Pet peeve #437: LOUD talkers at the movies

Remember I told you I got this new phone? It’s a T-Mobile HTC and even though I’ve had it a month now, I still have no friggin’ idea how it really works. I just touch stuff, swear a little, and hope for the best. My apologies if I’ve accidentally called you lately; hopefully that nonsense will end within the next year or two when I finally get the hang of the thing. Of course, then it will be time to buy a new phone. Let me say once more that my blood pressure would be a lot lower if the goddamn thing came with a user’s manual.

As you can tell, I’m not the most patient person on earth. I’ve said many times that I have all the patience in the world for people, but I could take a hammer to a machine that doesn’t do what I want it to.

Um, I have to revise that statement. Evidently I have no patience whatsoever, for machine or mankind.

Yesterday I took my grandson, Connor, to see The Karate Kid after school. Because I’m neurotic about being late, we were the first ones in the movie theater. Armed with popcorn and a giant-sized icy sugary concoction that only a loving granny would be crazy enough to buy, we settled into the best seats in the house.

People started filing in during the advertisements theater owners think it’s okay to show even when they charge freakin’ $18.25 for two matinee tickets. Surprisingly, Connor was the only kid in there. As luck would have it, the young couple in the row right in back of us TALKED REAL LOUD during the ads, which bugged the shit out of me, but like the freakin’ saint that I am I gave them the benefit of the doubt, figuring they’d pipe down once the previews came on.

But no. They carried on their stupid friggin’ conversation all during the five or so coming attractions, in total oblivion to the occasional glare I sent their way. Surely they won't keep this up during the feature presentation, right?

Wrong. The movie started and they were still blabbering away.

At that point I. am. heated. Why the hell do people think they can talk out loud in a public movie theatre as if they’re alone in the privacy of their living room? Huh?

So about five minutes into it, I stood up, turned around and pointed at them and said in my loudest voice that could still be considered a whisper, “Shut up! Shut UP!” and then calmly sat down.

I swear, they did not make a peep throughout the rest of the movie.

At first I wondered if I might have been too harsh but I soon concluded, no, somebody has to put the kibosh on this kind of rude behavior. Plus I wanted to set a good example for Connor, who didn’t bat an eye. He already knows I’m a whack job.

How about you? Would you have been the Norma Rae of movie goers, standing up for your rights? Or would you have seethed in silence? Or are you so easy going that chatting movie patrons don’t bother you at all?

The shopping in Santa Fe was great, but nothing compares to what I came away with

It’s been four weeks since my sister Lori and I embarked on our famous cross-country crazy sisters’ trip. I still have so much to tell you.

One of the highlights was our stop in Santa Fe, where my dear friend Joan put us up in her fabulous house. Joan and I met here in Albany back in 1987, when we worked together in one of the looniest work environments I’ve ever encountered (and I’ve witnessed quite a few). Like two war buddies who’ve shared the hardships of battle, we’re bonded for life.

Several years ago Joan and her partner, Donna, bought the place in Santa Fe as a second home. Last year Joan got a job out there, and that’s her primary residence now. Unfortunately, she lives there alone. Soon after they purchased their house, Donna was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and a year later she was gone. I want to say she was about 43.

By the time Joan and Donna got together, I had already moved out West, so I didn’t know Donna very well. Her smile and her upbeat disposition are what I remember most. She coordinated Joan’s 50th birthday party, and having pulled it off so well, was radiant with joy. But what I loved most about her was that she made my friend so happy.

I felt Donna’s presence in the house we visited. Joan had a couple of pictures of her displayed, and when I admired a piece of artwork, she said, “Oh, Donna picked that out.”

During our visit Lori, Joan and I were preparing to go to downtown Santa Fe for an afternoon of shopping and exploring. “I wish I had something better to walk in than these,” I said, referring to my Vegas heels.

Joan jumped up and asked, “What size do you wear?”

“Forget it—I’m only a size 6,” I replied. Sharing shoes with full-grown adults is nearly impossible.

She dashed out to the garage and returned with a pair of running shoes. “These were Donna’s,” she said. “See if they fit.”

They did. They fit perfectly.

“Keep them,” Joan insisted. “I was going to give them to Goodwill.”

We had a lovely time in Santa Fe. The shopping there is amazing— the art, the jewelry, the clothing… I could have spent a million dollars. I didn’t buy a thing, though. Nothing could have given me more joy than walking in Donna’s shoes.

Are you a city person or a country person?

I’m staying with my friends Tim and Susan while I’m here in upstate New York. As you can imagine, only very, very good friends could possibly put me up (or put up with me) for any length of time. So true. I’ve known them for 34 years now, so they’re pretty used to me.

That’s Susan with me in a picture taken circa 1980.


And here I am with Tim.


Yep, we go back a long way.

Unfortunately for them, I’m very comfortable here despite the fact that they have three cats and two birds. They used to have four, including one named Linda (so not funny), but the Linda bird and another one died.

Tim and Susan are really good about keeping the cats away from me (sorry, animal lovers—I’m not on your team) (but I'm still a lovely person) so I’m not mental about them, plus they’re nothing compared to the birds. I can’t believe I’m in a house with birds!

You know these two must be trusted friends and they’ve assured me those goddamn birds are hermetically sealed in their cage or there’d be no freakin’ way I could stay here. I told them if they want to get rid of me, all they have to do is tell me the birds want to get loose and I’ll be out of here in no time.

Tim and Susan live out in the country about 15 miles outside of Albany. It’s beautiful in rural Albany County, and they have a really nice spot. It’s so green around here, you’d think you were in Ireland. Gorgeous.


Susan and I have been walking this road in the morning.


Okay, here’s where I’m mental. I’d have no problem strutting myself into a biker bar at half past midnight, but I would never dream of walking alone on a country road in the middle of the day. I’d be afraid of a rabid Cujo charging toward me or a creepy banjo picker springing from the porch. Not to mention kidnappers and ax murderers--anyone could just pick you off and who would know? As Pee Wee said in his Big Adventure, “Scream all you want, we’re miles from where anyone can hear you!”

I’m not a country girl. Until I moved out West, with the exception of a brief two-year period I always lived right in the city of Albany and never even had off-street parking. Realistically I know that the chances of an ax murderer/rapist driving down a remote country road the minute I happen to be walking on it is probably less likely than my chance of winning the New York State lottery. But still…

Are you a city person afraid of the country? Or a country person afraid of the city? Or am I just weird?

More crazy videos from our road trip

Remember how on our cross-country trip my sister Lori and I pulled over at highway weigh stations and asked truckers to step on my bathroom scales? Here's a short video.



Anything for a laugh, right?

Before we left my boyfriend, Mike, gave me a GPS. At first I was like, "Great, one more friggin' piece of technology to swear at," but it actually came in handy several times. However, we also took along a 4' x 6' map of the United States so we could pull it out at opportune times just for yuks.

So here's Lori getting some help from the guys at the Oasis Lounge biker bar in Ash Fork, Arizona, with our giant map spread over the pool table. The funniest part is, they don't seem to find the size of the map at all odd! And doesn't everyone measure distance with a yardstick? Not to mention, check out my sister's bust--it's better than Helen Keller's. (Read this post to get the reference.)



We're a couple of nuts. I guess you already knew that.

An actual conversation I had with myself recently while scrutinizing my face in the mirror

This is nothing I should ever admit to.

Jesus H, Linda, what's with the vertical lines around that upper lip?

I know! Looks like I'm a smoker, huh?

Yeah. Maybe they're from all those years of drinking beer out of the bottle.

Could be. I'll just tell people they're from whistling the theme song from The Andy Griffith Show.

Good idea. People will totally believe that.

We CAN make a difference, in our own way

I want to share a comment I received from my dear blogging buddy Barbara on Saturday's post about how watching the news is making me out of whack.

I love Louise [Hay] but don't know if I can agree with her about the news thing....its horrible but its real. We can't help it or change it, but in some ways it makes me appreciate my life even more even in the midst of my own "stuff". And if everyone ignored it, who would be passionate and caring enough to help? We can make a difference just by how we live our lives.

We can make a difference just by how we live our lives. How true that is, and it's something I really needed to be reminded of. Being polite to the cashier at the grocery store, smiling at the person you pass on the street, asking how someone is doing and really listening to their response... these are all ways we can make the world a better place, and these simple acts really can make a difference despite the magnitude of the crap going on in the big world.

I've had three minor encounters in which strangers affected my life in ways I'll never forget. The first happened probably 15 years ago. I was on my way to an afternoon work-related appointment and though I was all dolled up in a black business suit, I was feeling particularly insecure about my looks. You know how a fat day, bad hair day and bad face day all combined can send your mood to the shitter and the only thing that can lift your spirits is a new shade of lipstick? Well, there I was in the make-up aisle at the Madison Avenue Price Chopper in Albany scrutinizing the beauty products in search of the one with the greatest transformative powers when an old lady approached me and said, "You look so chic, you must be from New York City."

And poof! That was the end of that little exercise in self-loathing.

The second encounter occurred the day my father died of a massive heart attack. I was working for GE in Connecticut the morning I received the news and sped up to Albany in a surreal fog. On my way to my sister's house, where everyone had gathered, I stopped at the Albany Savings Bank to get some cash. (This was before the ATM days.) The teller, a young guy with "Chris" on his nameplate, performed the simple transaction as if I were the most valued customer who ever walked through the door. I'll never forget his smile; it was just what I needed.

"Thank you for being so nice to me," I told him. "I just found out my father died."

With that, he took my hand into both of his, looked me in the eye and said, "I'm very sorry to hear that."

The third encounter also happened years ago here in Albany and is an example of attempting to practice what I preach about being nice to everyone. Coming out of CVS (no doubt after yet another lipstick purchase), I smiled broadly and held the door open for an elderly woman approaching the store.

"That's an exit!" she snapped, and then opened the door marked "Entrance" her own damn self.

Okay, maybe you can't be nice to everyone, but I still got such a laugh out of her. So just remember, every encounter you have with another human being is an opportunity to make their day. Even if they're a crabby old bat.

I'm a helpless a-hole and Anderson Cooper is making me mental

Do you ever get totally freakin' out of whack? That's me right now (more so than usual). Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. I'm just noticing that I'm out of whack.

It should be no surprise considering that I quite intentionally blew up every bit of stability in my life. Hell, I quit my job, gave up my apartment, and hit the road for 12 glorious days. But oddly enough, it doesn't bother me that none of the house keys on my key ring are to my own place. During our trip when I bought a cool wall hanging in Arizona, Lori teased me by exclaiming, "You don't have a wall!" And with every fridge magnet I bought she reminded me, "You don't have a refrigerator!"

No, the fact that I'm mooching off my dear friends and have no real source of income isn't what's setting me out of whack. I think it's the fact that since I've been here in Albany, I've been watching more of the news.

There's ugly shit going on.

God knows you could call me a million names, and "Bird Lover" wouldn't make the cut. But even I am repulsed by the images we're seeing from the disaster in the Gulf.


Yes, I'm actually feeling sorry for birds. Jesus H, what a friggin' mess. I mean, where would you start? You have to wonder how much more those poor people in Louisiana can endure.

The whole thing is overwhelming. I feel like a helpless asshole. Helpless because I'm at a loss as to what I can possibly do to make the situation better, and an asshole because I'm the kind of person who starts whining when CVS discontinues my favorite shade of lipstick.

Have you ever read Louise Hay's You Can Heal Your Life? It's a classic in the metaphysical world. She says to never watch the news; it can only bring you down. No shit. But is it okay to simply ignore world events and live in your own wonderful world? Some kind of atrocity is happening at any given moment and the reality is there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it. Is it better just not to know?

See? This is what's sending me out of whack. I'm completely overwhelmed.

Well, this is the first time I've ever posted a picture of a bird on this blog. And also the first time I've posted a photo of myself and my sisters playing bingo.



That's our youngest sister, Stacie. Lori and I stopped in on her last Friday night on our last night on the road and caught a bingo game at the local firehouse in Fairfax, Virginia.

That was in the good old days before I started getting caught up in Anderson Cooper.

How about you? Does the news make you mental, too?

A couple of pics

Remember how I said this blog wasn't going to turn into a mushy granny site? Yeah, I remember saying that, too.


Sorry, can't resist!

What would Jesus do? Shake his head and roll his eyes.

I don't like the idea of religion being front and center in everyday life; that was one of the things that drove me nuts during the 10 months I lived in Utah. I wasn't kidding in my book when I talked about the black plastic blocks covering the Cosmopolitan magazines in the grocery store so shoppers wouldn't be exposed to such amorality. Having people try to impose their beliefs on others strikes me as just plain weird. That's probably why I love the Jews so much--they believe they're the chosen ones and aren't looking to add to their club, so they mind their own business and leave you alone. Cool.

Spending time in the Bible Belt last week was a real eye-opener for me. Elvis may be everywhere in Memphis, but through other areas of the South, it's Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. I wish I was able to snap a picture of a billboard we passed outside Clinton, Oklahoma, but by the time I read it all, it was too late.

It said,

"Are you lonely? I'm lonely. Let's talk. You first. Your friend, Jesus."

I imagine Jesus going, "WTF? I am so not that corny! And who said I'm lonely?"

If you ask me, people project some nutty crap onto Jesus, not the least of which is the mounds of anti-gay sentiment. I happen to believe that Jesus is totally all-loving (though he might not be too happy about that billboard). I also believe he has a sense of humor and will not strike my sister Lori dead for this pose at the last supper. (Taken when we stopped at the largest cross in the northern hemisphere outside Amarillo.)


We'll see...

I'm exhausted!

Wow. After about 12 days on the road, we rolled into Albany late Saturday night and Sunday I finally got to meet Hazel! Of course, she is absolutely precious.


You can't tell in the picture, but she has blue eyes and WHITE eyelashes and she looks like she's definitely going to be a redhead. I could eat her up. Connor is so thrilled to be a big brother--he's just adorable with her. I love that kid--duh. Doesn't he look a lot like me in this pic? And doesn't it look like I have a huge hole on the side of my face? (It's my earring--ha!)

I PROMISE this blog won't turn into an "Aren't my grandkids just the cutest?" site. Really. Just humor me a little. I have a lot of funny things to tell you about our trip, and some more pictures and videos to post, including a music video Lori and I made at 70 mph on a Tennessee highway at midnight. Very mature.

One thing I'll tell you right now--I am so friggin' sick of dealing with new technology. Between my fancy-schmancy new phone and the GPS Mike got me for the trip, for the past two weeks I've done nothing but swear while pressing buttons. And I mean I brought out my special swear words. I have all the patience in the world for people, but I could take a hammer to a machine that doesn't do what I want it to.

User error--kiss my ass. I think the T-Mobile help line has me on their Do Not Answer list, but as I told them, it might help if the phone came with a goddamn manual. "You can download it from the Internet," they told me. THAT IS SO NOT THE SAME and also not very convenient when you're on a cross-country road trip. Grrrr....

So I'm settling in here in Albany; I can tell it's going to be a while before I get my bearings. I haven't had a chance to catch up with my blogging buddies lately, but you know I love you. And thanks to all of you who've been along with us on this adventure. I so appreciate your reading all my crap.

XOXO