I Just Don't Get It

Based on some recent and some not-so-recent observations, I've been chronicling things that I just don't get. Some of this stuff simply makes my scratch my head (but not in that "That little itch could be telling you something." kind of way). Some of it simply irks me. All of it leaves me thinking "I just don't get it."


The Dirt & Noise I Just Don't Get It List

People who keep their dining room tables set at all times. Even though they never sit down for a meal there. Ever. Don't those dishes and swan folded napkins just get all dusty? Seems to me that after a while, your dining would start feeling like a restaurant that no one patronizes. It becomes a sad place rather than the hub of family time, festivity, and fabulous fare.

People who have formal living rooms with hand carved chess pieces left just-so on an ottoman by the fireplace. Keep in mind, these are people who are not clever enough to play chess.

People who have formal rooms that children are banned from. I figure my house is my kids' house too so why would I ban them from playing where they want to? Sure, we have rules. Like no sumo wrestling in the living room. No playing frisbee inside the house. I've been jolted by the sound of a pottery lamp shattering and multiple spills of a kelanchoe plant (three times in just one evening of late). Such is the price we pay to having children dwell among us. What are the alternatives? A kennel? The garage? The neighbor's tree house? Look, having children is what makes this house a home. I'll be damned if I ban them from being playful children in their own home.

Raisins. Why ruin a perfectly good grape that could be eaten in its juicy succulence or smashed into wine? Hmmmm...wine or trail mix filler? You tell me the better use for a grape.

Ferrets. And their owners.

Scrapbooking. Oh, I'm sensing some hate mail here. What I mean is that I don't get the actual crafty act of scrapbooking. I totally appreciate the end result but I don't want to paste a bunch of forget-me-nots and argyle socks and candy canes all over a book laden with cutesy captions. Call me old fashioned but I sorta prefer the ol' photo album (acid free paper, natch). And did I just use "scrapbook" as a verb?

Vanity plates that boast the make of a car. Like "BMW" on a BMW. Um, doesn't the logo already tell me that, dude? Redundancy (and idiocy) at its finest. Waste of money there. Clearly someone who has money to burn yet not a brain cell lit up.

I'd like to add Bible verse license plates too. This is not something I saw until moving to North Carolina. Tell me, Midwestern friends and readers, do you see this anywhere in the frozen tundra? I don't recall any of that from my 10 years freezing my bloomers off up there.

People who eschew cake frosting. Worse are those who prefer whipped cream topping to frosting. Blasphemous cake eaters!

Wall-to-wall carpeting. I've had it in all the apartments I ever lived in. I never liked it. It smells like carcinogens. What's the point exactly?

People who hang a big ass television over the fireplace mantel. In my world, that's an interior design no-no deserving of a Glamour magazine black bar. This one's for you, Sam. wink. wink.

Couples who take separate vacations. I mean separate his and hers getaways all the time yet no rendez vousing together. Nothing better than Mac Daddy by my side and a lazy stroll following our taste buds' every whim through the streets of a new city. I reckon that might happen again in oh, about 14 years. Til then, it's Family Vacation. Chevy Chase style, baby.

People who don't read. Books are my drug. My escape. My fantasy. My brain stretch. My dreams. My love. Nothing in my life has made me prouder than watching my son, my Bird, learn to read.


So tell me, what's on your "I just don't get it" list?

Stereotypes

Every so often my world is jarred, and stereotypes go all topsy turvy on me. In those moments that little voice in my head sounds strangely familiar. Hmmm...I got it. It's the same robotic monotone as the talking cars that remark, "Door is a ajar." Only my voice sounds more like Rosie and says, "World is jarred."

I was driving behind a car yesterday, and I can't seem to shake the impression. Picture this:

Black muddy pick up truck, a big one, with wheels taller than most people in India. Oh don't get your bloomers in a bunch, I speak from experience. The truck was peppered in bumper stickers like "Here Fishy Fishy," "My rod is bigger than your rod," and "Possum, the other white meat." I'd like to do a socialogical consumer research study on the underpinnings of why people choose bumper stickers. This truck had some sort of rack contraption and a giant green metal tool box in back. The license plate had a rebel flag on it, and there were those tacky mudflaps with the profile of an unnaturally buxom woman straddling this or that (Did Carrie Prejean pose for that too, perhaps?) and a homemade posterboard sign hanging in the back window that read "I love guns and God."

We were stuck at many red lights, and I have an uncannily keen knack for detail so trust me on the deets here. For the record, I'd be great at spotting the bad guy in a police line up so don't fuck with me.

So upon closer inspection I note a dog in thr front seat with the mustached, mirrored sunglass wearing dude in the driver's seat, tatooed arm hanging out the open window. I was dying to see that tat but couldn't get the right angle (There's a geometry joke here, but since I am the only Indian in the world who's bad at math and science I'm not the girl to crack this particular joke.). So back to the dog.

Tell me what kind of dog you suspect this dude had.

lab (black, yellow, chocolate...take your pick)
pit bull
mutt
bull dog
poodle
yorkie
corgi
husky
beagle