Because I'm a cranky old lady

If you ever find yourself wondering why I do or say certain things, that will usually be the answer. It's been coming on gradually, but I feel like I'm thisclose to being the old lady on the porch who screeches at the neighborhood kids while throwing beer bottles at their heads.

Here are just a few cranky old lady thoughts I've had in the last few days:

  1. What is with those people at church who study voice or whatever and decide to start singing their own higher descant during the hymns? You know who I'm talking about, especially if you attend a BYU ward. I mean, I could see this being a beautiful and enriching thing as part of a choir number where there were other sopranos besides just them doing it. Otherwise it's about as appropriate as me whipping out a pan flute and going to town during "How Great Thou Art."
  2. Was there some sort of memo that proclaimed it okay to bring one's cellular phone into church? And did the memo also say that it's perfectly fine to use sacrament meeting as a time to send text messages to your idiot friends? Because I'm seeing this happen, and it's an ugly, ugly thing. Let me say this once: You have absolutely nothing so important to say that it can't wait 45 minutes. I'm sure no one is bleeding or dying, because if that were the case you wouldn't be calmly sitting during the meeting, sending out the annoying blue glow of "I'm using my cell phone because I'm a twit" directly into my retinas.
  3. Sunday at my complex seems to be the day where people roam about aimlessly (or perhaps purposely) and then "drop in" to an apartment to hang out. I realize this is all well and good and social and blah blah. But there are limits. First off, I shouldn't have to drop whatever I'm doing just because some guys took it into their head to go a-visitin' at 11:30pm. Sure, I may welcome the distraction, especially if the guys are cute, but it's likely that I won't, especially if the visit lasts several hours with absolutely no regard for social cues like yawning, paralysis, and death. This is on account of the old woman factor (my bladder can't take it) and on account of the "I didn't call and invite you over and therefore am not obligated to be the hostess" factor. So quit hijacking my Sundays, people. I have naps to take and trash to read. (Note to actual friends: This, of course, does not apply to you. If you came to see me I would rejoice and feed you baked goods until you had a tummy-ache.)

Whew. I'm glad I got all that off my chest. Now I'm going to find a mustard plaster and some needlepoint to keep me busy until bedtime, which is in exactly 1 hour.


Chris said... [reply]

I've said it before.

And I'll say it again.

You crack me up. I haven't laughed like that in, well, a couple of days.

Of course, if people had no cell phones, they'd either 1) have to listen to the talks or 2) Write things down on a piece of paper.

Oh, and the chances that they would have to use complete words (ie you instead of U) would increase.

At least a little.

I'd think.

Savvymom said... [reply]

You sound like quite the raunch.

Nemesis said... [reply]

Hey, I'd rather be a raunch than a case for Child and Family Services!

chosha said... [reply]


That was good!!

Oh, sorry, am I being too loud? I'll just leave this hot water bottle here and go...

daltongirl said... [reply]

Hey, Grandma! Leave savvymom alone. She's trying, and all you can do is accuse her daughter of having weird disorders.

Also, what's wrong with sending text messages during sacrament meeting? I'm older 'n you and I do it all the time. It means I don't have to distract other people by whispering (or talking out loud, which you probably do because your hearing aid doesn't work right).

Actually, I have another thing that ticks me off during sacrament meeting: people with very small children who sit in the front row and let their kids climb the stairs to the stand over and over and over and over and over and . . . well, you get the idea. And then they stand up and go get the kid every time, and stand there at the foot of the steps for about five minutes, straight up, like the entire congregation isn't now staring at them instead of the speaker. Because when a child is ready to learn to climb stairs, you should let them learn. No matter where you are.

Also people who hold their babies high up in the air and tickle them and throw them up and catch them and generally play games that should only be played in one's living room. Sitting in the front row. Yeah. Same family. Nutty.

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