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Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Adventures in Dannyland

Danny's favorite toy in all the world is his GPS. He uses it even when he knows where he's going ... like home from work ... BA DUMP BUMP.  Anyway, we'd gone to the movies in Pasadena and after that we decided to go to the Macaroni Grill.  So, he grabs the GPS to find the nearest one and voila! There's one about two miles up the road. Off we go. We get to the correct address but, it is no longer a Macaroni Grill. It is now Pioneer Pete's Buffet and Cafe ... Wha tha? I don't want to eat there. "I know" I say, "let's go to that little Italian restaurant we went to the last time we were out this way."

Dan: Oh! OK ... I remember that place! It's just up the street a little ways ... on the left.
Me: I don't think so Dan. I think it's closer to Pasadena. I think we have to go back the other way.

Dan: No. I remember. It's just up the street ... a few blocks ... on the left side.



Me: Awww, I don't think so. It's in the other direction Danny. We're going the wrong way.

Dan: Uh ... whose driving?

(This is the part where I gotta keep my mouth shut even though I know we're going in the wrong direction because short of Alan Greenspan coming across the airwaves and announcing ... "ATTENTION!  ATTENTION!  DAN ... YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG DIRECTION" .... he will not listen to me. We have now entered what I like to call "DANNYLAND". This means that I am in store for a long assed sight-seeing tour until Mr. Nunez realizes, as he eventually always does, that I'm right and, after we've traveled for 40 minutes looking for the restaurant "just up the street on the left", wasted 24 gallons of gas, and my stomach has begun feeding off of itself from sheer starvation ... I realize that I am not going to be eating anytime soon. (Just shoot me in the brain right now).

Ten minutes have now passed and GUESS WHAT? There's no Italian restaurant just up the street on the left. It is now 7:40 pm. I'm getting faint. I realize that there is no turning back ... but ike a sleepy baby who continues to cry even though it's exhausted, I have to let him realize, all on his own, that he doesn't know where he is going. There is nothing I can say. So, deciding that I must do something or implode with frustration, I pick up my book and begin to read.

After a good 10 minutes I feel the car pulling over to the curb. I hear the beep beep beep of the GPS as Dan begins f---ing with it (because God forbid, he'd rather have the GPS tell him that he's going in the wrong direction instead of moi). I say nothing. BEEP. BEEP BEEP. Pause ... BEEEEP. Finally, I look up from my book, I ask him, plead with him, pleeeeze, for the love of God, just turn around and go back.

He smiles, indulgently, with an air of condescension, as I'm sure he is telling himself ... look at her ... all pissed off already and we've only been looking for the stupid restaurant for twelve measly hours ... and then he says to me:

"You know hon ... that's the thing about you ... you can get me really nervous sometimes."

Me:  "Uh ... really hon. I'm so sorry. But can I just ask you one thing?"

Dan:  "Sure."

Me:  "Why is it, that you feel you MUST absolutely continue looking when, after driving through two zip codes, and still not finding the restaurant, you just don't say to yourself .... gee, maybe I am going in the wrong direction after all ... huh? Why is that? Why do you (a) not trust that maybe I might be right; and (b) insist on wasting precious time mindlessly driving, driving, driving because you need prove to me, and to yourself ... that it's just up here, a little ways, ON THE FUCKING LEFT!!!!!

And before I can say another word, I see the crevice of that cute, deep dimple, and finally, he relents, and says .... "I know, I know. I made a mistake" ... and it only took 72 hours.


It's a nice little ride, but not one you'd want to live on. Welcome to my world.










Monday, July 1, 2013

SATURDAY ...

I had everything planned.  Manicure/pedicure with Lauren.  After that a movie (The Heat), then dinner AND drinks.  Couldn't wait.  After a long week I was looking forward to enjoying my Saturday.

I was in a good mood.  Happy.  I was going to make Danny breakfast and as I was reaching for the eggs, I saw it.  A big bottle of blueberries with syrup fell over and spilled all the thick blueberry juice EVERYWHERE which meant that I had to CLEAN THE ENTIRE REFRIGERATOR!!!!!!   UGH!!!  The juice had dripped and leaked into all the crevices and underneath the crispers.  I had to take the whole refrigerator apart ... take out the crispers, wash and dry them, pull out the shelves, wash and dry them, remove the food, replace the food, wipe down all the plastic tortilla wrappers because they had blueberry juice all over them.  IT WAS A MESS!  It took me over two hours and I was sweating the entire time ... and I HATE to sweat.   

After that I went upstairs and figured what the hell, my Saturday is already shot, so I cleaned the bathroom/swept/Lysoled/scrubbed the toilet, cleaned the mirrors, the tub, vacuumed my bedroom, dusted the dressers, changed the sheets.  THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANTED TO DO THIS SATURDAY. 

FINALLY, I took a shower, got pretty and decided that I still wanted to go to the movies and Lauren really wanted to see The Heat (great flick by the way) so I asked Dan to find out what time the movie started.  He said that it was playing at the Whittier Village.  I told him that I don't like the Whittier Village because there are always a billion people waiting in line to buy tickets and then you had to get in another line to wait for the movie and it was hotter than hell and the last thing I wanted to do was wait in a long assed line in the blazing sun.  "Let's go to the Krikorian or the La Puente Mall" I said, that way we can be inside an air conditioned building. 

We all pile into the car, Danny is driving and I'm expecting to make a right hand turn at the signal towards the freeway that will take us to the Puente Mall but wait ... what's this?  We're going left.  Left?  Why are we going left?  So I say "Why are we going left?" 

Dan:  "Because we're going to the movies."

Me:  "But I want to go to the Puente Mall!"

Dan:  "Awww  hell" (kind of like, don't start fucken complaining)

But by now I know it is too late.  We have already entered Dannyland.  

Me:  "UGH.  There are gonna be a billion people there!!!  I don't like the Whittier theatre Danny!  How come you NEVER LISTEN TO ME!"

Dan:  "It'll be fine."  (placating me which is useless because as I've said TIME AND TIME AGAIN I AM ALWAYS RIGHT, but since we have now entered Dannyland I know that anything I try to say will be absolutely USELESS).

I'm pissed. We get to the theatre and sure enough, there is a line half a block long.  EXACTLY what I wanted to avoid. 

Me:  "SEE!  UGH!"

Dan:  "That's the line to get INTO the movie, not the line to BUY the tickets.  You don't know what movie those people are waiting to see.  It'll be okay.  Here's my card, I'll drop you and Lauren off, get the tickets and I'll park the car."


First of all, I already KNOW for a fact that that line is for the movie that I want to see.  How do I know this?  BECAUSE IT'S THE MOVIE I WANT TO SEE.  As I shake my head and mumble to myself how Danny NEVER FUCKEN LISTENS TO ME, I get in line to buy the stupid tickets.  I get to the window and ask the girl in the booth ...

Me:  "Is that line for The Heat?"

Girl:  "Yes.  But we haven't started letting anyone in yet so there will be plenty of good seats."

Me:  (yeah RIGHT) "Two seniors and one adult" and I hand her Danny's credit card.

Girl:  "Can I see some I.D.?" 

Me:  (FUCK!!) "This is my husband's card, I don't have his I.D."  So I hand her MY credit card.  She processes the purchase and gives me my tickets - ALL SIX OF THEM.  I'm all "why did you give me six tickets????"

Girl:  "You said you wanted two adults, two seniors and another adult."

Me:  (Screaming in my head YOU STUPID IDIOT!!!)  "I said TWO SENIORS and ONE ADULT."

Girl:  "Ok.  Unfortunately, I'll have to get a manager to reprocess this purchase."

FUCK.  It's all my fault.  It is.  My negative energy is making all of this happen .... MEANWILE the line is getting longer and longer and LONGER. 

After what seemed like a fucken hour, I get the stupid tickets.  The line is now a block long and it's 150 degrees.  Here comes Danny. 

Me:  "I TOLD YOU.  Now we gotta wait in this freaking line in the hot sun for God knows how long.  This is NOT how I wanted to spend my Saturday (screaming in my head)"

Dan:  (Surely thinking I'm a fucking bitch right now) "It's going to be a good movie."

Me:  "Yeah ... if we're not sitting in the FRONT ROW!"

We get into the theatre.  IT'S PACKED.  The only three seats together are on the far right of the theatre, to which, IF I were a shark with one eye on each side of my head I MIGHT be able to enjoy this movie from where I'm sitting. 


SEVENTEEN YEARS ... AND HE NEVER, EVER LISTENS TO ME.