(parenthetically speaking)

a random gal’s random thoughts about nothing and everything in general

Keep your butt in the car, dammit! February 6, 2009

Smokers S U C K! There, I said it.

Of course, I’m generalizing, and I’d be the first to complain if someone out there was universally disparaging all middle-aged white women with an unhealthy affection for Popeye’s fried chicken, but I see a pattern here. And enough is enough!

What burns me up about smokers (no pun intended) is that they seem to think that cigarettes are somehow invisible. But let me set you straight. Not only can I smell your noxious cancer sticks 100 yards away, but when you carelessly toss your cigarette butt on the ground, it’s called littering. And it’s just plain disgusting, thoughtless, and rude. 3212564613_52f91d950d_b1

And I’m not afraid to tell you so. I mean, I will go Christian Bale on someone if I see them even think about not properly disposing of their nasty little habit. It’s literally my biggest pet peeve. And believe me, I have a lot of them. (Which may help explain why I’m over 40 and still single. That and the Popeye’s fried chicken.)

In fact, I’m sort of surprised I haven’t gotten a beatdown after one of my outbursts. For instance, one time my brother and I were in downtown Atlanta at a Thrashers hockey game, and after the game, as everyone was filing out into the MARTA train station (which is already a little sketchy in and of itself), I made a comment to this big, older dude who shamelessly tossed his butt on the ground not five feet from a trash can. Well, let’s just say it’s probably a good thing there were a lot of people around that night. (Too many witnesses, if you know what I mean.) P.S. My brother never said anything, but I think it’s safe to say he was horrified, and probably embarrassed, by the whole incident, but when it comes to this, I just can’t hold my tongue sometimes. It just blurts out.)

Another time, as I was getting out of my car to go into this Blockbuster store in Austin, a woman in the SUV next to me stuck her hand out the window and flicked her lipstick-stained cig onto the pavement right in front of me. So I bent over, picked up the butt, handed it back to her, and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, I think you dropped this.” Like it had been all accidental on her part. Because if anyone is smart enough to know better, I figure it’s supposed to be the people of Austin, Texas.

And then there was the infamous scene at the movie theater in Fort Worth, when my mother and sister and I were in line to buy tickets, and my mom made the mistake of not walking over to the trash can to properly dispose of her half-smoked Virginia Slim. (Which was only half-smoked because we were bugging her about smoking in such a crowded place anyway.) But it wasn’t me who went off this time. It was my sister. And all I can say is that I wouldn’t want to be a smoker and run into my sister in a dark, butt-filled alley.

What brought this whole rant on took place as I was driving in to work yesterday and I saw this guy toss his Camel stub out the window. (At least he looked like a Camel smoker—all hard and sallow and stubby.) And it got me to thinking that I hadn’t actually seen anyone littering like this in a while (relatively speaking, that is). Were smokers becoming more conscientious? Were my dreams coming true? Was the world becoming a better place? Sadly, no. I realized it had just been so cold out lately that no one wanted to roll down their window to flick their butts.

Except this guy. Who, I can only hope, will get his someday. Until then, people, don’t be a butthead. Keep your butts to yourself!

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Holy Crap! December 27, 2008

Filed under: much ado about nothing — jillb @ 10:15 pm
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I’ve started a blog — I must be insane! I read and write five days a week as it is in my job as a magazine editor, so why would I subject myself to more of the same? I’m a sheep, I guess. Afraid to be among the rapidly shrinking minority who don’t have an obvious online presence, be it uploading videos on YouTube, chatting on MySpace, or blustering away about this and that on a blog. images-1

For the longest time I didn’t want a microwave, cellphone, CD player, or SUV either. But as America’s infatuation with each one grew, I caved. And now I have a blog. I’m such a sap!

But now that I have broken down and joined the blogosphere, I’ll try to make it interesting for the handful of people who may happen to stumble on it. Or at the very least, therapeutic — a way for me to rant and rave and talk about whatever various and sundry things pop into my head that day. (Which I’m guessing is pretty much in keeping with what a lot of other people are blogging about.) So you’ll no doubt hear about how absolutely incensed I get whenever I see someone throw a cigarette butt on the ground. Or about how adorable and smart and entertaining my two nephews are. Or about how I tend to overuse parentheses in almost everything I write. In fact, the latter affliction is how I came upon the very name for this blog. The blog I didn’t want to start. Yet here I am, typing away. Hmm, maybe for my blog address I should have gone with I’mASheep.com.