Four Types of People Everyone Knows.

There are few things that totally make me tick. Overall, I am a happy person who could not care less what others think and could not care even less what they think of me if their goal is to change me or my behaviors (although I must admit that I am somewhat intrigued of other’s first impressions and molded perceptions as to who they think I am, but that is besides the point).

Anyway, few things totally get under my skin, but if you are one of my close friends you can probably identify at least one of them and had the pleasure (or displeasure) of watching me react to one of those catalysts.

Case in point, some things make me tick and I outwardly lose it while others only make me lose it internally and I am able to maintain my composure—to a point. Most often I weigh my options as to which reaction will make most sense and keep me out of trouble (and I have to factor in my influences—alcohol, my company, environment, etc.).

In the past few weeks, I experienced four things I would like to mention.

The “catalyst,” my gut reaction and my actual reaction are included—in no particular order.

1. The woman on the train who sits on the end.
No matter how many elderly, handicapped, stupid, tired or drunk people make their way to the train in search of the coveted place to rest their booty, this woman totally sticks to her twisted morals of bring the world’s most inconsiderate person by refusing to move and let someone share her piece of real estate. I am not going to lie and say I love sharing my seat. I mean I enjoy the extra room of riding solo and do not love sitting next to the smelly, heavy-breathing dude, but I have a conscious and a heart and will suck it up and hold my breath for 16 minutes to provide a ride of comfort for my friendly co-riders. Gut reaction: Kick super bitch in the face and tell her she sucks while sitting on her lap obnoxiously burping in her face and rubbing my armpits on her snotty nose. Actual reaction: Look away in disgust. It is too early in the morning for confrontation and frankly, if I have a seat, who cares. The people who want seats should kick her themselves.

2. The biggest baby ever.
This is the person who constantly complains—about everything! The usual complaints include having no money, being cold, sucking at life, and having an unhappy life, no friends and a shitty job. Seriously, I am not listening after the first 29958309450 complaints (mind you, I did listen to the first 29958309450 complaints and offered my advice, but now it is just too much). I have lost my capacity to care/listen to your crap so seriously, just stop talking to me. If you do not like something, then change it! If you smell like shit and hate your boyfriend, shower and dump him and move on. Stop burdening others with your crap because we cannot change it, nor do we care to listen to you tell us how you do not know how to change it. Our time would be better spent solving global warming and confirming life on other planets. Complain to yourself and then realize how ridiculous you sound. Gut reaction: Put my hand over my ears and shout “I am not listening! I am not listening! I do not care!” until they shut the hell up and never talk to me again. Actual reaction: Listen, say “uh-huh, that is too bad” and then change the conversation over to me. I am more interesting anyway and I am probably not complaining, just sharing stories of my adventurous life trying to make you jealous that yours sucks.

3. The offensive comment-maker, who was not intentionally trying to be offensive, but managed to do it anyway.
Apparently this person is more prevalent in my life than anyone else’s. Reason being is that apparently I am an “open” person who makes others feel comfortable enough to say whatever they want—or at least that is what I was told. Comments such as “You look like you have the body of an 18-year-old,” “Your hands are big,” “Sometimes you do sound like a man,” “You legs make me want to go work out. I want mine to look like that (said by a man)” and the best, “Of course he would give you his number, he is ugly.” To those of you who made these comments, I do not hate you. I actually think it is hilarious and makes me laugh—so good for you for being mildly humorous at my expense. Gut reaction: Pause in awe attempting to collect my thoughts, what actually just happened and if I should be offended or not. Actual reaction: Pause in awe attempting to collect my thoughts, what actually just happened and if I should be offended or not.

4. The offensive comment-maker from random dude who thinks he is cool—definitely a comment intended to be offensive.
Okay, here is the situation. It usually involves me drinking with my friends having a good time and minding my own business. The random dude who thinks he is cool (usually by himself or with an unattractive side-kick) decides he should speak aloud without thinking about what he is saying and to whom he is speaking. He is unaware that I have consumed alcoholic beverages, therefore making me extremely honest and lacking inhibitions and sometimes, manners. Comments such as “Thunder thighs!” or “If you had a huge rack you could get into the club. I mean, you have nice little boobs, but if you had a rack…” are spewed in my direction. Gut reaction: Chase him down an alley telling him to say it to my face so I can punch him because “a real man says something like that to a woman’s face (actual quote).” Actual reaction: Chase him down an alley telling him to say it to my face so I can punch him because “a real man says something like that to a woman’s face.” In the second instance, walk away in fear of getting kicked out of Vegas and ruining the rest of my night. Good for me for making one good decision—must have not been that drunk yet.

That is all I have for now, but I am sure more will come as others continually make me think “is this really happening?” or “is (s)he for real?”

Monday Stories--Warning: Make them interesting.

When you wake up Monday morning, whether you feel refreshed, have a hangover or simply want to roll back over and go to sleep, start thinking of your Monday story. A Monday story is defined as the one super story you want to share with your friends/family/co-workers that defines the tone of your weekend and how much fun you had not concerning yourself with work issues. When prompted by the question, "How was your weekend?" your Monday story should be rehearsed and ready to roll off your tongue as if it just happened. It should be funny, witty and support that fact that you do not waste your weekends doing ridiculously boring things. (Side note: If no one ever asks how your weekend was, you most likely tell bad stories or never have any good ones to share--probably because you actually do ridiculously boring things to fill the mere 55 hours of freedom we are allotted--loser. I, for instance, will avoid asking about your weekend if I know the answer will yield something boring and I will automatically regret the decision to engage in conversation with you. Solution: Be more interesting or learn how to tell a better story.)

I am always ready for the "How was your weekend?" question. If I respond with "fine, thanks," it is probably because I would rather stick pins in my ears and listen to Phil Collins (the solo years) rather than ask you the question in return. I always have an interesting story and am ready to share mainly for entertainment purposes (and so I can laugh at myself one more time). I wake up Monday, usually refresh my memory of the weekend by looking through my camera at the hundreds of pictures I take (mostly to document the events that I would not otherwise remember in my blacked out state) and laugh hysterically. Once arriving at work, I go straight to my office to wait for questions from co-workers. I have responses ready for each person based on the extent in which I wish to engage in conversation. If you are fortunate enough to hear my Monday story, you may find yourself shocked, confused, surprised I am still alive or peeing your pants like the kid in Home Alone with which Kevin refuses to share a bed. Sometimes I might blow you off. It is not always personal if I blow you off with a "fine, thanks." I mean I might be busy, still hungover or just have too many stories to tell and cannot sort through them at the current moment. It is usually a direct result of my Sunday activities, which can include anything from exercising and being productive to drinking all day and becoming a mumbling, staggering, obliterate drunk.

So where am I going with this? I am simply offering advice to those who wake up Monday morning and say "Shit, I have to go to work." From now on, live it up on the weekends and come Monday, be ready to wake up, pop some Advil and think "Oh man, I have a great Monday story!" You only live once.