Classic Sondra..Rising the Blog from the Dead

This, again, was a post from my Yahoo journal. It is dated September 6th.




I just got the worst phone call of my life. Well, almost the worst. It's right up there with the three phone calls I've gotten notifying me of the death of my beloved maternal grandmother in 1995, my closest guy friend Tom in 2000 (who is in my picture album), and my best friend Heather in 2002. No, no one died. But it's bad enough. Couple that with about one and a half hour's worth of sleep, and you get a very cranky and tired Sondra G. So that got me to thinking about things that irritate me and I thought I would list them here. They are in no particular order, nor do they necessarily make any kind of rational sense. It just emphasizes the fact that I am loony. Which I think is funny and take a rather sick delight in. hee hee.

I HATE, HATE, HATE the ringing of the phone or the knocking sound on a door. I can't stand it when my phone rings, and when it does, I have one objective....to silence it immediately. When someone knocks on the door, unless I've been expecting them, I do not answer it. I hate that sound. I HATE IT.


Which brings me to what I call the "incessant ringing of a telephone scene" that seems to be in most movies. You know, where the phone just rings and rings and either no one is there to pick it up or someone is there, staring at it. That just drives me apeshit. I usually hum through the scene so I don't have to hear it. People in movie theatres witnessing this behavior must think I am out on a day trip with the clan from the local loony bin. (Ever seen the scene in the movie "Constantine" where the lady is sitting, working on her laptop, and all of her phones and pagers begin to go off at once? AND SHE DOESN'T ANSWER ANY OF THEM? I clapped my hands over my ears and began rocking back and forth, screaming, "Make it stop!" until my nephew's girlfriend Kristen turned it off. If there is a hell, that's what it's like.)


The sound of soda being poured into a glass. (shudder). I don't know what it is about that sound, but I don't like it. I really don't. It's just so obnoxious. If I have to pour soda into a glass, I tip the glass sideways and hold the bottle or can almost at a ninety degree angle. This eliminates most of that sound. You should try that if you are an enthusiastic, obnoxious soda pourer. You never know who might be cringing around you, ready to take that bottle or can and shove it right up your everlovin' ass.


This isn't really something that irritates me, per se, but I feel I have to mention it just because it is so strange. I DO NOT LIKE ELECTRICITY. I am scared of lightning. I am not scared of it during the day, but at night I am terrified of it. It's not the actual lightning that scares me, it's the BOLTS of lightning. When I lived in Florida I used to see heat lightning almost every night for most of the year, and it never bothered me. Something about bolts of lightning makes me think of evilness. I don't know why. Also, I'll never be the first one to flip on a switch in a new place. I don't plug things in if I don't know for sure that they work. And here, in this relatively new house, we have a whirpool in our bathtub. It's great! Brand new and hardly used. There is a child safety switch on the wall that keeps the power out of it until it's turned on, and in order to get it turned on, that switch has to be up and you have to push the button on the side of the tub. The other night I had every intention of soaking in the whirpool and reading a book, but once I filled the tub with water, I could not bring myself to push the button. I kept thinking, "What if it's not grounded right and I get electrocuted?" I have used it before but I made someone else (SG2--more about that later) get in it and turn it on before I would get in it. I even sat in the water with my finger poised over the button trying to force myself to turn it on. I couldn't. So I called SG2 and he came to push the button, but then I totally freaked out and jumped out of the tub, which caused the jets to spray water all over the bathroom floor and mirrors. Then I made him stand there with his hand on the button for 20 minutes while I tried to decide if I wanted him to push it or not. Finally, I decided against using the whirpool even though that was what I wanted to do in the first place. JUST IN CASE I get electrocuted. Hey, fuck you. I'm not taking any chances.


Here is something that just chaps my ass. And I'm gonna say it like this: To all you stupid fucking people out there that think it's just SO cute to put your fucking kid on the phone with me, to hell with you! God I hate that. I can't tell you how many times I've been on the phone with someone and in the background I can hear loud kid noises. (which is another thing that bothers me, by the way). Almost certainly whoever I'm talking to will always say, "Do you wanna say hi? Say hi," and then put the fucking kid on the phone. Then I'm forced to make conversation with the little monkey. And what do you say to a goddamn baby? I don't have shit to say. Put your mommy back on the phone. I don't want to hear you screaming in my ear. Jesus Christ. Go back to screaming in your mommy's ear.
(P.S. The last line does not apply to L.C., Z.C., K.S., or I.S. You know who you are. I love talking to your kids, and that's okay.)


I really, REALLY hate it when people spell and pronounce my name "SANDRA." It is not "SANDRA", you grammatically challenged, obviously BLIND, peabrain fuckfaces. It's "SONDRA." You see, the "O" speaks for itself. And I cannot tell you how often---several times a day---I get called "SANDRA" or even, God forbid, "SANDY" and I just grit my teeth and take it. Not that I have anything against the name "SANDRA." It's a perfectly lovely name, if a little common. But it's not MY name. MY name is spelled with an "O". SONDRA. SONDRA. SONDRA. If you can't remember that, then just call me Pearl.


I know I'm fat. Please don't stare at me. I went through my sensitive stage and got all weepy about the way people looked at me. Well, not anymore. I'm over that shit now. I weighed 135 lbs when I got pregnant with my first daughter. I know what it's like to be on the other side. And I know the difference in which I've been treated. When you're as big as I've gotten, people really do look right through you, or they avert their eyes because they're thinking something that's not so nice and they feel guilty. Hey, it's okay to be disgusted by fat people. I am sensitive to the fat cause, but don't ever label me a "BBW". I am no "BBW". What I am is a sick person whose thyroid has failed to function, and I have no metabolism. Couple that with a little bit of an overeating disorder and a great love of food, and you have a 300 lb disaster coming right at you. But you better watch what you say about me or other heavy people in front of me, or all 300 lbs of me will be on your chicken neck ass at breakneck speed and you won't know what hit you. Be sensitive. Save your comments for when you know you won't be overheard. It's okay to be appalled, just handle it gracefully. Fuck what's politically correct---I'm apalled at myself sometimes---but use a little discretion, common sense, and maturity. And keep in mind that there is a sexy bitch underneath all this fat. And when it all goes away the only guys I'm gonna talk to are the ones who talked to me when I was fat. The rest of ya, well, I have no use for ya. Just be careful, is all I'm saying. It COULD happen to you, and remember, karma IS a bitch. Oh, and one more thing...don't assume that all fat people have low self esteem. I certainly used to, but I don't now. Actually, I really like myself and the person I have matured into. I just don't like the way I look.


The show "Gilmore Girls" gets on my nerves. It's cute and sometimes funny, but their manner of dialogue gives me a headache. I can't stand how fast they move and talk. It makes my head hurt. Sorry, R.C. I'll do anything for you, but I am not watching a Gilmore Girls marathon with you.


The number one thing that irritates me, infuriates me even, is when I am whining about something or in crisis over something, and need a solution QUICKLY. Some asshole will inevitably say this phrase, which is equivalent to throwing boiling oil in my face and wrapping me with cheesecloth: "I don't know what to tell you." I HATE that. If you don't know what to tell me, then don't say anything in the first place. That's kind of like the phrase, "Needless to say," which doesn't bother me as much. If you don't NEED to say it, then don't.
Well, that wraps it up for the things that irritate me. I am too tired and too hot to think of anything else right now. I am so tired. And so hot. And needless to say, if you don't like my complaining, then I don't know what to tell ya