Contract thief.

So when I can't sleep, I look at the mug shots online from Meck County. I like to see what the people's names are, what they're arrested for, and to see if their picture matches their reason for arrest. I like it when they're arrested for drugs paraphernalia and looked stoned in their pics. Or when they're pulled over for drunk driving and then are all disheveled in the picture.

Last night I couldn't sleep, so I scrolled through a couple of days worth of mug shots. And who do I see? OUR STUPID EFFING KITCHEN CONTRACTOR. Arrested for larceny (misdemeanor, $200 and up). So gawd only knows what he stole. Something worth more than $200.

Having had my house burglarized in Little Rock, I'm ridiculously paranoid about it happening again. I'm super careful about opening the blinds, carrying in shopping bags, and receiving shipping packages that are left at the front door. Now, I feel like he could have been casing the joint. Probably not, but my mind has been racing since I saw his ugly mug.

All our contractors (Head Fred sticky fingers and his workers) know Bob works a lot. They know I'm here alone. A lot. They know what we have, how large our ridic television is, what we have stored in our garage, and every item we have in our house. They also know we have guns strategically placed throughout the house (think Mr and Mrs Smith). That I'm unafraid to use, which my Mother pointed out is why they prob didn't mess with me. The entire reason we hired this guy was, because I felt comfortable with him. I felt okay being alone with him in the house. Well, I'll be damned if he isn't an effing criminal.

Ridiculousness.

Things I don't like. Tuesday edition.

Today is Tuesday, right?

So I'm tired of bitching about our kitchen. If you're facebook friends with me, you know I've been blowing it up with my frustrations. And since I'm tired of my kitchen, I thought I'd bitch about the other things I'm tired of (in no particular order):

1. The Olympics. Or more specifically, the networks bringing them to us. Holy balls. Pick a damn sport and show it until at least that set/match/game is over. I was watching some channel this morning and they switched sports so many times, it made me assume the producer was bipolar. I typically enjoy watching several different sports, but shit. I can't do it this year. The programming is too psychotic.

2. The Chick-fil-A debate. I'm not going to state my personal opinion about it here or anywhere. But holy shit. Don't take to facebook, blasting one side or the other, assuming your friends will magically say, "You know what? After reading this post, I realize he/she is so right. I'm going to change my opinion." And then get all pissy about it when you don't have 100% agreement. On facebook. Seriously?

3. The presidential race. To me, politics and religion are personal. Through my very republican husband, my mostly democratic voting history has been revealed to numerous people. I do not talk about it myself, not because I'm ashamed of it, but because I don't feel there's a need. Bob, along with these numerous people, like to pick on me for the choices I've made. Some of those people (not Bob... he knows better), have tried to get me riled up about this year's race. They try to start a debate and make me get all political. But when I don't participate, they interpret my silence as ignorance or assume I've converted to their way of thinking. I have my thoughts and reasons for those thoughts. Just like the chick-fil-a debate, me speaking my mind isn't going to change yours. Or vice-versa. And I don't typically enter an argument that I'm not guaranteed to win. I'm smrt like that.

4. The Harris Teeter in my neighborhood. Charlotte is overrun with Harris Teeter grocery stores. And when I say overrun, I mean there are 6 in our 10 square mile radius. "Mine" sucks compared to other ones in general vicinity. Although mine is under construction, I don't think we'll ever get all the cool stuff the other ones have. I don't like this.

5. My kitchen. I know, I know. I said I was done. But surprise. I'm not. Robert, my oh so fabulous mold guy, is coming back today. To cut out a portion of the cabinets to a) see how horrific the mold is and b) try to find the mysterious leak.

I may be done bitching now. But I may not. We'll see. Once Robert leaves, I'll probably be all fired up again. Aren't you looking forward to that?

Word cheaters.

So now that I'm an itelephone user, I've started playing Words With Friends. I much prefer scrabble against the computer, but oh well. I've only played Bob and one other person so far. I let the itelephone work it's magic and produce a random opponent. Well. "Keith" cheated. A lot.

Now I'm not generally a sore loser. I know when my skills are outmatched. I accept it. I also know that "Keith" was cheating. Things started off even, then took an ugly turn. I like to think my scrabble skills are pretty amazing. WWF is not scrabble, but I still know me some good ol' words.

However, my 13 years of private school, 4 years of college, 2 years of graduate school, and 31 years of being did not prepare me for words like horal, zeins, yar (even despite it's regular Philadelphia Story reference), and intron. Now maybe "Keith" is some sort of super scientist and uses words like zeins and intron on a daily basis. However, I suspect he's a big fat cheater cheater pumpkin eater. Using those words, "Keith" won 427 to 277. Really? Wtf, over?

If "Keith" tries to play me in yet another game, I WILL find the space and letters to use the words "fuck" and "off" and "Keith" in some sort of succession.

For the record, blogger spellcheck doesn't recognize horal, zeins, yar, or intron.

So there, "KEITH."

Prayers on planes.

So in our travels from Houston to Charlotte this week, our flight was delayed about an hour because of weather in North Carolina. Beryl came through, if you remember. Which scares the shit out of me. We've had several named storms already and it hasn't even been the "season" yet. I shudder to think of how vicious the remainder of the year will be. At least we don't live on the coast.

Anyhoodle, most people on our flight understood the situation. The weather was so bad they suspended inbound flights into Charlotte. Even before I was the wife of a pilot, I understood that things like this were for our own safety. Most people with common sense would. I appreciated the fact that we didn't have to fly through weather like that. Other people did too.

However, there were two people that did not understand this. They spoke English, although not very clearly. They understood English enough to groan when the gate agent made announcements concerning the further delay of the flight. But they showed their asses to the gate agents. Proclaimed they needed a translator and a refund. Yeah. It was fun to watch.

So guess who got to sit next to the woman on the flight? Yep. This girl. So thrilled. About 5 minutes into the flight, I realized she was talking. I was slipping in and out of a dramamine coma and wasn't super aware of what was going on. About 45 minutes later, she was still talking and I was sober enough to know it. She wasn't talking to her son in the row in front of us. She wasn't talking into a voice recorder. Thank gawd she wasn't talking on her phone. So what was she doing?

She was praying. Out loud. On a plane. For over an hour. Now I'm all for prayers on airplanes. Got it. I say one myself. SILENTLY. But for over an hour OUT LOUD? Really? And in Spanish no less. Save that rosary for another place please.

I realized then. On planes, I like other people's prayers the same way I like their children. Silent.