Yesterday was Thursday, April 12, 2007. It was the day before Friday, April 13, 2007 and the day after Wednesday, April 11, 2007. It started out as a normal day but by 4:30pm… I was consumed with the pinnacle of all jealousness. I had become Insanely Jealous.
I don’t normally become jealous. Most of the time, I’m happy with a “This is My Life and That is Your Life” mentality. And I always go by the 80% rule. The 80% rule is defined as: Stop and look at current situation. If you are 80% happy with it, shut up. If not, go complain about it to any and everyone you come in contact with.
The whole jealous thing started at 5:45am. I showed up at the Thursday run location and wouldn’t you know it… the Thursday Day Run Homeowner had her own Port-O-Potty on wheels. I have always wanted my own Port-O-Potty. It would be the ultimate in nuisance gifts. I could deliver it for birthdays, weddings, and BBQs! But more importantly, I could use it on the holiest of rabidrunner holidays….APRIL FOOLS DAY! Which reminds me that I want to own/operate/control my own “Rent-A-Goat” service. Here’s how it works. I have a goat name Sergio. You have a spouse that turns 50. You rent Sergio and tie him to a stick in your yard with a sign that says “The Ol’ Goat’s Turned 50.” Genius, I know.
Even though I’m a Genius, I’m still a little jealous. On the way home from the run, I’m on the I-15 again (but alone so I’m not in the carpool lane ), and wouldn’t you know it - a Silver Cayman S decides to make its grand entrance right besides me. I politely slowed down so this vehicle of fine proportion and engineering would go ahead of me and I could drool over it’s magnificent behind. Once again, I get jealous and that car I’m driving - which 10 minutes earlier was sufficient for the 80% rule - was no longer sufficient. By now, I’m more than a little jealous.
One of my running buddies is attacking the Boston Marathon on Monday. She’s running it alone, which is a drag because the Boston Marathon is a riot (one of those “Come On Feel the Noise” riots). Bunches of us decided to take pictures of ourselves, cut out our shapes and laminate ‘em so as she could carry us with her. So I drop one of my yahoos off at a birthday party then drive to her house. She opens the door and a hired hand is cleaning her house top to bottom. She’s going to Boston on vacation, she has someone clean her house weekly and her yard is professionally manicured. Let’s apply the 80% rule again – I haven’t been anywhere in a year, my house is atrocious and the yard is worse than atrocious (grossly wicked, vile, heinous, frightful, fulsome, pungent, wretched). I’m pretty dang jealous.
Later that evening, Spouse and I had our first date in a long time, so I went home and prepared for our “outing”. You know, powdered the nose, traded in and out of various clothes and shoes to see which outfit would compliment my celestial companion perfectly (gag). Actually, I was doing a quick booger check and flossed the teeth. But as I was doing so, the Spouse of Vera (also known as Stu Pidasso) rang. He had purchased a car for Vera’s upcoming umpteenth birthday (she’s pretty old). Not just any car, mind you, it was a black Infiniti G35. He wanted help getting it home and wanted a garage to hide it in. In so many words I said that I had a date with Spouse and would help with transporting the piece of crap if no one else could and volunteered to sacrifice the dyke mobile’s spot in the garage (that would be my Subaru Outback, you know the one that is only 40% sufficient due to the Silver Cayman S, see above if you forgot). I hung up the phone and dialed spouse. I began to critique the car-giving-for-birthday situation with words like “I wouldn’t go for that” and “why did he choose black (my favorite car color)” and “Obviously Stu has more money than sense”. (The latter comment is something I use often when speaking of the fairy tale couple.) During that conversation, I realized that the critic in me was a direct result of my becoming INSANELY JEALOUS.