Bumfuzzled, Round Two

That hateful demon Insomnia has once more reared its ugly head, depriving me of the rejuvenating slumber that my aging body and mind so desperately need. And all the hours I should be spending in sweet dreams of turtle cheesecakes, sunny beaches and half-price shoe sales, I am instead ticking away while staring at a clock that never moves, punching my pillow and pondering life’s mysteries big and small.

You know, important stuff like . . .

Why hasn’t someone invented a tortilla chip hardy enough to withstand the amount of spinach dip I want to pile upon it? Or why didn’t Mr. Redenbacher invent a popcorn with kernels that completely dissolve in the popping process so they never, ever get stuck in the unreachable spaces between my back teeth?

How do some women get by with just a tiny purse–or no purse at all? Where do they store their three sets of keys, six tubes of lip gloss and three bottles of hand sanitizer? How do they have room for hand lotion, pepper spray, Band-aids, ticket stubs, expired coupons and forgotten bills? And where in the world do they stash that Coke for later, the chicken strips leftover from lunch or the book intended to calm them during the two-hour wait at the doctor’s office?

Why will my insurance company no longer pay for a blood pressure medicine that I took for years because it is not on the company’s revised “preferred drug list”–but will pay more for the two drugs it took to successfully replace the one? And why is it cheaper for me to pay for another prescription out of my own pocket rather than run it through the insurance company and be charged the co-pay? Does this make sense to anyone?

Why do vitamins smell like insecticide?

Why do certain television chefs handle raw meat and then just wipe their hands on a towel instead of washing them first?

How could the attorney of convicted killer Michael Taylor argue (unsuccessfully) that his client should not be executed because pentobarbital, Missouri’s execution drug-of-choice, might cause him “inhumane pain and suffering”? Twenty-five years ago, when Taylor and another man abducted 15-year-old Ann Harrison from her school bus stop in Kansas City and then raped her before stabbing her to death, were they at all concerned about the “inhumane pain and suffering” they were inflicting upon an innocent child?

Why is it that my dog–who breaks the necks of armadillos, snarls surprise visitors back into their vehicles, and would face down a black bear or a mountain lion in order to protect me–is so terrified of the distant, low rumble of thunder that he will tear through the screen door to cower at my feet?

Why would anyone bother to eat a pomegranate? I mean, as much as I love fruit, those things require way too much effort.

How is it possible that I could be offered a senior citizen discount at the grocery store and carded at the liquor store–both in the same week? The lady scanning my prunes and oatmeal was implying that I looked like I could be over 55 (I wanted to cry), while the nice lady ringing up my bottle of wine insisted she had to card everyone who looked like they could be under 30 (I wanted to hug her).

Do other people really “enjoy the go”? A Charmin toilet paper commercial professes that, “We all go. Why not enjoy the go?” Really? I don’t mean to be crass, but I’ve used the Charmin brand in my home for as long as I can remember, and I don’t remember ever having an “enjoyable” bathroom experience. No one in my family has claimed to have such an experience, either. Are we doing something wrong?

What if there really are zombies? After my sons tricked me into watching an episode of The Walking Dead with them (which freaked me out), I’ve devised several survival strategies for an attack–just in case.

Why am I forced to pay $20 more when I have to sit in the “exit row” on a plane? Everyone sitting in that row has to agree that, if the plane goes down, they will help others off first before exiting the plane themselves–and for agreeing to be a good Samaritan, they must pay more? And yes, I realize the exit row provides a little more leg room, but I can assure you, I don’t need it.

Why is it that my car can be covered in bird droppings, but there never seem to be droppings on the ground next to the car? Are birds on the fly really capable of aiming that well?

How can people spell my name wrong after I’ve just spelled it or written it for them? Good grief, people, pay attention!

Why is it that I’m the only one (in this house) who continuously has trouble operating the television remote? Could it be that I’m the only one (in this house) who doesn’t have countless hours of practice? Or am I really that technologically inept?

How can I bike 100+ miles in a week without losing a single pound? I thought if I ate all the cookies and cake early in the day instead of late at night, I would have time to burn off all the calories–isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

Due to recent, sky-rocketing propane prices, we turned down our house thermostat from 68 degrees to 65–so why did that three-degree difference make the house feel 20 degrees colder?

How is it possible that (if reflexologists are to be believed) a person’s feet can reveal much about his personality and character? For example, a person whose big toe is longer than his second toe is supposed to be a clever, creative thinker–and since my big toe fits that description, I’d like to believe that the rest of the statement applies to me, too. But seriously? The only things I’ve known my big toe to be good for are poking holes through my sock and being one toe in a two-toe endeavor of picking up dropped items when I was eight months pregnant and too fat to bend over.

Do people really click on those internet weight loss advertisements that feature an emaciated Oprah or a skeletal Paula Deen–advertisements that are so obviously Photoshop fake? And how many of those weight loss supplements does Dr. Oz really recommend?

How can a company justify charging over $400 for a pair of jeans–and how can anyone justify spending that much money on two legs and a butt of denim (denim that was probably sewn together in the same factory that manufactures an almost identical $40 pair)?

Why does my in-vehicle communications system (SYNC) have such a hard time understanding me? My accent is minimal, my speech is slow, and my consonants and vowels are clearly enunciated–and yet, this is how a typical conversation begins (expletives deleted):

Car: “SYNC. Please say a command.”
Me: “Services.”
Car: “Connecting . . .  Services. Which service do you want?”
Me: “Directions.”
Car: “Did you say ‘tramp stamp’?”
Me: “WHAT?! NO!”
Car: “Which service do you want?”
Car: “Directions. First, say the city and state you’re going to, say ‘home or work,’ or say ‘operator.'”
Me: “Joplin, Missouri.”
Car: “Gary, Indiana–is that correct?”
Me: “NO.”
Car: “What city and state?”
Me: “Joplin, Missouri.”
Car: “Truman, Arkansas–is that correct?”
Car: “I’m having a hard time understanding you. Did you say ‘Joplin, Missouri’?”
Me: “YES!”
Car: “Say the address you’re going to or say ‘find a business.'”
Me: “Find a business.”
Car: “What business or type of business?”
Me: “Schifferdecker Park.”

And believe me, it went WAY downhill from there.

This tired ol’ brain needs some down time, and this tired ol’ body needs its beauty rest–so here’s hoping that demon Insomnia takes tonight off or at least terrorizes someone else for a change (and I’m sorry if that someone else turns out to be you). If not, I don’t want to be held responsible for all the weird thoughts that might be lurking in the shadows, just waiting for their chance to explode into the darkness.


Why am I so intrigued by sunsets?

monkeyIf she could talk, what words of wisdom could she offer? Or would she just spew obscenities?

flower5How can something so intricately beautiful be considered a weed?


And will Spring EVER get here?

About icedteawithlemon

I have recently retired from a 30-year career in education in one of the best school districts in the world. I hope to spend my second life reading, writing, photographing, traveling, biking, cheering on my favorite baseball team (the St. Louis Cardinals), and soaking up glorious sunshine. In my spare time I enjoy playing with my pet tarantulas, trying out new flavors of chewing gum, and knitting socks for prison inmates. I'm almost positive that in a past life I was one of the Seven Dwarfs (most likely "Grumpy"), and in my next life I'm going to be either a taste tester for Hershey's or a model for Victoria's Secret's new line, "Bloomers for Boomers." I want to travel country back roads, singing Vanilla Ice songs at every karaoke bar and rating bathroom cleanliness at every truckstop. And someday I plan to own a private beach where skinny girls aren't allowed. I want to be a writer when I grow up. "Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake."--Henry David Thoreau
This entry was posted in Humor, Photography, Sleeplessness and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

18 Responses to Bumfuzzled, Round Two

  1. Ha! This one is a classic……NOW..I’m ready to go wrangle monkeys.

  2. Carolyn Hambelton says:

    Enjoyed !

  3. jeanjames says:

    Well if it wasn’t for your lack of sleep I wouldn’t have had such an enjoyable read today, so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say thank-you or sorry?

  4. RayEtta says:

    I could not help but giggle a little, even if you did not sleep.It is strange the things that go through our heads at times like that.

  5. bronxboy55 says:

    I loved this entire post, but especially this: “How is it possible that I could be offered a senior citizen discount at the grocery store and carded at the liquor store–both in the same week?”

    And here’s another question. How can someone whose writing is so funny and insightful also be so unbelievably skilled at photography? That dandelion shot is amazing.

    • Ha! Thank you, Charles. I politely declined the discount at the grocery store, but I gratefully showed my I.D. to the liquor store clerk. I asked if her bosses had instructed her to make such requests of old ladies just to make them feel better, but she assured me that was not the case–so my vanity was stroked and my day was made.

      And thank you for the generous compliments regarding my writing and photography (that dandelion shot is one of my favorites). We’ve been researching PEI, and I’m so excited about trying to capture some of that beauty with my camera next fall.

  6. liliofthefield27 says:

    “I’ve got a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts – you know, when you lie in bed awake and replay all those things you didn’t do right? Because, as we all know, nothing solves insomnia like a nice warm glass of deep regret, depression and self-loathing.”
    D.D. Barant

    I don’t know who the hell this ray of sunshine named D.D is, or if he is a she or she is a he, but he/she/it might as well be in bed with me at 3:00 am, as we share the same dark dead of night bedhead space. Karen, me dear, I’d kill (well, not) to be consumed with your hilarious insomniac thoughts and wandering ponderings as the rest of the world slumbers. Too funny, and like all your posts, well written.

    Ah, I’m afraid my brooding, intense Scorpio brain goes down the dark night road sans zzzzz…no headlights or seatbelts…with Karen Carpenter crooning out one of her 70s Debbie Downer tunes on the car’s AM radio…and pulling over at some seedy roadside all night diner (my fridge, honey).

    I agree about the purse thing…I need a suitcase with wheels for my womanly pursie needs. And speaking of being offered seniors discounts, I wanna know WHY, as a Canadian, I am STILL receiving those damn emails from AARP…which is American! You see, seeing as how I aint a Yank or Confederate, means I don’t qualify for AARP…hmmm…which means I’m NOT…older! Yay! Allow me my pathetic delusions, dearie! 😉

    Oh…your sunset photo with those clouds…simply no words…breathless. But…that potty mouthed, sewer mouthed monkey…LOL! Eh…yeah, I’ll go with her spewing colourful profanities…makes life more intriguing. Me thinks she, like me, thinks Dr. Oz if full of doodoo…but not as much doodoo as the insufferable twanging Dr. Phil…whom is on my “slap their face” list.

    Try some herbal teas at bedtime…and don’t lie in bed when you can’t sleep…I get up and sit on a hard chair…and within minutes it works…back in bed and, as the Eurythmics sang in the 80s…sweet dreams are made of these…and who are you or who are me to disagree?

    Nighty night…and wear a flannel nightie…they’re comfy. Just keep the Dippity Do out of your hair…wreaks havoc on them there pillow cases.

    Tiger Lil

    • liliofthefield27 says:

      WHO is on my “slap their face list”…not WHOM! Oh, conjunction junction, what’s my function!? Remember that 70s TV grammar cartoon? Oops…carbon dating myself here! Ha!

    • Thank you, Tiger Lil. And don’t get me wrong–sometimes my nocturnal “wandering ponderings” travel down that dark road, too; I just chose not to include those thoughts in my blog (much, much too depressing). I had to laugh at your AARP reasoning–my husband turned 50 before I did, so when we got his AARP membership invite in the mail, I immediately signed him up (hotel discounts!), but when my own invite showed up a couple years later, I threw it in the trash (if I don’t carry the card with my name on it, then I’m really not that old).

      And I’m suspicious of ALL doctors who have become TV personalities–but especially Dr. Phil, whom I find to be incredibly pompous and annoying.

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