Pet Peeve #1 (and 1a)
Today I will be discussing Pet Peeves.
As you could probably tell from one of my previous posts, I'm a huge Champ Car fan (my sister would say obsessed, I would say passionate). And there was a race this past Sunday in Montreal which I was unable to watch when it was broadcast as I busily celebrating my b-day at Grandma's house. I set the VCR and planned on watching last night. I avoided all e-mails from my racing friends yesterday as I hate knowing the results of the race before I watch it. Now with the state of racing other than NASCAR in this country, it's actually pretty easy, generally, to avoid news of the race. Hell, I don't even know who won the Nextel Cup race Saturday night at Bristol (I'm particularly proud of being able to say that, although it's sad that I knew it was a Saturday night race and that it was at Bristol). I am a Champ Car snob, you knew that, right?
I hate it when people feel the need to tell me about the race before I've gotten to see it. Now that normally wouldn't be a problem, except that I work with a guy who also happens to be a Champ Car official. Okay, I don't actually work with him, but we work near each other and talk racing quite often. So, it turns out that I didn't get to watch the race last night after all, because Aunt Kathy called and invited me over to Grandma's for dinner. Aunt Kathy is visiting from the West Coast Portland and since she doesn't come home very often, it felt churlish to refuse the visit, especially since if it had been Aunt Carol, there wouldn't have been a question as to my attendance. So, I forewent the pleasure of race-watching for an intriguing night at Grandma's listening to Aunt Kathy talk non-stop about everything. And she was playing some boring ass piano music that she just loved and told me that the first time she heard it she just stood there listening to this man playing the piano (live) and had tears rolling down her cheeks. She bought the CD and just loves it. I thought it was shite, but then again, she probably thinks the Sex Pistols are shite and if I got to hear them live, I'd probably cry too. So, we're even. ;-)
Dinner (as I expected) didn't get on the table until after 8:00 p.m. which drives me insane! I eat lunch at 11:00 and am usually starving by the time I get home around 4:30, and I don't like eating late (i.e., right before I go to bed) as your metabolism shuts down and these days my metabolism needs all the help it can get). It was nice to see Aunt Margaret and Lu both of whom I haven't seen since Uncle Chuck's Memorial Mass, so it wasn't a completely lost night, but I was so ready to go home by the time dinner ended. Thankfully everybody knows I work at 6:00 a.m., so it's relatively easy to get out by 9:00 p.m., although I'm sure they talk behind my back. Fact is I like my sleep.
My co-worker stopped by my desk about 30 minutes ago and the second I saw him I said, I haven't seen it, so don’t say anything. I hope to watch it tonight. Well, he didn't tell me who won, but he did tell me who didn't win (the second most likely candidate for winning). I told him to go away before he told me anymore.
Years ago when I still worked at the University and before I made my four-year-foray to San Francisco, I had to miss the Phoenix race because of a family function of some sort. I taped it, of course, and was planning on watching it the second I got home Monday afternoon, never dreaming that everybody in my department had become a CART (as it was known then) fan over the weekend and they couldn't wait to discuss the race with me. I think I let it be known that I hadn't seen the race and please don't say anything. This had little to no effect, as they were all just too damn excited. Jeremy first came in and sang, "You're going to be so happy." This about put me through the roof, because there's only one driver winning back in 1993 that would make me that happy. I told him to stop it because I didn't want my suspicions confirmed before I got home and saw it for myself. And then Richard came into the office and said something (it's been 12 years, so sue me, I don't remember exactly what it was) about who won the race and that was it. I knew that Mario Andretti had won and I was so pissed. One, because I had missed my favorite driver's win (and it had been a while since he had won) and two, because I didn't WANT TO KNOW, dammit!!!! The race is a little less fun to watch when you know that the lead car isn't going to blow an engine or is. It's just not the same level of excitement. It really did take something out of my race watching that night knowing I didn't have to worry if Mario was going to hold on for the win.
It was Mario's last win in a Champ Car and it made history for a couple reasons. 1) First driver to win Champ Car races in four decades. 2) First driver to win races in five decades. So, I didn't get to see his last race win live and I didn't even get to enjoy it fully, thanks to my boneheaded friends. I know that they meant well, especially Jeremy, because he was so excited, but it still bums me out that I missed the level of enjoyment I know I would have felt.
Small pet peeve: People who have no clue that their hair style is so completely wrong on so many levels it's not even funny. A guy just walked past my desk with his completely grey-white hair tied into a KNOT on the back of his head. It's just wrong. And there are two women here with their hair down to their asses done up in a French braid every day with the last foot of the braid barely a sixteenth of an inch in diameter. CUT THAT SHIT!!! You're 45 years old, get a hairstyle that doesn't make you look drawn and old and out of date! I'm tempted to print up the website of Locks for Love and put it on their desks!!!