Thursday, May 28, 2009

Candy Gal

The lice actually came from my idiot brother-in-law. Nephew B picked up lice somewhere in the neighborhood. He gave it to Nephew A and Niece A, who in turn gave it to Sister and idiot Brother-in-law, both of whom were home for a whole week after Niece B arrived.

Wait. Did I forget to tell you about Niece B? Ok, my sister popped out kid #4, a perfectly healthy little girl. And since my sister wants to be the next Pope, she therefore doesn't believe in birth control, leaving that job to my idiot brother-in-law meaning she'll be preggo again by year's end.

So idiot brother-in-law had lice but didn't know it, when he got in my car and went to the racetrack outside Fort Worth with me. He was just coming up there as an observer and to keep me awake on the long drive, but when they offered a ride around the track in the professional car with the professional driver, he naturally took them up on it. Only catch was that he needed to wear a helmet for that. So I lent him mine. Then it was my turn to ride around the track (for comparison with my own driving around) with the pro, so I took the helmet back...

It was on the drive home that my sister called to tell us the good news. I never had a full-blown infestation, since I started treatment the same day I was exposed, but I treated it as such. Washed all the sheets and towels in hot water, sprayed the carpet and sofa with insecticide, and used medicinal hair gel for several days. Apart from being FURIOUS with my sister and idiot brother-in-law, it was fairly easy. But that gel dried out my scalp, which then itched, which made me paranoid that I was fully infested. Still, 4 weeks later, every time my head itches I think about little crawlies up there. Just thinking about it makes my head itch, and I bet you're scratching too.
I wanted to point out how it's true what they say, that actions speak louder than words. For example, sending flowers to your woman at work as opposed to merely saying "I love you." Another example, my sister says she doesn't want to have any more kids. But she will, it's just a matter of time. So the whole actions vs. words thing can go both ways, good or bad. You can tell someone that you support every decision they make, but if they tell you that at age 35, 140 lbs, they want to become an Olympic gymnast, and you initially chuckle, that's what they'll remember. And they'll blame you for not doing it. Never mind if they never finished anything else they ever started, whether it's learning to play the banjo, taking a loom-weaving class, or mastering vegan Inuit cooking. The important thing is having you to blame.
Something else that I've been thinking about lately is apologies. I was actually thinking about it before I saw it, because something similar happened to me recently, but the issue came up on the season finale of Ugly Betty. [SPOILER ALERT] Betty kinda-sorta cheated on her boyfriend but couldn't decide whether to tell him about it or not. She eventually came to the conclusion, which I think agree with, that telling him something he didn't know would make HER feel better but it would devastate him. So rather than hurt him to make herself feel better, the guilt she felt over what she did was her punishment. But it turns out that he DID know, so not telling him made it seem like she was covering it up and he broke up with her. I'm not sure how the situation could have been avoided, because she was between a rock and a hard place, but I suppose if he had confronted her about it they could have worked it out. He's mostly innocent, but there's also something not-so-innocent about the way he let her dangle and twist in the wind on that guilty rope. Whether to talk about it openly and work it out or to do whatever you can to spare the other person's feelings... I don't know the right answer.

Monday, May 18, 2009

I am a pizza

So I'm a deadbeat blogger. Sue me.

I had a date with MidWestFarmer'sDaughter. It went terribly. It didn't start out bad, but it sure ended bad. Not she-threw-her-drink-in-my-face bad or I-had-the-stage-fright bad, but bad enough that I learned something. Yes, that's bad. Then I had two dates with tattoo-girl. Then I was supposed to go out with this latina chick, only I spent the day with tattoo-girl (she "dropped by" which kind of annoyed me, but she brought donuts so she's forgiven) so I wound up blowing off the latina. I called her the next day to apologize, but it went straight to voicemail. She sent me an email the next day saying that she changed her mind and that we weren't right for each other. I felt bad about the situation, but she was right. I wasn't really that into her.

pic of a badass driverSo then I went to drive my car on a racetrack. The dealership from which I bought my G35 turned out (unbeknownst to me) to be one of the biggest Infiniti dealers in the country. The owner of that dealership has a professional racing team, with a souped-up G35 and a professional driver. A couple of times a year he invites his customers up to a racetrack near Fort Worth to learn just what their cars can do. Apart from the 5 hour drive up there and a hotel room, it was totally free to race MY car on a track. It was awesome, but I got lice from the helmet.