Monday, July 30, 2007

Totally UnFair

I got a funnel cake at the fair. They put two forks in it when they handed it to me.

As if I am expectd to share? How presumptuous. And chances are, I'll use the second fork to fight off anyone coming near my deep fried treasure.

Granted, the thing was larger than the full size paper plate it came on, but Zoom doesn't share food. Unless I'm full. I didn't even take a picture of it, because I was too busy stuffing it in my face. Afraid someone would see the extra fork and help themselves.

I didn't finish it. I couldn't. But Mr. Zoom didn't want any after all. Turns out the Balboa bar he scored right before my funnell cake purchase was enough to keep him busy. But all the same, I didn't offer until I was done.

Poor Mr. Zoom gets the unhappy face whenever he tries to get a slice/bite/drink of whatever I've brought back to the cave. And I reallly wish I didn't have this particular quirk. Consciously, I know it's silly. I know that I'm not 5 years old anymore and my brothers aren't stealing my "share" of anything. But I just can't help it.

It turns out that I'm even more possessive of my liquid refreshments than I am my food. Actually, it's more situational. The more difficult the drink is to obtain in the first place - the more of a 5 year old I become. If we are at a restaurant, I don't care. But if we are walking around say - the Fair - and I've got a bottle of water, you best go get your own before asking for some of mine. I've been known to encourage people as in "Would you like me to pick one up for you?" to avoid sharing. It's not the money. I'm happy to pay anyone's way to keeping the hell away from my prize.

And here's the other thing. If I were out and saw someone in desparate need of food or water - if I had any I'd give it. All without the eye roll and growl that accompanies my handing over of my food/water at any other time.

I'm like some kind of retarded food ninja. And Mr. Zoom gets to deal with it for the rest of his life.

I don't even know who this girl is. I just liked her "look" through the camera. I finally broke out the telephoto lens. I don't know why it took me so long to do that - except that I'm the last person to figure out ANYTHING.

It took me nearly 2 years of going to the gym before I realized having an ipod of some sort might make the experience a little more enjoyable. 2 years!!

Friday, July 20, 2007

The Writing's on the Palm

I had a rare, slow day at the office today. I can still hardly believe it. I even got to eat lunch with Mr. Zoom. This never happens here. To me.

At our old firm, we ate together way more often than we didn't. When the check would come, Mr. Zoom would hand over his debit card so that we could get out and get back to the office on time. I regularly tried to thwart [yes, I said thwart] his writing in of the tip and the signing of the debit slip. That only meant we were going back to the office and I didn't want that.

Frustrated, he would sit opposite me and try to figure out if feigning disinterest was best or if threatening me with no cookies would get me to behave. "Zoom, come on. It's 2:15. We need to get back to work." "Zoom, give me the pen." "Zoom, stop jiggling the pen so I can't write." "Knock it off, monkey/knucklehead/wife."

Today when the bill came, I snatched the pen away. He went through the faces and noises. I started to get full of myself and would put the pen where he could grab it and then I'd yank it back. Laughing. Then I got the idea to try and mark him a little on his hand with the pen.

I knew he'd hate it, but I didn't know it was a fuse leading directly to an OCD bomb. I got him good on the palm of his hand. When he realized it, he used my full name. "ZOOMITY ZOOM ZOOM! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

He should totally know the answer to that already. But he keeps asking.

"Why?" he said as he tried to get the ink off of his palm. "WHY?" I was shocked by his reaction - as I anticipated something more along the lines of "That's it, I'll just go get another pen and deal with you later." I was sensitive though, and I started to laugh. A lot. And every time he'd grab his soda glass to use the condensation to get more ink off of his hand, I'd laugh even harder.

"you KNOW about me and the washing of the hands and such!"

"Yes, I do. But honest, I didn't know it would get you THAT bad. Wish I had. I'd have used that one earlier." More laughing.

Lucky for me, he started laughing too. And when I thought we were over it, he'd start going after the palm tattoo I'd given him again. Which would make me laugh even harder, and that would make him get the giggles.

There were tables stuffed with children that had to be more than half our age, and none of them caused the kind of scene we did.

As we walked back to the office, I said "I haven't been out of the office for lunch in so long, I don't know what to do with myself!"

He replied "Well, you can cross sketch book husband off the list."

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Deconstructing Your Cookies

Look here at what kept me busy at work for a good solid minute before I realized why it wasn't "working"

I was assembling a motion with 10 copies. I had a system down where I would just reach in my bin of binder clips and grab one, apply, and move on to the next copy.

This clip kept spinning around in my hands. I kept muttering "FRICK". I couldn't find the other handle to make it open. I had to stop everything, just like that commercial where a customer pays with cash or a check, and reset myself because of this one sided binder clip.

Look at what I do to Mr. Zoom's Oreos

This is one of my favorite things, because it drives Mr. Zoom mad and I don't have to work at it. Mr. Zoom loves double stuft Oreos. I like them too, but I can only eat one to two of them before I decide there is too much sugary white filling inside.

I must break them apart, and usually one side is free of almost all filling. For the side with filling attached, I remove the white stuf by using my teeth to chip it off. Then I deposit it onto the paper plate. Mr. Zoom finds this to be an abomination. "What's wrong, why do you do that?" "Too much filling." "You need the regular Oreos?" "No, even with those I do this."

One day he came home with a tub of graham like chocolate crackery type cookies. It was so cute when he handed it to me he said "And now you don't have to deconstruct Oreos." which is code for please stop using the cookies in a way they were not intended.

It didn't work. It's just not the same unless the chocolate cookie has been carelessly excavated from the Oreo package and its insides have been removed.

Another food habit we don't share is his ability to eat lunch really late in the day. Mr. Zoom and I were talking about how he can eat lunch as late as 2 and 3 pm on one of our drives around town. He defended his acts by saying he woke up at 11 (this was while he was on vacation), and maybe he wasn't ready for lunch as early as 12, 12:30 or even 1. Before I knew what I was thinking, I gave in one sentence, evidence to the world that PMS does indeed exist. "How can you NOT be ready for food when you first wake up? I AM."

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Theories Begin in my Pants.

So many times I hear myself speak, and I can't understand why I can't keep my crazy to myself. I was able to do this just fine, save for a few unguarded moments, before Mr. Zoom came into my life.

He convinced me that he might actually like being around, that I can't scare him with mere words; nonsensical gems that I manufacture spontaneously.

That might have changed the other day. For some reason, I can NOT simply observe life silently. And it's not that I have to describe what I'm seeing. No, I apparently have to find a cause and effect - I must create a theory and declare it as fact. Or at least a fact to be later proven or refuted.

And it's not possible to know what item will be captured in my theory net.

As we drove about the city the other day, Mr. Zoom said "Did you notice that the grass in the common areas is like a foot tall? Is the gardening staff on strike or something? We have enough old grumpy nothing better to do residents that I've got to believe they're all over the association about that."

"Oh, I DID notice that on my way to work the other day. But you know what I thought? You know how when grass gets really long it gets those shoots with seed looking things on the top? Well, I thought that ... maybe... maybe they were letting the grass get to that point so that it would re-seed itself."

And then I laughed like I was reading Defective Yeti, for a good five minutes.

"How far into that story were you when you realized how silly it sounds?"

"Actually, I carried it with me for about a day and it wasn't until I told it to you just now that it hit me as odd."

Some time ago I convinced myself that rain in Southern California is almost always followed by a round of Santa Ana winds.

Mr. Zoom commented one day on something, something probably not even close to weather, wind or rain related. But, I had to share my theory: "You know, I've noticed that after a rain, there always wind. Like big wind."

"WHAT? So you are saying that every time it rains, there's wind afterward? How could that possibly be?"

Sarcasm is the glue that keeps our marriage together.

"...well, no..yes? I mean, it's like always a day later after it rains. Sometimes a couple of days. Not so far out as a month, that would be silly." [yes, indeed THAT would be silly.]

"So are you saying that after it rains, any time there's wind after that - they are connected?"

I decided to pull out my closing argument:

"Rain brings wind, but wind can happen without rain happening first!"

"youuuuuuuuuuuuuu betcha. Here, have a cookie."

I will sometimes ask Mr. Zoom to provide a missing element to my story. We drove down a street that has been under construction since what feels like 1985. Mr. Zoom noticed that some of the cones had been removed and he was getting excited at the possibility of being able to drive to work without a sea of Cal Trans Orange. The cones that were left were the kind that - to me - look fairly solid in the ground. I asked Mr. Zoom how they get the cones to stick to the road.

"They have a glue that they come by and use to stick them into the road."

"Oh yeah? How do they get them removed later? Wait, I know. They wait for a really hot day and then they send prison labor out to pull on them when the ground is the most pliable!"

"Yes Zoom, that's it. It is prison labor." He sounded kindof tired.