Passive-Aggressive Much?

I don't respond to passive-aggressive behavior. I find its use to be insulting and a poor way of expressing yourself. (Friends would probably tell me that I'm passive-aggressive myself, but I'm going to choose to overlook that for now.) At any rate, this afternoon was a prime example of the sort of thing that annoys me.

I live in a four bedroom, two bath house. Which means that two of us share each bathroom. I share mine with GirlRoommate. In general, I'm a semi-clean person, not obsessive by any stretch, but I do clean up after myself in the common areas of the house, including the bathroom. One of GirlRoommate's pet peeves is that I shave over our sink, and trim my beard there. I'm conscious of the mess this can make, so I do wipe the counter down of beard trimmings fairly regularly. Our counter also contains the usual array of toiletries; shaving cream, toothpaste, contact lens solution, and Nyquil...

Apparently our bathroom has recently become a habitant for ants. While at lunch today, I received the following text message.

"We have ants in our bathroom - i killed about twenty of them - they r all over your medicine bottles - could u please clean the counter today @ some point?"

Not necessarily the cruelest of messages, but after I returned home a bit later from lunch, with the Hoyas game on the tv, she proceeded to storm around our kitchen, slamming dirty pots and pans around, throwing dishes into the dishwasher, smacking cabinets, while sighing loudly and cursing to herself. Apparently she was also annoyed with the stack of dirty dishes that 4 people can accumulate, although she claims that she hasn't made dinner at any point this week.

Somehow she perceived all this to be my fault, or at least was determined to make me feel like it was. Memo to the rest of you: Sighing and cursing to yourself won't make me feel bad for your burden. It does nothing but make me think you overreact. So my simple response was to keep watching my game, turn up the volume to counter the vacuum cleaner when she decided it would be helpful to clean a 3 square foot section of our kitchen, and wait for the game I care about to end, before I would clean the bathroom as she had asked.

You do not force me to do anything... if you want my help, you ask politely if I will... or you suggest that it might be appreciated if I could assist you. You dont just huff and puff and act as though you're the only one who is annoyed by mess, especially when you have never once acted to clean your own bathroom in the house. (Yes ladies, the boy is the one of the two of us, who vacuums, washes the mirror, and scrubs the tub and toilet).

Needless to say the rest of the afternoon has been spent in virtual silence, with her downstairs, and me upstairs. My other roommates have been blissfully unaware of the pseudo-drama. Lucky them.

PRSlave Once Again?

Well its not the most ceremonious of notices, but perhaps some of you will be happy to hear that I am again part of the work force.

In the interest of blog anonymity, I'll just say that I will be freelancing for a large communications agency, working on a variety of consumer-related accounts, with a likelihood of getting picked up full-time in a couple of months.

I'm reasonably excited about the opportunity, although the first project which I started earlier today was a pitch project with no advance notice. At any rate, its good to making money once again...

To sleep... perchance to dream??

Its 3am, and I'm listening to Fox Sports Radio, but its not putting me to sleep...

Got home at a reasonable hour, tried to stay awake for a phone call that didn't go nearly as smoothly as I had hoped, and now I'm tired of tossing and turning.

Insomnia is a bitch... its so easy to take something that will make you sleep most of the way through the night, but you never feel rested afterwards, and its a dangerous crutch to use too often.

So as I struggle to clear my head, here is a list of things I find myself wanting (in no particular order):

- a new job
- soft, chewy chocolate chip cookies, where the chocolate pulls apart as you eat it
- to be 20 pounds lighter
- to be free of jealousy
- to be lying next to someone, with them stroking my hair
- a steaming bowl of Shanghai Wonton Noodle Soup
- to forgive and forget
- my dad's dog to stay a puppy forever
- to be a number one priority
- to pay off all my debts
- to get 9 hours of uninterrupted, unpharmaceutically enhanced sleep
- the Redskins to have a decent pass rush next year
- a weekend of 75 degree weather
- long-time friends to find a little more time to check in on me

Back to the pillow I suppose...

Boogity, Boogity, Boogity... Let's Go Racing!

I often tease my friends that I possess "white trash tendencies." Yes, I'm a upper-middle class Jew from the metro DC area, who has never lived farther south than Burke, VA. Yet, I often find myself appreciating some of the cultural events traditionally associated with the southern, dare I say, less-educated portion of America.

Among my hidden passions are a fondness for professional wrestling. I make a point to watch WWE Raw pretty much every week, and have now attended the Verizon Center 3 times to see my favorite "stars" in action. (and yes I know its fake).

But the point of this post is my larger and more devout passion... NASCAR! I am a NASCAR fan. I remember when I was young, my grandmother used to watch racing, but I think she just liked the sound of the engines. So I had some idea who the drivers were. But my true appreciation came from my previous job, when I had the opportunity to work trackside promotion at several races. I must say, you haven't lived till you've spent three full days in all of NASCAR's glory, interacting with race fans who've been camped out in their RVs all week drinking Bud and Miller Lite and who will do anything for free t-shirts, frisbees, or pizza coupons.

After working the events for the weekend, I was fortunate enough to be given tickets as well. I have now sat in both the grandstand with the masses, and the luxury suites with the VIPs. I'm pretty sure its impossible to be sober in the grandstand, I hadn't even started drinking yet, and I was getting a contact buzz from the collective breath of my fellow fans.

The great thing about the grandstands is the array of loyalties you see. NASCAR is like a college football game, but instead of 2 passionate fan bases, you have 43... and each one hates several others. Jeff Gordon fan? Then you must hate Dale Jr, Tony Stewart, and Matt Kenseth... Junior your guy? Then you clearly can't stand Jimmie Johnson... and they're just as vocal, despite the fact that the engines drown out anything short of a nuclear detonation.

VIP suites have their benefits as well... for starters, the free food and booze is a definite plus. Additionally, have windows in front of you, muffles the sound enough to be able to talk to the person next to you. And there's the possibility of meeting important people, like NFL Hall of Famer Jim Kelly who happened to sit next to me in Charlotte last year, (yes, I'm name dropping).

At any rate, in case you were wondering who my driver is, that would be the Home Depot #20... driven by Smoke, A.K.A. Tony Stewart, who conveniently drives for Joe Gibbs Racing. So my sports allegiances continue to line up with my Redskins.

Gatorade Duels today at 2 and 4pm to set the lineup for Redneck Christmas Day! Daytona 500 baby!!!