. He's a diva in the making. DIVA. He actually made a comment about the outhouse that went something like this 'I hope I don't have to poo because that outhouse is disgusting!!' Got news for you kid--if you don't poo in 40 days, there will be something really wrong with you. It's called Death. My sister confirmed that you can in fact die if you don't "poo". Don't ask me why I asked her that.

The "We have to PROVE we can do it" line got a little old. I don't give a crap whether or not you can DO IT. Wear a pair of Nikes. "Mike" is gonna get on my last nerve fast. He's that kid that ends up stuffed in a locker. A lot.

And of course, Survivor starts tonight.

HERE IS A REAL CASE OF SHUT UP GET OUT.

I was carded twice in a week. I am about 26 years out of carding range. For those of you who lack basic math skills or have a slow hamster on the wheel--I'm 47.

I was sitting at a little cafe in DC and I ordered a Vanilla Skyye martini. I was with a young man, probably 15 years younger than me, if not more--a fellow safety professional. The waitress asked to see my id. I had to finish laughing before I handed it to her. It made me weak.

THEN, about 4 days later, I was at dinner with my parents--the dogsitters--we were at "Famous Dave's" being waited on by "Famous Amy" and I ordered a margarita. Famous Amy carded me. This time, she had to wait for my mother to quit laughing.

I was telling my softball team about this--after a discussion about me being the 'senior' member of the team and one of the younger women said--you must have looked HOT. Yeah, that's it.

DOUBLE POST TODAY--WAFFLE MARKS ON YOUR ASS

Someone reminded me about this today and I felt it necessary to share. I was recently at a conference in DC and it was beautiful weatherwise, so we ate outdoors alot. I also wore skirts, which were technically "Mini" skirts (although not crotch skimming like ONE of the attendees). For some odd reason, all the chairs were those metal chairs with the holes. The kind that leave waffle prints on your legs and ass. This became quite a concern for me because if you sit there and eat and drink long enough, you will end up with waffle prints for like 2 hours.

So, I was with one of my professional colleagues, whom I would like to think of as a friend also and I realized that this would happen. I told him--I hate waffle marks on my ass. How am I going to prevent this. The only option was the menu. I sat on my menu. When the waiter came to take our order--he only got back one menu. He was confused. I explained that I was sitting on it and that I would give it back when we were leaving. He said--that's okay--you just keep it.

The waffle mark joke became the running waffle mark joke. Every friggin restaurant had these chairs.

So this morning I get an important email from him asking for a celebrity death match opponent for Chachi (from Happy Days) I replied that I thought he wanted REALLY important information like how to prevent waffle marks on his ass. He replied back "I already know. Sit on a menu".

So now you all know too.

CROSSROADS. No, I'm not talking about that horrible Britney Spears movie, although the crossroads I am at would be considered a trainwreck as well.

Now, normally, I like a good trainwreck. As long as it isn't happening to me. That old song "Should I stay or should I go" is on a continuous loop in my head. And the dichotomy is horrendous. Being a gemini, I am a little split personality anyway. But I have this one side of me that says Fight for this you stupid bitch. Then there is the other side of me that says Why you wanna put yourself through this even one more day. You stupid bitch.

So I'm kind of stuck in a big old pile of crap and I'm not willing to move just yet. What the hell. I'm on auto pilot and I don't like being here. I have a friend who is paralleling this very experience. It is amazing to hear her story. Because it is my story only she is 10 years younger than I am (maybe more) But it is the same story. We have homework in between our conversations. I am willing to do the homework, but I'm not sure it makes me feel better or worse.

I have had to start knitting again. I can't think about anything but knitting when I am knitting. So at least my brain doesn't hurt. If my brain hurts, my heart hurts and that has to stop. I started my project last night and it is amazing how quickly that skill comes back. The last time I had to knit was when I was in college and I was all stressed out and getting ulcers. Again--when knitting, that's all you can think about.

For those who tune in on a regular basis--I know you were expecting something funny, so I will post something for you to laugh at. The other weekend, we had a large victory in the first game of a double header, mercy rule and all. So we had some time between games. I was sitting in the dugout, eating seeds and spitting. Both of which are perfectly acceptable at a softball game. Someone walked in front of me and I told them to watch out because they were in my spitting path and since I was an amateur spitter, they should probably watch out. They looked at me and said "Amateur?" I said, "Yes--because I'm such a lady and all" There was dead silence in the dugout and then a lot of laughter. I guess I've used certain words ONE too many times, negating the "lady" thing.