From Where I Sit – I Don’t Get It

I like to think I’ve led a reasonably well-informed life. I read newspapers, watch the news, and ask a lot of questions of virtually any and everyone. But there are some things I just don’t get. Am I alone in this?

I don’t get the whole Sex and the City phenomenon. We never had satellite TV when it first appeared and I don’t think I’ve ever watched a whole episode. By osmosis I know Manolo Blahniks figured heavily in the series. As did sex and clothes.

So was it social commentary on the new woman or just an updated version of Golden Girls and Designing Women? don’t know and can’t say I care.

I don’t get the growing trend, at least in some circles, to do an out-of-country shower party. I remember when family and the bridal party rented a room in a small hall for a Sunday afternoon shower party. It was marked by a cross-section of guests from young women to seniors, a group gift (like a vacuum cleaner), and several dumb games.

Today, a trip to Las Vegas for the bridesmaids is not unheard of. Stag parties lasting two or three days and involving camping, fishing, golfing, and a few cool beverages are also becoming popular. Aren’t a few hours at a peeler bar enough anymore? Is there a correlation between the cost and extravagance of the pre-nuptials and the longevity of the marriage?

I don’t get how spraying a substance, albeit with a really lovely, natural-sounding name, made in a factory can possibly make our air, soft furnishings, and carpeting smell fresh and clean and be good for us. Oust, Glade, Febreze and their ilk bombard us with another layer of pollution.

don’t we all know someone who suffers, or perhaps suffer ourselves, from environmental allergies and sensitivity to perfumes, deodorizers, and air fresheners? How about throwing open a window and letting Mother Nature do her job?

I don’t get that some drivers are so clueless they think they can pull out in front of a loaded semi-trailer traveling highway speeds. A minimum eighty thousand pounds of steel and freight needs far longer to come to a stop and can be a deadly force if it hits your dumb ass. As someone married to a truck driver, I understand the respect these guys deserve. How about letting the next big rig merge? Or waiting to enter the highway after they’ve passed by? Or letting a guy back across three lanes of traffic to unload the freight that makes your life possible?

I don’t get people who ride motorcycles in sandals, cut-offs, muscle shirts, and shorty helmets. Even with all the protective gear, an error in judgment or plain bad luck could mean a body bag. Why, why, why tempt fate and challenge emergency room docs?

Either I need some explanations or I need to chill out cuz I don’t get it, from where I sit.

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