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
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