Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of What-the-Crapness by Cindy Haney
Life is stupid. Life always seems to find creative ways of throwing metaphorical tire-spewed mud water at your head on the same day you just had your metaphorical hair done. “What the crap?!” you scream as you find yourself shaking a clenched fist at the metaphorical speeding monster truck. I’m talking about those weird every-day occurences that lead you down the rabbit-hole of what-the-crapness. Those things that leave you scratching your head and muttering….
“Wait. What? Seriously? What the crap?”
Here are some head-scratching moments from my life lately…
- So we were at the neighborhood pool last Sunday swimming and relaxing when a nice-looking family with small children entered the gates with the usual overload of pool paraphernalia. The pudgy middle-aged Dad then strips down to a European Speedo and proudly proceeds to parade his junk-in-the-front around, like a narcissistic peacock. He repeatedly mounts the diving board just to make sure everyone there, including all the little children, could get an eyeful of his inappropriately large “tool”. What the crap? This is America, damn-it, not Europe! Go get yourself some floral-printed knee-length board shorts like every other man in this country! You know what my biggest regret is? I cannot unsee that fleshy public porn show.
- I’m cleaning out my fridge, and as I’m dumping the beef stew leftovers from four months ago into the garbage can, I carelessly miss the can and it goes sliding all over the kitchen floor. Not only does it smell like Satan’s foot fungus after several centuries of untreated Athlete’s Foot, but I’m also out of paper towels. I alternate between dry heaving and eye-watering as I try to clean it up with regular towels. What the crap? I seriously consider throwing all the towels away and buying all new ones.
- It’s 10:00 at night when my youngest teenager announces that she is out of “feminine hygiene product” and needs more immediately. “What the crap?” I yell, “You couldn’t have announced this a couple of hours ago?” So I pull on my nastiest sweats, my purple crocs and my dinner-stained T-shirt and schlep on over to Walgreens in the middle of the night. I grab a big-ass box of “product”, not caring who sees me, as I walk over to the check-out register. And there, grinning the 100-watt smile of Channing Tatum, is an extremely good-looking young guy who I’m guessing only works there at night to support his other job – modeling for Calvin Klein underwear. Meanwhile, I looked like a homeless person who had just escaped lockdown at the city shelter. “What the crap?” I think, as I smile politely at Mr. Tatum. Back in the car, I glance at my face in the rearview mirror. There’s a piece of spinach from dinner in my front teeth waving back at me.
- If you know me at all, you know that I constantly bitch about vacuum cleaners. I think they are the biggest consumer rip-offs ever designed. I throw a vacuum cleaner out and a buy a new one every three months. They cost over a hundred damn bucks, and they stop sucking garbage out of your carpet almost the moment you get it home. This is insanity. I started collecting vacuum cleaners in the corner of my garage like a mentally disturbed hoarder. I finally made my husband throw them all out the other day because I was afraid a neighbor would notice and call a film crew from one of those reality shows. Then this weekend, when I had a rare extra five minutes to myself, I hauled out the current Vacuum-From-Hell, turned it over, and started taking it apart. It is only a month old and has already started spitting, spewing and overheating. I started fishing out 13 miles of compacted hair and debris from the bottom tubes. “What the crap?” It just kept coming out! Then I noticed the canister was completely clean. Turns out, the tube leading to the canister was turned off, so the debris had nowhere to go! All I had to do was turn it back on. Oh my god. How many vacuums have I thrown out with that exact same problem??? I never even checked those tubes before. I am a mechanically-impaired idiot.
- Lately, my husband has been making a lot of late-night, red-eyed trips to the local Kinko’s store to print last-minute high school homework that is, of course, due the next day. He goes so often, in fact, that the store owner has started fist-pumping and high-fiving my husband upon entry. Probably because we are keeping him in business. Our home office printer suddenly decided to stop working a few weeks ago. It was fine until we tried to install new printer ink, and then it decided to go on a permanent vacation. After several hours of jacking with it, we resorted to pleading and threats. We explained our urgency to it. We told it that Emily had a huge project due the next day, but it just blinked it’s ugly red error light and sent us messages about USB cords, paper jams, and greedy requests for more ink.
We tried talking sweet. It just blinked at us. Then we tried death threats.
“Look if you don’t print right now, Imma’ take you down. Downtown to Chinatown!”
It answered, “Whoa, cool down there, Daddy-O. No need to blow your top. You know what is else goin’ down? My ink levels.”
“What the crap!” we furiously screamed, “We just filled your damn ink levels!” Then we started saying things like “Oh no, you didn’t! Oh, snap. Aw, Hell, NO!”
It just blinked.
That was the last straw. We picked it up and threw it out the second floor window, screaming, “See you in hell, printer!”
That was SO satisfying. And let that be a lesson to all the other electronic devices in my house! Especially the current vacuum cleaner. I WILL NOT be puttin’ up with any more of your crap!!!