Monday, April 30, 2012
We were all kind of expecting this. She had been dragging ass in Waterville for the last few days.
She would swim to the top of the tank and let herself free-fall to the bottom where she sat on the sand and then rolled onto her side. Every time she'd be still for too long, Jennifer Lopez would sort of jump-start Beyoncé with a little nibble of her tail fin. Apparently the thought of being eaten alive sent her to the top of the tank like a rocket. Then, of course, she'd do that free-fall thing and start the whole weird little Danse Macabre all over again.
This morning, however, she was laying lifeless at the bottom of the tank, her dancing days, over.
*marks Clipboard of Death*
Sunday, April 29, 2012
So this week I finally did it. I put a note on her car. It irked me enough, that I finally said, "You know what? I need to let this woman know that she's inconveniencing everyone with her inconsiderate parking job."
So I left this under the windshield wiper:
This is not now and never will be a parking space. The yellow lines crossing the cement do not signify reserved parking for grannies with sweet rides. Your car blocks half the entrance, making it very difficult for cars to pull in and out without hitting your over-sized luxury SUV and we really wish you'd find another place to park it.
Pretty Much Everyone
Not my most christian moment, but hey, I didn't threaten her dog's life. If she parks there next week, I just might.
Friday, April 27, 2012
For years, I suffered with frizzy, split ends, lackluster style and credit card debt. Marriage and motherhood had robbed me of my youthful perkiness in more ways than one. Indeed, I was a sad sack. *weeps* (I promised myself I wouldn't cry, darn it.)
Just when my hair and my life seemed beyond all hope, I received an opportunity to try the Dove Shine Therapy shampoo and conditioner. I'll admit I was skeptical...but desperate, so I gave it a try.
I was astonished to discover I had gone from "Eleanor Rigby" to "Mustang Sally" after one shampooing. Dove worked wonders!
Not only did it give me the shine it had promised, but it also tamed my unruly mane and gave me back my life. Its effects were immediate. My smile became broader, my teeth became whiter, my youthful perkiness returned (saving me thousands of dollars in costly surgical procedures) and my children no longer refer to me as "the disheveled one".
Best of all, because it's so affordable, buying Dove will finally put the kibosh on my credit card debt once and for all.
I was so impressed with my own results that I decided to use the Dove Shine Therapy on my husband and children as well. Hubby is now radiant, manageable and more attentive to my needs. My kids' sheer brilliance and impeccable manners have sent my friends into fits of jealousy. After I tried it on the dog, my husband took one look and said, "Honey, I can SEE myself!"
At last, I am the envy of all my peers!
Disclaimer: **Results not typical.
Edited to add: After purchasing a bottle of the shampoo, I have continued to reap the benefits of the Shine Therapy serum. Vegetable garden is flourishing, 15 pounds of unwanted "junk in my trunk" have disappeared quite mysteriously and my complexion is now flawless. Why, just yesterday, I stopped traffic. Behold the power!
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
I hate to be the one to tell you, but you do. Like, really bad. It's not body odor, it's your perfume. It's just. Too. Much.
Look, I understand that perfume can be fun to wear. I also understand that many people like to smell a certain way. Some people even create their own scents by layering fragrances. However, when you're going to a meeting place where there will be lots of people sitting in close proximity, you do NOT need to hose yourself down with a cocktail of Jean Nate, Enjoli and Skin So Soft five minutes before you walk in. You really really don't, and I think I speak for everyone when I say QUIT IT!
Maybe you didn't know that your nose becomes immune to scents it's exposed to on a regular basis. It's called olfactory fatigue. Basically, it means that the more we smell something, the less we notice it. That's why farms don't smell bad to farmers. They're used to the smell, and their mind and senses sort of block it out, put it into the background, allowing them to smell other things. That's why some cat owners don't smell the litter box that hasn't been changed since the beginning of the century. That's also why you think your fragrance has "worn off" after only a short time. Just because you can't smell it anymore doesn't mean everyone around you can't. More isn't better. There is no need to asphyxiate the rest of us because you forgot what you smell like.
Think about this. Do you turn the car radio up to impress your fellow drivers with your music selections? Because we're not impressed. We're just annoyed. Your idea of musical brilliance is usually much different than your neighbor's idea. Sure, maybe we wanted to hear your mash-up of Weekend In New England and SuperBass at decibels that make the ground shake...but probably not.
Perfume preference is the same. Most people don't appreciate being nasally assaulted by the extremely pungent "signature fragrances" of others. What smells like a spring day after the rain to you may smell like Deep Woods Off to someone else. And until they put the words "Eau De Toilette" on the label, bug spray will not be cologne. Please, go easy on it.
Peace out, Stinky.
What smells can you simply not handle?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
My Clipboard of Death is a mess of crossed-out names and RIPs.
Sugar Daddy brought home some new citizens of Waterville recently and something must have been wrong with the batch of Neon Tetras he got because they're dropping like flies. Er...fish. Um...sinking like the Edmund Fitz...Well, anyway, they're dying.
If you're just joining our Fishy Death Watch, let me break it down for you.
We now have:
Larry, Darryl and Darryl
Debbie Gibson (not Deborah!)
The five remaining Bradys (Jan, Marcia, Greg, Bobby and Peter)
Thurston and Lovey (The Howells)
Bristol Palin II
Vicki (formerly known as Sid Vicious)
Cindy Brady was the most recent of the ranks to pass, joining Mike, Carol and fellow Tetra, Alice. She began her trip through the Porcelain Portal on Friday with Kitty Carry-All and red hair ribbons. She was then plunged and flushed again without all that crap. ;)
(What do you name YOUR pets?)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
You know the cargo pants that you can roll up to turn into capri pants? The ones with the button on the outside of the pants leg? Yes, those! Does anyone really use those side buttons or do they just end up getting caught on stuff like the ones on the back pockets? I swear those were made by someone who hated upholstery and said, "Hey, let's put a bunch of superfluous buttons on those pants and ruin couches the world over!"
Why do I have 12 eyeliner pencils? Not kidding. Twelve eyeliner pencils. I have no idea why. I mean, I still only have two eyes. Maybe my subconscious shopping mind knows something no one else knows, like makeup manufacturers will no longer make this stuff so I feel compelled to pick up a new pencil every time I see a makeup aisle. How many am I allowed to have before it's considered hoarding?
I found unmailed thank you notes from my daughter's 9th birthday in the desk drawer. She'll be 11 in June. Should I still send them? If you'd still like your thank you note, leave a comment below.
I have about 13 contest codes from Mountain Dew boxes. I figure I can't be a winner unless I sit here and enter them all. Like a loser.
Very few things bring my children so much joy as watching Carrie Ingalls' faceplant during the opening credits of Little House on the Prairie. I don't know how I taught them that other people's pain is funny, but...well, it kind of is.
Stay tuned! Up next: The Death of Cindy Brady.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Thinking on it now, this could very easily turn into something bigger than an oddly-placed floral arrangement. The simplest of our silly happenings have turned into jokes that spanned generations. We have the traditional throwing of the rolls that began one Thanksgiving when my Grandfather asked his grown children to "toss" him a roll and they promptly pelted him with baked goods from up and down the table. There was also the holiday dinner when my aunt announced that she had forgotten the damn salad, thereby making "Damn Salad" a staple in our holiday meal banter, even if it wasn't to be a part of the menu.
He's got to have seen it by now. I wonder what his reaction was. Let's find out.
Me: Where's mum?
Dad: Dead phone. She'll call you.
Me: Not MOM. Mum. Like the flower.
Dad: They have been put away. Thanks a BUNCH. lol.
Me: Mums on the toilet. *giggle*
Dad: That would be "mums on the pot".
Me: Mums not on the pot anymore.
*snicker* Mums on the pot.
I'm going to start using these phrases to respond to small talk.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
|Oh, holy hell!|
"I can't do my homework."
The WTF Backpack. So realistic, it'll scare the absolute piss out of you.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
I suppose my anxiety could be attributed to my hearing loss. I often miss things said in a group and become uncomfortable, so as a preemptive strike I may dominate the conversation in a roomful of people I don't know. It's like Open Mic Night without the funny.
When a room is full of people you don't know, it can alternate between seeming big enough to get lost in or small enough to choke you to death. I get twitchy when those strangers poke at my protective bubble with their mumbling small talk.
This is not to say that I'm completely unsociable. I'm not. I am happy to share my personal space with you and chew the fat, shoot the shit and guffaw and holler at your jokes...until you wear out your welcome and I grow anxious for you to leave. You can usually tell when that time comes. I get "the poopy face". It's a sort of vacant, half-smiling, "I'm not really listening to you because I'm severely constipated" expression and it looks a little like this:
I like my bubble, but there is room for more than just me in here. So you may stay until I start making that face.
Do you get nervous in social situations?
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
I asked this question on a social networking forum and got a variety of responses including this one:
And this one:
"Vulva is just a gross word." (Vulva is not a gross word. "MOIST" is a gross word.)
And also this one: "It all means the same thing."
Do you need another diagram? Okay, here:
So if you choose to shave your vulva, that's cool. Get creative. Have fun with it. However, if you choose to shave your vagina, it's not going to end well. Don't use the good towels.
Now, I know there will be someone who will get all worked up about this. Calm down. You can teach your kids whatever you want. Don't sweat it because some stranger on the internet told you that it's the wrong word. You're not breaking any law of child rearing. No member of the Vulva Brigade will show up and ticket you for referring to your lady bits as your bajingo and hand you some reading material about the inaccurately named Vagina Monologues. I'm not going to take away your euphemisms. Hell, euphemisms are fun! Tell them it's a Harvey Wallbanger or a FlufferNutter if you like.
I'm just saying that technically, it's incorrect.
The vulva is the correct term for the outside parts as a collective whole.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
I normally don't get embarrassed about buying the more personal items. I buy maxi-pads and toilet paper all the time and I'll bet a million dollars that the ladies behind the cash registers have used both at least once. (I can't speak for the gentlemen.)
It's easy when these products are put on the conveyor belt with a few friends to keep them company. I tend to have about a dozen other things on the belt that help draw the attention away from the economy sized package of birth control. "Let's see, I need eggs...milk...flour...new socks...(this giant box of rubbers)...and Pez! Yep, that's all for today."
It works for me. The box doesn't call attention to itself and practically sing to the rest of the store, "Guess who's getting lucky tonight?!"
When you show up with Trojans, K-Y, and a big bottle of Jose Cuervo, at the checkout, everyone KNOWS what you're doing with your Friday night. Of course, when you make this purchase at the express lane, the question that begs to be asked is "Will you be able to wait until you get to the car?"
The Barely Legal To Drink kid standing next to me with his OWN prophylactic/alcohol power duo in hand, caught my eye for an instant before he resumed his intense study of the floor tiles. I wish I could say I was cool enough to at least wink at him and tell him to have a great night.
Alas, I was not. I merely turned six shades of red as I made my purchase, remembering my frequent shopper card and a "$5 off a $25 purchase" coupon. (Score!)
That's dead sexy.
This post originally appeared two years ago today, but it's one of my favorites. Happy Anniversary, Jose and the Prophylactics.
Friday, April 13, 2012
They're full of lockers...and people.
Naked people...wet...naked people.
Have you ever met someone whose nudity didn't make them the least bit uncomfortable...but it made you VERY uncomfortable? It's not their nudity that gives you the heebies; it's what they DO while they're naked that does.
(I can already tell I'm going in a different direction than what you're thinking.)
Some people treat the locker room like it's their own private bathroom. It's not! Trust me!
I know you're used to letting yourself air dry and you like to put your make-up on before your underwear, but that's at home. In the locker room, we do things a little more discreetly. There's a more appropriate way to do your business. It's the Get In and Get Out system and it applies to everyone. Stick to the system!
If you're proud of your body and comfortable in your skin, then by all means, you should let it all hang out, in the proper setting, of course. I'd suggest someplace like a strip club or a centerfold spread or your kitchen.
Whether you have to rinse the chlorine out of your hair or get the Stank out, you go ahead and take that shower, ma'am. You've earned it. Nobody's stopping you. But when you're finished, please don't spend any more time naked than you have to. For the sake of your more self-conscious peers, please put your fracking clothes on! Nobody wants to hear about the mystery rash that showed up out of nowhere, we can't identify it and frankly it's really creeping us out. Get a cream.
I support the fact that you want to do a thorough job of drying off before you put on your jeans and head home, and I could handle the occasional streak, but the Mister Krabs impression...well...
It's a bit much.
Don't you think?
(NOTE: This post originally appeared on the blog in August of 2011. Look at it as a refresher in case you had an inkling to spend any extra time on your private areas at the gym. Kthxbai.)
Thursday, April 12, 2012
|Not exactly Mr. Pointy, but I'm sure Buffy could slay a few vamps with these.|
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
|Found ya, sweetcheeks.|
Monday, April 9, 2012
Not many people choose cannibalism as a kitchen theme.
It wasn't always this way. When we first moved into this house, "apples" was my theme. That's it. Just "apples". Plain, boring, non-threatening...apples. But they were everywhere! I had apples at the end of the ceiling fan pull chains, I had apple clocks and salt shakers and numerous cookie jars (on an apple-lined shelf). I even painted them on the cabinets. (Side note: Metal Cabinets are an abomination and should not exist ever, as they are horrifically evil, but that's a post for another day.)
The kitchen was so ridiculously covered that I eventually developed an aversion to the fruit. I was sick to death of those frigging apples, but I kept that theme for YEARS.
|The apple theme was going full-throttle |
before any of these people inhabited my uterus.
Eventually, I redid the kitchen and something inside me said, "For the love of all that is holy, get rid of the godforsaken apples! Every kitchen doesn't need a theme!"
However, in my desire to go theme-less, I inadvertently chose one anyway: cannibalism.
|My utensil crock of fabulousness.|
|My soylent sign.|
Yeah, I guess "Soylent Green" accurately describes my theme.
But, wait! I have this great spoon-rest, too:
|"Would you like more mutton, Clarice?"|
What did YOU choose?
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Alternate title: NO means "NO" - A Lesson In Self-Control
Yes. In my fevered frenzy of seasoning, the smallest particles of (really) crushed red pepper caught the wind of the ceiling fan and...I peppered myself.
"NO" means "NO". I get that now.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Hand-Painted Stoneware Brightens Your Table! A Brylane Home Kitchen® exclusive! Sunny striped 16-Pc. Dinnerware Set features salad and dessert plates centered by tangy colors-green, blue, red or yellow - so each place setting is unique! Includes 4 each: 10¼'' dinner plate, 7¼...
BUY THESE DISHES!
Pros: Easy To Clean, Awesome, Unique, Durable, Attractive Design, Nice Weight
Cons: Unfit for zombie warfare
Best Uses: Informal Meals, Decorative
Describe Yourself: Stylish
I bought two sets of these dishes last year and I'm still in love with them. They have not chipped, scratched or broken at all. The colors are fantastic. If I somehow managed to smash half the set, I would buy another in a heartbeat. They're just that cool.
Additionally, in the boxes of the two sets I bought, one mug was missing a handle. It had been broken during shipment, I believe, or perhaps during packaging. I contacted Brylane Home about this and they sent me a replacement mug that very week. (The broken mug made an excellent pencil cup, so I kept it.) I commend the customer service on their resolution of this problem. What an awesome company!
Friday, April 6, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Some Other Stuff I Wrote
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For those of you who are teaching your kids the generic "girls have a vagina" lesson, you ARE teaching them that the proper term...
I like picnics. Sure, I mean, who doesn't? I can hear you now, my Ninja Babies: "I love picnics!" "Ooh, picnics? I...
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"...Hallelujah! Holy Shit! Where's the Tylenol?!" Clark W. Grizwold I want...
When we become parents, we simultaneously become amateur photographers. We purchase new cameras and snap pictures left and right, for never...
Kitchens. They are the most common room (apart from nurseries) to have some sort of theme. Some have rooster themes, some have Italian or...
And so it begins. Two weeks ago I told you we were getting fish . This week three teeny, tiny, little non-fish called Zebra Danios were ad...