Dear Mr "Cowboy Baby":
You are not Kid Rock. Please lose the dirty, bleach blonde, scraggly-ass long hair, scruffy goatee thing, LEATHER fedora, and ratty, "I swear I've been riding a horse. A hooker named horse!" jeans.
I realize you think that if you dress like this, you may be able to score someone like Pam Anderson....but, you are not in LA. You are in a suburban/country town in Oregon. You will wind up w/ someone like the person I will next address.
Sincerely,
BWAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Uhem.....
Dear "OMFG, WHAT IS THAT??",
Um....while I have nothing against "large" women....I mean, I am not Nicole Ritchie myself (thank god), but, I am also not 500 pounds. And, I'd like to think that even if I was, I would NOT be wearing what you seemed to think was great evening wear for a MONDAY NIGHT in a town w/ no night life.
Really, I applaud your jean mini skirt that hid NONE of your business, 4 inch clunky heels that you had no idea how to walk in, lacy see thru shirt that ALSO hid none of your OTHER business, and....and..... your SPECTACULAR thigh high black fishnet stockings.
They were all a special treat to behold.
Especially since the stockings were partially rolled down. And had skin/fat already trying to escape out of all the holes in the fishnet. I swear I actually think I heard the nylon screaming "hellllp meeeeeeeeee".
I'd like to think that if I was that big and dressed like THAT, (or actually, even if I had a ridiculously perfect body, and dressed like that) that someone would double bolt the doors to my house, and refuse to let me leave. I'd even understand if a stun gun needed to be involved.
But, hey! Look on the bright side! I think Kid Rock over there might think you're hot!! I mean, give him a bottle of scotch, and he'll be sure to watch your..... Hey! Speaking of, I think you owe us all some scotch!
Sincerely,
An Amazed Fellow Shopper.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
Hi, My Name Is Adena, and I'll Be Attracting Crazy Today...
So, I've been sick for a few days, and went to the doctor today.
Apparently, Monday is not the day to visit this particular doctor. My appointment was at 10, and I didn't get in to see her until 11. So, I was stuck in the waiting room for an hour....which, fine....I'll deal.
Then, in walked this woman....who promptly sat down in the section of chairs across from me.
When the first sentence out of someone's mouth is "Man, I should've taken my meds today...", you know you're in for some....interesting...conversation.
This woman proceeded to tell me ALL about herself....and I do mean ALL....
Eventually, she got to the point where she went into detail about her prolapsed uterus....and by that I mean she went into detail about her....parts.....falling out....FALLING OUT AND HANGING OUTSIDE OF HER BODY!!!!....and how since she's had them removed, she's growing this unsightly mustache....and has a.....growth....somewhere it shouldn't be....(and by "growth" I mean....imagine if a woman is producing too much testosterone, and not enough estrogen...and imagine what might...grow...)
So, yeah....by this point I'm crawling out of my skin, and I look to the nurse behind the counter in horror, sending out mental pleas of "DEAR GOD, CALL ME BACK THERE....NOW!!!" I know she heard my mental pleas....but, all she did was grin evilly at me, wave cheerfully, and start laughing.
Bitch. (Ha)
Finally....FINALLY...I get called back to see the doc, leaving miss "Overshare" out in the waiting room, beginning to torture another unsuspecting soul.
The nurse takes my weight and says "Man, sure sounded like y'all were getting chummy out there" and then started w/ the evil laughter.
Why....WHY....do I attract crazy???
Apparently, Monday is not the day to visit this particular doctor. My appointment was at 10, and I didn't get in to see her until 11. So, I was stuck in the waiting room for an hour....which, fine....I'll deal.
Then, in walked this woman....who promptly sat down in the section of chairs across from me.
When the first sentence out of someone's mouth is "Man, I should've taken my meds today...", you know you're in for some....interesting...conversation.
This woman proceeded to tell me ALL about herself....and I do mean ALL....
Eventually, she got to the point where she went into detail about her prolapsed uterus....and by that I mean she went into detail about her....parts.....falling out....FALLING OUT AND HANGING OUTSIDE OF HER BODY!!!!....and how since she's had them removed, she's growing this unsightly mustache....and has a.....growth....somewhere it shouldn't be....(and by "growth" I mean....imagine if a woman is producing too much testosterone, and not enough estrogen...and imagine what might...grow...)
So, yeah....by this point I'm crawling out of my skin, and I look to the nurse behind the counter in horror, sending out mental pleas of "DEAR GOD, CALL ME BACK THERE....NOW!!!" I know she heard my mental pleas....but, all she did was grin evilly at me, wave cheerfully, and start laughing.
Bitch. (Ha)
Finally....FINALLY...I get called back to see the doc, leaving miss "Overshare" out in the waiting room, beginning to torture another unsuspecting soul.
The nurse takes my weight and says "Man, sure sounded like y'all were getting chummy out there" and then started w/ the evil laughter.
Why....WHY....do I attract crazy???
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The Jalopy of Death
So, CERTAIN friends of mine (CoughKerriandEmilyCough) have been hounding me and hounding me EVERY MORNING by AIM to write my deathmobile story.
Even tho’ they were THERE, and they basically know all the details ANYHOW…..
But, I know…I’ve been blog-slacking. Sorry.
So, back in California, when I worked for the evil Database Empire, we knew we were getting laid off on a certain day. Martin and Arianna came up to Oregon in March, and I stayed in Cali until mid-June, to finish up the job. Martin took the car w/ him to Oregon, so I needed a quickie cheap vehicle…..fast.
I posted a message on the internal chat site asking if anyone had a car they wanted to get rid of, and this lady got back to me that she had a car she’d sell to me for 700 bucks. (In California, that’s unheard of cheap.) So, I basically took it w/o really thinking about it…I needed a car.
I don’t even remember what it was….it was like a late 70’s-early 80’s hooptie car….the thing was a boat. It was this ugly brown, w/ ugly southwestern (I hate southwestern motifs) seat covers, and it didn’t have air conditioning. (In Summer. In California. Ugh.)
The lady I bought it from, basically after I agreed to buy it, threw in a little disclaimer….
“Oh….by the way…..so, we bought this car at auction. It was in an accident before we bought it. It was totaled out, but for whatever reason they fixed it and didn’t salvage the title…so, it’s got a clean title. Oh…..and….intheaccidentsomeonediedinthecar.”
Wait. Back up there, missy….
So, yeah….the accident that totaled the car, also managed to kill some guy. The guy who was driving the car. A guy who DIED IN THE SEAT I WAS NOW SITTING ON!
Um, okay. A little disconcerting, but I tried not to think about it. However, the horrid Southwestern motif seat covers were put on the seats, because she was hiding…..stains. Yeah. Annihilated people stains. (When I relayed that little bit of info to Kerri, she freaked out. “Adena! I just screamed inside my head!!”)
So, anyhow, I drove the deathmobile, as it affectionately (?) became known, until mid-June, when I moved back to Oregon. I had every intention of turning it in to some junkyard when I left, but the girl I was living with at the time, and who packed my stuff when I was in India, because her brother sold the house out from under us (long story), had actually lost the title in her attempt of packing. So, no junkyard in the area would touch the deathmobile w/ a 10 foot pole w/o a title. So, I was stuck. What to do??
So, I did what any self respecting person w/ a deathmobile to get rid of would do……I left it in a K-Mart parking lot, and drove to Oregon in my moving truck. I left the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked, hoping someone down on their luck would be all “HEY! Free car!!”
No such luck.
I got an email from the lady I bought it from like 2 months later. Apparently, the cops called her to come get her car from the K-mart (because I never put it in my name). I told her what happened, and told her to try and sell it again, and keep the money.
I have no idea if she managed to get rid of it. Apparently, I was the first person who managed to get past the idea of driving while sitting on someone’s……earthly remains…..
Even tho’ they were THERE, and they basically know all the details ANYHOW…..
But, I know…I’ve been blog-slacking. Sorry.
So, back in California, when I worked for the evil Database Empire, we knew we were getting laid off on a certain day. Martin and Arianna came up to Oregon in March, and I stayed in Cali until mid-June, to finish up the job. Martin took the car w/ him to Oregon, so I needed a quickie cheap vehicle…..fast.
I posted a message on the internal chat site asking if anyone had a car they wanted to get rid of, and this lady got back to me that she had a car she’d sell to me for 700 bucks. (In California, that’s unheard of cheap.) So, I basically took it w/o really thinking about it…I needed a car.
I don’t even remember what it was….it was like a late 70’s-early 80’s hooptie car….the thing was a boat. It was this ugly brown, w/ ugly southwestern (I hate southwestern motifs) seat covers, and it didn’t have air conditioning. (In Summer. In California. Ugh.)
The lady I bought it from, basically after I agreed to buy it, threw in a little disclaimer….
“Oh….by the way…..so, we bought this car at auction. It was in an accident before we bought it. It was totaled out, but for whatever reason they fixed it and didn’t salvage the title…so, it’s got a clean title. Oh…..and….intheaccidentsomeonediedinthecar.”
Wait. Back up there, missy….
So, yeah….the accident that totaled the car, also managed to kill some guy. The guy who was driving the car. A guy who DIED IN THE SEAT I WAS NOW SITTING ON!
Um, okay. A little disconcerting, but I tried not to think about it. However, the horrid Southwestern motif seat covers were put on the seats, because she was hiding…..stains. Yeah. Annihilated people stains. (When I relayed that little bit of info to Kerri, she freaked out. “Adena! I just screamed inside my head!!”)
So, anyhow, I drove the deathmobile, as it affectionately (?) became known, until mid-June, when I moved back to Oregon. I had every intention of turning it in to some junkyard when I left, but the girl I was living with at the time, and who packed my stuff when I was in India, because her brother sold the house out from under us (long story), had actually lost the title in her attempt of packing. So, no junkyard in the area would touch the deathmobile w/ a 10 foot pole w/o a title. So, I was stuck. What to do??
So, I did what any self respecting person w/ a deathmobile to get rid of would do……I left it in a K-Mart parking lot, and drove to Oregon in my moving truck. I left the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked, hoping someone down on their luck would be all “HEY! Free car!!”
No such luck.
I got an email from the lady I bought it from like 2 months later. Apparently, the cops called her to come get her car from the K-mart (because I never put it in my name). I told her what happened, and told her to try and sell it again, and keep the money.
I have no idea if she managed to get rid of it. Apparently, I was the first person who managed to get past the idea of driving while sitting on someone’s……earthly remains…..
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Clean Up, Aisle One! And Two! And Three! AND FOUR!!
So, today I'm in Walgreen's, hanging out 'til my prescription is filled.
I'm staring blankly at the make-up, when suddenly, this little mexican man opens the front door, and SCREAMS into the store:
"HEY! Did anyone drop their Nitroglycerin outside??"
*INSTANT SILENCE DESCENDS UPON THE STORE*
The couple standing next to me and I looked at at each other in horror, and then we started laughing hysterically.
Really.
This stuff only happens to me.....
I'm staring blankly at the make-up, when suddenly, this little mexican man opens the front door, and SCREAMS into the store:
"HEY! Did anyone drop their Nitroglycerin outside??"
*INSTANT SILENCE DESCENDS UPON THE STORE*
The couple standing next to me and I looked at at each other in horror, and then we started laughing hysterically.
Really.
This stuff only happens to me.....
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Ahh! I've Taught Her Well!!
So, my best friend told me a story she heard about my daughter, Arianna.
Apparently, my friend's dad was talking to my mom, and she told him the following story:
My mom was in the kitchen making lunch for my dad. Arianna walked in, and said, VERY forcefully, "How come you're always making grandpa's lunch? How come he can't make his OWN lunch??"
To which my mom responded "Well, Arianna, I LIKE to cook for your grandpa. It's just something I've always done. There's nothing wrong w/ it, I just like it."
So, Arianna said "okay...", somewhat doubtfully, then walked off and sat down to think about it for a while.
Then, awhile later, she came back and said to my mom (with appropriate venom in her voice):
"Yes........BUT.........YOU do all the cooking, and then grandpa turns around and thanks 'HIM'!!" (God)
Did I mention she's only 6?
Apparently, my friend's dad was talking to my mom, and she told him the following story:
My mom was in the kitchen making lunch for my dad. Arianna walked in, and said, VERY forcefully, "How come you're always making grandpa's lunch? How come he can't make his OWN lunch??"
To which my mom responded "Well, Arianna, I LIKE to cook for your grandpa. It's just something I've always done. There's nothing wrong w/ it, I just like it."
So, Arianna said "okay...", somewhat doubtfully, then walked off and sat down to think about it for a while.
Then, awhile later, she came back and said to my mom (with appropriate venom in her voice):
"Yes........BUT.........YOU do all the cooking, and then grandpa turns around and thanks 'HIM'!!" (God)
Did I mention she's only 6?
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Reason #12,475,391.83 To Not Go To Bed Before A Man
I am a really light sleeper when it comes to noises. I can be sound asleep, a spider will fall off a wall downstairs, and I'll wake up. Only noises, tho'. If you poke me, or shake me, or anything like that, I can ignore you, and remain asleep.
Anyhow...last night, at around 2 AM, a noise downstairs woke me up. Just a small click, but it sounded ominous. So, I decided to go investigate. I had gone to sleep before anyone else came upstairs, so who KNEW what disasters lay before me!
Well, let me document them here for posterity...
First off, the noise I heard was the front door opening. Our door has the annoying habit of being opened by gusts of wind, or more often, the neighbor's cat, unless you slam it shut. Apparently it was not slammed shut OR locked last night, because I came down the stairs, the door was wide open, and the neighbor's cat was on the threshold, staring at me guiltily.
EVERY light in the house was on. EVERY light. As I was just waking up, I think I now need a cornea replacement.
The TV was still on, volume full blast, turned to an infomercial. How THIS did not wake me, I do not know. Maybe because it was an infomercial?
The heat was on. Two of the vents in the living room were covered with stuff, one of them being PAPER (!!?!). I went to turn it off (I hate the heat being on), and noticed the thermostat was set to 95 degrees (!!!?!)
.
The fridge was open.
It looked like a rhino had run through my living room, sat down on the couch, had a large snack, watched some TV, and then left. (Which I suppose isn't far from the truth.)
After I fixed everything and headed back upstairs, I tripped on a shoe that was left in the doorway of my room (not MY shoe), and fell on my face.
Anybody want a roommate?
Anyhow...last night, at around 2 AM, a noise downstairs woke me up. Just a small click, but it sounded ominous. So, I decided to go investigate. I had gone to sleep before anyone else came upstairs, so who KNEW what disasters lay before me!
Well, let me document them here for posterity...
First off, the noise I heard was the front door opening. Our door has the annoying habit of being opened by gusts of wind, or more often, the neighbor's cat, unless you slam it shut. Apparently it was not slammed shut OR locked last night, because I came down the stairs, the door was wide open, and the neighbor's cat was on the threshold, staring at me guiltily.
EVERY light in the house was on. EVERY light. As I was just waking up, I think I now need a cornea replacement.
The TV was still on, volume full blast, turned to an infomercial. How THIS did not wake me, I do not know. Maybe because it was an infomercial?
The heat was on. Two of the vents in the living room were covered with stuff, one of them being PAPER (!!?!). I went to turn it off (I hate the heat being on), and noticed the thermostat was set to 95 degrees (!!!?!)
.
The fridge was open.
It looked like a rhino had run through my living room, sat down on the couch, had a large snack, watched some TV, and then left. (Which I suppose isn't far from the truth.)
After I fixed everything and headed back upstairs, I tripped on a shoe that was left in the doorway of my room (not MY shoe), and fell on my face.
Anybody want a roommate?
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Dear World Meteorological Organization:
Tropical Storm Chris?
Really?
This is the BEST you could come up with??
What's next? Hurricane Jim?
Sincerely,
Someone who could think of more Forboding interesting names than you apparently can
Really?
This is the BEST you could come up with??
What's next? Hurricane Jim?
Sincerely,
Someone who could think of more Forboding interesting names than you apparently can
Thursday, July 27, 2006
2 AM
Sleeping Peacefully....
Suddenly....
Martin- "AIN'T NOTHIN' I CAN'T HANDLE!!!"
Me- *blink-blink* ...."What the..... Um, Martin? What the hell are you talking about?"
Martin- "Huh?"
Me- "You're yelling about something."
Martin- "I'm sleeping."
Me- "Ooohkay then..."
Martin- "Watch out for the monkeys tho'. Sneaky monkeys!"
Me- *blink*........ "Um...okay?"
Martin- "ELEPHANTS!!.....Elllleeeephaaaants......." *snore*
Me- *blink-blink*
Yeah....I don't EVEN want to know what that dream was about.
Suddenly....
Martin- "AIN'T NOTHIN' I CAN'T HANDLE!!!"
Me- *blink-blink* ...."What the..... Um, Martin? What the hell are you talking about?"
Martin- "Huh?"
Me- "You're yelling about something."
Martin- "I'm sleeping."
Me- "Ooohkay then..."
Martin- "Watch out for the monkeys tho'. Sneaky monkeys!"
Me- *blink*........ "Um...okay?"
Martin- "ELEPHANTS!!.....Elllleeeephaaaants......." *snore*
Me- *blink-blink*
Yeah....I don't EVEN want to know what that dream was about.
Monday, July 24, 2006
No, Really! Your Hump Is Stunning!
So, the other day at work, one of the girls I work w/ was ringing up this guy. He was nothing special, I couldn't even tell you what he looked like, but he had this splint on his finger, and a nasty gash across his knuckle.
My friend saw it and asked him "Oh! What did you do to your finger??"
He opened his mouth, and out rolled this amazing Australian accent:
"Oh, ah cot it ahn some baaahbed waare." (I cut it on some barbed wire)
*time stops, crickets chirp*
My friend feebly asks him "What?"
He repeats himself....."Ah cot it ahn some baaahbed waare." (and, off subject here, but when he said that, I immediately thought to ask him if he was keeping dingos away from the flock. Not sarcasticly, either. That was a SERIOUS thought that went through my head. No matter that we live in Oregon...yeah. Shut up. Stop laughing at me... Damn Aussie accent. Good thing I kept my mouth shut.)
"Oh....well, that looks really bad."
"Ehn. It's naaht thaaat bahhhhd. You have a g'day now!"
Our eyes longingly follow him out the door, and my friend turns to me and says "OH that accent!! I swear, it totally doesn't matter what a guy looks like when he sounds like that."
I replied, "Oh, I KNOW! I mean, you don't have to look at them, anyhow. Just close your eyes, stick a bag over their head, something. Just keep talking, damn it! KEEP TALKING!!"
We laughed, but it's SO true! Australian accents are sexy, yes....but, my downfall is a British one. Proper London, Cockney....it doesn't matter. Bust out w/ an English accent, and I become a panting puddle of quivering jell-o.
I swear.....an overly hirsute, hunchbacked midget could walk up to me, and if London rolled off his tongue, suddenly he would grow 2 feet, have had a miraculous depilatory treatment, and that hunch would become an ASSET, baby!
Seriously. Keep talking. That's it. Just one more paragraph. Keep going. Ooh, conjugate that verb...almost there....
Yeah.
Anyone else feel that way about accents? Or am I just a freak? :)
My friend saw it and asked him "Oh! What did you do to your finger??"
He opened his mouth, and out rolled this amazing Australian accent:
"Oh, ah cot it ahn some baaahbed waare." (I cut it on some barbed wire)
*time stops, crickets chirp*
My friend feebly asks him "What?"
He repeats himself....."Ah cot it ahn some baaahbed waare." (and, off subject here, but when he said that, I immediately thought to ask him if he was keeping dingos away from the flock. Not sarcasticly, either. That was a SERIOUS thought that went through my head. No matter that we live in Oregon...yeah. Shut up. Stop laughing at me... Damn Aussie accent. Good thing I kept my mouth shut.)
"Oh....well, that looks really bad."
"Ehn. It's naaht thaaat bahhhhd. You have a g'day now!"
Our eyes longingly follow him out the door, and my friend turns to me and says "OH that accent!! I swear, it totally doesn't matter what a guy looks like when he sounds like that."
I replied, "Oh, I KNOW! I mean, you don't have to look at them, anyhow. Just close your eyes, stick a bag over their head, something. Just keep talking, damn it! KEEP TALKING!!"
We laughed, but it's SO true! Australian accents are sexy, yes....but, my downfall is a British one. Proper London, Cockney....it doesn't matter. Bust out w/ an English accent, and I become a panting puddle of quivering jell-o.
I swear.....an overly hirsute, hunchbacked midget could walk up to me, and if London rolled off his tongue, suddenly he would grow 2 feet, have had a miraculous depilatory treatment, and that hunch would become an ASSET, baby!
Seriously. Keep talking. That's it. Just one more paragraph. Keep going. Ooh, conjugate that verb...almost there....
Yeah.
Anyone else feel that way about accents? Or am I just a freak? :)
Monday, July 17, 2006
Dear Beast Roaming Freely at Wal-Mart:
I realize that backless halter tops were all the rage....LAST SUMMER....but, I believe they were created for women that have perky "A" cup breasts, and weigh close to negative 50 pounds.
However, I'm FAIRLY positive that they were NOT created for a woman of your....stature.
Case in point...when something is designed to stay on by tying a string around your back, I'm pretty sure that said string is not supposed to be SWALLOWED WHOLE by abundant rolls of back-fat.
Seriously.
I wouldn't have known there WAS a string if I didn't know how those shirts work.
Also, if you are pushing a "Z" cup, shirts that let you....err..."hang freely"....PROBABLY should be also overlooked when shopping in the Junior "I couldn't squeeze my fat-ass into this without a crowbar, but I'll SURE TRY!!" section. I'm fairly certain I saw arreola hanging out from under your excuse for a shirt.
Trust me, honey. Good chance this is ONE instance that men won't want to see that.
Also, if you're wearing jeans so tight that your STOMACH has developed a camel-toe...
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE SHOP IN THE PLUS-SIZE SECTION!!!
Wal-Mart has one, you know.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go wash your image from my brain.
Sincerely,
The shell-shocked woman standing behind you in line
However, I'm FAIRLY positive that they were NOT created for a woman of your....stature.
Case in point...when something is designed to stay on by tying a string around your back, I'm pretty sure that said string is not supposed to be SWALLOWED WHOLE by abundant rolls of back-fat.
Seriously.
I wouldn't have known there WAS a string if I didn't know how those shirts work.
Also, if you are pushing a "Z" cup, shirts that let you....err..."hang freely"....PROBABLY should be also overlooked when shopping in the Junior "I couldn't squeeze my fat-ass into this without a crowbar, but I'll SURE TRY!!" section. I'm fairly certain I saw arreola hanging out from under your excuse for a shirt.
Trust me, honey. Good chance this is ONE instance that men won't want to see that.
Also, if you're wearing jeans so tight that your STOMACH has developed a camel-toe...
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE SHOP IN THE PLUS-SIZE SECTION!!!
Wal-Mart has one, you know.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go wash your image from my brain.
Sincerely,
The shell-shocked woman standing behind you in line
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Because It's Sunday....
I stole this idea from Chase (because she's the coolest EVAH!)
Top 10 Things You will NEVER hear me say:
"Whatever you say, honey. I will not question you, as you are a man, and clearly superior to me. Please, direct my every action. It makes me happy to have someone else run my life, as I clearly do not have the intelligence to do it myself!"
"Walk through that patch of overgrown backyard? CERTAINLY! I love having spiders crawl all over my bare skin. It's very invigorating."
"Oh, I can't eat that pasta. I'm cutting back on my carbs."
"I won the lottery? I'm sorry, but I just can't accept that kind of money. I'm much happier living check to check!!"
"Babysit your children? Sure!! I love having kids over...you know, in ADDITION to my own little hellions. It makes life so much more INTERESTING when they're all destroying things I can't replace...!"
"Really, it's okay that your cat keeps breaking into my house and spraying all over my clean clothes! I LOVE the smell of cat urine! They should really bottle it, it's that great!"
"Oh, please don't turn the air conditioning on. I LOVE it when it's so hot I can fry an egg on my kitchen counter!! It saves me having to do dishes!"
"Hey, Mr. Man, PLEASE keep talking about me in a foreign language. I LOVE it when I can't understand the words that are accompanying your slimy, debaucherous looks!! What a boost to my self confidence, as I find you so incredibly sexy in your dirty, ill-fitting clothes! And the fact that you haven't showered in what appears to be close to a month REALLY turns me on."
"Oh, don't worry about picking up after yourself. I LOVE cleaning up your messes. It makes me feel so useful."
"Please treat me like a pariah, as that will CERTAINLY ensure that I will return to your church! It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy when you blatantly stare at me for ages in the grocery store, and change aisles when you see me coming. I KNOW that just being within a 2 foot radius of me will cause God to smite you, so by ALL MEANS, please act as if I have Ebola! I completely understand!! In fact, I'll just leave the store, so you can continue shopping in peace, without my disgraceful presence around!"
Top 10 Things You will NEVER hear me say:
"Whatever you say, honey. I will not question you, as you are a man, and clearly superior to me. Please, direct my every action. It makes me happy to have someone else run my life, as I clearly do not have the intelligence to do it myself!"
"Walk through that patch of overgrown backyard? CERTAINLY! I love having spiders crawl all over my bare skin. It's very invigorating."
"Oh, I can't eat that pasta. I'm cutting back on my carbs."
"I won the lottery? I'm sorry, but I just can't accept that kind of money. I'm much happier living check to check!!"
"Babysit your children? Sure!! I love having kids over...you know, in ADDITION to my own little hellions. It makes life so much more INTERESTING when they're all destroying things I can't replace...!"
"Really, it's okay that your cat keeps breaking into my house and spraying all over my clean clothes! I LOVE the smell of cat urine! They should really bottle it, it's that great!"
"Oh, please don't turn the air conditioning on. I LOVE it when it's so hot I can fry an egg on my kitchen counter!! It saves me having to do dishes!"
"Hey, Mr. Man, PLEASE keep talking about me in a foreign language. I LOVE it when I can't understand the words that are accompanying your slimy, debaucherous looks!! What a boost to my self confidence, as I find you so incredibly sexy in your dirty, ill-fitting clothes! And the fact that you haven't showered in what appears to be close to a month REALLY turns me on."
"Oh, don't worry about picking up after yourself. I LOVE cleaning up your messes. It makes me feel so useful."
"Please treat me like a pariah, as that will CERTAINLY ensure that I will return to your church! It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy when you blatantly stare at me for ages in the grocery store, and change aisles when you see me coming. I KNOW that just being within a 2 foot radius of me will cause God to smite you, so by ALL MEANS, please act as if I have Ebola! I completely understand!! In fact, I'll just leave the store, so you can continue shopping in peace, without my disgraceful presence around!"
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Toilet Paper Will Kill You
Back when I lived in California, and worked for the evil database empire, our jobs were in the process of getting outsourced to India.
This meant that the company shipped over a bus-load of Indians to America for us to train for a few months. They rented out a few apartments for them (fully furnished), and for most of the Indians, this was their first trip to America.
Now a couple of the guys were a lot of fun. Totally up for the "American Experience", they jumped in with both feet, and let us girls "corrupt" them by taking them out to bars, etc. They were funny, silly and loads of fun to hang around.
So, one night, a group of us girls decided to really welcome them to America with the mother of all American Experiences.......the random TP'ing.
Under the cloak of darkness, and with much giggling and stealthy-ness, about 5 of us girls ran to Safeway, and bought loads of toilet paper and plastic forks. We then drove to the apartments, parked a few buildings away from our targets, and waited.
We saw the guys stagger drunkenly off to another Indian's apartment, and figured we had about 5-10 minutes to accomplish our goal, so we pulled the nylon stockings over our faces, donned our hoodies, and took action! About 6 minutes later, their little slice of Apartment Front Yard was covered in toilet paper, and had also been "forked" (ie...we stuck plastic forks, prong down, all over any patch of grass and/or dirt we could find...dozens of them.) We then stealthily ran back to the car, giggling all the way, and drove off.....content that our little night of mayhem would make the guys laugh, and possibly confound them a lil' bit.
Fast forward to the next day:
Us girls are huddled together, waiting for our "victims" to arrive at work.
Enter the victims....looking, tired, disheveled, and slightly....nervous?
What?
Us girls look at each other with slight confusion, and pounce on the guys when they get to their cubes.
Evil Girls- "Hey! Good morning! Did you guys notice anything....different....about your yard last night??"
Poor, Hapless Victims- *Look of Horror* "It was YOOOOOOUUUUU???!!"
EG- "Um....yeah......ha-ha?"
PHV- *Stunned Silence.....then nervous laughter* "W-what was that about, exactly?"
EG- "It's a joke! It's called "TP'ing....where you go to a friend's house, or wherever, and just blast the hell out of the place w/ toilet paper, and other random stuff. We thought we'd give you a little taste of American Tradition!"
PHV- *Audible breaths of relief* "Oooooooh!!! OH! Thank GOD!!!"
EG- *Looks of Confusion* "Why? What did you guys THINK it was??"
And with that, the regaled us with a tale of woe.....
Shortly after we stealthily drove off, giggling, the guys drunkenly staggered home w/ a female friend of theirs, a fellow Indian. They came upon the scene of carnage in their front yard, and stopped, momentarily confused. What the?? Then the female friend wisely nodded her sage-like head and said "Oooh! I've READ about this!! It's a warning!! First the forks.....Next comes......THE KNIFE!!!!"
Terrified, the boys ran in the house, and locked themselves in, convinced they had just received a death threat, and were soon sure to die a horrible death. As they sat, huddled in the livingroom in terror, one of the boys reflected on why there was also toilet paper strewn about everywhere. He came to the conclusion that it was a message from the Gods that they were being too slovenly in America. So, they spent the REST OF THE NIGHT in terror, cleaning the apartment, top to bottom.
They did not sleep. They just cleaned.
After they finished recounting their tale of woe, us girls did what could only be expected in such circumstances.....
We broke into uncontrollable laughter.
EG- "N-n-next c-comes THE KNIFE?? BWAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Too Slovenly....so, y-you CLEANED??? BWAH HAHAHAHAAHA!!!!" (etc)
Luckily, the guys were good sports, and soon found the extreme humor in the situation, as well, and did not get us fired, or anything. Soon they were recounting the tale to their fellow countrymen and women, with much giggling and hand gestures.
Ah....Good Times....good times.
This meant that the company shipped over a bus-load of Indians to America for us to train for a few months. They rented out a few apartments for them (fully furnished), and for most of the Indians, this was their first trip to America.
Now a couple of the guys were a lot of fun. Totally up for the "American Experience", they jumped in with both feet, and let us girls "corrupt" them by taking them out to bars, etc. They were funny, silly and loads of fun to hang around.
So, one night, a group of us girls decided to really welcome them to America with the mother of all American Experiences.......the random TP'ing.
Under the cloak of darkness, and with much giggling and stealthy-ness, about 5 of us girls ran to Safeway, and bought loads of toilet paper and plastic forks. We then drove to the apartments, parked a few buildings away from our targets, and waited.
We saw the guys stagger drunkenly off to another Indian's apartment, and figured we had about 5-10 minutes to accomplish our goal, so we pulled the nylon stockings over our faces, donned our hoodies, and took action! About 6 minutes later, their little slice of Apartment Front Yard was covered in toilet paper, and had also been "forked" (ie...we stuck plastic forks, prong down, all over any patch of grass and/or dirt we could find...dozens of them.) We then stealthily ran back to the car, giggling all the way, and drove off.....content that our little night of mayhem would make the guys laugh, and possibly confound them a lil' bit.
Fast forward to the next day:
Us girls are huddled together, waiting for our "victims" to arrive at work.
Enter the victims....looking, tired, disheveled, and slightly....nervous?
What?
Us girls look at each other with slight confusion, and pounce on the guys when they get to their cubes.
Evil Girls- "Hey! Good morning! Did you guys notice anything....different....about your yard last night??"
Poor, Hapless Victims- *Look of Horror* "It was YOOOOOOUUUUU???!!"
EG- "Um....yeah......ha-ha?"
PHV- *Stunned Silence.....then nervous laughter* "W-what was that about, exactly?"
EG- "It's a joke! It's called "TP'ing....where you go to a friend's house, or wherever, and just blast the hell out of the place w/ toilet paper, and other random stuff. We thought we'd give you a little taste of American Tradition!"
PHV- *Audible breaths of relief* "Oooooooh!!! OH! Thank GOD!!!"
EG- *Looks of Confusion* "Why? What did you guys THINK it was??"
And with that, the regaled us with a tale of woe.....
Shortly after we stealthily drove off, giggling, the guys drunkenly staggered home w/ a female friend of theirs, a fellow Indian. They came upon the scene of carnage in their front yard, and stopped, momentarily confused. What the?? Then the female friend wisely nodded her sage-like head and said "Oooh! I've READ about this!! It's a warning!! First the forks.....Next comes......THE KNIFE!!!!"
Terrified, the boys ran in the house, and locked themselves in, convinced they had just received a death threat, and were soon sure to die a horrible death. As they sat, huddled in the livingroom in terror, one of the boys reflected on why there was also toilet paper strewn about everywhere. He came to the conclusion that it was a message from the Gods that they were being too slovenly in America. So, they spent the REST OF THE NIGHT in terror, cleaning the apartment, top to bottom.
They did not sleep. They just cleaned.
After they finished recounting their tale of woe, us girls did what could only be expected in such circumstances.....
We broke into uncontrollable laughter.
EG- "N-n-next c-comes THE KNIFE?? BWAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Too Slovenly....so, y-you CLEANED??? BWAH HAHAHAHAAHA!!!!" (etc)
Luckily, the guys were good sports, and soon found the extreme humor in the situation, as well, and did not get us fired, or anything. Soon they were recounting the tale to their fellow countrymen and women, with much giggling and hand gestures.
Ah....Good Times....good times.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Dear Painfully Geeky Man Looking at the Anime' Section-
If you have Mega Man-Boobs, too tight tee-shirts MIGHT not be the right look for you.
Seriously, I think I may have a few bras you could borrow. They help lift and seperate.
Also...a helpful hint for cologne wearing?....
Don't wear so much that people can TASTE it.
That is all.
Thank you,
Your Helpful Bookseller
Seriously, I think I may have a few bras you could borrow. They help lift and seperate.
Also...a helpful hint for cologne wearing?....
Don't wear so much that people can TASTE it.
That is all.
Thank you,
Your Helpful Bookseller
Thursday, May 25, 2006
You Never Know.....
I went for a walk to the store w/ Arianna last night.
She brought along a purse she had found, and stuffed w/ various things to take along on the walk. She was going through the list of what she brought, and pulled out this little toy plastic harp.
She gave me the following explanation:
"Oh, and I brought along this harp. *pause* Because you NEVER know when you might need to make an animal fall asleep."
I guess I can't argue w/ that logic.....
She brought along a purse she had found, and stuffed w/ various things to take along on the walk. She was going through the list of what she brought, and pulled out this little toy plastic harp.
She gave me the following explanation:
"Oh, and I brought along this harp. *pause* Because you NEVER know when you might need to make an animal fall asleep."
I guess I can't argue w/ that logic.....
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
My Grandma Vs. The Bees
Dave posted about his problem w/ wasps, and that reminded me about a story my dad told when I was growing up. It's pretty funny, so I thought I would share.
Now, my dad is in his 80's. So, he grew up in the depression, etc. In the mid to late '30's, they were living out in the country on a farm outside Eugene, Oregon. They had the traveling vacuum salesman in that day, and one day my grandpa splurged and bought my grandma one of those Electrolux canister vacuums when the vacuum guy came calling.
My grandma was ecstatic. She'd never had a vacuum cleaner before, and thought that this electric machine was some sort of mythical wonder.
One day, my dad and his brother were going out the back door, and unbeknownst to them, a swarm of yellow jackets had built a nest above the door. So, the slamming of the screen door irritated the bees, and they attacked, stinging the kids. They ran inside, told their mom what had happened, and an idea formed in her head. If the vacuum sucked up everything else, why couldn't it suck up the bees? Problem solved!
So, she snuck outside with her wonder machine, stuck the nozzle up to the hive, and turned on the vacuum. Confused and angry bees came zooming out of the hive, trying to figure out what the noise was, and the minute they appeared.....*ZOOP*....up the vacuum they went. My grandma was SO proud of herself, and in a few minutes, the bees were dispatched into the inner sanctum of her beloved vacuum.
Only, apparently they weren't dead. She could hear them buzzing around angrily inside. Hmm...this posed a huge problem. She would not be able to clean out the vacuum w/o being attacked by a swarm of violated bees. And....what if they figured out how to fly up the hose??
Oh no, now she was starting to panic....what to do??
So, she thought about it, and decided that maybe she should try to find something to kill the bees while they were still inside the vacuum. She set about finding various rat poisons, cleaning solvents, any version of powdered death she could find. She poured a little of each onto the ground and set about vacuuming up each little pile, figuring ONE of the powders would kill the bees.
Meanwhile, my dad's cocker spaniel had wandered over, and sat a distance away, watching the proceedings w/ a wary eye.
Now, my grandma did not take into consideration what might happen if you mix various chemicals, and then apply heat....like the heat of the motor of the vacuum. She started sucking up the different powders, when all of the sudden.....
*BOOOOOM!!*
The canister of the vacuum went flying like a missile across the yard, disengaging itself from the hose my grandma was holding. She stood there, holding the limp hose, watching in open mouthed astonishment as the canister flew across the yard and hit their cocker spaniel square in his little cocker butt.
He jumped up in the air a few feet, and went yelping out into the field, terrorized by the flying vacuum of death.
My grandma was crushed. Not only had she destroyed her precious vacuum, and caused said vacuum to attack her dog, but she was unsure if she had actually even managed to KILL the bees. She wasn't about to go check, so she left the smoking canister where it landed, and went inside, dejected.
When my grandpa got home, she tearfully told him what had happened, and he alternated from laughing hysterically to being upset that she'd destroyed something which had cost him a lot of money. He figured he'd better go see if she actually accomplished killing the bees, and cautiously crept up to the canister. A few bees were buzzing drunkenly around it, but they seemed dazed. He figured he could probably move the canister, so he got a bag, put the canister in it, and took it out to a far field where he dumped it.
He eventually got my grandma another vacuum, with the strict instructions that she NEVER try anything like that again.
Only problem was, that whenever she decided to vacuum, the dog would go TEARING out of the house, yelping all the way, and wouldn't return for a few hours.
Now, my dad is in his 80's. So, he grew up in the depression, etc. In the mid to late '30's, they were living out in the country on a farm outside Eugene, Oregon. They had the traveling vacuum salesman in that day, and one day my grandpa splurged and bought my grandma one of those Electrolux canister vacuums when the vacuum guy came calling.
My grandma was ecstatic. She'd never had a vacuum cleaner before, and thought that this electric machine was some sort of mythical wonder.
One day, my dad and his brother were going out the back door, and unbeknownst to them, a swarm of yellow jackets had built a nest above the door. So, the slamming of the screen door irritated the bees, and they attacked, stinging the kids. They ran inside, told their mom what had happened, and an idea formed in her head. If the vacuum sucked up everything else, why couldn't it suck up the bees? Problem solved!
So, she snuck outside with her wonder machine, stuck the nozzle up to the hive, and turned on the vacuum. Confused and angry bees came zooming out of the hive, trying to figure out what the noise was, and the minute they appeared.....*ZOOP*....up the vacuum they went. My grandma was SO proud of herself, and in a few minutes, the bees were dispatched into the inner sanctum of her beloved vacuum.
Only, apparently they weren't dead. She could hear them buzzing around angrily inside. Hmm...this posed a huge problem. She would not be able to clean out the vacuum w/o being attacked by a swarm of violated bees. And....what if they figured out how to fly up the hose??
Oh no, now she was starting to panic....what to do??
So, she thought about it, and decided that maybe she should try to find something to kill the bees while they were still inside the vacuum. She set about finding various rat poisons, cleaning solvents, any version of powdered death she could find. She poured a little of each onto the ground and set about vacuuming up each little pile, figuring ONE of the powders would kill the bees.
Meanwhile, my dad's cocker spaniel had wandered over, and sat a distance away, watching the proceedings w/ a wary eye.
Now, my grandma did not take into consideration what might happen if you mix various chemicals, and then apply heat....like the heat of the motor of the vacuum. She started sucking up the different powders, when all of the sudden.....
*BOOOOOM!!*
The canister of the vacuum went flying like a missile across the yard, disengaging itself from the hose my grandma was holding. She stood there, holding the limp hose, watching in open mouthed astonishment as the canister flew across the yard and hit their cocker spaniel square in his little cocker butt.
He jumped up in the air a few feet, and went yelping out into the field, terrorized by the flying vacuum of death.
My grandma was crushed. Not only had she destroyed her precious vacuum, and caused said vacuum to attack her dog, but she was unsure if she had actually even managed to KILL the bees. She wasn't about to go check, so she left the smoking canister where it landed, and went inside, dejected.
When my grandpa got home, she tearfully told him what had happened, and he alternated from laughing hysterically to being upset that she'd destroyed something which had cost him a lot of money. He figured he'd better go see if she actually accomplished killing the bees, and cautiously crept up to the canister. A few bees were buzzing drunkenly around it, but they seemed dazed. He figured he could probably move the canister, so he got a bag, put the canister in it, and took it out to a far field where he dumped it.
He eventually got my grandma another vacuum, with the strict instructions that she NEVER try anything like that again.
Only problem was, that whenever she decided to vacuum, the dog would go TEARING out of the house, yelping all the way, and wouldn't return for a few hours.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Guess I Won't Have To Worry About Him Getting The Flu
Last night, I was bringing Jack downstairs, and caught a whiff of what smelled like granny perfume.
Intrigued, I sniffed his hair. Yup, definately coming from his hair. Granny Perfume?? What the heck?
So, I went into the livingroom and asked Arianna: "Hey, why does your brother smell like perfume?" Thinking maybe she put some of her lotion on him, or something.
She got this look...you know the "Oh, shit! I've been found out. Lie! Lie quickly!!!" and responded w/ "Um....I dunno...?"
With a sense of foreboding, I brought out the "Mom of DOOOOM!" voice. "ARIANNA! WHY does your brother smell like perfume??"
So, she responded, "Oh, ok! It's because I sprayed him w/ that ant spray."
*MOMENTARY HORROR!!!*
Me- "ANT SPRAY?? You sprayed him with ANT SPR.....Wait....we don't have ant spray. What are you talking about??"
Arianna- "That stuff you sometimes kill ants with. You know, the stuff that smells like apples."
*HORROR RETURNING!!*
Me- "LYSOL??? You sprayed your brother w/ LYSOL?? When was this??"
Arianna- *sensing danger* "Um...earlier? When I told you I killed those ants by the sliding glass door."
Me- "That was this AFTERNOON! That was HOURS ago! You failed to mention to me that you ALSO SPRAYED YOUR BROTHER!!"
Arianna- "Wellll......"
Me- "What on earth posessed you to spray YOUR BROTHER w/ LYSOL??"
Arianna- "He smelled."
Sooo.....after an immediate washing of Jack, which I'm not sure really mattered, because it had been about 6 hours since he was....disinfected....a little "talk" with Arianna was in order.
Needless to say, she won't be spraying her brother w/ various cleaning supplies anytime soon.
Seriously....what the hell?? It was just the disinfectant spray, and not like heavy-duty industrial cleaner, so he's fine....but...what the hell??? "He SMELLED"??
Ay Yi Yi...
Intrigued, I sniffed his hair. Yup, definately coming from his hair. Granny Perfume?? What the heck?
So, I went into the livingroom and asked Arianna: "Hey, why does your brother smell like perfume?" Thinking maybe she put some of her lotion on him, or something.
She got this look...you know the "Oh, shit! I've been found out. Lie! Lie quickly!!!" and responded w/ "Um....I dunno...?"
With a sense of foreboding, I brought out the "Mom of DOOOOM!" voice. "ARIANNA! WHY does your brother smell like perfume??"
So, she responded, "Oh, ok! It's because I sprayed him w/ that ant spray."
*MOMENTARY HORROR!!!*
Me- "ANT SPRAY?? You sprayed him with ANT SPR.....Wait....we don't have ant spray. What are you talking about??"
Arianna- "That stuff you sometimes kill ants with. You know, the stuff that smells like apples."
*HORROR RETURNING!!*
Me- "LYSOL??? You sprayed your brother w/ LYSOL?? When was this??"
Arianna- *sensing danger* "Um...earlier? When I told you I killed those ants by the sliding glass door."
Me- "That was this AFTERNOON! That was HOURS ago! You failed to mention to me that you ALSO SPRAYED YOUR BROTHER!!"
Arianna- "Wellll......"
Me- "What on earth posessed you to spray YOUR BROTHER w/ LYSOL??"
Arianna- "He smelled."
Sooo.....after an immediate washing of Jack, which I'm not sure really mattered, because it had been about 6 hours since he was....disinfected....a little "talk" with Arianna was in order.
Needless to say, she won't be spraying her brother w/ various cleaning supplies anytime soon.
Seriously....what the hell?? It was just the disinfectant spray, and not like heavy-duty industrial cleaner, so he's fine....but...what the hell??? "He SMELLED"??
Ay Yi Yi...
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Dear Woman Walking Through Wal-Mart:
While I applaud your amazing body, I think there are better ways to attain it than by staring at the diet shakes, and then exclaiming loudly "It's just easier NOT to eat, than eat these things!" before walking away without putting any said shakes in your cart.
While your fashion sense may be "in", I think that skin tight camouflage capris w/ scrunchy legs and little bows (on camo??), 4 inch wedge sandals, ripped jean jacket, and that glittery tank top exposing your huge bosoms MIGHT be dressing a just a little too young...
.
You know....considering when the teenage boys that are drooling after you, and eventually work their way from ogling your body to actually seeing your face realize that you are old enough to be THEIR GRANDMA!!!
Seriously.
You are causing the rise in therapy costs for 13-16 year old boys.
I realize you're trying to hold on to your youth....but, you may be pushing it just a WEE bit too far.....
After I got past the "outfit", your hair, which has been permed, colored & highlighted, teased, gelled, and curling ironed into extreme submission (and good chance it will fall out in 2-5 years, btw.), the 7 inches of foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, and lipstick you're wearing, and the OBVIOUS chin and eye work you've had done (bet your plastic surgeon LOVES you!), it only took me about 2.5 seconds to realize that you're pushing your mid 50's.
Honestly, who do you think you're fooling?
Rule #1 for middle age- When you're sharing clothes w/ your 16 year old grand-daughter, MAYBE it's time to look into shopping somewhere other than the junior dept at the Limited.
I'm just sayin'.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Fellow Shopper
While your fashion sense may be "in", I think that skin tight camouflage capris w/ scrunchy legs and little bows (on camo??), 4 inch wedge sandals, ripped jean jacket, and that glittery tank top exposing your huge bosoms MIGHT be dressing a just a little too young...
.
You know....considering when the teenage boys that are drooling after you, and eventually work their way from ogling your body to actually seeing your face realize that you are old enough to be THEIR GRANDMA!!!
Seriously.
You are causing the rise in therapy costs for 13-16 year old boys.
I realize you're trying to hold on to your youth....but, you may be pushing it just a WEE bit too far.....
After I got past the "outfit", your hair, which has been permed, colored & highlighted, teased, gelled, and curling ironed into extreme submission (and good chance it will fall out in 2-5 years, btw.), the 7 inches of foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow, and lipstick you're wearing, and the OBVIOUS chin and eye work you've had done (bet your plastic surgeon LOVES you!), it only took me about 2.5 seconds to realize that you're pushing your mid 50's.
Honestly, who do you think you're fooling?
Rule #1 for middle age- When you're sharing clothes w/ your 16 year old grand-daughter, MAYBE it's time to look into shopping somewhere other than the junior dept at the Limited.
I'm just sayin'.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Fellow Shopper
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Got Bruises?
I ran into a doorframe (shut up) which got me thinking about bruises.
I've never been one to bruise. I mean, at least I don't COLORIZE. I can FEEL that I've obtained a bruise, because of the big "OW!" factor going on under my skin, but for some reason, I don't get bruises that actually turn colors. For that reason, no one ever believes that I've really hurt myself. It's actually kind-of annoying. If I've managed to take out an entire wall w/ my shoulder, God DAMN IT I want something to show for it!!
I've never understood it. I'm almost see through pale. You'd think I'd bruise really EASILY...but, no....my skin just stays white. Big, giant owie on my shoulder....I swear!! You just can't see it!! Anybody else have this "problem"?
But, than I was thinking...every once in a great while, the planets will allign, and I'll get a spectacular bruise. This reminded me of when I lived in Colorado.
I worked in a deli at the local supermarket. We were like a mini restaurant. We did lots of cooking from scratch, as well as the usual deli stuff. So, it was really crowded in our little area. We had this sandwich cart...you know, w/ the metal lid you'd lift up to reveal all the condiments and veggies? It had a fridge underneath, and a cutting area on it, so it was pretty....substantial.
One day, I was running around w/ my head cut off, and I bailed out of the walk-in cooler and ran STRAIGHT into the corner of the sandwich cart. It did not move. So, I impacted pretty hard.
Now, I'm fairly tall. So, the cart caught me SQUARELY in the Hoo-Ha.
Oh.My.GOD, the PAIN!!!
With my eyes tearing up, I had to finish helping the customer I was waiting on BEFORE I managed to mortally injure my Va-Jay-Jay. I could not scream the profanities I was thinking. My friend/coworker Josh, who had not seen my glorious manuever, still managed to realize something was amiss, and kept looking at me all concerned like.
I finished up w/ the customer, motioned to him that I was walking to the back of the store, and went to the back hallway. Where I let loose w/ a stream of profanities. Josh showed up momentarily, "What the hell??"
I told him what happened, and if you could've seen the expression on his face....priceless. Instantly his hands were covering his own "jewels" in sympathy and horror.
"Jesus Christ!! Are you Okay?? You'd better go to the restroom and see if you're mortally wounded. I'll cover for you. Eeech!! *more protective covering of himself* I'm sooo glad I'm taller than you. Can you imagine if that happened to me?? I'd be out for the count!"
So, I limped up to the front of the store, not expecting much, because I don't bruise, remember? I get to the bathroom, and inspect the injury.
Jesus H. Christ!! What was I saying about not bruising?? Yeah, I take it back. My whole Hoo-ha "area" was now completely black...with dark purplish edging. This was a bruise for the ages!!! Holy cork! But, damn it! It was in an area I couldn't actually SHOW anyone. (Well, at least w/o getting fired.) I was so disappointed.
So, I went back, told Josh the colorful story, which was met w/ MORE protective covering of his package, and a look of pure horror.....Immediately followed by insane laughter. Bastard. So, of course I started laughing, too. I mean, only I could manage to obtain such a horrific injury to my flippin' HOO-HA!!
I finished out the day, and for the most part had put my big owie out of my head. I went home, and promptly forgot about it.
I was getting undressed for bed, later that night, and I hear Martin scream "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???". I look at him, and he's staring in horror at my lower quadrant. Oh, yeah. I tell him what happened, and he's still dumbstruck w/ horror.
"Holy shit, does that hurt??"
"Um, yeah. I'm thinking sex is out of the picture for a few weeks."
"That's okay. I'm pretty sure I won't be interested for at least a few weeks!!"
(It took about that long for the bruise to go away, too...)
I've never been one to bruise. I mean, at least I don't COLORIZE. I can FEEL that I've obtained a bruise, because of the big "OW!" factor going on under my skin, but for some reason, I don't get bruises that actually turn colors. For that reason, no one ever believes that I've really hurt myself. It's actually kind-of annoying. If I've managed to take out an entire wall w/ my shoulder, God DAMN IT I want something to show for it!!
I've never understood it. I'm almost see through pale. You'd think I'd bruise really EASILY...but, no....my skin just stays white. Big, giant owie on my shoulder....I swear!! You just can't see it!! Anybody else have this "problem"?
But, than I was thinking...every once in a great while, the planets will allign, and I'll get a spectacular bruise. This reminded me of when I lived in Colorado.
I worked in a deli at the local supermarket. We were like a mini restaurant. We did lots of cooking from scratch, as well as the usual deli stuff. So, it was really crowded in our little area. We had this sandwich cart...you know, w/ the metal lid you'd lift up to reveal all the condiments and veggies? It had a fridge underneath, and a cutting area on it, so it was pretty....substantial.
One day, I was running around w/ my head cut off, and I bailed out of the walk-in cooler and ran STRAIGHT into the corner of the sandwich cart. It did not move. So, I impacted pretty hard.
Now, I'm fairly tall. So, the cart caught me SQUARELY in the Hoo-Ha.
Oh.My.GOD, the PAIN!!!
With my eyes tearing up, I had to finish helping the customer I was waiting on BEFORE I managed to mortally injure my Va-Jay-Jay. I could not scream the profanities I was thinking. My friend/coworker Josh, who had not seen my glorious manuever, still managed to realize something was amiss, and kept looking at me all concerned like.
I finished up w/ the customer, motioned to him that I was walking to the back of the store, and went to the back hallway. Where I let loose w/ a stream of profanities. Josh showed up momentarily, "What the hell??"
I told him what happened, and if you could've seen the expression on his face....priceless. Instantly his hands were covering his own "jewels" in sympathy and horror.
"Jesus Christ!! Are you Okay?? You'd better go to the restroom and see if you're mortally wounded. I'll cover for you. Eeech!! *more protective covering of himself* I'm sooo glad I'm taller than you. Can you imagine if that happened to me?? I'd be out for the count!"
So, I limped up to the front of the store, not expecting much, because I don't bruise, remember? I get to the bathroom, and inspect the injury.
Jesus H. Christ!! What was I saying about not bruising?? Yeah, I take it back. My whole Hoo-ha "area" was now completely black...with dark purplish edging. This was a bruise for the ages!!! Holy cork! But, damn it! It was in an area I couldn't actually SHOW anyone. (Well, at least w/o getting fired.) I was so disappointed.
So, I went back, told Josh the colorful story, which was met w/ MORE protective covering of his package, and a look of pure horror.....Immediately followed by insane laughter. Bastard. So, of course I started laughing, too. I mean, only I could manage to obtain such a horrific injury to my flippin' HOO-HA!!
I finished out the day, and for the most part had put my big owie out of my head. I went home, and promptly forgot about it.
I was getting undressed for bed, later that night, and I hear Martin scream "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???". I look at him, and he's staring in horror at my lower quadrant. Oh, yeah. I tell him what happened, and he's still dumbstruck w/ horror.
"Holy shit, does that hurt??"
"Um, yeah. I'm thinking sex is out of the picture for a few weeks."
"That's okay. I'm pretty sure I won't be interested for at least a few weeks!!"
(It took about that long for the bruise to go away, too...)
Sunday, April 02, 2006
False Advertising??
Ok, I realize I just posted, but this is priceless.
Martin took a shower a while ago, and was puttering around the house for a couple hours. He came upstairs just a minute ago, and laid down next to me. I caught a glimpse of something funky going on w/ his neck as he laid down. It was almost like he'd gotten some writing tattoo'd on his neck.
Me- "WTF is on your neck??" *moves neckline of his hoodie to get a better view*
Him- "What?"
Me- *Hysterical Laughter* "G-g-g-GO look at yourself in the mirror!!"
Him- *Dutifully heads towards the bathroom* "OOOH!! Is THAT what that feeling was?? I kept thinking I was getting a sore throat. I kept feeling at that spot, wondering why it felt so tight!"
Me- *More laughter at his expense*
What "THAT" was, was one of those stickers they put on the front of tee-shirts. You know the long sticker that says repeatedly what size the shirt is? This one was proudly proclaiming that Martin was "XL", about 7 times over.
Me- "Sooo......I guess you think you're Xtra Large, eh?"
Him- "Shut up."
Martin took a shower a while ago, and was puttering around the house for a couple hours. He came upstairs just a minute ago, and laid down next to me. I caught a glimpse of something funky going on w/ his neck as he laid down. It was almost like he'd gotten some writing tattoo'd on his neck.
Me- "WTF is on your neck??" *moves neckline of his hoodie to get a better view*
Him- "What?"
Me- *Hysterical Laughter* "G-g-g-GO look at yourself in the mirror!!"
Him- *Dutifully heads towards the bathroom* "OOOH!! Is THAT what that feeling was?? I kept thinking I was getting a sore throat. I kept feeling at that spot, wondering why it felt so tight!"
Me- *More laughter at his expense*
What "THAT" was, was one of those stickers they put on the front of tee-shirts. You know the long sticker that says repeatedly what size the shirt is? This one was proudly proclaiming that Martin was "XL", about 7 times over.
Me- "Sooo......I guess you think you're Xtra Large, eh?"
Him- "Shut up."
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Holy Muffin Top, Batman!
Dear Girl Walking in Front of McDonald's-
I know you think wearing track pants is "OH SO FASHIONABLE", and I know you think wearing an itty-bitty zip up hoodie with the track pants is "HOTTT".
However, when you decide to forgo wearing a shirt UNDERNEATH the hoodie, and that hoodie is NOT quite long enough to reach the top of the track pants, since they're the low-riding kind, I have just one request:
PLEASE LOOK IN THE MIRROR BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE!!!
Seriously.
Did you NOT see the fact that your gut hangs out over the top of the pants? And it's not like the teeny bopper, tight pants/ "muffin top" effect (which I also can't stand), because I've seen enough teenage fat being Squeeeezed out the top of pants to be able to now just roll my eyes at it.
However, you were a whole different entity. One which I feel needs to be addressed. Your fat was not being squeeeezed out the top. Noooo, it was just....there. Hanging limply over the top of your elastic waistband. Moving merrily with every step you took. Swishing with each hip sway. It was strangely hypnotic. And, judging by the faces of the people in cars driving by, I was not the only one that was horrified fascinated with your display.
So, in the interest of avoiding a future 15 car pile-up, can you please look into purchasing a few tee-shirts?
Thank You,
A Concerned Citizen in the McDonald's Drive Thru.
I know you think wearing track pants is "OH SO FASHIONABLE", and I know you think wearing an itty-bitty zip up hoodie with the track pants is "HOTTT".
However, when you decide to forgo wearing a shirt UNDERNEATH the hoodie, and that hoodie is NOT quite long enough to reach the top of the track pants, since they're the low-riding kind, I have just one request:
PLEASE LOOK IN THE MIRROR BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE HOUSE!!!
Seriously.
Did you NOT see the fact that your gut hangs out over the top of the pants? And it's not like the teeny bopper, tight pants/ "muffin top" effect (which I also can't stand), because I've seen enough teenage fat being Squeeeezed out the top of pants to be able to now just roll my eyes at it.
However, you were a whole different entity. One which I feel needs to be addressed. Your fat was not being squeeeezed out the top. Noooo, it was just....there. Hanging limply over the top of your elastic waistband. Moving merrily with every step you took. Swishing with each hip sway. It was strangely hypnotic. And, judging by the faces of the people in cars driving by, I was not the only one that was horrified fascinated with your display.
So, in the interest of avoiding a future 15 car pile-up, can you please look into purchasing a few tee-shirts?
Thank You,
A Concerned Citizen in the McDonald's Drive Thru.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
For My Daughter- A Lesson On How To Wake Your Mother Up.
(I should preface this with the fact that I read a LOT of Stephen King. This will make sense later.)
Dear Arianna-
If you want to wake mommy up, there are a few ways that are acceptable.
Mommy is a light sleeper, so you can wake her up by shaking her, talking to her, or even though this way is slightly creepy, she'll even accept you standing next to her and STARING at her until she wakes up.
However, there is one way that she never, ever, EVER wants you to wake her up again.
If you have snuck into the bedroom without anyone knowing, and have decided to sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed....and EVEN IF mommy IS sleeping on her stomach with her feet dangling off the end of the bed where you can see them above you....never, EVER, EVER again decide to reach up, grab one of those feet and tug on it.
After mommy has crawled out of her skin, and crawled UP the wall to get away from the monster under her bed, she will be VERY, VERY upset with you.
Think of this a lesson learned...
Love,
Mommy
Dear Arianna-
If you want to wake mommy up, there are a few ways that are acceptable.
Mommy is a light sleeper, so you can wake her up by shaking her, talking to her, or even though this way is slightly creepy, she'll even accept you standing next to her and STARING at her until she wakes up.
However, there is one way that she never, ever, EVER wants you to wake her up again.
If you have snuck into the bedroom without anyone knowing, and have decided to sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed....and EVEN IF mommy IS sleeping on her stomach with her feet dangling off the end of the bed where you can see them above you....never, EVER, EVER again decide to reach up, grab one of those feet and tug on it.
After mommy has crawled out of her skin, and crawled UP the wall to get away from the monster under her bed, she will be VERY, VERY upset with you.
Think of this a lesson learned...
Love,
Mommy
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Yay! Drunken Monkeys!!*
*I should really have a category for "Stupid Martin Tricks".
Anyhow, the name of the title comes from yesterday, after Martin agreed to give Jack a shower. He yelled "Hey, bring me the baby" from the bathroom, and SOMEHOW I heard "Yay! Drunken Monkeys!". It also made me wonder exactly WHAT he was doing in the shower, to inspire such an excited exclamation.
I also thought it was a very appropriate title, given what happened last night:
We went to our friends' house to play poker. They have 3 kids, and add our 2, and it's unorganized chaos in that house. Martin and "Male Friend" went to get mexican food. They also decided to stop by the liquor store. When they got back, I decided I didn't really want mexican, as I'd had it about 3 days in a row, so I drove myself to the Thai place.
When I got back w/ my food, the boys were nicely toasted. Expensive Scotch Whiskey will do that to you...fast.
So, as I sat down at the table to eat, the following chaos ensued:
Somehow, in Martin's drunken stupor, as he was standing by the poker table, he turned around and decided that Jack's infant carseat, that was sitting on the FLOOR, had somehow morphed into a full size adult chair. Therefore, he decided to sit on it.
As he fell (naturally) backwards, the contents of the tumbler of scotch he was holding were flung sideways.....STRAIGHT into Jack's face....who was innocently laying on the floor on the other side of the table.
Now, as I'm sitting at the table, I'm kind-of in that state where I see everything happening, but I'm helpless to stop it. I see Martin fall, and I look over at Jack, and this is the scene as played out on Jack's face:
"Oh look, Dad is trying to sit in my carseat. Haha! He's falling, that's funn.....WHOA...WTF IS ON MY FACE?? OH SHIT! IT BURNS!! I'M GOING TO SCREAM NOW!! LOUDLY!!"
So, I run over and scoop Jack up, take him to the sink, and start washing his face off, mad because my baby just had Scotch thrown in his eyes, but kind-of laughing, because what a friggen comedy of errors!!
I get the Scotch off, and Jack's cries have changed from "Ow!" to pure, rightous fury, so I know he's alright. Then Martin decides to help. He proceeds to dump water over the top of Jack's head....igniting even MORE screams of pure fury.
*sigh*
I got the whole thing eventually calmed down, but I do believe that this will be a moment that will be forever memorialized in my mind...and WILL be brought up as the situation calls for it.
"Hey Martin....remember when you nearly blinded your son...?"
Anyhow, the name of the title comes from yesterday, after Martin agreed to give Jack a shower. He yelled "Hey, bring me the baby" from the bathroom, and SOMEHOW I heard "Yay! Drunken Monkeys!". It also made me wonder exactly WHAT he was doing in the shower, to inspire such an excited exclamation.
I also thought it was a very appropriate title, given what happened last night:
We went to our friends' house to play poker. They have 3 kids, and add our 2, and it's unorganized chaos in that house. Martin and "Male Friend" went to get mexican food. They also decided to stop by the liquor store. When they got back, I decided I didn't really want mexican, as I'd had it about 3 days in a row, so I drove myself to the Thai place.
When I got back w/ my food, the boys were nicely toasted. Expensive Scotch Whiskey will do that to you...fast.
So, as I sat down at the table to eat, the following chaos ensued:
Somehow, in Martin's drunken stupor, as he was standing by the poker table, he turned around and decided that Jack's infant carseat, that was sitting on the FLOOR, had somehow morphed into a full size adult chair. Therefore, he decided to sit on it.
As he fell (naturally) backwards, the contents of the tumbler of scotch he was holding were flung sideways.....STRAIGHT into Jack's face....who was innocently laying on the floor on the other side of the table.
Now, as I'm sitting at the table, I'm kind-of in that state where I see everything happening, but I'm helpless to stop it. I see Martin fall, and I look over at Jack, and this is the scene as played out on Jack's face:
"Oh look, Dad is trying to sit in my carseat. Haha! He's falling, that's funn.....WHOA...WTF IS ON MY FACE?? OH SHIT! IT BURNS!! I'M GOING TO SCREAM NOW!! LOUDLY!!"
So, I run over and scoop Jack up, take him to the sink, and start washing his face off, mad because my baby just had Scotch thrown in his eyes, but kind-of laughing, because what a friggen comedy of errors!!
I get the Scotch off, and Jack's cries have changed from "Ow!" to pure, rightous fury, so I know he's alright. Then Martin decides to help. He proceeds to dump water over the top of Jack's head....igniting even MORE screams of pure fury.
*sigh*
I got the whole thing eventually calmed down, but I do believe that this will be a moment that will be forever memorialized in my mind...and WILL be brought up as the situation calls for it.
"Hey Martin....remember when you nearly blinded your son...?"
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Boop-Boop-de-AAAAGH!!
Arianna has an aversion to sleeping in her room. She either flat out refuses, or she sneaks into mine in the middle of the night...bringing along whatever she was sleeping w/ that night.
So, this morning, I wake up...and in my sleep induced haze, as I gaze down over the side of the bed, I see this:
So, this morning, I wake up...and in my sleep induced haze, as I gaze down over the side of the bed, I see this:
Holy Shit! I've never woken up so fast. And, I think now I've acquired a new phobia.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Tire Porn
So, the tires on my car were total crap. Reeeeally bad. Car shaking, bad.
So, the other day, I went to the local Les Schwab and got new tires. 4 of them. BRAND NEW tires. I've never actually done that before. Usually I just get one retread, as needed. So, I wasn't really paying attention to their "specials" that they do for the IMPORTANT customers. (The ones that shell out more than 30 bucks.)
Needless to say, imagine my surprise and momentary horror at THIS exchange:
Les Schwab Guy- "Hi Adena, why don't we get your paperwork in order while they finish working on your car."
Me- "OK, no problem."
LSG- "So, here's your warrenty and invoice. Now....Would you like me to give you some beef?"
Me- *Blink*........... "Um, excuse me?"
LSG- "Beef. Would you like me to give you some beef?"
Me- *Blink-Blink*......... "You want to give me.....beef."
LSG- "Yeah, you know...the free beef promotion....when you buy tires....what kind would you like?"
Me- *Mentally kicking myself* "Oooooh! Yeah, ok...Um...steak is fine...thanks..."
I SO totally felt like saying "I bet you say that to ALL the girls!"
.
.
.
But, I refrained.
So, the other day, I went to the local Les Schwab and got new tires. 4 of them. BRAND NEW tires. I've never actually done that before. Usually I just get one retread, as needed. So, I wasn't really paying attention to their "specials" that they do for the IMPORTANT customers. (The ones that shell out more than 30 bucks.)
Needless to say, imagine my surprise and momentary horror at THIS exchange:
Les Schwab Guy- "Hi Adena, why don't we get your paperwork in order while they finish working on your car."
Me- "OK, no problem."
LSG- "So, here's your warrenty and invoice. Now....Would you like me to give you some beef?"
Me- *Blink*........... "Um, excuse me?"
LSG- "Beef. Would you like me to give you some beef?"
Me- *Blink-Blink*......... "You want to give me.....beef."
LSG- "Yeah, you know...the free beef promotion....when you buy tires....what kind would you like?"
Me- *Mentally kicking myself* "Oooooh! Yeah, ok...Um...steak is fine...thanks..."
I SO totally felt like saying "I bet you say that to ALL the girls!"
.
.
.
But, I refrained.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Conversations You Should NEVER Have With A Daughter
Arianna- "Hey Mom...I need to borrow a baby wipe, okay?"
Me- "Sure. What for, exactly?"
Arianna- "Oh, I need to polish my balls."
Me- "???"
Arianna- "I need to polish my balls. They're dirty."
Me- "?????!!"
Arianna- *holds up a small soccer and basketball*
Me- "OHHHhhhhhh...." *hysterical laughter*
Friday, January 27, 2006
Tales of Haunted Plumbing
So, yesterday, Martin wandered into the bathroom off of our bedroom. He immediately came back into the livingroom, white as a sheet.
He motioned for me to follow him, and I walked into the bathroom, expecting to see that the cat destroyed or peed on something.
Not so much.
So, we've got one of those old free standing sinks that are a staple of old houses. The sink itself was full of water. FULL. To the top. There was no stopper, but the water wasn't draining.
Martin WHISPERS "Dude, the sink was empty 5 minutes ago when I was in here. No one has been back here...."
He feels the water.
"It's WARM...."
So, I'm sitting there, being logical for once. (Which is unusual for me. I could've TOTALLY gone w/ the supernatural angle.) I'm listening, and say "I think they're draining their tub upstairs. The sink must be backing up w/ their tub water."
Sure enough, I couldn't hear water upstairs anymore, and our sink drained like magic.
I laughed at Martin, who was still all pale, and he said "Oh man, I thought we had a ghost!!" (This is SOOO funny to me, because he scoffs at all things supernatural. He says over and over he doesn't believe, but fill up a sink w/ water, and he freaks out. Methinks he protests too much.)
So, while laughing, I say to him "You realize that you stuck your hand in their leftover bath water, right?"
I've never seen someone scour their hands so fast.
He motioned for me to follow him, and I walked into the bathroom, expecting to see that the cat destroyed or peed on something.
Not so much.
So, we've got one of those old free standing sinks that are a staple of old houses. The sink itself was full of water. FULL. To the top. There was no stopper, but the water wasn't draining.
Martin WHISPERS "Dude, the sink was empty 5 minutes ago when I was in here. No one has been back here...."
He feels the water.
"It's WARM...."
So, I'm sitting there, being logical for once. (Which is unusual for me. I could've TOTALLY gone w/ the supernatural angle.) I'm listening, and say "I think they're draining their tub upstairs. The sink must be backing up w/ their tub water."
Sure enough, I couldn't hear water upstairs anymore, and our sink drained like magic.
I laughed at Martin, who was still all pale, and he said "Oh man, I thought we had a ghost!!" (This is SOOO funny to me, because he scoffs at all things supernatural. He says over and over he doesn't believe, but fill up a sink w/ water, and he freaks out. Methinks he protests too much.)
So, while laughing, I say to him "You realize that you stuck your hand in their leftover bath water, right?"
I've never seen someone scour their hands so fast.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Signs Your Child Watches Too Much TV
"Mom? What are hair oils?"
"Well, they're why you have to wash your hair..."
"Does everyone have hair oils?"
"Yup."
"Well, most ORDINARY shampoos wash hair oils down the drain, but DOVE keeps essential oils in!"
"Um...that's nice. Maybe you should lay off TV for a while..."
"Well, they're why you have to wash your hair..."
"Does everyone have hair oils?"
"Yup."
"Well, most ORDINARY shampoos wash hair oils down the drain, but DOVE keeps essential oils in!"
"Um...that's nice. Maybe you should lay off TV for a while..."
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I Hate Barney.
Arianna's watching it in the other room.
I hear Barney say, in his annoying little Barney voice, "Hey! I'm a poet, and I didn't even know it!!"
And, all the evil, musical, robotic children on the show LAAAAUUUGHED, and LAAAUUUGGHHED, like it was the FUNNIEST thing they'd EVER heard.
Yeah, real original...you big, purple Satan.
I hear Barney say, in his annoying little Barney voice, "Hey! I'm a poet, and I didn't even know it!!"
And, all the evil, musical, robotic children on the show LAAAAUUUGHED, and LAAAUUUGGHHED, like it was the FUNNIEST thing they'd EVER heard.
Yeah, real original...you big, purple Satan.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
My Daughter: The Moral Compass
We were driving in the car, and I don't even remember what Martin was referring to, but he used an analogy of it being like some idiot jumping into a pond full of live alligators.
We were kind-of giggling, and suddenly, there came this voice of PURE, righteous indignation from the backseat:
"That's NOT funny, dad! That means that someone would DIE!!"
We were so taken aback at the pure FURY in her voice, that it started us REALLY laughing, and just made her more furious with us.
"People being eaten is NOT funny! He became LUNCH! DINNER!! Maybe BREAKFAST!! That's NOT funny!!"
We replied with GALES of laughter.
"Stop laughing!! Death isn't funny! Being eaten by alligators is NOT FUNNY!!!"
Hysterical laughter.
She didn't talk to us for a while after that.
*giggle*
We were kind-of giggling, and suddenly, there came this voice of PURE, righteous indignation from the backseat:
"That's NOT funny, dad! That means that someone would DIE!!"
We were so taken aback at the pure FURY in her voice, that it started us REALLY laughing, and just made her more furious with us.
"People being eaten is NOT funny! He became LUNCH! DINNER!! Maybe BREAKFAST!! That's NOT funny!!"
We replied with GALES of laughter.
"Stop laughing!! Death isn't funny! Being eaten by alligators is NOT FUNNY!!!"
Hysterical laughter.
She didn't talk to us for a while after that.
*giggle*
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Excuse Me, But You Need To Up Your Prescription For Ritalin!
Oh.My.God.
So, I am broke 'til next Friday, so I went "grocery" shopping at a discount place.
I was reading a blog today who's author was lamenting the fact that crazies flock to her. I commented that they flock to me, too....I don't know why it is, but the crazy folk just start spouting off random shit to me.
Which brings me to my checker.
I get up to the checkstand, and he did NOT stop talking for the ENTIRE time that he was ringing up my groceries. I did not get a word in edgewise.
His topics of conversation? (Keep in mind I said nothing to prompt these topics)
"Wow, did you ever notice how the grey's outside wash out the greens and other colors, and make everything grey? No, Really...they do!"
"Brookings, Oregon is great. But Crescent City, CA is where the bums live. I don't know why it's so much dirtier when it's just across the border. Have you noticed that? I think it's because they had a tsunami once, and a lot of people died." (Um...'Cuz THAT makes sense....)
"Scottish people have given the world so much! Really, they have! But, you know that because you're scottish!" (Actually, I'm Irish)
"Central Oregon doesn't look like this. It's more like California. At least, I think it's more like California...Do YOU think it's like California? Because, I think it's like California."
"Joan of Arc was a brave little thing. Don't you think so?? I think she was brave!"
"Wow, I hope they never change the formula in Coke!"
I know there was more, but honestly...he made me dizzy. I'm sure I was standing there w/ a deer in headlights look. No one attempted to rescue me, tho'. I'm sure the other checkers were just glad he wasn't talking to THEM!
I need to go nap, now.
So, I am broke 'til next Friday, so I went "grocery" shopping at a discount place.
I was reading a blog today who's author was lamenting the fact that crazies flock to her. I commented that they flock to me, too....I don't know why it is, but the crazy folk just start spouting off random shit to me.
Which brings me to my checker.
I get up to the checkstand, and he did NOT stop talking for the ENTIRE time that he was ringing up my groceries. I did not get a word in edgewise.
His topics of conversation? (Keep in mind I said nothing to prompt these topics)
"Wow, did you ever notice how the grey's outside wash out the greens and other colors, and make everything grey? No, Really...they do!"
"Brookings, Oregon is great. But Crescent City, CA is where the bums live. I don't know why it's so much dirtier when it's just across the border. Have you noticed that? I think it's because they had a tsunami once, and a lot of people died." (Um...'Cuz THAT makes sense....)
"Scottish people have given the world so much! Really, they have! But, you know that because you're scottish!" (Actually, I'm Irish)
"Central Oregon doesn't look like this. It's more like California. At least, I think it's more like California...Do YOU think it's like California? Because, I think it's like California."
"Joan of Arc was a brave little thing. Don't you think so?? I think she was brave!"
"Wow, I hope they never change the formula in Coke!"
I know there was more, but honestly...he made me dizzy. I'm sure I was standing there w/ a deer in headlights look. No one attempted to rescue me, tho'. I'm sure the other checkers were just glad he wasn't talking to THEM!
I need to go nap, now.
When Men Try and Kill You
Or, at least trying to get someone else to do it.
Case in point:
He left for work at 6am. At about 5:40am I went back to bed, telling him to make sure the front door was locked when he left. He said "No Problem".
So, I woke up at 9ish.
I walk into the livingroom. Whoo...the house is a little chilly, maybe I should make sure the heat is on.
OH WAIT...
Maybe it's because THE FRONT DOOR IS WIDE OPEN!!
Hmm...a check of the door handle shows it's in the locked position, however, that does not come into play if one does not CLOSE THE DOOR in the first place!!
So, yeah...3 hours of my front door wide open, with me and the kids in the back of the house, sleeping.
He's trying to have me killed.
On a side note, my INDOOR cat is now an outdoor cat...somewhere. I can't find him. He saw an open door for 3 hours and took advantage of it. So, now I have to go on a cat hunting expedition.
And yes, my heat WAS on. So, now, about 3 kazillion dollars later, after heating up the outside, my house is starting to defrost.
Men.
Case in point:
He left for work at 6am. At about 5:40am I went back to bed, telling him to make sure the front door was locked when he left. He said "No Problem".
So, I woke up at 9ish.
I walk into the livingroom. Whoo...the house is a little chilly, maybe I should make sure the heat is on.
OH WAIT...
Maybe it's because THE FRONT DOOR IS WIDE OPEN!!
Hmm...a check of the door handle shows it's in the locked position, however, that does not come into play if one does not CLOSE THE DOOR in the first place!!
So, yeah...3 hours of my front door wide open, with me and the kids in the back of the house, sleeping.
He's trying to have me killed.
On a side note, my INDOOR cat is now an outdoor cat...somewhere. I can't find him. He saw an open door for 3 hours and took advantage of it. So, now I have to go on a cat hunting expedition.
And yes, my heat WAS on. So, now, about 3 kazillion dollars later, after heating up the outside, my house is starting to defrost.
Men.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Bring it On, 2006
I don't normally do resolutions. Really, what's the point?
However, a few things happened the last couple of days to make me start a mental list.
I thought I'd share:
1. Keep Husband Locked In House. - So, we went to our friend's house for New Years. With 2 kids and no real babysitter, it's nearly impossible to party. So, fine...we played poker with friends. And Martin drank some beer. Hell, he drank more than SOME beer. Seeing as how I was the "designated driver" and couldn't drink, I figured what harm could come from letting him get completely trashed on New Years?
*Sigh*
Now, we live like literally a 2 minute drive from our friend's place. So, we leave their house, walk the 14 steps to our car, to get ready for the NANOSECOND drive home, and I hear Arianna say "DAAAAAD!!"
I turn around, and he's peeing. PEEING. In our friend's driveway. FACING the street. Oh, Sweet Jesus. Kill me now.
What the hell?? He can't use the restroom in the house WE JUST LEFT?? He can't hold it 'til we get home in 2.5 seconds??? No....it's just easier to pee in the driveway.
Yeah, he's getting locked up in a room somewhere.
2. Look into why I insist on having a cat. - Our cat has worms. HOW does this happen?? No, really? He's an indoor cat. He doesn't have fleas. He sees no mice. He does not intermingle w/ other animal species. Yet, still he manages to get worms.
Now...there are 3 living species that truly gross me out. Spiders, ticks, and intestinal worms. *shudder* And I'm the only one that changes the litter box. This is a problem.
3. Limit the amount of TV my daughter watches. - Now, I understand the importance of the anti-drug commercials on stations such as Nick or Disney. However, after one of them airs, and your 5 year old daughter turns to look at you, and solemnly says "So, what exactly IS a joint?", I contest that there actually IS a time when it's TOO EARLY to talk to your kids about drugs!!
4. Hire someone else to talk to my daughter about the "birds and the bees". - This may send me to an early grave. Seriously. I can't handle this topic, yet. Especially when my 5 year old is "inspecting" herself after a shower, and says "So, what exactly does this pink thing do?" OH MY SWEET LORD!! NOOOOOO!!!!
Do they have people that can talk to your kids about things like this?? Because, I can't.
Nope.
Can't do it.
However, a few things happened the last couple of days to make me start a mental list.
I thought I'd share:
1. Keep Husband Locked In House. - So, we went to our friend's house for New Years. With 2 kids and no real babysitter, it's nearly impossible to party. So, fine...we played poker with friends. And Martin drank some beer. Hell, he drank more than SOME beer. Seeing as how I was the "designated driver" and couldn't drink, I figured what harm could come from letting him get completely trashed on New Years?
*Sigh*
Now, we live like literally a 2 minute drive from our friend's place. So, we leave their house, walk the 14 steps to our car, to get ready for the NANOSECOND drive home, and I hear Arianna say "DAAAAAD!!"
I turn around, and he's peeing. PEEING. In our friend's driveway. FACING the street. Oh, Sweet Jesus. Kill me now.
What the hell?? He can't use the restroom in the house WE JUST LEFT?? He can't hold it 'til we get home in 2.5 seconds??? No....it's just easier to pee in the driveway.
Yeah, he's getting locked up in a room somewhere.
2. Look into why I insist on having a cat. - Our cat has worms. HOW does this happen?? No, really? He's an indoor cat. He doesn't have fleas. He sees no mice. He does not intermingle w/ other animal species. Yet, still he manages to get worms.
Now...there are 3 living species that truly gross me out. Spiders, ticks, and intestinal worms. *shudder* And I'm the only one that changes the litter box. This is a problem.
3. Limit the amount of TV my daughter watches. - Now, I understand the importance of the anti-drug commercials on stations such as Nick or Disney. However, after one of them airs, and your 5 year old daughter turns to look at you, and solemnly says "So, what exactly IS a joint?", I contest that there actually IS a time when it's TOO EARLY to talk to your kids about drugs!!
4. Hire someone else to talk to my daughter about the "birds and the bees". - This may send me to an early grave. Seriously. I can't handle this topic, yet. Especially when my 5 year old is "inspecting" herself after a shower, and says "So, what exactly does this pink thing do?" OH MY SWEET LORD!! NOOOOOO!!!!
Do they have people that can talk to your kids about things like this?? Because, I can't.
Nope.
Can't do it.
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