In my never-ending quest to be thinner than I am by magically wishing it so, I visited the grocery store recently to restock my kitchen with truck loads of diet food.  While I was there getting the usual laundry list of green vegetables and bland flavorless cardboard on the diet menu, I noticed something very unusual.  Fat free half & half.  Just think about that for a moment.  Fat free…..half & half.  So……….um….….what’s the other half?  And wow….should I really be putting that half into my body?  Because it clearly has no place in Nature….it’s probably some kind of sci-fi formaldehyde that will preserve me indefinitely in this ridiculous bowling ball shape….some kind of diet industry conspiracy.  Right?  Eureka!  I have finally discovered the reason behind my stubborn reluctance to change….has nothing to do with the fact that I don’t sweat nearly enough to be thin.  It’s the fat free half & half.

 

Moving on.  As many of you know, I am completely obsessed with reality TV.  I watch as much of it as I can, I watch it all the time.  And there are so many choices these days, so many you probably didn’t even know about.  Some good and some not so good.  My all-time favorites – Survivor and American Idol.  And of course the original – Real World.  Right now we’re watching The Mole and a local show called Hopkins.  And there’s the food shows – Top Chef and Hell’s Kitchen and another local show Ace of Cakes.  There are the dancing shows – So You Think You Can Dance, Dancing With the Stars, Step It Up and Dance, America’s Best Dance Crew and of course Dance War: Bruno vs. Carrie Ann.  There’s Top Model, Big Brother, The Bachelor, The Apprentice, The Amazing Race, Project Runway, Shear Genius, Road Rules, Temptation Island, America’s Got Talent, For Love Or Money, Average Joe, Farmer Wants a Wife, Flavor of Love, I Love New York and Rock of Love. 

 

Yeah….we’re not even close to being done with the list.  There’s celebrity reality shows with the Osbournes, the Hogans, Nick and Jessica, the Simple Life, the Anna Nicole Show, the Surreal Life, Gene Simmons Family Jewels, Run’s House, the Two Coreys, Growing Up Gotti and the surprisingly short-lived Tommy Lee Goes to College <shaking my head>.  There’s the Biggest Loser, Celebrity Fit Club, Queer Eye, the Swan, Extreme Makeover, What Not to Wear, the Bad Girls Club, Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School, Supernanny and Made. 

 

Still not even close.  American Inventor, Miami Ink, American Choppers, Deadliest Catch, Ice Road Truckers, Black Gold, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Parking Wars, SWAT, Cops, Inked, Airline, and Speeders.  We have the Search for Elle Woods, Grease: You’re the One That I Want, A Shot At Love, and My Super Sweet 16.  And finally, there’s Beauty and the Geek, The Great American Dog, the Search for the Next Pussycat Doll, Making the Band, Project Greenlight, Last Comic Standing, Big Break, The Contender, Ultimate Fighter, The Restaurant, Laguna Beach, Real HouseWives, Flipping Out, Work Out, Kathy Griffin My Life on the D-List, Make Me A Supermodel, Millionaire Matchmaker, Blind Date, Room Raiders, Parental Control, Elimidate, Wife Swap, Pimp My Ride, Trading Space, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, and While You Were Out…..which should probably just be called……..While You Were Watching All the Other TV on Right Now.

 

It’s awesome that there are so many trashy choices.  But after reading off this exhaustive list….you may be thinking to yourself……….so why’s it called “reality” TV?  It’s not exactly….reality….is it?  I mean, come on, reality? Not quite.  There is nothing real about any of it.  It’s all scripted and staged and melodramatic and overdone….which is exactly why it’s so much fun to watch.  I mean, seriously, who would want to watch reality?  Probably the same people who watch the news….<sheesh> what a waste of time.  Unless you have a crush on Brian Williams, here’s my suggestion, tape Dateline tonight and play it back every night.  It doesn’t change, or hasn’t changed for oh…the last six months or so.  Here’s what we learn every night on the news – another foreign country that the majority of Americans can’t point to on a map is self-destructing in civil war while innocent children and women are being abused and tortured, and if they’re not dying in civil war then they are dying from AIDS, the stock market went down, the price of gas went up, some other kind of food has been tainted and can kill you, fat people are at a greater risk of [insert disease of your choice], the Earth is melting, natural disasters are happening much more frequently, but that’s ok because all of those people who are left homeless from flooding and tornadoes couldn’t afford their houses anymore anyway.  Nevermind about the economy collapsing, because the planet is going to implode first.  It makes me anxious when I watch the news.  It stresses me out.  It’s too…………..real.

 

But reality TV is nothing like this.  The kinds of problems that are faced in Reality TV Land are refreshingly simple and superficial.  The cast of characters are embarrassingly stupid or bitchy or ignorant.  The judging is ridiculously unfair and so obviously directed by the producers.  But there is always that remote possibility that some lucky sap could win an unbelievable sum of money for hanging in there longer and suffering through more crap than anybody else.  And isn’t that all we’re hoping for at this point?  A cash prize for hanging in there and suffering through.  Isn’t that the dream?

 

It would be cool if Audit-Land was made into a reality TV show.  It would be ridiculously cool if I actually got cash money for auditing people.  I can just imagine what the competitions would be like - who's first to annoy the people they are auditing [ME!], who can balance a balance sheet the fastest [ME!], who can weird out normal people with entirely inappropriate and unfunny jokes [...], who can make a meeting feel like an eternity with their incessant mumbling [...], and who is the best at telling you what you're doing wrong while being as vague as possible about how to fix it?  That last one's not me.  I am usually quite clear on what people need to do to fix themselves.  Of course the Glamorous Government Auditing Handbook says we're not supposed to do that...but whatever.  I'm a rebel. 

 

Some people have asked me why I revel so much in other people’s misery and humiliation on these shows.  Hey, that’s easy.  Because it’s not me.  Plain and simple.  If I was suckered into being on one of these shows, I would be the biggest dumbest ass you’ve ever seen.  I have no patience with people, I am incapable of pretending to be happy when I’m not, I’m highly uncoordinated and I can’t remember anything about other players….including their names.  But it’s not me.  It’s some other schmuck.  Some other loser who thinks they have a chance.  I like rooting for the losers.  That’s the best part.  You make fun of them, and then you hope they win.  Because that means you could’ve won, if it had been you.  And for the record, I don’t revel in other people’s misery.  I celebrate their complete and total lack of dignity.  I applaud their abundant willingness to embrace the immortal shame that will come with being recorded into TV history.  I don’t think I’ll call them courageous….because that’s pushing it a bit.  I think I’ll call them…..oblivious.  And with the increasing number of people sharing this irritating characteristic, it’s such a relief to see somebody rewarded for it.

 

So if you’ve always poo pooed the reality TV….if you think it’s smut and degrading, if you think it belittles our country, if you think it makes people hate America more, if you think you’re better than everybody else, well.  I have some news for you.  You’re not.  You have to be able to laugh at these people….because let’s face it gentle reader.  They are Us.  And you gotta be able to laugh at yourself….because these days, there’s not much else to laugh at.

 

Later gators,

Heather

Ok, so it's been a million years since I've written something amazing or interesting.  Thanks for reminding me by the way.  This past Monday was Office Staff Meeting Day in Audit-Land.  Not terribly sure why we didn't just have this festive occasion on Friday 13th....cause I think that would have been waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more appropriate.  Unfortunately I could not attend this day of recaps and introductions and techie awards.  I missed an announcement about new uniforms...which I am relatively sure did not include my standby black cardigan sweater which I have been wearing since the third grade.  I am also relatively sure the uniform announcement included nothing about hairstyles, or any reference to my Lillith Crane-librarian look....which I have also had since the third grade.  So regrettably, gators, I cannot provide any more details about all the inappropriate lunch chat, extremely useful ethics training, or extremely inconvenient locations of this meeting.  So, I guess I'll talk about why I wasn't at the meeting.

 

The Hubby was infected by some alien disease this weekend.  He went from feeling rotten on Saturday afternoon to delirious with a scary high fever on Sunday.  There was a lot of gross things going on I won't expound on....but fever and puke and no sleeping or eating did not make for a very happy Hubby.  He was miserable and in his usual whiny-man-can't-handle-illness-state.  And I immediately turned into the smothering caretaker.  And just to be my normal sexist self...I think women have this natural tendency to take care of sick people.  The whole nurturing, mother instinct.  Yes, I can be nurturing.  Try not to choke on your mocha lattes.  Unfortunately, no matter what I did on Sunday, the stupid fever would not break.  No....I am not a doctor.  I'm an auditor.  And they don't train us for medical triage during business ethics class....no matter what you may have heard.  So, bright and early Monday we decided to head on out to Germantown's own emergency clinic.

 

It wasn't really bright yet when we left the house.  As a matter of fact, it was ridiculously early.  But we thought, hell, we haven't gotten any sleep in the past 36 hours anyway....might as well drive.  If you are ever critically injured, I suggest visiting the emergency clinic in Germantown at approximately 6 am on a Monday.  We were the only people there.  I was concerned for about 15 seconds thinking maybe they're closed....but that would be like closing a 24-hour 7-11.....or a Walmart.  Just silly.  So we walk in and the security guard asks if we're there for medical help.  I just barely resisted the urge to say something inordinately sarcastic to this man who had obviously been on duty for waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too long, instead walked over to the left side of the counter where the Way Too Young Med Intern was sitting and obviously doing nothing productive.  She asked if we'd been there before....which made me think of the frequent buyer coffee card I got from the DD.  Can you imagine a Frequent Emergency card issued by a hospital....you know for especially accident prone people.....like moi.  Nine emergencies and the tenth one's free!  She asked if he was allergic to anything, which he is (stupid people) and then printed out his little hospital ID bracelets.  And then she told us to sit down in the waiting room.

 

The waiting room?  There's nobody here?  What the hell are we waiting for?  I have brought with us, because I am always ridiculously prepared, the Fruit Bowl/Barf Bowl I have put together at the house.  The Fruit Bowl was the appropriate size and shape for this task and filled with one of the three billion plastic bags I've been collecting from the grocery stores for the past 11 years, seemed sufficient to do the job.  The Hubby is clutching the Fruity Barf Bowl and kind of moaning, waiting for the alien to come popping out of his chest.  He managed to walk through the shower before we came and now he is shivering uncontrollably.  I am getting highly irritated that we are waiting in an empty waiting room and am about 7 seconds away from verbally abusing the Way Too Young Med Intern behind the desk, security guard be damned....when the those big double doors swing open and a nice looking nurse says "Mr. Hubby"?  Again....repressing the overwhelming urge to point out we are the only people in the waiting room, I help him up hoping he's not going to hurl on my shoes and we trudge into the back room.  When I say she was a nice looking nurse, I mean she looked nice...not mean.  And she was....but her only job was taking his temperature and his blood pressure, both scary high.  She asked if he was hypertensive, and of course he's not....but he apparently didn't think it was important to point out he hadn't been to a doctor in about 7 years.  Men have Doctor Years, like Dog Years....they go every decade, if you're lucky.  Of course the Hubby is in his 30's now...and will obviously have to go more often.  So after taking his vital signs, she shows us to a room, gives him his hospital gown and leaves us alone. 

 

You know when you're with someone who is sick....time seems to slow down.  I feel like we're waiting forever and then Larry walks in.  Larry is a Happy Nurse, except he's not because he's been on duty for three straight shifts and for some odd reason felt like telling us this before he sticks an IV needle into the Hubby's arm.  Now, because the Hubby is delirious and just wants to be rehydrated, he ignores the happy chattering of Larry the Overworked Underpaid Nurse.  Larry thinks he's hysterically funny (I know because he was laughing at himself) and keeps stopping what he's doing so he can put the proper emphasis on whatever stupid story he's telling by gesturing around wildly.  I feel like screaming at Larry to FOCUS!  I have no doubt that Larry is one of those people who types out text messages while they're driving.  Luckily, the Hubby has tree-trunk sized forearms with all kinds of veins bulging out so the Red Cross loves him...and apparently so does Larry.  While he's poking needles into the Hubby like a voodoo doll, he decides to mention just as nonchalantly as he mentioned his sleep deprivation, that the clinic might have to close because they had no water.  Or the water they did have was contaminated.  Or something like that.

 

This was as specific as Larry could be.....and again I am resisting the urge to question why this was the first time we were hearing about this?  What if I had a drink out of the water fountain?  <shaking my head>  If the clinic closes, we have to go the hospital in Gaithersburg.  Which is way more crowded and all but guarantees we'll be there for another 20 hours at least.  So now, I'm getting annoyed.  Water main breaks?  In June?  This is Montgomery County for crying out loud.  Obviously Nature and the Laws of Physics have no idea how much I pay in taxes to have them not affect us here....We have already had to go days without air conditioning and I don't think I can handle not having the modern day convenience of tap water now.  Yes, the air conditioning fiasco could probably fill a whole different blog.  But instead, I'll sum it up for you.  Our AC was broken.  Had nothing to do with the power outtages that have also plagued this county recently.  It was broken.  Dad #2, who is one of those HVAC magicians could not fix it.  So we waited.  Coincidentally, this all happened on that weekend with the record-breaking heat wave...you remember that?  Heat index over 100?  Yeah, that weekend.  So I have already suffered through Hell this summer and am completely not interested in this new omen of the impending apocalypse.  Larry has mumbled his way out of the room, obviously becoming aware of the fact that I hadn't been listening to anything he said after the water main story.  Now, I guess we're waiting for a doctor.

 

So while we're waiting, all I can hear in the hallway is the nurses yelling at each other about what to do with the water.  Wash your hands in it, don't wash your hands in it (!!), don't drink it, but you can flush....the story changed depending on who was talking and now I am starting to get concerned.  Even if they don't close the clinic....I'm not sure we need to deal with this.  But the Hubby looks like the IV voodoo treatment might be working, so I decide to bite my tongue for a bit.  And then Suzie, the Mean Nurse comes in to the room.  Suzie is a no- nonsense woman.  She immediately asked what the problem was, and my non-medical auditor diagnosis of "High Fever" was completely inadequate for Miss Suzie Important Pants.  She responded to me in a very condescending way that a fever is not an illness, it is a symptom.  Again....repressing the urge to point out to Suzie that if I knew what was wrong with my husband I wouldn't be at this &^%*^$%ed clinic in the first place, I decided to add - he's puking a lot too.  She's much nicer to the Hubby when he repeats everything I've just said, and I realize he's the sick one and you should be nice to him....but why the hell not be nice to me too!!!  So Suzie sticks the Hubby with more needles and takes quarts of blood out of him....and I'm thinking, might as well bring out the leeches at this point.  Apparently, the quarts of blood were to do tests on....I guess.  Sadistic freaks. 

 

So finally the doctor walks in, very soft spoken and sheepish.  In fact, if he hadn't been wearing a doctor smok, I would have assumed he was an auditor.  We repeat all the "symptoms" we've already told the three other people who've talked to us thusfar and now I'm wondering why the hell we were talking to them since they clearly don't write any of this stuff down.  Dr. Mumbly mumbles something about it being a virus...which is convenient doctor-speak for "we have no idea what is wrong with you and we can't fix it, so let's call it an incurable virus."  After the Hubby has been thoroughly rehydrated, which takes most of the day, we know nothing new about how much we don't know.  Doctor Mumbly sends us on our way with a prescription for anti-nausea meds and a referral for some other smarter doctor who can interpret the lab results from the sadistic freaky tests they ran on the Hubby's blood.  The Nurse in the Check-out Lane asked me what the co-pay was for emergency visits under my insurance plan....and I'm thinking to myself.....isn't this something you should know?  But apparently she doesn't, and has assumed that I quickly memorized the 5,000 page insurance manual before driving to the clinic this morning.  I don't know what the co-pay is and so now I'm fairly convinced we will be billed about a million dollars for this visit to the clinic.  Greaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat. 

 

I take the Hubby back home, get him into bed cocooned in blankets with a straw in the water bottle and the TV on the right station and head back out for the drugs.  This is when I become overwhelmingly aware of the chaos that has encompassed Germantown.  People are literally wandering around the streets with vacant expressions on their faces.  Oh right...no water.  So I have to go to like three different pharmacies to find one actually stocking the drugs we need and every store I go in to is packed with people buying water.  Because of the Boil Water Advisory in effect.  Another sign of the impending apocalypse.  We have to boil water so we won't die when we drink it.  So now I'm wondering when we turned into such pansies.  I'm sure people didn't always boil water before drinking it....I'm sure people were tough enough at some point to be able to drink water without melting into the floor....I'm sure of this because something tells me Human People wouldn't have lasted this long if water could kill us.  But this is really priceless....the panic this Boil Water Advisory has set upon the small city-state of Germantown is unbelievable.  Restaurants are closed.  The County Government is closed.  Some buildings have warnings posted that say their sprinkler systems don't work so if there's a fire, you need to run out of the building.  Because apparently, the lack of water is going to make us stupid too.  I'm annoyed about having to wait this long for the drugs I need and now I'm getting annoyed at my shamelessly stupid Germantown Germs acting like a mindless horde.  I finally get the drugs, and decide to get some chicken soup for the Hubby.  The cashier felt it necessary to remind me that I needed to boil the water for that soup................<long long pause>.....................again repressing the urge to inform her we eat soup hot, preferably boiling hot, here on the planet Earth.  After lots of sighing and shaking me head, I'm on my way home.

 

The Hubby is feeling better, and surprisingly, our little family has miraculously survived the Great Water Main Break of 2008 so far.  As a result, I have now decided that when I get sentenced with community service after attempting to put Retirement Plan #57 into effect, I will suggest to the judge that I set up a booth outside the grocery store......and teach people how to boil water.  That's of course assuming the world doesn't end first.  <evil grin>

 

Later gators,

Heather

He left without saying goodbye this morning.  And I feel like he should have said at least that.  At least goodbye.  Maybe a wink and a smile.  And goodbye.  The very least he could after all this time.  I feel like I should be crying.  Like that’s what normal people do…but I can’t.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe my knee-jerk instinctual reaction was to just ignore it.  Some people do that too you know.  It’s a self-preservation mechanism that some people have…probably to keep them from going totally crazy.  And maybe that is what has happened to me.  Maybe I’m numb because I ignore too much.  But everything seems so clear; everything makes sense.  I can remember this morning and yesterday and people who are numb usually can’t do things like that.  Remember.  So maybe it’s something else altogether.  Maybe I’m a freak.  Or maybe it’s just because I’m a woman.  Or maybe I act like this because it's been Forever.  He would have smiled at this monologue, said I was definitely a freak and shrugged it all off.  Being dismissive can sometimes be the best and most healthy reaction a person can have to some things….because why hold on to some thoughts, why hold on to them until they poison everything?  Makes no sense.  Leaving without saying goodbye makes no sense either.  I mean….who does that?  People who don’t cry, that’s who. 

 

They met a thousand years ago.  His friends were friends with her friends.  But they were nothing alike.  Not even a little bit.  They fought and argued and bickered about anything and everything.  Some people said they shouldn’t be left in the same room together because they could rip each others’ eyes out like wild dogs.  Other people said it was foreplay.  But he and she thought those other people were lunatics.  No chance they would ever have a civil conversation.  But Time has a funny way of sorting all that out.  Doesn’t it?  Arguments became less ferocious.  Small gestures were made.  And eventually…ever so slowly….a tiny bit of loyalty was born.  Loyalty is the precursor to Friendship.  You can be loyal to someone and not be their friend.  But it doesn’t work the other way around. 

 

Some people are Friends immediately.  They know right away that they can get along and they make each other smile and they possess enough patience to share space with this other human being, when human beings can be so overwhelmingly irritating at times.  Some people have that ‘sense’ about their cohabitants on this planet.  But for others…Time makes a friendship.  And bonds that are forged over an eternity are so often much more difficult to break.  But here’s the funny thing about Forever.  It never seems to last as long as you want it to.

 

I think back now, and remember, what it was like a thousand years ago when we first.  When we first.  I was naïve and he had bravado.  And people wondered why it worked.  Opposites attract because they fit.  Two pieces to a puzzle.  And the important stuff was all the same.  That underlying sensitive stuff like religion and politics and intelligence, the stuff you don’t talk about when you first.  We weren’t antonyms.  We were compliments.  And that’s what makes the world go round, that’s what keeps everything from crumbling into anarchy.  Not a billion replicas of the same person.  But compliments.  People have a hard time understanding this for some reason.  It’s difficult to imagine how you can tolerate someone with different interests and a different personality….but seriously, if I wanted to live with myself I would.  It would be cheaper and there would be less crying….I think.  There would also never be goodbyes or loyalty or forever.  And cats probably don’t like me nearly as much as I assume they do.

 

He used to ask me why.  Why would you ever.  I think back now, and remember so easily, the million and one reasons.

Because I know his faults as well as his magic.  Because I know he is weak but at the same time strong.  Because I know he tries to be someone else, because he can only be who he is.  Because he smiles when he doesn’t want to.  Because he stomps up the stairs like it’s their fault he has to.  Because he makes music and it’s not always pretty.  Because he sees things in me I never knew were there.  Because he wants to run away.  Because he stays.  Because he’s afraid to let people know him.  Because he talks all the time.  Because he’s a friend and I still don’t like him sometimes.  Because he knows the little things matter.  Because he never seems to notice.  Because I always wonder what he’s thinking and because I know he wonders the same thing about me.  For all these reasons….I said yes.

 

So why would he go without saying goodbye on this morning in particular?  I have just a bit of unsolicited advice for you gentle reader, if you ever catch yourself asking yourself things like this.  Don’t ever let your heart hurt.  Don’t ever stop caring or wondering.  Forever will go by way too fast.

 

Sometimes you don’t realize what you’ve got until you lose it.  So if you’ve got someone great, think about them now.  Don't wait until you lose them.  Don't take them for granted.  Parts of this I wrote for the Hubby the first year we were married (you know the ‘paper’ gift and those anniversary years that boys never really pay attention to unless you’ve been together 25 or 50 years) Yeah, that was nine years ago.  We’re still best friends.  We’re still very different.  It still feels weird to spend a lot of time apart.  We’re still supportive and argumentative and fiercely loyal.  And we’ve never stopped complimenting each other. 

 

You are my heart.  Forever.

Happy Anniversary.