Three annoying things this week

Lord, since I was born a ramblin' man, I had three annoying things happen to me in the last couple of days that I'd like to post about here. Consider it a walkabout.

1. So I'm driving down a tight street with cars parked on both sides in downtown Greeley. Yes, Greeley is large enough to have a downtown. It's not New York but it's still a downtown. Anyway, I had just pulled out of a parking space and was on my way when a lawyer pulled out of his space right dead in front of me, causing me to slam on the brakes.

I know he's a lawyer cause the courthouse is right there. And he has a Porsche.

He then proceeded to continue to pull out, only, as you've guessed by now, he had zero room to do that. So he inched out and then, rather than pulling back in his spot and waiting for me to pass, inched out again and came within an atom's space of tapping my front fender.

OK. Look, I realize he has a Porsche. I know it's a much, much cooler car than my CRV. I love my CRV as it rides like butter over rough mountain roads, but yeah, I'd probably choose a Porsche too. And if we were pulling out at the same time, I'd defer to him just because of the pure awesomeness of the car, in the same way that I'd defer to a guy who could bench twice as much as me if we were walking down a street in opposite directions.

I get the natural order of things. I really do. 

But we weren't pulling out the same time. I was on my way and he expected me to not only slam on my brakes but then BACK UP so he could pull his precious princess out of the spot. 

Nope. I was havin' none of it. I stayed right there and blared my horn. When he gave me a warning glance out his back seat, I gave one right back. He finally threw up his hands and drove into the spot and let me pass. If he decides to sue me later, I'll just write a story about it and make him look like an asshat.

2. I got a haircut today. Sure, I had a disturbing number of gray hairs that peppered my cover cloth, but that's not what was annoying. No, my scalp's been a tad itchy today after the cut, and every time I scratch it, about 10,375 little hairs coat my computer and desk. 

Now, I understand there are always a few hairs after a cut, but where do all these hairs come from? Seriously, there's like a billion now, and a few, inevitably, are now stuck in my keyboard, so it looks like a black cat sat on it for three days.

3. Kate had a rough day yesterday at work, so I suggested we go out to eat to "relax." This is, of course, almost impossible with twins not quite 2 and a toddler not quite 4, but it is what it is. Anyway, we went to Red Robin. Every parent usually eats at Red Robin about 457 times a year. I'm not a huge fan but we do go there a lot because you get a balloon when you walk in, and when you're almost 2 and 4, you think that's pretty fucking cool.

So the girls sat in their high chairs for about .0078 seconds before deciding that they wanted out. So they were rather vocal about their decision that they no longer wanted to sit in the chair. So we took them out. Kate had one, I had the other. This worked for most of the night, even if it was like trying to eat with a small badger on your lap. They occasionally shrieked but for the most part were OK.

Only when I looked over at a table with older folks in it, the grandfather was staring at me and continually shaking his head. He did this for a good 10 minutes. I didn't tell Kate about it because she gets fired up about stuff like that and I wanted her to just forget her bad day.

But. Really? I mean, seriously? Let's review.

1. We are at a RED ROBIN. This is not a place with candles, linen tablecloths and a wine list. They bring you bottomless fries with ranch sauce to start (which rocks, by the way). You get a fucking balloon when you walk in. 

If you can't handle kids at a restaurant, you probably shouldn't go to a place that gives you a balloon when you walk in.

2. The kids were a little noisy but nothing too bad. I understand that I'm used to screams with decibel levels that exceed jet engines, but we are careful about our kids causing too much of a ruckuss, which is also why I was eating with one of the squirmy ones on my lap.

3. It was 5 p.m. or prime dinner time for young children. Go at 7:30 p.m.

I let him stare, however, until we left. I didn't really care. I'd fought my battle for the day.