Paper Shredder Evil

My paper shredder yawns wickedly, showing his demonic, sharpened teeth as he lies in wait on the floor under the desk.  His belly is still full from the previous paper meal I’ve fed him, and he impolitely belches as he smirks at my reluctance to approach him again.  He guards his swallowed treasure with ferocity and vehemence.  Woe to anyone who tries to empty his treasures into the trash.

Paper shredders are mechanical dragons.  I’ve had two shredders in the past year, so I am familiar with the shredders’ beastly natures.  In addition to using his deadly incisors on unsuspecting victims, the Dragon Shredder can overheat, throwing flames toward anyone or anything that incurs his wrath.  He’s demonstrated this fiery tendency as well as his cutting skills on multiple occasions.

Believe me, it does not take much to incite the Dragon Shredder.  Anyone caught attempting to slip unopened envelopes into his smoky mouth will suffer for their impudence.  If I dare ignore staples embedded in my mail and endeavor to feed them to the scaly creature without removing them, the malevolent beast will turn on me. The evil beast can lock his metal jaws, and with an incredible, swift swipe of his beastly tail, reverse his gears to halt further intrusion into his territory. 

As I fearfully advance at this point with my metal staple remover sword to pull and pry jammed paper, staples, plastic, and credit card particles from his mouth, the Dragon Shredder turns on his magical shields; none of his buttons will work.  If I manage to escape to safety after an extended and vicious battle, and if all my fingers are intact and the house has not burned to the ground, it is a true miracle of survival. 

Meanwhile, the Dragon Shredder lurks in the darkness of his cave under the desk.  I know if there are future quests when paper shredding needs arise, I might not be so lucky next time to survive the onslaught of the Dragon Shredder.  Neither chain mail, a shield fashioned from a metal garbage can lid, nor my staple remover sword can protect me completely from the attack of a metal-jawed shredder.  Beowulf, wherefore art thou?

Gym Perils

Working out at the gym proves healthy for people of all ages.  I think we can all agree It should become a way of life that we automatically work into our everyday schedule.  For me, however, working out at the gym becomes increasingly perilous to my well-being.

First of all, let me preface the following by saying that I am the Queen of Excuses.  I can take a seemingly innocent  piece of information or incident, and transform it into a brilliant and logical reason for not heading to the gym.  I must say my numerous excuses all sound quite plausible.  

If there is a single, dark cloud in the sky, for instance, the weather could obviously turn surly, pouring unrelenting rains down upon fitness buffs attempting to enter the gym, thus causing multiple sinus reactions, such as a clogged nose, sore throat, or facial pressure and pain to erupt before other ailments begin to show.  If I need to run errands, such as dropping off mail, picking up prescriptions, and buying some computer ink and paper, I know I should just skip going to the gym as I will be too exhausted to work out after all the errands.  Some weeks it almost seems impossible to get three days in at the gym due to all the time constraints...and my excuses.

This morning, however, after fighting the Excuse Demons, I did manage to drag myself into the gym.  My itty-bitty brain then began to wrestle with reasons why I could not put in a full work-out.  My strength ebbed against the new monsters, and I relished the idea I could  leave the gym early, but at least I forced myself to walk in the door and check in.  That was a good start.

Once inside, the Leave Early Monsters continued to battle my senses.  Maybe I could do the recumbent cross trainer for only 20 minutes of cardio instead of my 30.  Maybe I should skip the weights today and leave early if I planned on coming back tomorrow.   Why not just wait and do the weights tomorrow since I was later than usual getting to the gym? What a great idea!

As I continued to exercise on the recumbent, the minutes of torture seemed to drag.  My gaze wandered as I tried to entertain myself with anything to make the time go faster.  Only 3 minutes and 12 seconds completed?  Holy Sheep Crap!  I couldn’t do this.  Even the single, distant  tv I could see from this spot was  so small the closed caption was illegible.  This particular tv always seems tuned to boring sports shows of no-name teams, or uninteresting foreign sports no one cares about anyway, so its distraction value is definitely limited. 

And then it happened.  My mind, in its immense wanderings, along with a few hunger pangs, and thoughts of the immediate future, settled on the most interesting topic ……you guessed it!  Food!   

My thoughts raced with the thoughts of all the food locations within a few miles' radius of the fitness center, as well as all the delectable choices offered.   Working out makes me hungry.  Yes, I would have to eat lunch after leaving the gym.  My brain continued to skip in ecstasy from one location and its offerings to the next.

I have been dying to try Pizza Hut’s new crazy, cheesy pizza before it's off the menu.  It has stuffed crust, which I adore.   Yes, I know Donato’s is just across the street  from Pizza Hut, and they have a tasty personal pizza with not too much sauce, and my favorite toppings -- green peppers and onions. 

My brain skipped on.  I just watched a new commercial running on tv this week showing people shouting to friends and neighbors that the barbecue sandwich is back at Burger King.  That sounds interesting, and Burger King also serves new sweet potato fries, according to the commercial.  Speaking of commercials, Wendy’s also has been advertising a new berry and almond salad with grilled chicken that sounds delightful.  I would really like to try that.  And, if we are talking salads, everyone knows how I love Applebee’s Oriental Chicken Salad, although Bob Evans does have that wonderful salad with chicken, cranberries, and walnuts, too, and oh, yes – I forgot about their fresh fruit and chicken salad.  Yum!  Even the strawberry and spinach salad at Applebees sounds great . What could be more healthy than a salad……with just a few little ingredients added?   Of course, salads are healthy choices.  Okay, fine – a fair number of salads contain fat oozing out of the dressings and tasty, added ingredients containing lots of calories.  But they taste great.  And they’re salads.

Have I mentioned how much I adore the fillet of fish sandwich at McDonald’s?  Sometimes I crave those.  Besides, everyone knows we should all be eating more fish.  I also crave Chinese at times, and Mark Pi’s is close by, too.  I love Crab Rangoon.  I love Chinese stir fry and sweet and sour chicken with all those wonderful pieces of pineapple, baby ears of corn, and water chestnuts.  Mmmm.   What about soup?  Bob Evans has that cheesy potato soup, and, oh, yes, that more healthy, but ever so good, beef vegetable soup.  They also have the most marvelous grilled cheese, and lovely Belgian waffles with fresh fruit. I always like breakfast for other meals.

Nearby is the mall.  O’Charley’s has awesome Philly Steak and Cheese sandwiches, or Garfield’s, on the other side of the mall, makes the best hand-breaded chicken fingers.  Of course, Arby’s has my all-time favorite roast beef.  I can even get junior ones on the value menu along with those melt-in-your mouth cherry turnovers.   What about the Beef-n-Cheddar?  I’ve started to salivate.

Oh, the choices.  Oh, the possibilities are endless.  Ruby Tuesdays has a lovely grilled salmon, fresh asparagus, and divine macaroni and cheese.  Or, I could possibly order a half rack of barbecued ribs for lunch.  I like their barbecue sauce.  Bill’s Real Barbecue Pit is just up the road, and  they serve excellent barbecued chicken, as well as a superb chicken and cheese sopapilla.

Working out makes me so hungry.  I’m afraid if I see a kid on a bike, carrying a McDonald’s bag, when I leave here, I might slam on my car brakes, jump out of the car like a ninja, kick the kid and his bike over, and grab his food bag.  Have I mentioned I love Mickey D’s fries, too?  And quarter pounders, no cheese or pickles, fruit-n-yogurt parfaits……  and, I almost forgot about the coffee at Starbucks.   White Chocolate Mocha, Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappucinno…..perfection in liquid form.  And Starbucks has the most wonderful little breakfast sandwiches.  My favorite is their bacon, egg, and gouda.  They have such delicious oatmeal and raisin cookies, too. Oh, so many delightful possibilities abound nearby.

What?  I’m still at the gym?  Please hurry to 30 minutes of cardio, Clock, before I lose total control, and begin foaming at the mouth.  The gym gurus will think I have rabies and probably rush me to the ER!  Yikes!  Who knew the gym could be so perilous?

Cake and Ice Cream

Although I sometimes tend to be a little off-the-wall in my approach to life, and occasionally a bit ditzy, I’m fairly conventional in most respects.  I like traditions.  They serve as a great way, in our ever-changing society, of providing a balance, as well as a link to previous generations. 

I like the familiar, but who decided we should have cake and ice cream for traditional birthday gatherings?  Did this tradition stem from a famous birthday celebrated eons ago?  Why cake and ice cream?  Why not cheese and crackers, or another dessert?  Why do cake and ice cream have to go together?  Can’t we just eat either birthday cake or ice cream?   Even Wikipedia doesn’t provide an answer – Wikipedia  simply refers to eating the cake and ice cream on birthdays as a tradition.

My mom celebrated her 86^th birthday this past week, and I was designated as the cake and ice cream provider for the affair, while other family members all provided items for the birthday cookout on her special day.  In other years when I’ve tried to provide a more creative, yet equally appealing, birthday choice, my family has objected.  Last year when I suggested strawberry shortcakes, since my mom likes strawberries, my sister flew into a fit, suggesting I might be batty, as everyone serves cake and ice cream for birthdays.  In other years when I’ve suggested a different delicacy, I have also encountered frowning as well as vocal opposition.

Cake and ice cream certainly can be considered an appropriate way to celebrate a birthday, in the sense they are special and not ordinarily encountered on a daily basis.  I can eat cake, but I never choose it if I have a choice.  I do like carrot cake and lemon limone cake, but I’m more of a pie lover.  I’ve never met a pie I didn’t like.   Even the crust from a fruit pie makes my mouth water just imagining it, and I am especially fond of those delightful extra pieces of pie dough my mother transformed into cinnamon sugar delights she assembled while baking a fruit pie. 

Since childhood, I’ve always requested a rhubarb pie on my birthday.  My mother has always indulged me with the pie, and even though I’ve explained she can simply put the birthday candles on my pie, she also bakes a cake for everyone else.   My candles appear on the cake.  Maybe it’s easier to stick the candles into frosting and cake rather than a pie, or maybe it’s simply traditional?

No one seems to know or remember the origin of eating cake and ice cream on birthdays, but most people do like cake and ice cream.  Perhaps that’s a good enough reason to keep this particular tradition.  As for me, bring on the raspberry pie, or the pecan pie, or the lemon meringue, or the cinnamon-flavored bread pudding, or the blackberry cobbler, or the iced sugar cookies, or double chocolate brownies, or white chocolate cheesecake.  Rejoice in rhubarb pie for my birthday with me! 

Texting and Me

 At my age, I take pride in keeping semi-up-to-date with modern technology. It’s not as easy for a dinosaur as it appears to be for the younger set who are born knowing how to upload photos, enable wireless routers with passwords, and such.   My son, for example, was born with a computer mouse in one hand and a Nintendo controller in the other.  For him, the technology gene is innate.

I do have a DVR (which I can and do use), an Android cell phone (I can take pictures on it, but still am learning about all the other functions on the phone), a netbook (I can be mobile, but who knew Function Keys and F keys are two different animals?), and a quad core desk top computer (Why do I constantly have to upgrade?  There was nothing wrong with Windows 3.1).   I also have   a GPS (you’d think “Daniel” could tell me to slow down when going over railroad tracks, but Mr. GPS isn’t as smart as he thinks), and a car equipped with blue tooth and Pandora (I figured out I can just talk to the car).   I have my own Paypal and Ebay accounts, along with my own Steam account for gaming.    I even pay bills and bank online.   I like keeping abreast of modern technology.  Texting, however, is not for me.

Unlike so many others, I am not hooked on texting, nor am I obsessed with constantly checking my cell phone for text messages and then texting in response.  I’m not lost in the cloudy text-messaging world of cyber space.  Like Alcoholics Anonymous and Gamblers Anonymous, shouldn’t there be a TA -- Texting Anonymous for such people?  C’mon – sleeping with your phone?  Seriously?  You need help.

I see people hide in corners at work with their cell phones as well as leaning in under their desks madly tapping out messages.  Some even walk down streets staring intently and soulfully at their cell phones.  That’s certainly an invitation for disaster.   Friends complain about dates who see nothing wrong with blatantly checking messages and texting under the table while conversing at dinner.  Customers talk on their cell phones while checking out at the supermarket, trying to conduct bank business with the teller, and talking to their doctors.  Sneakiness, rudeness, and disregard for others have become norms.  It’s a modern, tech-savvy generation all about self and entitlement.

 Cell phones are only a tool designed to make life a little easier, but not at the expense of attentiveness and good manners. Few messages in life require immediate attention, so turn off your cell phones during meetings, dinner, and at work.  Focus on what you’re supposed to be focused.  If someone wants you, they can either leave a text or voice mail you can retrieve at a better time. Check your cell phone at lunch or after you clock out.  Be civilized.  Are most messages really that important you have to constantly check for them?  No.  

Be attentive in your meetings, classes, or times with friends.   Text at a more appropriate time.  Your boss pays you for your time and productivity, not for checking your messages and texting.  If you can’t function without texting or checking for texts numerous times during the day, every day, you have a problem.  You’re just as addicted as someone who stays home to play World of Warcraft nonstop or someone who can’t make it through the day without multiple drinks or drags on a cigarette.  Texting addiction is akin to compulsive gambling.

Safety is always an issue with regard to texting.  Not only have I seen people walk into a pole or slam into another person along the street because their eyes are glued to their cell phones while they are walking, but the news even reported one totally focused birdbrain falling into a manhole.  In addition, imbeciles have been caught or admit to texting while driving, creating deadly situations.  What is wrong with people?  You do realize you don’t have to answer that cell phone while driving, but you can pull over somewhere and return the call or text a few minutes later if it’s that important, don’t you?  Distracted drivers are the number one cause of accidents.

Trying to type with the itty bitty keys on a cell phone is also infinitely annoying.  The smallest of fingers can’t accurately hit those little keys and escape numerous typos.  Even word suggestions in programs that allow you to select the word rather than finishing typing it, can’t make up for the irritation of those microscopic keys. 

If your excuse for texting is you don’t really need to speak to me, but just need to text me, then don’t text me.  What you have to say in your text is obviously not all that important.  I have other things to do than be a slave to my cell phone by constantly checking for new text messages.  If your excuse for constant checking and texting is you want to stay connected to friends, get a clue --  it’s just an excuse.   I’d rather look at Facebook statuses at home when I have a glass of wine in my hand, and I can connect to others by calling and talking to them, or by hanging out in person with them somewhere.  If your excuse is you want to send me a picture, then by all means, send it -- I'll see it later. (E-mail me the pic instead -- I won't lose it that way.)

I’m certainly not allergic to texting occasionally, but neither Christian Gray nor my cell phone will ever be my master.  I don’t have the compulsion and need to constantly be checking for texts, so know that if you text me and expect an immediate response, I probably won’t see your text until I check messages mid-day or plug in my cell to recharge at bedtime.   

As Frank Sinatra, Frankie Valli, and Petula Clark all sang, “Call me, Don’t be afraid, you can call me….”  Real folks call.