Sunday, October 18, 2009

Is your finger really that much more special than mine?

Dear people of America (and probably the world):

I have a general complaint I would like to voice in hopes that some people share my thoughts and others change their ways...
I was leaving my friend's building the other day and I had to use the elevator to go down to my car. So I pressed the down button, the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside. I then pressed the garage button in the elevator with my pointer finger and the garage button lit up with excitement. I then leaned against the back wall and fished around my purse for my car keys. As the doors were closing a woman ran and forced her way into the elevator with me. She looks at the buttons, noting the already glowing and prepared G1 button, and proceeds to press it.

The floor was obviously already chosen. The down arrow at the top of the elevator was already glowing as well, ready to go, and the only floor below us was the garage floor. It was as if she felt that the elevator would be confused thinking that there were two passengers and only one destintation. Thank you for clearing that up and letting it know that two people want to go down, maybe now it will hurry. Did she really not trust that I knew how to properly push a button?

This happens all too often. I was biking to the store just two days ago and had to stop at a crosswalk. I hopped off my bike and approached the crosswalk button. As I did, I noticed a man was also headed toward the crosswalk button. I pressed the button firmly, making sure the yellow sphere went all the way into it's box and popped all the way out and then I stepped away to await the light. Then the man, who stood next to me as I pressed the button, approached the very same crosswalk button and pressed it not once but twice after I had already pressed it.
It was as if he said, 'I see your bet and I raise you.' Was it really neccessary? When the crosswalk signal did come on he proudly walked across the street as if he had accomplished something.
I just don't understand this at all. I have a possible theory though. In America it seems every medium of communication informs us of how stupid we are as a people. There are hundreds of shows, websites, videos and magazines dedicated to proving and spreading the word about how stupid people can be. It's pretty much shoved down our throats. Many Americans are just plain idiots. So we probably don't expect the average stranger to be any different. But not trusting that most American's comprehend how to push a button correctly? Do we really expect so little of each other?

I bet everyone's come across this at sometime in their life. You've been waiting outside a locked door for a bit waiting for someone with a key to come by and open it, and several people are there with you, each of which have had their shot at opening the door, when down the hall comes a man with a mission, to get inside that room. He zeros in on the door and glares at the people blocking his way. He is met with several:

"Don't bother, it's locked", "Someone is getting a key now", "We all already tried it," "It's locked but will be open in five minutes" or various other ways of saying the same thing.

And what does that guy do? He might respond with an "oh" or "really?" but there is no stopping him. He will walk to the door and try to open it. He will fail. And then he will either say, "you're right" which everyone already knew damn well they were right, or just silently turn and join the waiting group. I don't think I've ever seen a case where person #5 to turn the handle of a locked door will actually open what all the others couldn't. But they always try.

I know this is a fairly random post, but it really bugs me. 
Is your finger really that much more special than mine? Do you really have a 'magic' touch?
Maybe I can understand the need for control and self assurance. Or in the case of the door situation, the "maybe I can do it" mentality. But it just bugs me.

What bothers me even more is when I observe people standing at the crosswalk of a busy street rapidly pressing the crosswalk button nonstop.
Arrgh! You people! Why?!
Do you not understand that the first time you pressed it is the only time that matters to the machine and that the rest is wasted energy? The crosswalk is not going to say to the streetlight:

"Hey buddy, I know you just started letting them go but would you mind stopping the cars now? It seems this person really wants to cross right now." Observing this is about as painful to me as if I was the button being prodded over and over again.

So all in all, please learn to trust that we aren't ALL stupid and think about this next time you are in an elevator and catch yourself reaching to press an already lit button. That's all I ask for you to make me happy.


Thursday, October 15, 2009


It was just the two of us. I knew no one would come if I screamed for no one was home, just me and him, alone in my bedroom. He stood in the doorway, blocking my exit, trapping me inside. My choices were either try to jump out the window or be strong and face him.I feared he had a posse waiting by the window so I didn't move. And there we stood. Both staring at each other, both wondering who would make the first move. My eyes scanned the room for a weapon, something to bash him over the head with, something to use to try to protect myself. As I looked, he moved a little closer, as if taunting me. I couldn't stand for this any longer, he would be the one leaving my house, I don't care if it be dead or alive.

"Alright Cockroach, I have things to do, we can't be having this mexican standoff all day!"

It was as if the cockroach understood english because at that moment he sprinted towards me, his little feet carrying him in a drunk bee line faster than I ever thought possible. I had no idea where his angle of attack would be. I immediately screamed in fear and jumped on my bed. He crawled under my bed and I was able to make an escape out of my room. But what kind of victory is that? Knowing that when I go back there to sleep he will be silently waiting for me, breathing underneath my bed, just waiting for his perfect moment to fulfill his plot to kill me, climb in my mouth while I'm asleep and thereby suffocate me. I had to face him for real.

I acquired some standard military weaponry, a broom, a flashlight, and a large soled shoe, and stepped foot back on the battlegrounds hoping my enemy was still in his dark trench. I cautiously lowered myself to the floor but stayed several feet away from the edge of the bed out of fear of a calculated "charge!". I shined my flashlight under the bed.

"Where are you, you little bugger!?"

He had vanished. Or so I thought. I ended up prodding the broom under the bed to see if I could sense movement and I discovered this roach was more prepared than me. He was already in camouflage and blended in perfectly with my bedpost. So I began to strategize. How do I get him out to kill him without risking him touching me? It was time for more advanced weaponry. Gas. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed my bottle of hairspray. I then laid on top of my bed, lowered my hand with the hairspray down and fired.

A glossy and sticky cockroach scrambled out from under the bed and I pounced like a mad woman, screaming and slamming my shoe on the ground in rapid succession.


It took seven swings but I got him. His body crumbled under the pressure and I was pronounced victor!
His lifeless body was care flighted to a nearby bathroom facility where he was properly disposed of. 

Yes I, a vegetarian, had taken a life, and was damn proud of it. I returned to the scene of the murder and cleaned up the murder weapon and any remains. My murder was untraceable.

Unfortunately I think that cockroach was well respected and belonged to a gang of avengeful repulsvive pests and insects that have decided to repeatedly show their face on my turf.

It's gonna be all out war. 1 vs. 300.
But i'm prepared. I have come across a powerful method of fighting.
Chemical war fare.

Bring it on bitches!