I went to dine in a new place for lunch the other day, and it reminded me of a place in Columbia that my friend (shoutout, Ben T.) used to make me go. And by make me, I mean that he suggested it – he didn’t force me against my will or anything. It’s one of those “hurry up and order while in line with a tray” places. Don’t get me wrong, the food is wonderful…but I can’t take that kind of pressure. I want to scream, “I need more time, I need more time!”

I also ate at a pretty fancy smancy restaurant for lunch last week, and the stress level wasn’t much better there. This is one of those places where they use real silver, and you need to know which fork goes where.

Call me crazy, but I just want to eat my lunch without stress, pressure or feeling like I should’ve paid more attention to that etiquette lesson back in the day. Today’s lunch? Taco Bell.

I was caught in a speed trap this morning on my way to work. Insert ugly word here. Then, when I got to work (on time, thank goodness, since I left early) there was no where to park because they blocked off our lot for the Veterans Day Parade. Insert ugly word here.

Yeah, welcome to today.

Phone call to my office today:

Me: “This is Mandi ___.”
Caller: “Oh, yes, hello.” Pause.
Me: “Hello. How can I help you?”
Caller: “I want one of those Obama t-shirts you guys were handing out.”
Me: “Oh I’m sorry, I believe you have the wrong number. We do not endorse political candidates.”
Caller: “Well, that is not what this man at the bank just told me. He told me he got his t-shirt from you.”
Me: Pausing, wondering if this is a prank from my new staff members, “Well, ma’am, I apologize, but he gave you incorrect information.”
Caller: “Are you sure you don’t have the Barack Obama t-shirts? Did you run out?”
Me: “Yes, I’m sure that we don’t have them, and that we never did.”
Caller: “Well if I see another one, and they say they got it from your office, I’m going to be upset.”
Me: “Ma’am, if you hear this from another person, I’ll be just as upset. In fact, get the person’s number and I’ll call them myself.”
Caller: “Ok. Damn, I really wanted that free t-shirt. You sure?”

Seriously?

It has come to my attention that not everyone who reads my blog knows who I am and what I’m all about, so if you’re interested:

I’m just Mandi, not Amanda. It’s spelled with an “i” because my mom doesn’t like to write the letter “y” – and no, I’m not kidding. I grew up in a funeral home. Like, we lived there. All the time. No, I wasn’t scared of dead people (as my dad says, “it’s the live ones that will get ya”) and yes, it was exactly like that girl on My Girl (sans an adorable Macaulay Culkin best friend and weird hypochondriac behavior). I lead a sugar free life, because sugar makes my thighs the size of Hulk Hogan’s. I talk on my cell phone a lot. I talk a lot in general. I like to be tan, dye my hair darker than it naturally is, and wear a lot of eyeliner. (Holy moly, it just occurred to me after typing that sentence that maybe I tan so I don’t look Gothic.) I love every kind of animal. I have a dog named William Wallace and a rabbit named Norma Jeane. Evidently, I like double-naming my pets. I have one husband and one brother, three sisters-in-law, three parents-in-law and three parents (one of those parents is a “step” one, but I don’t really like that word because it implies that he is a step below, and he is not). As I’ve stated before, I’m from a small town, and when I say small, I mean it – unlike my other friends who call their town “small” and it has a Walmart in it (I’m talking to you, Manning crew. Your town is medium, ok?). I love Diet Coke and peanut butter. I’m also quite fond of cheese. I do not eat anything with an orange flavor or raw mushrooms. I don’t like getting my hair cut, and I attribute this to my mom cutting it all off when I was four. (I looked like a boy.) I drive fast, usually because I’m late to everything. Charleston is my favorite city on Earth, but New York comes in second. If I met Vince Vaughn, I’d file for divorce (sorry, but I would). My favorite cocktail these days is sugar free Red Bull with blueberry vodka. I like politics and writing and fashion and reality television (I think this makes me well-rounded, thankyouverymuch). I listen to most any kind of music, but country seems to be what I purchase the most of. I started my first blog back when I was planning a wedding, and after that was over, I missed writing, hence “The Tightrope.” I’m a pretty friendly gal, and I’ve been told that I start a lot of sentences with “I feel like…” For example, “I feel like that girl’s shirt is really yellow.” I don’t mean to do this, so I’m sorry if it annoys you. I never take myself too seriously and I try to be a good friend.

Yep, that’s about it. Nice to meet ya.

Happy Election Day! This will make you laugh. Enjoy. (Hat tip, Stace)

Dear Candidates of elections all across America,
Although the advertisements on television are entertaining, I have a little secret for you. We’re all over it. Your commercials are driving us nuts. We’re tired of the bickering, tired of the “he did this” or “she did that” nonsense. Tired of rebuttal commercials that “correct” the other guy’s message. We just want these elections to be over with, so we can get back to watching our pointless, mindless, television without thinking about serious issues. If we want serious issues, we’ll turn it to a news channel. There are at least 943 of those. Furthermore, no one goes in the voting booth and thinks, “Which guy was a proponent of Bush Economics?” or “Who was it that voted to not keep school prayer in schools?” We just don’t. These pricey ads are a waste of time and money, and if I ran things at the Election Commission, I’d allow you suckers $100 for advertising. If you wanted to run/win, you’d have to do it on issues and facts. Not propaganda. I kind of hope you all implode tomorrow – and don’t make that face, it serves you right.
Love,
M

I begin my new job next Monday, so I thought it was appropriate to post some things I’ve learned while jobless. In no particular order…

1. The West Wing still comes on Bravo. Hooray! New addition to our DVR list.
2. The more sleep you get, the more you want. I’m talking going to bed early, getting up late, and still napping, people.
3. Being at home makes me cook and eat more. Not good. Weight gain.
4. I thought I would have a lot of time on my hands. Turns out, I can run out of time to do everyday errands with or without a job to blame it on.
5. Barbara Walters gets on my last nerve. Seriously, she gets on it, and then tap dances around on it.
6. I’ve become more attached to my dog, Wallace. I didn’t think this was possible.
7. It’s confirmed, I still hate soap operas and have no use for them.
8. I heart Oprah.
9. Starting a cleaning business could be profitable for me. I’m like, really good at cleaning.
10.Living a life with no alarm clock is bliss. Not realistic, but bliss all the same.
11. Meeting new people and answering the question, “What do you do?” is more fun when you don’t answer, “Well, I used to ___, but now I’m unemployed.”
12.After going to my mom’s classroom, I have even more respect than I did before for teachers. They are superheros.
13.Kelly Ripa has more shoes than Carrie Bradshaw.
14.Job interviews still aren’t fun.
15.Staying at home all day sounds like fun, and it is – for about three days. If you need a break from work, I’d suggest a three day “do nothing” break. You’ll be dying to get back to work! (Unless you have children, and then you have something to keep you busier than a “typical” job.)

yay for:
dunkin’ donuts original ground coffee
getting not just any job, but a fabulous job
being sleepy from the sleepover with the girls
text messaging
the sun coming out
spending an hour on facebook
going to SSI for georgia vs. florida next week
the food network
not straightening my hair
FUZE strawberry melon
eating my mom’s cooking tonight
rock and republic jeans that make my butt appear smaller
halloween decorations

Have you seen that Chantix commercial? It’s the one where the tortoise and the hare are “racing” to quit smoking. Naturally, the tortoise wins because he takes it slow and steady with the help of the prescription drug Chantix. Being a lover of clever marketing campaigns, I saw it and thought, “What a good idea – the tortoise and the hare! Slow and steady wins the race.”

Then I heard the fast talking side effect voice at the end:
“If either you, your family, or caregiver notice agitation, depressed mood, or changes in behavior that are not typical for you, or if you develop suicidal thoughts or actions, stop taking CHANTIX and call your doctor right away.”

Yikes. I’m not a smoker, but if I were, I think I’d be upset by my choices here. Continue smoking and develop cancer, or quit (with the help of Chantix) and commit suicide. How very optimistic.

It’s no surprise to those that know me that I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with the small town I live in. Yes, I’m from one of those towns where everybody knows you, your mama and daddy, your aunts and uncles, who you dated in the tenth grade, etc. You know, one of those places where everybody remains all up in your business whether you’d like them there or not. One of those towns where political campaigns become personal and bitter, where you can’t go to the grocery store without having a 40 minute conversation with your high school math teacher, and where the local paper is published weekly and still hurts for “news.”

At times, this can be a good thing. I love the fact that small town people are the first to band together and help “one of their own” – be it with prayers, donations, or just lending a helping hand where needed. I love that small town people have an incredible amount of pride in their town’s schools, athletic events, local businesses and community festivals. Most times, you won’t find better family values or better home cookin‘ than in a small town. And, I love that small towns have a certain charm about them that big cities lack. In a small town, an abandoned building adds “character” – in a big city, it’s an eyesore.

There are other times, however, when living in a small town can be, well, different. You have to be cautious about what you say (and who you say it to) in a little town. You could be five minutes into a conversation and realize that the person you are talking to is kin to the person you are talking about. Awkward. You can run into the post office, drug store, wherever, looking like death and run into everyone you haven’t seen in a year. If you avoid them, you’re stuck up. If you talk to them, you’re more than likely going to be the topic of a phone conversation that goes a little something like, “Hey ___. You will never believe who I saw at the drug store today. And, she looked terrible. Yeah, she must be going through a rough time right now.”

Which brings me to the gossip. Oh, the gossip. If you lose weight, you’re stressed. Maybe you just started exercising? If you gain weight, you’re pregnant. Maybe you just like to eat? If you’re married without children, you must have marital problems. Maybe you aren’t ready financially, emotionally, or just don’t plan to have kids? Most times, the gossip is both pointless and harmless, but it exists almost daily nonetheless.

Like everything else in life, there are positives and negatives to leading a small town life. A few Sundays ago, I rode to the grocery store and smiled to myself as I saw people walking in town, kids playing outside at a church and people sitting on their front porch swings. At that moment, I thought how nice it was to live in a place where Sunday evenings are slow and peaceful. Then, as I got out of my car to go inside the store for one item (a trip that should take me from my door to the store and back in 10 minutes), I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a while. I got home an hour later.