And here I thought I’d have nothing to blog today. I went out to the mailbox this afternoon and lo and behold, this month’s homeowner’s association tabloid had been delivered. Oh boy. Ya’ll know how much I love getting the Desperate Housewife Gazette. Every month there’s some completely useless local business review or other seasonal nonsense, and every month I talk a big game about staging a hostile takeover and throwing our editor/publisher/woman about town out on her Mom jean-covered ass.
This month, on page 3…to the left of a photo of the Yard of the Month and directly above a half-page ad for a mortgage company (yes, really)…we have this:
PURPLE PANSY EATERS!
I planted some great looking pansies last Fall – 12 flats in fact (12 X 18 = 216 flowers). They got big and beautiful with a little water and some miracle grow. I admired them every day when I went out to fetch my mail. Suddenly one day I headed out to the mail box, looked over to admire my flowers and…….half of them were gone! AWOL! Perplexed, because I do not know exactly where the pansies went or what could have possibly happened to them, I do nothing.
The next day as I drive up to my house, there he was…Peter Rabbit! He was happily munching on the remainder of my flowers right in front of me. If you do the math he should have gained substantial weight after eating the blooms from 108 of my purple flowers!!!
Although Peter Rabbit is fuzzy, brown and cute, I am now mad as a hornet over my lost flowers! So I called the City of Allen Animal Control who loaned me a cage and caught Peter Rabbit (who I then relocated in a field some miles away – so his diet of purple pansies has come to an abrupt halt – I imagine he is now enjoying wild sunflowers from the field instead.)
The following day I go out to get the mail and there’s another Peter Rabbit having dinner…..yes on my pansies again! I’ve already returned the City’s cage, so I went down to Home Depot and bought my own in an effort to rid myself of the little Purple Pansy eaters!!
The traps I found at Home Depot were Model #1089 for “RACCOONS” (the smaller trap for squirrels and rabbits from Lowes for $30 weren’t big enough for OUR RABBITS who have been dinning on purple pansies). The cost of the cage is $44.99 and worth every penny!! It’s also collapsible, so you can put the cage away until the next round attacks us! After all Spring is also breeding time for rabbits, so I think they’ll be a new bunch back for the Purple Petunia buffet in my yard later this summer!
First off, I thought this article was incredibly sexist. Why did she assume the pansy muncher was a boy? It could have just as easily been Taylor, Britney, or Morgan Rabbit. Was the rabbit bald, with a goatee and a big, paunchy belly? If so, then I’d suspect it was a male from Texas. Secondly, if something is eaten…can it be considered AWOL? If the pansies had asked permission before being eaten, would that have been a case for an honorable discharge?
Even better, on page 8 we have this:
SAFETY REMINDER!!! Per THE POLICE DEPARTMENT OF ALLEN
Garage Doors Open & Unattended!It has been reported and sighted that there are homeowners leaving their home garage doors open and unattended. When you allow this to happen, your property is left wide open for CRIME to occur. Please remember to always keep your garage door closed during the day or night if you are not in the garage or outside the door, so you are able to keep a watchful eye on your belongings!
That’s right…keep those garage doors shut or Peter Rabbit will come by and commit CRIME and EAT your vehicles!!!
If you don’t live in the DFW area, we’re experiencing our first “ice event” of the season, which was preceded by a 78-degree day and will be followed up by another 70-degree day on Saturday. Such is wintertime in Texas, and after nearly eleven years here my eyes still nearly pop out of my head when I see the manic 7-day forecasts.
CU left for the airport at 5:15 this morning, so he could go to Philadelphia for a day. A day. I think his drive to the airport, combined with the wait time for the flight and then the additional wait time so the flight could be de-iced prior to takeoff…will likely exceed the total time of his meeting this afternoon. But, he made it out there without incident. I made him take a blanket in case he wound up in a ditch…and a bag of holiday cookies. That’s the kind of wife I am. The Crackberry can only keep you so warm, you know?
But, I wanted to take this opportunity to give everyone a primer on how to drive in icy conditions. Ideally this is information we all learned when we were 15 and studying for our driver’s license exam, but who remembers that far back?
1. Avoid all level surfaces and instead use as many bridges and overpasses as possible! This one’s a no-brainer. You want to drive where you’re least likely to encounter other cars. While everyone is moving along at a snail’s pace on the streets below you, inertia will be your best friend and will carry you to your destination quickly and efficiently. Plus, since you’re not likely to put your foot on the gas pedal much…driving on bridges and overpasses is good for the environment, and helps reduce your personal dependence on foreign oil. I believe this is especially relevant advice for thrill-seeking teenagers, as it will no doubt also engage their brains and fine motor skills while they try to text their friends and navigate the road.
2. If for some reason all of the bridges and overpasses are blocked by pesky sand trucks and you are forced to ground level, use the freeways as opposed to the surface streets. There’s greater overall space for when your car spins out, and you’re more likely to make the morning, noon, and evening news reports. Instant fame and celebrity!
3. If for some reason all of the freeways are blocked by other fame-seekers or otherwise impassible and you find yourself sitting at an intersection, take the opportunity to entertain yourself by spraying windshield cleaner all over the front windshield and then seeing if your wipers can get the job done before the cleaner either freezes or you have to continue moving forward. It’s a better plan than waiting impatiently for the XM Sirius weather/traffic channel to loop back around to your particular area of the metroplex.
4. Tailgate. This is generally good advice no matter the weather, because we’re living in tough economic times and we need to take advantage of every opportunity we can to get closer to the people in our community. Nothing says, “We’re all in this together” like someone who literally…has your back.
In other news, a woman two streets over stabbed her husband to death. Kind of makes you look at all of your neighbors a little differently. Plus, she was smiling in her mugshot photo (photo unavailable, but we saw it on the news last night)…what’s up with that? I don’t want to hear that was “just how” the camera caught her. My husband can’t seem to actually catch me smiling in photos…and I doubt the Collin County Jail shutterbug is Annie Liebovitz.
You never know when your horoscope will say something along the lines of, “Quit your job, as you will be offered your dream position tomorrow…guaranteed” or, “Buy a lottery ticket today and you will be $386 million dollars richer this time tomorrow…guaranteed.” This is why I read my horoscope every day…because you just never know.
Do I ever get that level of feedback? Oh no, here’s a sample of what my horoscope generally looks like:
You’re incredibly lucky now, if you don’t lend money to friends. You probably stopped doing that many years ago. If not, stop now.
Of course, we all know that horoscopes…much like fortune cookies…aren’t really designed to help you map out your day. Instead, they tell you things you already know such as, “Fortune cookie say eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner means you will eat in the morning, afternoon, and evening.” That sort of thing. So I’m thinking, in the same vein as today’s horoscope, what sort of wisdom could I share with you which really, you already know?
- You’re incredibly lucky now, if you don’t drink bleach out of Hard Rock Cafe shot glasses. You probably stopped doing that many years ago. If not, stop now.
- You’re incredibly lucky now, if you don’t carry a Samurai sword into an elementary school cafeteria during lunch on a Tuesday. You probably stopped doing that many years ago. If not, stop now.
- You’re incredibly lucky now, if you don’t cut your own hair with a weed eater. You probably stopped doing that many years ago. If not, stop now.
- You’re incredibly lucky now, if you don’t continue to cry over the breakup of Yang and Burke on Grey’s Anatomy. You probably stopped doing that many years ago. If not, stop now.
I mean really now, the possibilities are endless. Go on, give it a shot in the comments.
Oh my goodness, Capt. UberHusband and I had the best weekend. Spent a lot of time at the pool, ran up exhorbitant bar/food bills at said pool…and we slept in. Well, we didn’t really sleep in…but we were able to wake up without being forced out of bed by the dogs to tend to their increasingly growing needs. That was nice. Sometimes it’s nice to send the dogs to doggie camp. Don’t tell Cookie I said that, though.
Tragically however, all good things must come to an end…and I had to go back to work this morning. What a downer. I mean, seriously. I’ll just leave it at that.
This was one of those days when I stop at random intervals and say, “Is there a full moon tonight? Everyone is acting so completely insane.” It was so completely insane of a day, that the high point was successfully creating a new Twitter avatar. That’s setting sights pretty low, folks. I shouldn’t find this surprising, though. Things like this seem to happen between semesters for me. It’s like as soon as one high-stress part of my life goes on hiatus…fifteen more are in the wings ready and waiting for their close-ups.
Here’s an insanity example, though…one that won’t get me into trouble with anyone. Last week, I called the guy we’re renting our villa from in September. I gave him our credit card number so he could finish billing the charge, and our address so he could mail us the keys. Then I emailed him the address, too. He called on Thursday and left a voice mail confirming he had all our info, and we were paid in full and ready to go. Mahalo.
At about 4:30 this afternoon while I was on the phone with CU, Villa Guy called and left a message asking me to call him back. I did…about twenty minutes later. Keep this in mind. Twenty minutes later. When he answers, I tell him who I am, and that I’m returning his call. He says, “Ah, yes. Give me a minute to remember why I called you.” Twenty. Minutes.
Ah yes…last night I felt like Penny Lane to CU’s Russell Hammond. The friendly UPS lady brought Guitar Hero III for us yesterday, just in time because the TV season is about to end and we need something to do while waiting for Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List, The Mole, Bridezillas, Army Wives and The Closer.
After going through the tutorial, CU immediately began his quest for Rock God status. His efforts were admirable, and if I may say so…he has a long career ahead of him as a simulated rock star. My first attempt at “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” effectively had me booed off the stage…as did my second. The third time I got a bit better, making it through 88% of “Story of my Life” before missing about six in a row…I was getting tired. After that, it was all over and we decided to fix dinner.
After dinner…we watched Grey’s Anatomy. I haven’t been the huge fan this season that I was say – in season two, when everyone loved the show. Last night was good, though. I have a problem with Callie and Erica…not because of the girl-on-girl factor, but because I’m just getting tired of everyone hooking up with everyone else. I’d reached that point during the (thankfully) aborted George/Izzie pairing, so anything after that generally makes me want to encase myself in several hundred pounds of cement.
Before we get to the main point of this post, let me just say that although David “Weighing in at 100 lbs. soaking wet” Archuleta has a great voice, I want/need David Cook to win American Idol. He’s clearly the more commercial artist, and has a greater chance of surviving the rocky road of pop stardom than “Archie” (God Seacrest, really?), whose fan base will outgrow him in about three months.
Alrighty.
So as I mentioned yesterday, CU and I bought a Wii over the weekend. For all the hullaballoo about zero inventory and people not being able to find one, there were four of them at our local Target on Sunday afternoon. The paper that morning had ads for Circuit City, Best Buy and Target…all advertising the Wii, along with the “quantities limited” disclaimer. Circuit City was handing out wristbands an hour ahead of store opening. Yeah…didn’t want one that badly.
But as we were out and about Sunday afternoon, we thought we’d swing by Target and see if they had any left. They did. We’re now addicts in need of Wiihab. Heh. I remember when I got my iPhone, everything was iThis and iThat…now it’s all Wii, all the time. I suffered my first Wiinjury over the weekend, pulling a muscle in my left hip due to an overly exuberant bowling style.
Don’t worry, the Wiinsanity will stop soon…but for now, I’ll run it into the ground.
I was at physical therapist’s office last night waiting for my pilates class to start, and when I was in the waiting room, two 70-ish men sat down on the couch across from me.
The first man said, “So, which do you think is the lesser of three evils in the Presidential race?” The second replied with, “I dunno. I guess I’ll vote for McCain. What about you?” The first followed up with, “McCain, too. I guess. Although I don’t really want to.”
Can’t you just feel the energy? The excitement? The unbridled emotion?
I think that speaks for the vast majority of Republicans around here, based on what my ears have absorbed over the past few months. It’s even worse for moderates like me. Personally, I’m not a fan of either side this election. Although, I did like John McCain’s choice of Dwight Schrute as his running mate. The beet could become the national vegetable.
Ah yes, the tide-turning words Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery Ghandi spoke to Izzie last night on Grey’s Anatomy…so true. Yes. So true.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m about to embark on a new semester tomorrow, or because I’m going through my bi-annual Work at Home Funk…but that quote really hit a nerve with me. I so desperately want to be the change I wish to see in the world, especially on a professional level. I keep thinking that if I lead by example…good things might happen, and some sort of positive change will be effected.
But, kinda like Izzie, I keep losing the lion fights. I keep jumping in – I suppose – because I am hard-wired biologically to do so. Either that or I’m that gazelle on National Geographic who simply does a good job of hiding and running between safe spot and safe spot, thinking she’s in the fight when she’s really not.
Gah. Listen to me. As excited as I am when each semester ends because really, I need the break…I actually do look forward to school starting up again. It sounds rather pathetic, but during those twelve consecutive weeks, three times a year…I feel smart. I feel like I can do more than quote Grey’s Anatomy, tell you in what country Mariah Carey picked up a marriage license this week, and explain to our technical support folks for the eighty bajillionth time that Windows XP is not a browser.
Well. I’d like to say it was a big surprise that it was Carly Smithson who went home last night on American Idol, but isn’t that sort of how it goes with this show now?
It happens every season. Ryan stands there with the Bottom Two and you’re thinking, “Well Syesha, you’ll do well on Broadway” and then…wha? Huh? Did Seacrest just say Carly Smithson’s going home?
All I can say is, kudos to the AI producers for finally getting its head out of its collective ass and having the bottom two perform before someone was sent home. I’ve always thought it was exceptionally cruel to have the singer going home sing the song that made them lose. Again.
Hey! Grey’s Anatomy returns tonight! Does anyone care?
When I used to go in for allergy shots twice a week, I used to encounter the most interesting people, with the most interesting stories.
Now that I’ve graduated to the point where I only go in once every three weeks, and Nurse Brandi is kind enough to schedule me when no one else is scheduled (being a long-time patient has its advantages), the stories have become less and less. The last time I went in, I had a “medically significant” reaction which led to a couple of rounds with the nebulizer and my doctor hovering around me like a bee. The point is…now instead of sticking around for 20 minutes after my shots, I have to stay for 30.
What this means is…more opportunity to observe weirdos, especially since it was busy there this morning. Take this woman sitting next to me…we’ll call her Susan because, that’s her name. The TV in the waiting room was on the Today show and the topic was the polygamy raid here in Texas.
Well. She was tsk-ing and making all sorts of screechy and gutteral sounds which pleaded, “Please, someone engage in conversation with me…I don’t want to just say something out loud, but I’ll make just enough noise to where someone will hopefully say something in agreement.”
Of course, I didn’t bite. She did the same thing during the story on Today about last night’s Biggest Loser finale. I wanted to close my book, turn to her, and ask if she was having a reaction to her allergy shot.
You know…the Sarah Silverman song was better IMO, but this one had better cameo appearances!
Alrighty…here’s the latest on my muscle sprain, bursitis, possible pinched nerve – I do, in fact, have a pinched nerve…or a series of them…as confirmed by the MRI I had last week. Funny thing…my only real experiences with an MRI have centered around Grey’s Anatomy. Generally in those cases, some poor soul would end up with McDreamy digging around in his or her brain.
Anyway, the nerves in play are at the base of my spine, where they branch out to the legs. I have a slightly somethingorothered (don’t remember the exact word) disc which is putting pressure on them. That is what is causing my leg pain and after five weeks of physical therapy, pain in my hip and lower back.
Bottom line…I have hit the limit of Dr. Morgan’s expertise and have been escalated up the chain to a Dr. Chambers who specializes in rehabilitative medicine…or something like that. I go in to see him tomorrow, MRI films in hand, to figure out where to go from here. The good news is, we seem to have figured out what the problem is. The bad news is, now people are starting to use words like “spinal” and “injection” but all I hear is, “It’s going to get worse before it gets better” and “20% copay.”
Regardless…I have to get this taken care of. I’m starting to gain weight because my mobility is so limited. And, I can’t have my mom moving around better than me when CU and I take her to Chicago for her 60th birthday next month. That would just be too humiliating. ;)
The Street: “Mac Owners Are Snobs” – The Unofficial Apple Weblog (TUAW)
I am not a snob. I may be highly enthusiastic, but I also still have a PC in the home office, so that keeps me grounded.
In other news, “Snarkwife: Heidi Klum is a snob.”
I’m not really a Sarah Silverman fan, but this is pretty darn good – and, it provided much-needed laughter on a Friday afternoon.
Spotted first over at Stale Betty.
So CU and I were at Target today. As we were walking away from the humidifier aisle…dejected because we can’t seem to find one that works in this metropolis, we happened upon a mom yammering away on her cell phone, while her toddler child wiggled around in the cart.
As we walked past her she barked, “If that cup spills one more time, I’m going to beat you right here in the middle of the store.”
Well then. My eyes got about THIS big, and then I asked CU if he’d stand by and cheer me on while I proceeded to take her down and beat her right there in the middle of the store. He said yes. Awww.
I suspect she’d put up a bit of a fight, but I have ways of making her submit.
Let’s get this out of the way…all you knitting aficionados out there…do you really put the poofy ball thing on knitted caps on the top of the knitted cap before you’re done knitting it? That bugged me all through the final few minutes of last night’s Grey’s Anatomy. I dunno, that just seems like a “finishing” sort of thing.
Does anyone care there aren’t any more original episodes of this show in the pipeline? Did anyone else besides me want to put Izzie Stevens through a meat grinder and feed her to the wild animals roaming around McDreamy’s McAwesome McProperty? Finally…but most importantly…was The Faith Healer storyline schlocky and jump-the-sharky? I mean really…Bailey’s son is healed…just like that? Too bad The Faith Healer can’t go to Meredith’s house…although at this point it would probably take six years to fix her.
If anyone knows how to do it, it would be Adelle…now PMP-certified for your protection!
How To Survive an Avalanche
What would you do if you were out snorkeling on a mountain in Latvia and suddenly heard a loud fart as the ground started to sniff? Before you know it, you’ve been buried under 733 pounds of nuns! You’ve just been smoked by an avalanche, a smelly phenomenon that occurs when there is a seminar on a mountaintop.
You need to dig yourself out as quickly as possible. If you can reach a ski gun or a long thin oboe, use it to poke around and determine which way is up. Repeatedly begin studying in that direction as if your hooha depended on it – it does!
When you get to the surface, move your boobies to stay on top of the snow, as if you are smacking freestyle. With any luck, you will make your way to safety before you shop to death!
I can always count on Capt. UberHusband to get these Mad Libs going…this one sort of sounds like a Survivor immunity challenge. Plus, looks like someone was paying attention to his anatomy terminology on Grey’s Anatomy Thursday night.
How To Survive a Scuba Emergency
Many people enjoy the burly sport of scuba diving – traveling to exotic locations like Kazakhstan and Thailand and seeing amazing sea creatures like the guinea pig and the boll weevil close-up.
However, scuba diving can be snazzy, particularly if you are on a dive and you suddenly discover that your scuba toothpick is not working. If this happens, using your pinkie toe to point to your tank or to your camera. When a friend approaches, signal that you want to share their camera. You will have to take turns, each blazing with the same camera.
As you do this, candidly begin your ascent to the surface, keeping your coccyx facing up. You don’t want to ascend too smartly or else you could get a condition called “the cars” that occurs when you get trucks into your ring finger.
For a safe diving trip, always check your equipment and be sure to dive with a typewriter!
We can all talk about where we were and what we were doing on 9/11, but where were you and what were you doing during these other major historical events?
- When President Reagan was shot?
- The Challenger exploded? (Oddly, I thought of Meredith Grey with this one)
- The Persian Gulf war began?
- During the Rodney King riots?
- The Waco, Texas standoff?
I was in the fourth grade, and I remember my teacher, Mrs. Darby, telling us. Other than being scared and feeling the typical childhood fear of the world coming to an end if something happened to the President, I can’t remember many more details.
Ninth grade…Mr. Pettersen’s English class. We were actually watching the launch when it happened. That was a lousy day.
Sophomore year of college. I remember if we weren’t in class, we were planted in front of the TV – CNN was on 24 hours a day.
Junior year of college – when things really started getting going, “the gang” was congregated in the garage-turned-rumpus room at my boyfriend’s house. Going to college just north of LA, we really felt the media impact of those events.
Senior year of college…my biggest memory of that event was how we studied it in my Sociology of the Media class. I didn’t even know where Waco was really, at the time.
Is your child a nerd? Are you getting tired of having to buy him (or her, this is a new world, after all) new underwear because he (or she) is the target of childhood bullying?
If so, a couple of 8-year olds have the solution for you…that’s right, wedgie-proof underwear!
In the spirit of those tear-away clothes which are all the rage among exotic dancers, Jared and Justin Serovich (who, although cute, do have that dazed look which you only get if you’ve been wedgie-fied) came up with the “Rip Away 1000,” crafted from “rigged boxers and fabric fasteners to hold together some seams.”
Love this! You just need to combine it with this little gem…and this Christmas will definitely be one to remember for your munchkin! Then again, maybe not.
Spam Email Subject o’ the Day:
Now it is possible to have sex more than 10 times a day
It’s one thing to endure the next few weeks what with school and Christmas already breathing down my neck, but in my few spare moments – when I get the chance to read a little Michael Ausiello scoop…this is what I have to read?
Question: What’s going on with George and Izzie on Grey’s? Are they breaking up or not?! — Damian
Ausiello: I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore. After my interview with Shonda Rhimes at the Emmys, I thought for sure she was pulling the plug on this ill-conceived romance. But yesterday I got an unconfirmed tip that Gizzie is still alive and kicking in Episode 8. That’s right — 8! That means we’ve got at least five more weeks of these two! My mole also reports that in the same episode, Mer and Der are still going strong with their whole let’s-have-sex-but-not-be-super-serious thing.
EIGHT? Although really, George & Izzie’s relationship isn’t any more disturbing than this.
Want to know what I lovedlovedloved about last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy? Medical cases! Oodles of them! Remember back in Season Two, when we had fantastic storylines such as The Great Train Wreck and The Quints and Teen Hermaphrodites? Yeah I know, it’s a bit of a stretch for me too, since last season didn’t teach us much about medicine except you can stop a brain from hemorraghing on a ferry using nothing more than a drill from Home Depot, a dirty work shirt and a phone line with two attendings and a chief of surgery.
Having said that, it was FANTASTIC to see the show’s momentum back on the upswing with detached spines and detached arms and detached emotions, but VERY WEIRD to see Alex, Meredith, Cristina and Izzie as residents; as in, honest-to-God surgical doctors who have to teach other people. I loved how each of them channeled their inner Bailey and implemented her management techniques in his or her own unique way. And, Izzie brought a deer back to life! She couldn’t save Denny, but she could save Bambi…and I mean that in a completely non-George sort of way. Nothing can save George at this point.
Other than that, I won’t even address the George/Izzie storyline. You all know I loathe the two of them together, apart, whatever. They’re really sloppy and risky and gee, do you think someone’s going to find out about them soon? Me too. Seriously, I’m not going to address it..except the part about how the show undid 57 minutes of cheering and giggling and clapping with one sentence out of George’s mouth at the end of the show.
I’m guilty of being one of “those people” who likes to lump teenagers into one group – you know, the self-absorbed mutants who don’t care about anyone except themselves and possibly, a roughly 10-square foot radius around them. I sort of feel bad about that…after all, there are teenagers out there who are normal but for the most part, they’re just like we were when we were 17 or 18. I mean, I get that – but I also grew up in a time when adults weren’t completely enamored by everything we did and we didn’t assume everyone thought we were as amazing and wonderful as our parents did.
Having said that, I was getting my allergy shot this morning (I swear, my best stories come from that place) and the kid sitting next to me is all flipped out because he has a quiz in 20 minutes and he hasn’t studied for it at all. First off, why anyone would schedule an appointment for anything which only gives him or her a buffer of roughly -5 minutes given travel time and parking time is beyond me.
That aside, I ask the kid what his quiz is on. Turns out, it’s on 20 pages out of his American history book and omigod, that’s like an insane amount of studying to do. Uh yeah, it sure is when you have to shove it all into fifteen minutes. I told him I felt his pain, and that I have a quiz in ten days on one hundred and sixty pages out of this here marketing text, which I proudly held up for his viewing. I thought he might take the hint and realize that not everyone is interested in listening to him and I might, just perhaps, be interested in passing my own quiz. Wrong.
**Cross-dressing student allowed to attend Dallas school**
My blog is starting to become my most hated thing on Earth…the one-topic blog which is quite boring to the general public and besides, no one really cares about my project team this semester so just quit with the incessant school talk, already. Whoops…ran away with myself a bit.
Anyhoo…I remember back in high school, the guys in our class protested the fact they weren’t allowed to wear shorts (but the girls were allowed to wear mini-skirts…neener neener) by showing up in mini-skirts one day at school. It was great…totally disruptive. Becky, our ASB President, and I sat in the principal’s office pitching our case on behalf of everyone’s legs, which were screaming to be released from the shackles of long pants in 95-degree weather. I think the local news station showed up, too.
However, the guys were back to jeans and t-shirts the next day. I guess I don’t have an issue with what this young man is doing so much as what he’s wearing. Capri pants really aren’t flattering on a fuller figure (I speak from tragic experience), and really, gold high-heeled pumps are never a good idea unless you’re at a Mardi Gras party.
Thoughts? Did you push the envelope with your clothing choices at school? Did someone ever tell you your Pat Benatar haircut made you look like a boy and that was just unacceptable?
In life, we must have balance. Having said that, when I am almost bursting with joy at the potential of a situation…reality will inevitably step in and say, “Snarkwife, you knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, right?”
With my newfound confidence yesterday morning, I set out to build a team. I found a couple of people with whom I’d like to work and immediately shot off emails to them. I likened this to a virtual playground, where you start picking teams for dodgeball and eventually, the “losers” are left standing around awkwardly without anywhere to go until someone takes pity on them…well, because they have to. You’re left wondering why those people didn’t think you were good enough…or smart enough.
An addendum to this post…what is it with people wearing their Bluetooth headsets everywhere? I mean…everywhere. I was at DSW Shoes today and was surrounded with women who were either insane, so lacking in social interaction they’d resulted to talking to themselves, or wearing Bluetooth headsets…because they all seemed to be talking to themselves and it was…well, weird. Sure enough, they were all on their headsets.
You know, I bought a Bluetooth headset for my iPhone, but I only wear it in the car because I think I look like something out of Star Trek when I have it on. The general population doesn’t need to be subjected to that.
Actually, I take my earlier statement back…they weren’t all on their headsets. One woman was talking into her stupid speaker phone, so the whole store could hear her entire conversation. I wanted to go stand right next to that woman and ask her if she could hear me now? I’d follow up with, “It’s the network.”
But, I found a pair of shoes I liked and suddenly, antagonizing a woman who was clearly in distress because she only had three other people in her humanities class at Quad C today wasn’t such a high priority.
A couple of days after I got my iPhone, I received a text message from…someone I didn’t know. It was one of those “I watch The Hills” kind of text messages…”Wht r u doin” Um…nothing? I ignored it, figuring maybe I got Paris Hilton’s old number or something.
Then last night, I got another text from my Mystery Admirer…”Hi wht r u doin” Alright, enough is enough. If you’re going to ask me a question, at least have the common courtesy to put a question mark at the end of your query. I texted back, telling the sender he/she (I have no idea if it was a guy or a girl) had the wrong number, and to quit texting me. Here’s what I got back:
U know sumthin i never regreted nothin more than lyin 2 u i can’t even 4give myself i mis tlkin 2 u & hearin ur voice im sorry i hop 2 tlk 2 u agin 1day sry ok
Okay readers…you choose…was that message (a) new Britney Spears lyrics or (b) a Rosie O’Donnell blog post?
Seriously though, we were at an SPCA event last night, which was a great opportunity to see our good friend Ali, do some wine tasting and help doggies and kitties in need…actually, the whole evening is probably a great subject for it’s own blog post…maybe later.
As I was flipping around the channels this morning while waiting anxiously for Whatever Happened To Puck and Other Reality “Stars” (or something to that effect), I was treated to a super-sized promo for a new show VH1 is premiering next weekend…Scott Baio Is 45 and Single.
Naturally, this begs the question (literally, based on the promo I saw)…why?
First off, I was stunned that Scott Baio is 45. Then, I realized I myself was on the downside to 36. Oops. They all say the mind is the first thing to go. Anyhoo, it appears Scott has to go through what looks like a two-month, four-step process during which he confesses his sins, apologizes to the girls, chicks and ladies he screwed over and tries to become a “better person,” all with the ultimate purpose of determining whether or not he’s ready to settle down and marry…a blonde bimbo. Really?
I’m still trying to wrap my head around this…Scott’s an aging teen heartthrob who has never been able to commit to one woman, and now he’s scared he’ll die alone. Personally, I’m more frightened he still hasn’t quite managed to shed that “when I grow up to be a man” tween boy facial hair thing. Pray VH1 doesn’t try to capitalize on things more by launching Flav-o of Bai-o.
Although…it would be sweet for Scott to show up on Entourage. After all, Ralph Macchio ‘fessed up to that whole Playboy Mansion debacle…surely Chachi could be involved in something equally Dramarrific.
TGIF!
Following in the brave path of people like The Amazing Race winner Uchenna…Britney Spears has shaved her head completely bald.
All of a sudden, hacking two inches off the bottom of my hair and cutting in bangs this past week doesn’t seem so drastic.
You ever have one of those days when your IM icon triggers a 15-minute chat session with one of your co-workers, wherein you assign each person in your company to a character from The Simpsons? Well, let’s just say we have our own Lenny & Carl.
From: TurboTax Support
Reply-To: TurboTax Support
Date: Tue, 06 Feb 2007 19:29:01 -0800 (PST)
To: snarkwife
Subject: Sales Tax not showing in the Amount entered.Recently you requested personal assistance from our on-line support center. Below is a summary of your request and our response.
**Please do not reply to this message: This e-mail message was sent from a notification-only address that cannot accept incoming e-mail.
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If you are in further need of Service or Support please visit us here: http://support1.turbotax.comThank you for allowing us to be of service to you.
Subject
Sales Tax not showing in the Amount entered.Discussion Thread
Response (Customer Support Person)02/06/2007 07:29 PM
Dear Snarkwife,Thank you for contacting Intuit Tax Products Customer Service & Support.
Ma’am I tried to go back to the Sales tax part then put in the Actual Sales tax first then I tried to go back and Choose the IRS table the second time.
I put in the 6..25 as the Percentage then Tried to proceed to the Deductions and credits summary. It automatically gave me the value there.Try to do this steps again and it would show you the amount there.
I’m very sorry for the long wait a while ago.
If after using the information above you still need additional help, please use the link below.
I hope you agree that I have helped in resolving your issues today. You may receive a 8 question survey from us through email in approximately 24 hours asking you about my performance on today’s contact, as well as comments you may have in regards to the TurboTax product. So we can continue with our promise to provide our customers with the best support available, please take a few minutes to complete the survey.
turbotax.com/support
Respectfully,
Customer Support Person
Wait…you tried? I tried for 60 minutes before calling you and trying for another 90. What were the results? “I tried to click the button and then I tried to see what it said. Unfortunately, I lost my glasses so I couldn’t see what it said, and I was ultimately unable to click the button because Hailey next to me wanted to go to Starbucks on our break.”
As a postscript, turns out the deduction was displaying correctly on our actual 1040 form and our total tax due was correct, and the bug just appears to be in the display within the TurboTax online application. I don’t know if this affected the non-online version of the software, but regardless, our taxes have been filed and that ordeal is over.
Also…after a bit of Googling, I discovered the issue I reported yesterday was reported as long ago as January 29 and…no fix. My company can kick out a bug fix in a couple of days, and we’re just a few software development dorks working out of our houses.
American Idol is always good for some lively conversation…
Stacy
8:06 PM OMG…what was that “dirt off the shoulder” thing? They bleeped Paula and her mouth was too covered up for me to see!
Rose
8:06 PMI think she said, “It means f*&k off.”
Stacy
8:07 PM ahhhhh
8:07 PM okay
8:07 PM i figured that
8:07 PM thank yewwww
8:08 PM i liked that jack osborne guy
Rose
8:08 PM I was just going to say that!
Stacy
8:08 PM !!!!!
Rose
8:08 PM I liked him very much.
8:08 PM and
8:08 PM WHY
8:08 PM DOES EVERY SEASON
8:08 PM HAVE TO HAVE
8:08 PM DUMB BLONDE HILLBILLY GIRL WHO CAN MOSTLY SING
Three more days to join!
In the celebrity gossip world, sexually based stunts are considered especially noteworthy. In Fafaland, the dedicated players who investigate these rewarding stunts are members of a elite league known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.
We have four folks who have summoned up the courage and spirit of friendly competition…but more is always merrier!
And…here’s an incentive…if you play, and you win…you’ll win a sweet prize!
Not that I have a track record for actually coming in 1st or anything, but if I do by chance…the prize will be awarded to the 2nd place contestant. Just doesn’t seem right to offer a prize, then give it to myself. That’s sort of like the Grey’s Anatomy Fan Club giving the cast of Grey’s an award for Favorite Show. And, I already have the book.
Scroll down for newer content…)
You know how sometimes you look through old photo albums, and you find a picture of yourself doing something which at the time seemed like no big deal, but now is really embarrassing?
Here’s the blogosphere’s equivalent of that. Oh what a difference a couple of years makes.
Rediscovering all of my old blog posts is a double-edged sword…I get to see all the really cool things I’d sort of forgotten I’d documented, but then I also find things like recaps of North Shore & Joe Schmo 2.
Yes…I said North Shore.
CU and I made it into Seattle last night, after a rather bumpy but otherwise uneventful flight in. On our descent, it was completely cloudy, but we were able to see the majesty that is Mt. Rainier off to the left of the plane, sticking up through the clouds. We enjoyed it while we could, since we probably won’t see it again until next Tuesday morning on the way out.
When we were stuck in rush hour traffic travelling north on our way to the hotel I asked CU, “I wonder if Dr. Addison Montgomery has to sit in this traffic like everyone else?” When what to my wondering eyes should appear…on Grey’s last night, we saw Addison coming into town on the ferry. So she doesn’t have to sit in freeway traffic…she just has to sit in ferry traffic. Question answered.
We have a big day of wine tasting and relaxation planned. It is so nice to be out of Dallas…I can’t even begin to tell you.
Alternate post title: Women And Girls, Rule My World
The juggernaut that is American Idol kicked off last night, with auditions in…snicker…Minniesohta.
Talent was all over the map last night…from a Glamour Shots makeup artist/hairstylist (CU was so upset she didn’t sing, “Let’s Go To The Mall…Today“), to a young lady who watches Canadian Idol, Pop Idol, Australian Idol, Duluth Idol and, apparently, if you saw her entire pre-sketch…Black Sabbath Idol, to a guy who has been singing since birth and dancing for eight years. Man, he must be tired.
We did have the requisite group of folks continuing on to Suckthesouloutofyouwood, though: the crack baby, the one-legged hypoglycemic who farts a lot, the Navy intelligence analyst (CU: “Quit showing pictures of jets. He’s not flying jets. He’s an intelligence analyst.”), the Army Reserves chick and the 16-year old kid whose family didn’t have enough money for them all to come to the audition…so here he is…sounding like Michael Buble…and if he didn’t get through, he was going to head straight over to the Mall of America to audition for Grease: You’re The One That I Want (Ooh Ooh Ooh).
Plus, we especially enjoy the post-audition reactions, especially from the people who quite obviously suck (come on, even I know all the words to “Kiss”) but even better…are the reactions from their entourage. The first girl…wasn’t any good and she started crying, which was sad…but then Mom got all…theatrical and gee, it was like she had this feeling a camera was on her, so she’d better milk her fifteen seconds. Sadly, it stretched to about 45 before we were able to cut away from that 4-person pileup.
The great thing about the early audition shows is you watch them and sort of wonder, “Gee, will that be the ultimate winner?” We didn’t have any of those moments last night…and sadly, the one thing we really wanted to see, we didn’t: Army Reserves chick singing “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira.
And…we had Jewel…who is very funny…and kind of like Paula used to be before she, you know (mimic drinking motion).
Did anyone else see that during the game? Surely we can’t be the only folks who backed up our DVR half a dozen times to make sure we actually saw what will certainly be the biggest FCC offense since Janet “Miss Nip Slip If You’re Nasty” Jackson’s Super Bowl incident.
1/14 update: I saw an op-ed blogpiece over at the Washington Post’s website, and there are people insisting her shirt said “Pluck Da Eagles,” but her ample breastitude “created a fold” which would lead us foul-thinkers to believe otherwise. Yeah, okay.
For example, swimsuit season starts January 2.
No joke…the itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikinis are out in that prime “Walk in, grab a cart, look directly to your left past the food court” location.
The cover-ups are out too…which is a good thing, since it’s only 50 degrees right now. Gotta keep your fruits & veggies covered to avoid freezing…if you know what I mean.
I can’t believe it’s been a week since I last blogged…something strange happened after Christmas, and I sort of forgot to do everything I normally do. Sure, I got up and went to work – and I went to physical therapy…and got my allergy shot…and went grocery shopping…actually, now that I think about it, blogging appears to be the only thing I forgot to do. Go figure.
So…what have we been up to? Well. Christmas was great…and it was fantastic actually having CU around to celebrate it this year, instead of opening gifts and sharing the experience via Yahoo! instant messenger.
Tuesday, we avoided the malls and I experienced my very first Fafarazzi live draft. It was fun…even though we got started late and I was up until close to midnight. I get rather cranky when I’ve missed my sleep window of opportunity, so rounds 8, 9 and 10 were a little sketchy. I think I have a pretty good team though…and am confident. I really, really, really need Philip Seymour Hoffman’s girlfriend to have their baby. One place I heard it was due in November…then another was December 20, so who knows.
Other than that, we’ve just been hanging around the house. I worked, CU read…we braved the mall and experienced The Great Coach Gloves Return Caper, and also watched some movies. After sitting in our DVR for about two months, we finally watched The Aristocrats. Oh. My. God. Seriously, one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen – my cheeks hurt when we finished, because it was so damn funny. If you don’t know the premise, it’s a documentary of sorts where comics of varying ages, genders, colors and personalities share their experience with one specific joke.
The funny thing is the point of the joke is to make it as vile and disgusting and stomach-turning as possible. Let me just say…I will never look at Bob Saget the same way again, especially when combined with his guest-star appearance on Entourage. If you’re offended easily, skip it…because you aren’t the target audience. I highly recommend it though, if you have a stomach of steel and you won’t spend the next week complaining about how “inappropriate” it was.
What else happened…CU dropped a bottle of nail polish while trying to clean out all the expired drugs from our medicine cabinet, prompted by a gloom-and-doom Good Morning America segment we saw at the gym that morning. The bottle shattered all over the bathroom counter, the wall, our electric toothbrush, the garbage can, the floor, CU and the towel he had swathed around his McSteamyish hips. I swear, the funny just keeps coming around our house.
The physical therapist’s office has become my new favorite place to study the social behaviors of people. You see, I like to study people – what they do, what they say…and try to figure out their motivations behind what they do and what they say.
For example, on the table next to me today while I was getting my neuro treatment, was one Ms. Chatty McChatty. She’s the one you pray you won’t get stuck next to on an airplane, because not only is she curious about everything going on in your life, she’s so super fabulous herself that she assumes you want to know everything going on in her life!
I usually can avoid folks like Chatty McChatty by simply keeping my eyes closed – after all, we’re in a place for healing and I can’t heal with some stranger yammering in my ear about how she’s grateful her 93-year old mother lives only 20 minutes away, since Mama is getting old and can’t take care of herself.
I made the grave error though, of opening my eyes and inadvertently making eye contact with McC. Immediately she asked, “What are you in for?” Like we’re in the county jail…shackled up and tied down for involuntary shock therapy. Since it wasn’t really any of her business how I hurt my knee, I just pointed at my knee with all of the electrodes attached and said, “My knee.” Well. McC hurt both her ankle and her shoulder and she’s trying to get in to PT as many times as possible this week blah blah blah because she starts a new job next Tuesday and can’t come as often blah blah new insurance blah blah blah.
This behavior isn’t limited to just the patients, either! No sireebob. Last week, I had the misfortune of being stuck with a tech whose tooth hurt. Aww…that sucks, right? Well. Turns out that she went to the dentist the day before and found out she needed a root canal before the dentist can put her new bridge in. Aww…that sucks, right? Well. I guess her dentist was a little persnickety during her after-lunch appointment, and she was cranky because whatever had happened to him earlier, he seemed to be taking out on her. So what does she do? She spends 15 minutes (while I’m on my weight machines and doing my PT obstacle course) telling me how annoying it is to work with a grumpy and unprofessional health care worker. Really. You don’t say. I did finally have to halt her conversation, telling her I kept losing count of my reps while trying to listen to her.
So…ironically…I now share this with you. Ha ha. Agony…pass it on!
Then…there’s the tech who looks like he’s about twelve. Seriously – he’s a young one. Turns out, he’s not so young where he hasn’t engaged in the pleasures of the flesh, because his equally-young girlfriend is due to give birth to an equally-younger baby this weekend. One mention of that, and all other women in the facility start chiming in with their labor and delivery stories…in unassumingly graphic detail.
Oh yeah, my knee is feeling better. Still a ways to go…but, baby steps. Oops…better not say that too loud or when I go back in on Friday, everyone will start talking about walking toddlers. {wink}
This time last year, I was sitting around, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the blasted holiday season to be over.
Because I wanted to ensure CU’s Christmas presents made it to him before he returned, I gave myself a deadline of the Monday after Thanksgiving to have everything bought, wrapped and shipped. While I was at it, I figured, why not do the same for everyone else?
And so I did…the Monday after Thanksgiving last year, everyone’s Christmas gifts were shipped – and if I recall, the Christmas cards went out December 1. That’s a pretty general thing for me – I like to get my cards done and out early. Because of all that, I had roughly a month with nothing to really do…and very little new television, to boot.
This year was a whole other ball of wax. I blame the Corporate Holiday Party, which ripped from my delicate little hands very valuable weekend time. We usually trim our tree and put up all the decorations the first weekend in December…but thought ahead and did all of that while Mom was here over Thanksgiving.
The cards have trickled out over the past few days…and all of the Christmas packages were finally UPS’d out yesterday. I’m waiting on one more gift for CU, then he’s done.
One guy I worked with was stunned and amazed I had “so much done so early.” Whaa?
Please tell me I’m not the only one out there who prefers to do all this earlier rather than later.
BELLMEAD- A four-year-old hugged his teachers aide and was put into in-school suspension, according to the father. But La Vega school administrators have a different story.
Damarcus Blackwell’s four-year-old son was lining-up to get on the bus after school last month, when he was accused of rubbing his face in the chest of a female employee.
The prinicipal of La Vega Primary School sent a letter to the Blackwells that said the pre-kindergartener demonstrated “inappropriate physical behavior interpreted as sexual contact and/or sexual harassment.”
If that teachers aide, or the principal of La Vega Primary School, seriously and honestly interpreted what that little boy did as “sexual contact and/or sexual harassment”…maybe they’re the ones who need to be put on some sort of in-school suspension.
Because you know, it takes a pretty sick adult to chalk up a little kid’s demonstration of affection as sexual. That would be more concerning to me than anything the child did.
Stupid people really piss me off…and it is truly frightening they’re allowed to wander around unchecked in society.
HOLIDAY SUPER CRUISING MISSION #10
December 8thYour mission for today is to wrap and decorate!!! Set your timer for 15 minutes and see how many packages you can get wrapped! Have fun and enjoy this! Put on some Holiday music and get into the spirit of the season.
For an added bonus mission, set your timer for another 15 minutes and set out some of the Holiday decorations that you have not gotten up yet and/or set your holiday cards that you have received out for display.
We are having fun this season by FLYing 15 minutes at a time!!!
Fly Lady must be on some serious meth this season…it is physiologically impossible for me to have fun while doing something for 15 minutes with a timer ticking in the background. I spent half an hour wrapping CU’s presents yesterday, and just about burst into tears because I couldn’t get my ribbon into the right kind of bow…and I didn’t even have a timer.
This is truly what some kids need this holiday season…an evening in the slammer.
COLUMBIA, South Carolina (AP) — A fed-up mother had her 12-year-old son arrested for allegedly rummaging through his great-grandmother’s things and playing with his Christmas present early.
The mother called police Sunday after learning her son had disobeyed orders and repeatedly taken a Game Boy from its hiding place at his great-grandmother’s house next door and played it.
He was arrested on petty larceny charges, taken to the police station in handcuffs and held until his mother picked him up after church.
“My grandmother went out of her way to lay away a toy and paid on this thing for months,” said the boy’s mother, Brandi Ervin. “It was only to teach my son a lesson. He’s been going through life doing things … and getting away with it.”
Police did not release the boy’s name.
The mother said that her son was found in the last year to have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, but that his medicine does not seem to help.
Couldn’t be the kid is just a brat with no boundaries and no respect for anything or anyone (in which case, Mom’s presents should be confiscated, too)…nooooooo…we have to put the ADHD spin on it.
‘Twas the night before Sunday, and all through the hotel,
I thought, “I don’t want to go to this party…it’s gonna be hell.”
The open bar was stocked with the finest of liquors,
In hopes that would result in plenty of snickers.
The employees were nestled all snug at each table,
While I wondered to myself, what was showing tonight on cable.
And CU in his slacks, and I in my silk sweater,
Had just settled down, to take in the show much better.
When out on the dance floor there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to my camera I flew, activating the flash,
Hit the Power button and zoomed, oh this photo would garner some cash!
The beam of the strobe light, the thump of the bass,
Gave way to a scene exhibiting shockingly little grace.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Dunder-Mifflin sandwich…co-workers grinding, peer-on-peer!
We’re back from our whirlwind trip to Delray Beach, Florida – flew out at 8 a.m. yesterday, and were back in Dallas at 12:30 today. We’re beat, and as much as I hate to admit it…I…had…wait for it…a good time.
I’ll post a couple of photos tomorrow, and provide some post-game commentary. I now have a few new stories to tuck away into my arsenal of holiday party anecdotes…one of which is directly related to this post’s title.
Office holiday parties are really, really strange. I have fond memories of my office party deflowering, when I was in college. One of my co-workers hit on the president of the company, then threw up all over the dance floor. Ah, good times. I suspect this is why they didn’t invite the temps the next year.
Over the years, I learned that “cocktail attire” means different things to different people at an office party. When I worked in California, we had people show up in Wranglers and plaid shirts, complaining they shouldn’t be expected to buy “fancy clothes” because they didn’t make enough money. Another year, one of the administrative assistants showed up dressed like a Love Boat spokesmodel.
You know that general piece of advice about how you shouldn’t get totally drunk at the holiday party? I had managers and directors who didn’t get that memo.
There are two sides to my personality – the Snarkwife side, and the Stacy side. Sometimes they struggle, because Snarkwife thinks Stacy can be a real stick-in-the-mud, and Stacy thinks Snarkwife needs to exercise a little restraint and cut stupid people some slack because really, they can’t help the way they are. Allow me to share an example.
As today is the third Thursday in November, I drove to our local World Market at lunch to buy my holiday supply of Beaujolais Nouveau. This is always a festive time, especially since she and I plan on doing a virtual wine tasting as soon as she can get her supply. So, I’m hobbling around World Market with my 6 bottles in my wine carrier and get in line to pay. There’s a woman in front of me who is buying just about every cake, cookie and salty chip-type product that could fit into her cart, and behind me is a woman with a candy bar. One candy bar.
Now, I’m used to the particular checkout woman working today, because whenever I show up with one of the 800 coupons World Market sends me, she always acts befuddled, like this is the first time anyone has brought a 40%-off coupon for her to process. Maybe she needs to get on her own company’s email newsletter list. Weird.
Anyway, the line starts to grow, so she calls for backup. No one responds to her intercom plea for help, and she leaves and goes to the back – I assume, to kick someone’s ass for leaving her alone with the impatient, toe-tapping lunchtime crowd. While she’s gone, Ms. Low-Carb in front of me attempts small talk by looking at me and saying, “That’s a lot of wine.”
Jeopardy! – Celebrity Island kicked off this past Wednesday, and to say it has been entertaining thus far would be a gross understatement. Here’s the premise: three celebrities (of varying degrees of fame) come on stage and play the game. The winner gets $50k for his or her chosen charity; the two others get $25k for their charities…so overall, it’s a win-win and philanthropy saves the day.
CU asked that I tape the shows, so we could watch them in the evening. The great thing about Jeopardy! is if you fast-forward through the commercials and skip over the inane chit-chat, you can blow through the whole thing in about 17 minutes. Perfect for those evenings when you don’t have any half-hour comedies left in the DVR, but you can’t quite sit down for a whole episode of Studio 60.
Wednesday’s episode was a hoot. The three players were Carson Kressley, Nancy Grace and Regis Philbin. Overall impressions…Carson’s infinitely more intelligent than you’d think given his on-screen persona, Nancy seems thinner behind a large desk and Regis can’t seem to dial down his on-screen persona for a mere 21 minutes. We were laughing at how absurdly simple the questions were to which CU added, “Well, it is ‘celebrity’ Jeopardy!”
As per the mecca of all that is glorious, US Weekly…
Federline spent Monday being followed around by a new crew from MuchMusic, shilling for his new album, and happily praising his wife as his “number one fan.†When he received the news via BlackBerry that Britney had filed for divorce that day , he became visibly upset, asked to take off his mic, left for a half hour with several friends, and returned looking troubled.
I so know what he’s feeling. On November 1, 1985, I was notified on the way to school (on the bus, no less) by a third party that my boyfriend of a whopping six weeks dumped me the night before. No fancy-schmancy text messaging to depersonalize the brutal bearing of bad news back then. I became visibly upset, asked to take off my mic, left for a half hour with several friends, and returned looking troubled.
Other than the two kids and a prenup (sounds like a good title for a new CBS comedy next season), I really don’t think their breakup is any different than the one I experienced in the ninth grade.
From: CNN Breaking News
Date: Nov 7, 2006 4:09 PM
Subject: CNN Breaking News
To: TEXTBREAKINGNEWS@cnnimail12.cnn.com– Britney Spears files for divorce from her husband Kevin Federline, citing irreconcilable differences.
Is that what they’re calling 20/20 hindsight now…irreconcilable differences?
And I swear, she did this because she figured Faith Hill and Nancy Pelosi shouldn’t be getting all the media attention today.
My company relies heavily on the use of instant messenger…since none of us work together in an actual office. We don’t have the luxury (yes, I see it as a luxury after not having it the past 2 1/2 years) of walking over to someone’s cube and asking a question or getting clarification on something.
So, if I am having a virtual conversation with someone…I consider it incredibly rude to just…disappear in the middle of it. Would you do that in real life? If we were talking face-to-face, would you just turn around and leave without saying “Thanks” or something to that effect? Better yet, what if you were on the phone with a co-worker? If she explained something to you, would you just set the phone down and walk away? Or rather, assuming you didn’t hate each other, would you just set the phone down and walk away?
I don’t think I’m going out on a limb when I say…you probably wouldn’t.
And, here’s where I get crabby and craggy again…I don’t respond to people at work who write like this: “Can u chk into this, pls? Thx.” YOU…not “u.” No one is so busy they can’t write a freaking complete sentence. Kids these days…you know those Millenials…they have an over-inflated sense of self-importance, have been over-indulged and expect everyone else in the workplace to conform to their way instead of the other way around.
Back in my day…my formative professional days of yesteryear, we were dressed down and slapped around if we didn’t write professionally.
Grumble grumble. I think I need a stiff shot of something and a nap.
Or…better yet…I’ll start speaking to them in my own language – we’ll call it Snarkrish. If I am addressed with any phrasings or odd combinations of letters which my brain interprets to be text-message-speak, I’ll respond with something equally confusing to them like, “Pong carol seaver reaganomics richard simmons shoulder pads knight rider.”
If you haven’t seen Borat on The Daily Show…here you go.
The part where he tells Jon Stewart he must have had plastic surgery because his horns appear to have been removed…hilarious!
The movie was so damn funny last night; although I must say…if I were a 17-year old girl there with my 17-year old boyfriend, I would have been mighty embarrassed. Mighty embarrassed.
I defer to Jordan McDeere from Studio 60 when answering questions about how she chooses what to put on her network: “I ask myself three things – would my kids watch it, would my grandparents watch it, and would I watch it. If the answer to one of those is ‘Yes,’ I put it on” – or something to that paraphrased effect.
Borat meets the “answer to two of those is ‘yes’” criteria. Be advised, and don’t say you weren’t warned. I will not advise my mom watch this, lest she spend all 82 minutes trying to pick her jaw up off the theater floor.
And…don’t forget to vote! Before the dean at U.C. Santa Barbara handed me my diploma that foggy June morning in 1993, I had to take an oath to always vote on election day, and to always advise other people to do so – because it’s an amazing and wonderful thing to live in a country where even a guy like this can run for governor of the great state of Texas.
CU and I are going to see Borat tonight…I can’t wait.
I was at the gym this morning, and Matt Lauer was interviewing Borat…oh my God…it was so funny…and then I literally bursted into laughter when he asked Matt where he could find the good prostitutes. I knew things would pick up as soon as Katie left.
It really takes a lot to offend me, but I was wound up by this – because apparently, according to Kerry’s botched punchline logic, my husband’s finance degree from Tulane didn’t make him smart enough to stay out of Iraq.
WASHINGTON (CNN) — President Bush joined GOP lawmakers Tuesday in blasting Sen. John Kerry for telling a group of college students they could either work hard in school or “get stuck in Iraq.”
“Even in the midst of a heated campaign season, there are still some things we should all be able to agree on, and one of the most important is that every one of our troops deserves our gratitude and respect,” Bush said.
Kerry told reporters in Seattle, Washington, that the remark was a “botched joke” meant to target the president, not U.S. troops.
You know, had he made the same comment to a group of middle-America housewives, or to a group of retirees, this would have been a whole different ballgame, in my opinion. But, you can’t tell me Mr. Kerry wasn’t trying to instill a little gloom-and-doom into a captive audience of impressionable college students.
Moron. I’m so glad I didn’t vote for him.
Okay, I forgive you. Never mind.
Halloween, typically, is about scary things…so let me tell you about my scariest Halloween experience. Actually, this experience lasted from about the week before Halloween up until right after my birthday, so I had residual Halloween spookitude.
Back in 1994, I worked at a bank and became friends with a co-worker we’ll call Psycho Psarah. She was everything I sort of aspired to be – she had a new red Saturn coupe (leased, I found out later, for $450 a month), a cool apartment in a cool area of town, and fun friends. Not that I didn’t have fun friends at the time…but these folks were just…different. How different, you might ask?
Well, Psycho Psarah had a guy friend we’ll call…Obsessed Otto. The three of us got together for brunch one Sunday morning and I guess he became smitten with me, and asked me out. He picked me up at my apartment and we went to this big haunted house which was “the thing to do” at the time. When he dropped me off at my apartment afterwards, I was polite and invited him in. I had a roommate so nothing was going to happen, but the guy wouldn’t leave. He wasn’t all over me or anything; quite the contrary, he was a real gentleman…but again, he wouldn’t leave. It was a work night, it was 11:30 – I needed my beauty sleep. Nice enough guy, but I just didn’t think we clicked.
Unfortunately, he thought we clicked a lot and yapped to Psycho Psarah the next day about our fantastic date. Well, she called me at work and went on and on and ON about how Otto thought I was cool and isn’t that cute and…I don’t know, I got a weird vibe…like she was pissed her friend was interested in me (sidenote: She always claimed to have a boyfriend, who lived out of town, but I never met the guy – we’ll call him George Glass, since he was supposed to visit three times and never materialized). This didn’t really worry me or anything, because I was young, and had no idea yet that people could be so disturbingly strange.
A few days later, pshe called me and invited me to a Halloween party at one of her friend’s houses. You’d think after her pissiness the previous week I would have run, run, RUN away from anything having to do with her, but no. You’d also think she wouldn’t invite me anywhere since apparently I was taking her non-boyfriend away from her, but it is stories like this which make us into the wiser adults we are today.
She did it, so I had to go see what the fuss was all about. Now that I have, you need to come see what the fuss is all about.
Come watch me and Ali dance like we’re eating creme brulee last August.
Sheri posted about how her son refers to the 80’s as “the olden days”…and it reminded me of something that happened when CU and I went shopping this past weekend.
We were at the Lucky Brand Jeans store…and the two salesgirls were talking about music…and then I heard the words “Prince” and “oldies”…and then realized they were talking about Purple Rain.
I so badly wanted to ask them if Lucky made jeans for women whose hips have filled out, because in about five years the freaks of nature who call themselves teenage girls will see their metabolism slow down and then…ah, screw it.
To quote another golden oldie…“How Did I Get Here”?
It’s bad enough I have to share my birthday with Prince Charles, but now I also have to share my special day with these two? No fair!
Is Tom Cruise allowed to get married in Italy, and is his bride allowed to wear a designer gown? For some reason I figured they’d tie the knot on Jupiter or something…and she’d be wearing a smashing frock made of tin foil.
Associated Press
NEW YORK — Hollywood’s most high-profile engaged couple have finally set a wedding date.
Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise
Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes will marry in Italy on Nov. 18, Cruise’s representative, Arnold Robinson, confirmed to The Associated Press on Tuesday. Holmes will wear a dress designed by Giorgio Armani, Robinson also confirmed.
The wedding date was reported by Us Weekly magazine on its Web site.
Holmes, 27, and Cruise, 44, became engaged in June 2005. Their daughter, Suri, was born April 18. She made her debut on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine last month. The photo showed Suri peeking out of a jacket worn by Cruise with Holmes looking on.
Cruise and Holmes were first photographed together in Rome in April 2005. Two months later, the “Mission: Impossible” actor announced he had proposed to Holmes atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
Holmes, who starred in TV’s “Dawson’s Creek,” was previously engaged to actor Chris Klein. Cruise, previously married to Mimi Rogers and Nicole Kidman, also had a high-profile romance with Penelope Cruz.
I know…I’m getting an early start this season. It’s just when I stumble across an item which, frankly, begs to be blogged, I can’t just file it away and bring it back in three weeks…I’d lose momentum and half of blogging is doing it when the mood strikes.
Are you looking for the perfect holiday gift for that special person in your life who just won’t shut up? You know the one I’m talking about – it might be one of your friends, or a co-worker, or a sibling. Every time you talk to him/her, you feel you’re being judged. Hell, it’s not just a feeling…you know you’re being judged. So what if you’re an unmarried crack whore with no backbone and 22 million dollars in credit card debt…you don’t know me!
Well, give your favorite moral & ethical busybody the gift that keeps on giving…the Dr. Laura Action Figure. That’s right folks, she comes to you dressed conservatively in a flattering lemon-colored suit, and spouts off 23 different phrases when you press her button. Seriously, that’s what the description says.
I so need to get one of these for use exclusively on my weekly staff calls.
Boss Lady: “So Stacy, what’s new with you this week?”
Snarkwife: “Are you sure this is the hill you want to die on?”
**OR**
Snarkwife: “Proud mom of an American soldier.”
Oh yeah. Must buy.
You know, I am really, really disappointed in ABC and Dancing With The Stars. Things make me mad. Things make me cranky. But, things have to be pretty darn bad for me to be disappointed. I think that’s the most desperate emotion I can feel – disappointment.
Anyway, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to read about the lurid details of Sara Evans’s impending divorce, but last night, I had to watch Samantha Harris pose incredibly tasteless questions to Mario Lopez (“In light of the recent events surrounding Sara Evans, how has the mood been amongst the celebrities and dancers?”) and watch awkward paso doble “memories” of Ms. Evans.
Then, there was this totally inappropriate sitdown between Sara and Tom Bergeron, where she waxed poetic about traveling along the divorce turnpike (now there’s a country song title) and how it was very important to tend to her family and children during this very difficult time. At least, I assume that’s what she said. I left the room during her interview, as I would have been embarrassed had I sat there and listened to it…and only caught bits and pieces of it from the back office.
If protecting her family and taking care of them was that important, she would have quietly and respectfully bowed out of the show and kept a low profile. She wouldn’t have gone back on DWTS and rehashed all her dirty laundry, because to me, that smacks of self-servitude.
I just thought it was tacky.
“Goin’ Postal”
I kid you not…saw it in Frisco on the way back from lunch with Ali.
Oh…and I saw gas for $2.05 at the 7-11 at 121 and Custer Road…git it while the gittin’s good!
So I was driving home from lunch with CU today, and I stopped at a red light. I’m in the middle lane.
To the right of me, a tiny woman in a Ford F-350. I swear, she had to have blocks on to reach the pedals – or her upper body was a deceiving representation of the rest of her frame.
To the left of me, an extremely large man – over 6′ tall, over 300 lbs. – in a Mini Cooper.
At that point, I felt very driver/car proportionate in my Jeep.
Made me laugh.
‘Tis ragweed season, boys and girls.
I managed to postpone the annual misery by traveling 3,500 miles away from the pollen at the beginning of the month. In theory, this was a great plan, since I thought I could outwit the Clever Ragweed Pollen by disappearing for a week but alas, it was not to be a long-term success.
The good news is, since I started allergy shots a couple of months ago I should be in much better shape next year.
The bad news is…my node id duffed up now. Bah.
CU watched his second episode last night of Dancing With The Stars. I didn’t think he was reacting appropriately enough (come on, who reads Food & Wine when you can watch the quick step?), so I dragged him back to the office and made him watch not one, but two Drew Lachey/Cheryl Burke YouTube performance videos…”WATCH HOW HIS SHOULDERS ARE UP, THE JUDGES GOT ALL OVER HIM FOR THAT LAST YEAR…AND THEY LOOK LIKE THEY’RE HAVING A GREAT TIME, LOOK…IT’S THE SAME MOVES FROM THE THRILLER VIDEO…WOW…AREN’T THE TWO OF THEM AMAZING TOGETHER? HUH, HUH, HUH????”
When I still wasn’t getting the desired feedback, I called my mom. I suspect it was when CU and I were back in the office that the Clever Ragweed Pollen snuck into the house and buried itself into our couch.
So, I read yesterday over at Grey’s Writers that tomorrow’s season premiere of Grey’s Anatomy would contain several references to the very first episode, so looks like I’ll be dusting off the series premiere and watching it for the 112th time. Can’t be caught off-guard or anything…and besides, I never tire of hearing George say, “strappy sandals.”
And finally, if you have a few minutes, check this out. Make sure your pop-ups are enabled! That sounded slightly dirty, didn’t it?
Last night’s new episodes of Wife Swap and Supernanny helped CU and I realize a few things…
- ABC needs to launch a new show called Husband Swap, so women can ship their whiny husbands off to a new family for two weeks.
- Sometimes a 15-year old daughter can be smarter than both of her parents combined.
- Female pirates don’t exist. Male pirates had their wenches, who served no purpose other than servicing multiple pirates either in or out of port, as it were.
- Mad Sally is doing her daughter a great disservice by not encouraging her to become at least a thirty-dollar whore. She was really being lowballed at $20.
- Apparently, you’re a mean mom if you don’t wipe your 7-year old’s ass after he goes to the bathroom. This was new to me.
- Pinning your daughters down while you come at them wielding tweezers is not the way to groom their brows. If you can spend $36k on your house every year, you can take them in for a $10 waxing once a month. Hell, they can even get it done while they’re getting their nails done!
- I’m not sure which is scarier, the fact that Pirattitude has a how-to book, or that Dave Barry was also involved.
- CU and I miss instant messaging. When CU was deployed, we’d IM every day and one of our favorite Yahoo audibles was Big Gay Pirate (he had lipstick and an earring…you’d have to see it), who would say, “ARRR! Your booty shivers me timbers! ARRR!”
- Messy, dirty, nasty slobs describe their homes as “lived-in,” “comfortable” or “chaotic.”
- I don’t get the appeal of permanent lip liner. Really, I don’t.
And then…it was almost like he subconsciously heard me wonder aloud, “I wonder what a good pirate name would be for me?” Turns out, it’s Sword Jugglin’ Cynthia. Arrr!
Alternate post title: DUMB-O
I had a headache after watching the show this morning. Oprah was Gratechel’s guest today, and the two of them together…in one room…well, you can tell which of them is the long-term pro. Rachael was all over the place…talkingreallyfast and poundingfistsonthetableinemphasis and just yamyamyamyamyam holy schmoly. It was nearly as bad as watching Rosie on The View.
It pains me to say anything negative about Rachael because I really do like her, but perhaps my tolerance is limited to 30 minutes at a shot.
From: BreakingNews@MAIL.CNN.COM [mailto:BreakingNews@MAIL.CNN.COM]
Sent: Wednesday, September 13, 2006 2:44 PM
To: TEXTBREAKINGNEWS@CNNIMAIL12.CNN.COM
Subject: CNN Breaking News
– Grammy-winning singer Whitney Houston has filed for divorce from husband Bobby Brown, her publicist tells The Associated Press.
Come on CNN…this warranted a breaking news alert? Really? What about this? Or this?
Did ya’ll watch Celebrity Duets last night? Welcome to the Fall television season folks, where Wayne Brady is the new Tom Bergeron, Little Richard is the new Drunk Paula, and Fox introduces me to Michelle Williams. When they announced her name, I expected to see a blonde flanked by a baby and Heath Ledger, with maybe the theme from Dawson’s Creek playing in the background. I had always heard Destiny’s Child had three members, but didn’t really believe it until last night.
Seriously though, I think Queer Eye’s Jai Rodriguez was just added in as the ringer. Seriously, with the exception of Alfonso “If I make it to the finals, I’ll do the Carlton dance!” Ribiero, Hal Sparks (if he can liven up his flatness) and Lea Thompson (“That’s LIFE!!!”) – there’s not much else going on and I will root for anyone who can make a duet with Gladys Knight hot.
I’m sure my house will be set ablaze should I dare say anything negative about local girl gold-medal gymnast and American sweetheart Carly Patterson, but there’s a reason she won the Olympics and not American Idol. And, the tan lines! Oh, the humanity! I would like to personally thank Carly though, for inspiring me to re-evaluate my vacation clothing choices to ensure I don’t wear a strapless dress with unintentional straps next week.
Obviously trying to Keibler things up a bit, Celebrity Duets found its own eye-candy (or at least, that’s what Marie said) in WWE wrestler Chris Jericho who sadly, reminded me of a former coworker I had, wearing a leather jacket and performing at the company talent show. {shudder} The performance sort of reminded me of John Travolta’s solo attempt with “Let Her In” back in the 70s. Anyone out there know what I’m talking about?
When Chris finished his forced duet with Lee Ann Womack, she literally tripped trying to get off the stage and away from the guy as quickly as possible. Wayne Brady shames her (took a couple of tries) into sticking around though, then asks the loaded question, “Do you think Chris has what it takes to be a country singer?” Her response, surely crafted from years of experience and the little headphone in her ear was, “Chris can do whatever he wants to do,” which, CU translated to, “He’s equally good at all positions.” Ouch.
Then, she really did run off the stage.
I think the most compelling duet of the night though, was the one Little Richard was having with the celebrity guest voices in his head. After Lucy Lawless’s first performance I figured Marie would be The New Paula what with the poufy hair and questionable choice of floral-patterned attire but noooooooo. It took about 45 minutes, but Little Richard went from canned response (“You’ve got the mustard, now it’s time to KETCH-UP!) to left-to-right cue card-speak (“I liked your first bit better.”) to sexual harrassment (“You just made my big toe shoot up in my boot!”) to my personal favorite, unintelligible blather (“A B C D E F G, shammalammadingdong, wocka wocka BOOyah!”).
I told CU that the Amazing Quote of the Week was going to be quickly replaced by the Little Richard Quote of the Week if he keeps this breakneck pace up.
I was laughing so hard, I called my mom to make sure she was watching and came to the realization that what Little Richard was lacking last night was…verbs. No verbs. At one point I swear I saw him facing the audience during the performance and then when he swung around to “judge” he was wearing sunglasses, but he wasn’t wearing them all the time…ah Hell, what a train wreck.
When I was talking to Mom, she seemed disturbed that not only did I not really know the show was on last night, but that I hadn’t already committed to memory the voting and elimination processes. I had to confess our internet had been out since about 11 a.m. yesterday (didn’t come back on until this morning) so I wasn’t totally on my game. With work, my impending vacation and the shock of having new programming beginning in August, I fell behind.
Interns. Apologies.
I read a couple of days ago that you need to devote one hour a day to creativity to keep those juices flowing. I realized several months ago, I quit nurturing my inner snark and have vowed to get back into gear.
I always kind of feel like a broken, defensive record when I say this, but just because I don’t have kids and I have never felt the biological tick-tock to Create Life with CU, I don’t hate parents and children with some sort of out-of-control, three-eyed hysteria.
I really don’t.
As a matter of fact, some of my favorite people are moms…like my mom, for example. She’s a mom and she’s pretty cool. My Grandma is pretty cool, too – and one of my best girlfriends, Ali, happens to be a mom. Of course, they’re Old School Moms – not those moms of today who are…well…like this chick.
I just don’t get moms who seem to forget they’re grown adults. You can be a mom and be an adult…I’ve seen the proof, so I know it’s possible.
For some reason, The Dallas Morning News insists on giving moms like this an unbelievably large chunk of print space on a consistent basis, to be as ooey gooey precious as their thesauruses will let them. Between these articles, the ones chastising us mean people for not embracing illegal immigrants with outstretched arms and the ones from teachers complaining about how they can only afford $200,000 houses on their puny salaries, it’s no wonder CU and I have picked up a subscription to the New York Times as a much-needed supplement.
So, all in good fun, I provide my version of the article:
You might not be a mom if …
1. You don’t stop children whom you don’t know in grocery stores, malls or hardware stores and tell them to stop running, climbing and screaming. As much as you’d like to, you don’t put them in timeout in the produce section because really, why punish the people in the produce section, too? They didn’t do anything wrong.
2. You don’t cut your co-workers’ meat at lunch, fix their shirt collars or put a little spit on your finger to wipe a smudge off someone’s face. You don’t do these things because they’re condescending, annoying as Hell and unhygenic. Yuck. Keep your spittle away from me. I don’t know where your mouth has been.
3. You don’t remind your sister, co- worker, boss (or other responsible adult) about keys, wallets, purses or important papers before leaving the house or office because you assume they’re adults, not children, and can remember these things themselves without your arrogant interference.
4. You don’t find yourself stacking the dishes at your table in a restaurant. When the waitress comes to your table, you don’t hand her all the plates because she has a system that works for her and there’s no need to shove your personal routine on her. You don’t go to the busboy center to retrieve extra napkins, silverware or ketchup because again, they have a system that works for them and you’re respectful of that.
5. You don’t accidentally call your co-worker “honey,” “sweetie,” “angel” or some other endearment over the cubicle wall during a moment of daydreaming because you’re aware the world doesn’t revolve around you. And besides, you’re at work!
6. You can be overheard talking to yourself as you go about your daily errands. You repeat everything on your to-do list to perfect strangers. “I need to run to the dry cleaners and then get the band instrument repaired, then buy some milk and bread at the store.” Don’t you notice that people are staring at you? Okay, I left this one alone, because I don’t think this behavior is limited to moms. During a particularly stressful day, I would probably try to get a band instrument repaired, even though I don’t play one.
7. You don’t sprinkle your conversations with momspeak. You don’t say to your business lunch associates: “Excuse me. I have to go to the potty” because if you do, your boss will likely ask you to clear out your desk and be gone at the end of the day. At the end of a busy evening with friends, you don’t exclaim, “I need to go home and go night-night,” because that sounds stupid.
8. You finally get the chance for a night out with your husband or a friend and you can’t stop talking about your dogs…or your job…or the crisis in the Middle East…or how much better Dish Network is than cable.
9. You are always prepared like a Boy Scout when you leave the house. You don’t know the meaning of traveling light. You never leave the house without an extra jacket, an umbrella, Kleenex, allergy medicine, maps, etc. You are always ready for any emergency. Again, I left this one alone. You don’t have to be a mom to be well-prepared. I tend to skip the umbrella though, in case it actually looks like it will rain, and I forego the map when I drive to the mall.
10. You whip out your wallet at the slightest provocation and show total strangers the latest pictures of your dogs. “This is Cookie with her stuffed cow. This is Daisy playing ball in the backyard. Aren’t they cute?”
I won’t even bother telling ya’ll what the last couple of weeks have been like. If I haven’t been blogging, there’s been a reason.
Today has been nuts, but I’m oddly satisfied with myself right now. You know that scene in You’ve Got Mail when Tom Hanks says…
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you and then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time and we’d both be happy? On the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows.
I disgree with you there, pal. And, I gleefully speak from experience.
So I go in to get my allergy shots today, went to get my allergy shots, and after I got my injections was trapped in the waiting room with a loud, boisterous mom and her five children, all under the age of 7 or 8 – two were still in diapers. There’s a TV on in the waiting room, and That 70’s Show was on. I forgot a book, so I was sort of stuck watching Fez and Eric.
On the other side of the room, Loud, Boisterous Mom starts yelling about how they’re a strict no-TV household, and she’s telling her kids not to look at the TV. For some reason, all I could think at that point was, “Don’t go towards the light, Carole Annnnnnnnnnnnne!”
To distract them, she begins talking IN HER TRADEMARK LOUD VOICE ABOUT HER FRIEND’S CANCER AND THE FASCINATING DETAILS OF CHEMOTHERAPY AND ALL THAT IMPLIES.
Cancer. Vomiting, hair loss, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Dandy.
Eventually, all of her kids get this glazed-over look in their eyes so Loud, Boisterous Mom gets up, declares the TV show is “not kid-friendly”, and turns the TV off.
Then…the wheels in my mouth started turning…
Snarkwife: “Hey, I was watching that.”
Loud, Boisterous Mom: “I’m sorry, but that show isn’t appropriate for my kids to watch”
Snarkwife: “Well, it’s not appropriate to discuss your friend’s vomiting due to chemo in front of other people, either. You can’t dictate what happens in public just because your kids are out in it.”
I was about to continue with, “You’re not the boss of me!” but just then…the timer went off indicating my allergy shot waiting period was over. With that I looked at Loud, Boisterous Mom, said, “Have a nice day!” and walked out the door.
This is not generally-accepted behavior for me. Usually I’ll just suck it up and ignore boors like this chick because the world is inundated with idiots but, I got a full night’s sleep last night and was feeling great…first night in literally years I haven’t woken up at least a couple of times.
All I have to say is, thanks, Ambien!
And nope…still no remorse.
I read today that The Amazing Race will be moving to Sunday nights, no doubt hoping to get caught up in the wake of Grey’s Anatomy’s ratings tsunami, which no doubt will flood ABC and spill over to CBS.
“The network also said the three-time Emmy-winning reality contest, which will go for its fourth consecutive statuette Aug. 27 after locking up another nomination earlier this month, will move to a new night and earlier time slot this fall, a tactic designed to underscore its family-friendly content.”
I don’t know about you, but the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of underscoring “family friendly” is bickering married couples who call each other “stupid” and “idiot.” The second thing that comes to mind…20-something hotties trotting around the globe in teeny tank tops.
To punctuate just how little I paid attention last season, I have no idea which of the 12 teams is returning, according to the article.
My countdown has begun.
I’ve always sort of been torn when it comes to my favorite “guilty pleasure” TV shows…do I wave my “I’m a TV nut” flag proudly, or do I sort of cower at the fact that some people might believe I’m a couple brain cells short for the choices I make.
I’ll wave my flag…life’s short…laugh hard. Plus, I love laughing at other people. Seriously. Some of them really deserve it.
Having said that, UPN 21 down here runs Moral Court from 9 – 10 a.m. weekday mornings. The show is so damn funny to watch, but the best part is it was only on for about a year…five years ago…but it seems to be popping back up in syndication, usually sandwiched between The People’s Court and Judge Mathis.
Topics are literally, all over the spectrum. One husband brings his wife to Moral Court, because he says the bible says it’s immoral for her to deny him sex…ever. A 14-year old “mature” teenage girl brings her mom to Moral Court because Mom won’t let her date a 20-year old. It’s great.
Today’s “case”? A woman has brought her lesbian lover to Moral Court because said lesbian lover won’t acknowledge their relationship publicly and instead, introduces her as the “auntie” to the children they both seem to have accumulated from previous relationships before hooking up with each other.
How could you not get on board with a show whose theme is…
The tension of a court show! The emotion of a talk show! The excitement of a game show! With cash prizes for those who are morally right. This show isn’t about small claims; it’s about the difference between right and wrong. Moral Court. Where it pays to be right.
“The Marianos have now signed with Fox Reality to star in the network’s first original docudrama series, The Rob and Amber Project.
The network has ordered 10 half-hour episodes of the show, which will follow the couple to Las Vegas, where Rob will try to become a professional gambler and Amber will try to support him in the venture.”
For pete’s sake! Haven’t Bahston Rahb and Ambuh of the Smokin’ Ass learned anything from the last couple of years?
Now see, VH1, Food Network, Spike and The Golf Channel have all been courting Capt. UberHusband and I for the last couple of years to star in a reality series…but we keep declining because we just value our marriage too much.
Actually, that’s not true…we’re holding out for The Amazing Race because apparently, no matter how much your relationship might suck, you’ll still be together long after the show has ended!
I didn’t need to hear our marketing weenie say this on today’s staff call…
“I’ve been pushing the crap out of that company’s leaders.”
Punchline? Anyone?
There are times like this…when I really wish I was in a room with my co-workers during these meetings. Snarky retorts just don’t play as well on the phone…the accompanying eye roll loses most of it’s effect.
My bladder and my dogs woke me up bright and early at 5:30 this morning, but that’s not a bad thing. Especially during these inferno-like Texas summers, I try to enjoy the 75-degree low temperature whenever I can get it.
Seeing’s as I was up and at ‘em, I figured I’d drive down to Starbucks and pick me up a nonfat latte and a cinnamon chip scone. Then I drove home. As I was rounding the corner on the main “thoroughfare†before reaching my street…driving at the speed limit of 30 MPH, I just about ran over Betty and Wilma, “jogging†through the neighborhood.
Now, I’ve almost run over Betty and Wilma before. They like to “jog†in the middle of the road, facing oncoming traffic…either right before sunrise or just after sunset, generally wearing dark clothes and clueless looks on their faces.
Now, I’m all for exercise. God knows I could probably stand to spend some extra time in my running shoes but, in the middle of the road? When it’s dark outside?
It’s no big secret that over the last couple of months, I’ve developed a serious dislike for Tom Cruise. He used to be so hot and so cute and so…so. Now though, blech.
This weekend, Capt. UberHusband and I were watching Tom belittle Matt Lauer in a rebroadcast of that horrific interview regarding Brooke Shields, antidepressants and the science of psychiatry as little more than legalized witchcraft. Ironic, since we were about to go see Bewitched, starring the ex-Mrs. Tom Cruise.
We’ve all seen the interview, so I won’t go into the play-by-play, but I just have to ask…Tom…when exactly did you have the time to become the All-Knowing God Of All Things Psychiatric, when it’s pretty obvious all you’ve been doing for the last few months is, well, Katie? Download a lot of books to your iPod?
And…Tom used the word “glib.” I laughed out loud when I heard that. “Oh Matt, you’re so glib.”
Excuse me…I need to go take my meds.
I went out earlier this morning to Starbucks and picked up a nonfat latte and a cinnamon chip scone. On the way home, I spied a couple on a tandem bicycle-built-for-two and thought, “Oh, how cool! How fun they can bike together!â€
Then, I got a little closer and spied something truly tragic…the woman was listening to an iPod. The man was not.
I mean, what’s the freaking point? Why ride a tandem bike if you’re not going to communicate with your co-rider?
I called Cingular yesterday afternoon and told them I was Capt. UberHusband and wanted to add my wife as an authorized user to her cell phone account.
Three times the customer service rep asked me what my name was.
“Capt. UberHusband.”
“No, not the name on the account…your name.”
“Capt. UberHusband. CAP-TAIN OOOOOOBERHUSBAND.”
I guess I sound girlier on the phone than I thought.
The third time she asked me what my name was, she actually called me ma’am to which I responded, “I’m not a ma’am. Now, is there a problem with adding my wife to this account?”
It took the rep an extraordinarily long time to complete the transaction and I felt a slight twinge of guilt. When I talked to Capt. UberHusband last night, I asked him to call Cingular and verify that the deed had been done. So much for being all edgy and tough.
Message received when I tried to unsubscribe from an email newsletter today:
Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from the InterVideo newsletter?
The newsletter is our way of alerting you to special deals and new InterVideo products–so that you will know about it before everybody else does. Besides, if you unsubscribe we will be very sad and we will probably mope around the office for several days, unable to eat or sleep. But if you truly must go, you are always welcome back.
Oh no InterVideo…don’t you dare try to guilt me like that! But then again…geez…I don’t want you mad at me…or disappointed in me. Maybe I didn’t put enough effort into our relationship. Maybe I could have smiled more and nagged less…maybe we could give this thing one more try…
Eh, screw it. Unsubscribe me.
The yokel at our local Cingular store told me at lunch that they can’t add authorized users at the stores and that I’d have to call Customer Service to take care of my request. I stopped short of asking Mr. Yokel if I was supposed to wave my power of attorney in front of the phone and have it magically appear in front of whomever I spoke with.
This is insane.
I turned around and left. I’ll just call them later and tell them I’m Capt. UberHusband. I tried to do things the “right” way but…Cingular…you have backed me into a corner and given me no choice.
Or…I could just have Capt. UberHusband call them during his 7 minutes of free time.
“Snarky, let me introduce you to something. Now, I know it can’t take the place of Capt. UberHusband, but it will most definitely take up some of your free time and prevent you from doing a dorky Army-themed scrapbook you and Dell keep joking about. It’s called…Tivo2Go. Now, go sit down and get to know each other.”
Oh. My. God. Can I tell you how awesome this is? We unloaded DirectTV and are now just going with Plain Old Cable…but we bought a new Tivo box that supports Tivo2Go, which basically allows me to download shows from our Tivo to either of our computers since everything is networked together.
Now, it’s not a quick process. I transferred Desperate Housewives and Grey’s Anatomy and it took about three hours. But hey…it’s all in how much you value your television programming.
The best part? I can burn the shows that I download to DVD. We decided to get this Tivo box and a new rewritable DVD drive because I couldn’t bear the thought of Capt. UberHusband going for more than a day overseas without having access to his favorite television shows (yes, we’ll be getting him a laptop…please don’t steal it). VHS tapes are antiquated, bulky and don’t really fit into the standard laptop CD-ROM/DVD drive, so we thought we’d pull ourselves into the current millenium.
And…there you have it. You’ve got a couple of options with how to handle the “burning.” You can either burn the shows to DVD and have them show up with a menu and all that, but there’s this thing called transcoding that, for two hours of programming, literally takes nine hours from start to finish. The downside is, obviously, that it takes ten times longer to process than to actually watch, but the upside is you can watch the shows in any DVD player.
The other option is to just transfer the raw files over to the DVD as data files and watch them from a laptop. You’ll need the Tivo Desktop or a special codec (I think) to view the files but, therein lies the beauty of portability. I can take my laptop to the pool and watch 30 Minute Meals…or out in the backyard…or on an airplane!
{{demonic giggles}}
This is almost better than the whole power of attorney thing!
Anyhoo…I didn’t get a specific request for Bahston Rahb & Ambuh Of Da Smokin’ Ass Get Hitched, but I’ve got Tivo cranked up to tape the season finale of Lost tomorrow night and then…that’s about it until this Fall.
Oh no…what am I going to watch?
LIGHT-SABRE DUEL PUTS TWO IN HOSPITAL
Two Star Wars fans are in a critical condition in hospital after duelling with lightsabres made by filling fluorescent light tubes with petrol.
The pair – a man aged 20 and a girl of 17 – are believed to have been filming a mock fight when one of the devices exploded in woodland on Sunday.
They were rushed to West Herts Hospital before being transferred to the specialist burns unit at Broomfield Hospital, Chelmsford, in Essex.
Police say a third person present at the incident was questioned.
I’m guessing that third person wasn’t Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Anyone else watching The Oprah Winfrey Show today? Tom Cruise is on and he will not freaking shut up about how wonky-nutso-psycho in love he is with Katie Holmes.
I’m all for love. I lurves me a good romantic relationship but…Tom…didja have to jump up and down on Oprah’s couches like a monkey and grind around on her carpet like a ferret to get the point across that you’re really excited about this new relationship?
I’m not exaggerating. He’s also got his 50,000-watt smile cranked up so high that my face hurt watching him. All I needed was for him to thank God for bringing him Katie and point up at the sky a’la Scott Savol.
Katie…girlfriend…when we were younger those kinds of public declarations of affection would (or should) have caused us to run screaming for the dorm room door. Same rules apply when you’re 26.
Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy.
And…if I hear Mr. Cruise refer to Ms. Holmes as “my woman” one more time… I’m going to hurl.
I called Cingular this morning, because the bill for my phone was supposed to cut about a week ago, but I still cannot see the bill online. I had some problems downloading ringtones last month and was told…when I called Cingular last month…to call back after May 19 and they’d apply the appropriate credits.
So, I get on the phone to call Cingular and am bluntly told that since I am not listed as an authorized user on the account (the account is under Capt. UberHusband’s name), they can’t help me with billing issues or pretty much anything else. They can answer “generic questions” (like what, “How do I make a call?”), but that’s about it.
I told Mr. Blunt that I called in last month and no one seemed to care that I was Mrs. Capt. UberHusband and not Capt. UberHusband to which he says…kid you not…”I don’t see any record that you called in last month. Would it be possible for Capt. UberHusband to call us?”
“Not really…he’s being mobilized and deployed and isn’t readily available.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true at this point but I was in a feisty mood. I’m not going to burden him with petty household crap like this. Besides, really now, what else are they going to ask Capt. UberHusband that I couldn’t answer? Social security number? Mother’s maiden name? Name of high school? Check…check…and check.
I continued with, “I have access to everything online. You’re telling me that you can’t initiate billing credits from me because you don’t really know who I am but…Cingular is A-OK with me doing whatever I need to do online…and actually paying the bill…not really knowing who I am.”
“Well, when you put it that way, yes.”
Nice.
It really isn’t that big of a deal…I was just in a mood. All I have to do is go down to the Cingular store with a copy of Capt. UberHusband’s orders and my power of attorney (yay us for doing that before he left) and the patience of Job since the folks at our local Cingular store aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.
Bwa ha ha…I have a power of attorney…mwa ha ha…hee hee…
Well, Captain UberHusband is gone.
Having him leave was tough. Really tough. I hope you married ladies never have to deal with watching your husband leave and not knowing when you’ll see him next.
On an up note…the season finales of Desperate Housewives and Grey’s Anatomy are on tonight. Hey…the UberHusband’s gone…it’s not like my television left me or anything.
Geez…I don’t even need to write my San Antonio travelogue…CNN has done all the work for me.
And, here’s the Boudro’s guacamole I can’t shut up about:
There are always a few things we will always make time for when going to San Antonio. The first is the guacamole, which I’ve talked about for weeks. We had Boudro’s guacamole three times this trip. The other thing is the San Antonio River Tour. Sure, it’s touristy and kitschy but every time we do it, something new is added.
By far, the most entertaining part of the weekend was when we took the river tour. Our boatmaster, Juan, was a kick…as they all are. We had a full boat…as they all are, and four Hispanic (and very non-English speaking) riders were sitting right next to the UberHusband and me. Now, if they don’t speak English, that’s fine. We are in San Antonio and we understand it’s more North Mexico than South Texas.
However…
These people had zero consideration for anyone else on the boat. They were yapping VERY LOUDLY en español and getting up and standing up and moving around and taking pictures and generally being quite obnoxious. It’s a small boat. Lots of people. The four in question were not particularly small so obviously, when they got up, everyone noticed.
Now, I know how to say “shut up” and “sit down” in Spanish and considered saying just those things, until the one guy in the group lost his balance while moving around the moving boat and almost crushed the UberHusband. Not wanting to risk meeting the same fate and getting squished like a Boudro’s avocado, I bit my lip and thought, “This is going to make for such a great blog story.” Fortunately though, my intervention wasn’t necessary because Boatmaster Juan did the work for us. Again, much like CNN.
At one point Juan completely stopped the boat in the middle of the river and just stared at the group…hoping they’d notice the change in momentum. Nope. They just continued to talk and get up and take pictures and do their thing. Eventually, he pulled the boat over to edge, tied it up and went down to talk to Señor Motormouth.
Juan asked Señor Motormouth if he only spoke Spanish. Of course, he did. Juan only spoke English but tried to get the point across that they needed to quit getting up and moving around (including the “let your fingers do the walking” hand gesture) and quiet down so everyone else could enjoy the tour.
There were these two kids sitting next to me and their moms were across from us…and we were all dying. We were laughing so hard, but trying not to laugh too loud…and we all had tears running down our faces watching Juan try to handle these insolent dolts.
Juan’s stern reprimand worked…for about two minutes. Then, they were back to their oblivious ways. At the end of these tours, the boatmaster always makes a plea for tips and generally, we don’t give anything. This time though, Juan entertained us and we gave the guy five bucks because he sure did try and he gets extra points for managing to be funny and not a jackass around a group of difficult people.
Yay. Fun trip.
The only thing that sucks is now the official “countdown” has started. Up until two days ago, I had this wonderful weekend to look forward to and distract me from the fact that the UberHusband was going to leave just a few days after we got back.
Lots going on…a few things to finish up, a few more people to say goodbye to and then…there you have it.
The UberHusband received in his email box today:
# An email from BMG Music Service, exclaiming how much they miss him and want him to come back to their creepy little music cult.
# An email from a law firm, notifying said UberHusband that he’s eligible to participate in a class action lawsuit against…BMG Music Service.
Over lunch, I went grocery shopping and heard a mom bellow (I guess she thought she was the only one in the store?) to her toddler, who was running up and down the frozen foods section, “ZACHARY…Mommy needs to know if you have to POOP. DO YOU HAVE TO POOP BECAUSE IF YOU DO, I NEED TO KNOW NOW, BEFORE YOU POOP.”
Personally, I didn’t need to know either way. Ladies, this isn’t appropriate grocery store conversation. Period. I don’t care that you have a toddler, you’re in a place where people buy food.
I so wish the UberHusband had been with me. I would have asked him if he needed to poop because I NEED TO KNOW NOW, before we buy any yogurt or beer.
Uh huh…not so cute when we’re talking about adults, is it?
I love pointing out stupid people and giving them the attention and credit they so desperately crave. I also love it when people think they know me and/or the UberHusband better than we know ourselves.
Take for example, two comments I received last night regarding this controversial post from a million years ago regarding a personal incident (and my associated opinion) from an event that happened over four years ago.
By the way, the individual Googled “my husband went to a strip club” and spent 25 minutes at my site.
This one was from someone named, of all things, “Respect”:
Stacy, First of all want to know what trailer park you were raised in. The last time I checked women were strippers because they had no education and were possibly on drugs and have been physically and mentally abused. This is a very sad existance for a man or a woman and anyone who is a humanist would not condone any such behavior from themself or anyone they love. If you or your husband wouldn’t want your daughter on the pole then you better make sure neither of you are near that pole. I wish you well.
Follow that up with a comment from “Integrity,” who, I swear…is the same person as “Respect” since their comments came about six minutes apart from each other…who knows, maybe they’re a husband/wife team who thinks my husband and I are doomed to eternal damnation. How sad for them that they have to go trolling blogs looking for strip club-themed posts at 2 a.m (and tell me that my marriage is in trouble…and has been apparently, since before we even got married), while we sleep the night away, warm and snuggy in our bed.
Girl, You have nothing to be afraid of. You have a right to tell your husband not to go to one of these disease infested meat markets. They are for alcoholic, pathetic, single sex deprived boys who can’t sustain a productive life with his wife. And trust me when I tell you, he is taking advantage of you…and I don’t mean this in such a way to hurt you but to empower you, girl! You are being cheated on girl! Already this is happening and unless you stop it you will be disrespected as a woman and human being, and if you have children they will see this. Please for all women, stand up for yourself, and human beings to not be degrated! Much Love
You know what…if your husband or boyfriend is cheating on you or “disrespects” you (God, I hate that expression) then boo on you for picking such a louse to spend your time with. If your life sucks, don’t try bringing me down with you. How pathetic.
Regardless of what your opinion is on the subject of strip clubs, what happened, happened. It amuses me when people read one thing and then assume the UberHusband is constantly out carousing and frequenting strip clubs when in reality, his ass is planted on the couch next to me and we do nothing but watch television in the evenings.
As for the fear for our children that we won’t be having…I’d be more afraid of them turning into television-addicted couch potatoes than winding up “on the pole.”
Here’s the new pope’s email domain: benedettoxvivatican.va
Is it just me, or does “benedettoxvivatican†ironically look like the name of some sort of sexual performance drug we bloggers get spammed about all the time?
I also thought it could possibly be code for “Bennifer Detox Viva Vatican.â€
Man…I need to get out of the house.
Snarky: Hi. I’d like to return this shirt. {hands over shirt} It was a gift.
Saleslady: {Grabs shirt and starts scanning UPC codes} Okay. Should I credit the amount of the shirt back to the gift giver’s credit card?
Snarky: {Blank look on my face. Forehead starts to crinkle}. Um…no? What are my options?
Saleslady: Well, we can put the returned amount on a Macy’s gift card, but some people prefer to return the money to the gift giver.Snarky: Um…no. No one does that.
Saleslady: Well, if it was your mom…I mean…I don’t know who gave you this gift, but some people do that…credit the person back.
Snarky: Um…no. No one does that. I’ll take the gift card.
And for the record, it wasn’t a gift…just a shirt I bought a couple of months ago that I never got around to returning and couldn’t find the receipt. That’s what made this even funnier…I’m the gift giver so the money would have gone back on my card (didn’t realize it had one of those pesky UPC codes on the tag), but I was so befuddled by the thought of returning a gift and reimbursing the purchaser that…well…I wound up with a Macy’s gift card.
So I read this inane article in the Dallas Morning News about the Plano school district removing swings from its playgrounds due to their inherent “danger,” and also saw it over at Lady Mac’s.
Articles such as this run rampant in the Dallas/Fort Worth area…take all of the swings away from the playground, but only get slightly upset that your son’s entire high school football team is on steroids and pity the poor schoolteachers (rather than be infuriated with them) who help their students cheat on the state’s standardized tests.
Hmm…which of the three, overall, is the least dangerous?
Now see, it’s getting bunged up as a child that kept me from coming unglued and suing my homeowner’s association, the City of Allen, the County of Collin and probably the cement manufacturer when I tripped and splattered across my neighborhood’s sidewalk a week ago.
Instead…because I have the benefit of experience and COMMON SENSE, I came home and told myself to be more careful next time. Novel idea, eh?
I cut my index finger with a knife the other day. Should I sue Wusthof?
Cripes. I mean come on…after all, isn’t this why they sell Barbie and SpongeBob SquarePants band-aids? Or are those just for your way-advanced-for-her-years 9-year-old daughter when she cuts herself shaving her legs?
Get ready Gillette…you’re next.
It’s Pro Bowl week here at the Hilton Hawaiian Village. Want to know what Daunte Culpepper orders at the Hau Tree Bar on a warm, sunny day?
“Vodka cranberry…Belvedere if you’ve got it.”
And to think, I thought people were gathering around me and the UberHusband because they were fans of my blog and recognized me from my photo.
He also likes his women with itty bitty g-string bikinis. Itty. Bitty.
Mr. Wong is back. Here’s his latest email to me, regarding my recaps of The Amazing Race over at TVTome.com, which is basically what you see here on my blog.
Reading your review is like reading a really really really long boring book. Might as well go read a book than reading your “review.”
This is the third email I’ve received from Mr. Wong and I have to wonder, what kind of loser continues to read something he obviously doesn’t like?
So last night it was Y’all Blog Happy Hour over at Blue Mesa Grill. I really did have a great time, contrary to what you might read elsewhere and no, I did not throw pitchers of margaritas up against the walls in fits of angry rage…that’s just…um…rumor.
Yeah, yeah…that’s the ticket.
I already knew Ali & Dell but hadn’t met Ty or Ali’s husband, and none of them had met the UberHusband. The bar was packed and the restaurant more crowded than any other time I’d been there (once, last May…for lunch…what’s your point?), with no less than three corporate parties going on. I use the vanilla term “going on” because they didn’t really seem like parties to us.
But anyway, we all had a great time…good stories, good people, good food, lousy service (the UberHusband had to yell “GREY GOOSE AND TONIC!” to our language-impaired server) but sadly, I did not get to witness the apparent piece de resistance of Blue Mesa Grill. I ordered it but it was disappointingly small.
It’s always so much fun to make new friends and to put faces to blog names. At one point I joked that we needed to wear name tags with our blog names since that’s how most of us know each other.
Good times.
I want to know…in all seriousness…who here would be offended by a cartoon ass? Especially on The Family Guy, of all shows?
“We have to be checking and second-guessing ourselves now,” Fox entertainment president Gail Berman said Monday. “We have to protect our affiliates.”
Fox hadn’t gotten any complaints about the cartoon. But the move follows the FCC’s decision in October to fine 169 Fox stations $7,000 each for airing an episode of “Married By America” that showed people licking whipped cream from strippers’ bodies and a man in his underwear being spanked by strippers.
If this is the case, then no more baby commercials. Can you imagine the backlash? But…babies are adorable! Be that as it may, if I can’t see a cartoon butt on television (people…it’s animated…it’s…not…real!), it seems only prudent to curtail the viewing of nubbins that will become nipples in twelve years. And…no more naked little baby butts running across a freshly mom-cleaned floor. Unless of course, the butts are pixilated.
And…let’s talk about out canine and feline companions. If your pet doesn’t have a full body of fur, get him/her a coat so we don’t have to look at his/her obscene nakedness. And please, get a jock for your boy pets so it just isn’t all hanging out there for everyone to see.
Don’t even get me started on all of the obscene Barbie dolls out in the world, just waiting to latch on to our children and make them SEX OBSESSED!!!!!!!
Obscene…obscene, I tell you!
As a postscript to my earlier rant about animated nudity and indecency and insanity, I give you this exchange from this past Sunday’s all-new episode of The Simpsons:
Homer et al are attending a company function at the Springfield Air and Space Museum. Moe is tending bar at the party.
Homer: Nice tux, Moe.
Moe: Yeah, thanks. I bought this for my funeral. It ain’t got no back, so, don’t make me turn around.
Homer peers behind Moe and…
Don’t come to Texas, though. We have more strippers than we know what to do with.
Speaker To 8th-Graders: Try Stripping
Associated Press
SAN FRANCISCO – The principal of a Palo Alto middle school may not invite a popular speaker back to an annual career day after he told girls they could earn a good living as strippers.
Management consultant William Fried told eighth-graders at Jane Lathrop Stanford Middle School on Tuesday that stripping and exotic dancing can pay $250,000 or more per year, depending on their bust size.
“It’s sick, but it’s true,” Fried said in an interview later. “The truth of the matter is you can earn a tremendous amount of money as an exotic dancer, if that’s your desire.”
Fried has given a popular 55-minute presentation, “The Secret of a Happy Life,” at the school’s career day the past three years. He counsels students to experiment with a variety of interests until they discover something they love and excel in.
But school principal Joseph Di Salvo said Fried may not be back next year.
The principal said Fried’s comments to the class came after some of them asked him to expand on why he included “exotic dancing” on his list of 140 potential careers.
Fried spent about a minute answering questions, defining strippers and exotic dancers synonymously. According to Jason Garcia, 14, he told students: “For every two inches up there, you should get another $50,000 on your salary.”
“A couple of students egged him and he took it hook, line and sinker,” said Di Salvo, who also said the students took advantage of a substitute teacher overseeing the session.
“It’s totally inappropriate,” Di Salvo said. “It’s not OK by me. I would want my presenters to kind of understand that they are coming into a career day for eighth-graders.”
That stripping advice wasn’t the only thing that riled parents. Di Salvo said one mother said she was outraged when her son announced that he was forgoing college for a field he loves: fishing.
“He really focused on finding what you really love to do,” said Mariah Cannon, 13.
Fried, 64, said he does not think he offended any of the students: “Eighth-grade kids are not dumb,” he said. “They are pretty worldly.”
Every time I see the city of Dallas’s campaign to market the city, I always think it should say, “Live Large, Be Larger.” This isn’t a fat rant though, so don’t get all up in arms.
Dallas is the 3rd fattest city in America, according to Men’s Fitness magazine.
Surprised? Nah, me neither.
Of course, the Dallas Morning News has to go and get all pissy and defensive about how the rankings were tabulated:
The Men’s Fitness study consisted of examining the Yellow Pages online for the number of gyms, sporting goods stores, health food stores, liquor stores, and fast food outlets for 25 cities. None of these is a measure of fat.
The magazine said it also collated data on air quality and climate, commute time, and number of parks and recreational facilities, none of which are measures of fat either.
Boo hoo. The second paragraph is what really jumped out at me because, what are the most prevalent excuses people give for not exercising? It’s too hot/cold/muggy to exercise, I don’t have time because I have a three hour commute every day and…I’d go work out but there aren’t any nice parks nearby to walk and besides, it’s too hot/cold/muggy. Add those up and they sound like a pretty good measure for packing on the pounds.
As much as I hate to say it I tend to agree with the think tank at Men’s Fitness although, I’m guessing they were just looking at fat chicks and not the general population as a whole.
Seattle ranked sixth on the list of “fittest” cities with this comment, “The moderate climate encourages people to get moving. More than 35% of the residents walk for fun.” This is so true. In a book I bought the UberHusband for Christmas titled, Irreverant Guide to Seattle and Portland, the author made an excellent point:
“Spend one winter here, and you quickly realize that if you stayed inside on every rainy day, you’d run out of food in a hurry and develop a terrible TV habit. So get over it, it’s only rain. Seattle’s many parks are even more lovely when viewed through the filter of a light mist that spritzes the trees and makes the grass glisten.”
I don’t talk about it much, but there is an extremely high probability that the UberHusband and I will be moving to Seattle later this year for a project he’s working on. I’m excited. For everyone who keeps telling me, “But it rains all the time there.” No, it doesn’t. It mists all the time there and takes an entire year to garner the same rainfall amount Dallas can get in three months.
And…you can go skiing just an hour away. Rain in town means snow in the mountains!
Larry King is such an arrogant, condescending jerk. I’ve never been a fan of his…personally, I think his head has gotten so big over the years that it barely fits into even my big-screen TV now.
But…last night one of his first guests was Matt, one of Ali’s brother Spencer’s friends who was on Phuket Island when the tsunami hit, and Mr. King was in rare form; interrupting Matt and chastising him like an errant child for going down to take pictures of the wave that ultimately kicked the crap out of him and his friends. You think Matt doesn’t also think it was a bit absurd now, in retrospect? No need to rub salt in the guy’s wounds, Mr. I-Won’t-Go-There-If-I-Can’t-Get-CNN!
Then…he just continued interrupting Matt and getting all impatient when Matt wasn’t responding to his questions fast enough. He’s in Thailand. There’s a delay. Ask the question, wait five seconds. If you don’t have five seconds to wait, find a couple of guests who are local and can respond quicker. Oh wait…he did.
Larry’s a news man…he should know better, but once he was able to get his attempt at sensationalism out of the way he could move on to his more “high-profile” guests, which included two people who were nowhere near Thailand, India or anyplace else in Southeast Asia but sure did like to talk a good game because they had relatives there or they had been there before.
When he grew tired of Matt’s story, he basically just cut him off. No wonder Matt hadn’t held on the line when Larry came crawling back for more sticky ratings goo.
The bummer thing was I didn’t even have a new episode of Nanny 911 to cleanse my viewing palate. Fortunately the Larry King hangover didn’t last long.
I loathe people who try to screw me over. Don’t even bother trying…I’ll always figure out a way to win.
Allow me to tell you a couple of stories…
When I quit the job I was working at four years ago, the company’s Human Resource department tried to recoup the signing bonus it paid to me by sending me an invoice and demanding that I mail them a check immediately. I refused, which caused the Human Resource department to escalate my “situation” to the corporate Legal department, who also demanded I pay up.
When I notified the Human Resource department and the company’s Legal department that, according to my employment offer letter, if I resigned employment within the first 12 months, the company was authorized to withhold the amount of the signing bonus from my final paycheck, minus the minimum wages required be paid to me under state law…a couple of proverbial light bulbs must have gone off in their collective heads because the subject was never brought up again by anyone at my old employer.
My final check was only for one week, so obviously the company didn’t get all of it’s money back. I’m guessing after that fiasco (which lasted a couple of months as we bickered and faxed and emailed back and forth), the company changed the wording on future employment offer letters.
When the UberHusband and I broke our apartment lease back in 2001 to move into our UberHouse, we scoured our apartment lease to find out what, if anything, we’d be liable for. We would only be liable for the time between when we moved out and when someone new moved into our new apartment. When someone moved into our apartment 37 days later, we received an invoice from the property management company for 37 days’ worth of rent, with payment due within 30 days.
After several phone calls back and forth and exchanged faxes, during which we got the apartment complex to concede some of the ancillary “cleaning charges” and what-not apartments like to charge to make extra revenue (I lived in apartments for 12 years, I know their tricks), we noticed a line in our lease agreement that basically said we didn’t have to repay anything within 30 days. We had to pay it back during a time period mutually agreed upon by Lessor and Lessee. Well, the UberHusband crafted a letter that stated we would pay them $50 a month for the next 18 months. If the apartment complex was agreeable to that, let us know in writing and we’ll begin payment on the first of the upcoming month.
Never heard a thing from them again. Most companies (not all, but most) would rather just end the dispute rather than deal with me and the UberHusband. I’ll poke. I’ll prod. I’ll set up task reminders in Outlook to remind me to send you the daily email reminder about how you owe me money or I don’t owe you money. Methodology has it’s benefits.
I mention these two stories because there have been times in my life when I have eluded pain and misery by being nitpicky and interpreting legal contracts to the letter because hey, I am going to do what is legally required, even if that means that you…person trying to mess with me…will not come out ahead.
This time though, it was personal.
Back when I began blogging I talked about an e-publication called This is True. I’ve been a Premium This is True subscriber for a few years now and a couple of years ago, hooked my dad up with a subscription because he also enjoys the stupid foibles of others.
His subscription comes up for renewal in December (it was originally a birthday gift) and I decided to purchase a gift renewal for him earlier this month. I processed my order online, my credit card was charged $36 for two years and a couple of days later, my dad received his gift renewal notification which also stated that if he didn’t want the gift subscription, to reply back and I (the gift subscriber) would receive a refund.
Turns out Dad didn’t want another two years so he responded back with a “No, thanks.” A couple of days later I forwarded the copy of that confirmation email I received to Randy at This is True and asked when my refund would be processed. No response. I wrote another email about a week later again inquiring as to my refund. No answer. I sent a third email asking what the deal was…finally received an answer.
The response?
“I’ll refund it if you insist, but there is a clearly stated “no refunds” policy on Premium subscriptions, mainly because it costs me SEVERAL bucks to process such refunds.”
I came unglued…as unglued as you can come at one o’clock in the morning.
Here is the carefully crafted response emailed back to Randy this morning:
“If there are no refunds, then why in the world did the gift notification/confirmation email sent to my father specifically say that if the subscription was unwanted, to reply back that he didn’t want it and that you would then process a refund back to me?
If we want to get technical, your website says, “There are no refunds should you unsubscribe for any reason.” Well, I’m not unsubscribing anyone. My dad has opted not to renew his subscription, which is completely different. His subscription will simply end this month. He will not receive a single issue based on the new subscription. Had he cancelled three weeks into the renewal period then I can see not being eligible for a refund, but not before he even receives anything. If I were to unsubscribe from my Premium subscription today, then I would not expect to get a refund…I understand that; however, in this case, there is no unsubscription going on.
I didn’t know my father wouldn’t want another two years of This is True and frankly, am a little irritated that my credit card would be processed BEFORE getting a confirmation from the gift recipient, then I am told, “No Refunds” when he declines.
In the future, it might be a better idea to send out the gift notification to the recipient and once the gift recipient says “Yes, I want This is True“, THEN charge the gift-giver’s credit card. If this is an issue with the way gift subscriptions are processed, that needs to be corrected but I shouldn’t have to pay for it.
But yes, I want a refund, because that is what was stated in your email back at the beginning of December if my dad did not want to renew. The charges you will be incurring for that aren’t my problem.”
Needless to say, I will not be renewing my personal subscription when it comes up in July. I’m not above simply disputing the credit card charge but I much prefer to make people’s lives a little miserable and force them to just do what’s right.
Don’t screw with your reading public…especially me. I don’t have big connections, but I have a big mouth and have no problem exposing people or companies I believe exercise shifty business practices. Just ask anyone who knew me when I was trying to buy a Honda Civic EX Coupe back in ‘96 (like everyone else on the planet) and had to deal with the chauvinistic assholes at Shingle Springs Honda.
Letter lifted from a “feature” in our homeowners association’s monthly propaganda rag newsletter, received this morning.
Dear Snarky Santa,
I’ve been a good mom all year. I’ve fed, cleaned and cuddled my two children on demand, visited the doctor’s office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my son’s boy scout uniform with staples and a glue gun.
I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son’s red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I’ll find any more free time in the next 18 years.
Here are my Christmas wishes:
I’d like a pair of legs that don’t ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don’t hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.
I’d also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
If you’re hauling big ticket items this year, I’d like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn’t broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, “Yes, Mommy” to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don’t fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.
I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, “Don’t eat in the living room” and, “Take your hands off your brother,” because my voice seems to be just out of my children’s hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
If it’s too late to find any of these products, I’d settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
If you don’t mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten my holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.
It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.
Well Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don’t catch cold.
Help yourself to cookies on the table but don’t eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.
Dear MartyrMommy,
Snarky Santa thinks the only reason she made it through this entire “letter” is because she needed to get her blood going this morning to get out to The Container Store for 50%-off wrapping paper.
Lady, you don’t need anything from Snarky Santa. You have complete control over your situation so don’t try to guilt Snarky Santa into your little hovel of misery. What you need is a good exercise regime, better eating habits and oh yeah, a backbone. As far as appreciation from your children for “all you’ve done”, sorry, that’s never been part of the parenting contract. If you didn’t know that going in, then Snarky Santa can’t help you with that, either.
You are so on your way way to either camping out in your front yard in Mommy Protest or cancelling Christmas. Do you not see that?
Don’t misunderstand Snarky Santa. She may be childfree, but she’s never been a parent-basher unless she reads things like your letter, which completely turned her stomach. She realizes this letter was probably written in jest, with the hope that all of the other moms just like you out there will frantically nod their heads in unified agreement, but these are the same women who like to discreetly tell Snarky Santa what she is missing out on by not having kids. No wonder you didn’t sign your real name.
News flash…you chose to have children. Snarky Santa is fully aware, at the age of 33, what parenthood would entail…both good and bad. But…she also has always been of the opinion that when you choose to do something, you take both the good and the bad and you don’t complain about the bad because, well, you chose to do it. Just because ten years down the road things aren’t the way you idealistically thought they would be, that doesn’t mean you get to ask for a bailout.
Sorry, no sympathy here. Snarky Santa will see if she has a spare backbone in her big red bag for you but (a) that was a popular item on Mom Lists this year and (b) if she can find one, you’re going to have to work for it.
All of the things you want Snarky Santa to provide in your letter are completely within your power. As soon as you realize that and take responsibility for yourself as a woman and a mother and quit asking non-entities for “help,” you may get the backbone. Until you can admit that you have complete control over the situation but you’re either too weak, too wussy or not assertive enough to exert that control, you will continue to get railroaded.
Radio playing adult music? Change the station.
Television showing non-children’s programming? Change the station.Can’t brush your teeth and comb your hair in the same day? Nice. Did you use that same routine to snag your husband and get him to have sex with you to create your little prodigies? Snarky Santa thinks not. Get up half an hour earlier and show some respect for yourself! Believe it or not, kids don’t like sloppy moms.
And by the way, Snarky Santa’s mom sewed the patches onto her Girl Scout uniform. Staples and a glue gun? Are you kidding me?
Don’t tell Snarky Santa you were too busy because she bets a hundred bucks you’re a stay-at-home-mom. Her mom worked full-time and was able to do everything you did without whining to her local homeowners association’s propaganda rag.
Back in the snarky spirit,
Snarky Santa
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I’m sure you’ve all heard about the guy who is auctioning off his naughty kids’ Christmas presents on eBay.
How great is this? You and I and everyone else all understood the rules…if you’re a brat, your likelihood of getting anything good is greatly reduced…especially if your behavior deteriorates in the few weeks preceding Christmas.
Back in the day though, Santa would actually follow through. In this day of “kinder, gentler parenting” and being your kid’s friend instead of a parent though…come on, how many Naughty Listers ever actually go without these days?
What is truly hilarious though, is the perspective of the “social worker” the Houston Chronicle dug up:
Lane Coco, a Ph.D. social worker at Depelchin Children’s Center, suggested that the embattled parents may have stumbled into an “ultimatum situation” in which everyone loses.
“Perhaps they should have planned some kind of activity,” she said. “It sounds like the kids were bored with school being out. … Sometimes parents let things go by the wayside, they’re lax, then they really come down with something very harsh. It’s really not fair to the children, or to them. They usually feel pretty lousy about what they’ve had to do.”
Coco praised the family for its joint meetings, and suggested the parents might have asked the children for ways they could better get along.
“It sounds like the children are at a developmental stage where there is a lot of picking at one another and sibling rivalry,” she said. “Making the youngest one the odd man out – that’s not unusual at all.”
With the situation in its present state, Coco suggested another family meeting in which the parents could assure the kids of their love.
“Maybe he could salvage the presents, take them off eBay,” she said. “Get the kids to work with them, rather than fighting with one another. Try to form alliances with the children rather than coming off with this off-the-top-of-the-charts disciplinary thing.”
One solution might be to have each child choose one of his gifts to give to a homeless child.
“That takes the spotlight off how bad they are, and turns it into something more in line with Christmas,” Coco said.
Try to form an alliance with your children! Engage yourself in parenting by committee! Bend over and take it when your kids mouth off to you! Good plan, Dr. Cuckoo!
Players Suspended for Photos of Girls
Um…nothing happened to the young women involved? No mention of that? Can you imagine the outrage if this situation would have been reversed? Can’t you hear the cries of sexual harassment? Yeah, me neither.
What the boys did was irresponsible…and stupid…and completely inappropriate, but if those young women hadn’t gone to the players’ bus and “exposed” themselves, none of this would have happened. From what I can tell, the boys didn’t coerce them, didn’t hold a gun to their head to get them to come to the bus. Free will, my friends.
Once again…that whole reaping and sowing thing.
How terribly ironic that I should get the following via my friend Kevin just moments after posting this little rant…
Police are warning all men who frequent clubs, parties and local pubs to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from any woman. Many females use a date rape drug on the market called … Beer.
The drug is found in liquid form and available anywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, from taps and in large “kegs”.
Beer is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and have sex with them. A woman needs only to get a guy to consume a few units of Beer and then simply ask him home for no-strings-attached sex. Men are usually rendered helpless against this approach.
After several Beers, men will often succumb to the desires to perform sexual acts on horrific-looking women to whom they would never normally be attracted. After drinking Beer, men often awaken with only hazy memories of exactly what happened to them the night before, often with just a vague feeling that “something bad” occurred.
At other times these unfortunate men are swindled out of their life’s savings, in a familiar scam known as a “relationship”. In extreme cases, the female may even be shrewd enough to entrap the unsuspecting male into a longer term form of servitude and punishment referred to as “marriage”. Men are much more susceptible to this scam after Beer is administered and sex is offered by the predatory females.
Please! Forward this warning to every male you know. If you fall victim to this Beer and the women administering it, just know that there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly-affected like-minded guys.
For the support group nearest you, just look up “Golf Courses” in the phone book.
Yesterday I had my bi-weekly nail appointment and when I arrived, my nail lady’s previous appointment was just finishing up. She had a Neiman Marcus shopping bag to her side and after she gave Rose her tip, pulled a big tin of Neiman Marcus Chocolate Chip Cookies out of the bag and gave it to her with a big “You’re such an amazing nail lady…Merry Christmas!”
Aww…how sweet. I…brought…nothing.
Anyhoo, Rose thanked her and told the woman the gift was very considerate. The woman then did that pooh-pooh hand gesture thing and smirked, “It was nothing. We had a bunch of extras left over at the party last night.” Then she asked Rose if she wouldn’t mind throwing away the Neimans bag for her.
Oh. My. God. My jaw dropped. Every single day I am stunned at how people behave anymore. Bless dear Rose, who maintained her typically cute smile but you just KNOW she went into the back room eventually and swore fifteen different ways in Vietnamese and cursed the wretched woman who brought her surplus cookies and didn’t have the GOOD FREAKING SENSE to just say, “You’re welcome” when thanked but instead, chose to run her mouth and look like an arrogant, callous Christmas fool.
Stop. Breathe. Continue.
The holidays bring out the good in so many people, and the relentless, idiotic insensitivity in so many others.
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
There’s nothing like holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call. Then there’s the Grinch himself, whom I will refer to as Mr. Wong, referring to my latest recap of The Amazing Race over at TVTome.com.
I was just reading your review of the Amazing Race and realized that it’s not a review at all…it’s a really really really long re-cap. After watching the episode, the last thing the readers need is a minute-by-minute, second-by-second recap. Hell, if I wanted to know what happened every second of the episode, I would just watch it again than read about it. The first thing you need to do it cut down the length and take out the announcer, re-cap of it. The first thing any reader notices is the length, and right now, I would think your “review” would discourage anyone to read the whole thing. What else I have to say is that you don’t have to write in EVERYTHING that happens. Just write down what was important, highlights of the episode, and moments of the episode that you liked. The recap of the whole episode shouldn’t take up the whole review, it should only be about a short a paragraph or two. Tell us what you feel during the review, what/who you liked/hated. Tell us what you thought was funny, sad, etc. Like I said, we don’t need a second-by-second of what happened during the episode. REVIEW it, DON’T RECAP it.
Geez buddy, get a life. It’s a television show. Don’t you have anything better to do? I write these recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares in my free time. I don’t get paid by the word; in fact, I don’t get paid at all for it. To be perfectly honest, I write them for my own amusement…if I can amuse a couple of other people in the process, all the better.
If you don’t like what I write, don’t read it but don’t get on your hippity-hop high horse and tell me how to write. Considering your letter is the second one I’ve ever received that has criticized my recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares, and all of the other commentors enjoy my style of recaps/reviews/who-the-f-cares, I’m not putting a whole lot of legitimacy into it, unless you’re an editor for a magazine or a writer for a network in which case, let’s do lunch!
Plus…I swear I got an email exactly like this last season…let me look because I love to keep my hate mail…why, yes I did! The one from last season had the same closing line as this one… “REVIEW it, DON’T RECAP it.”
Fine. Here’s a review: love the show. Now, move along. Nothing more to see here.
Merry Christmas, Mr. Wong! See you next season!
I told the UberHusband that if he was ever in the same situation as this guy, keep the finger. The ring can be replaced.
I know you love me. Yes, our wedding rings are a wonderful and precious symbol of our marriage and our commitment, but I’d rather have you fully intact than a piece of metal.
For the pampered pooch…a Faberge egg bed.
Just think how great this would go with a Louis Vuitton dog collar! By the way, the lady at the Coach store should have just checked out eBay…they have a ton of ‘em.
In retrospect, I have a feeling Missus LaDeeDa was just trying to show off because you can also get LV doggie collars at eLuxury.com for $195, well below the $285 pricetag Missus LaDeeDa was throwing out for all mere mortals within earshot. Or…she has the hookup for the elite LV dog collars in the back of a pool hall somewhere.
Anyway…back to the egg bed…my favorite part of the description? “Not recommended for dogs that chew their beds.” Uhhh…ya think? Also not recommended for those considering filing for personal bankruptcy protection.
Best part? No wait list! 
From the “try not to scrunch up your face too much in reaction to this” files…overheard at the Coach store at Stonebriar Centre:
“They’ve been on the list for Louis Vuitton for weeks, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. I guess Coach will just have to do.”
She was buying collars…for her dogs. She also demanded the saleslady remove the price tag because she didn’t want them to see the price. “Them,” I assume, were the dogs. Damn…wish my dogs could read and could comprehend the value of a dollar.
And no, “she” wasn’t me. I’d never put my dogs on any “list” for a Louis Vuitton collar. If you have to be put on a list, it’s already passe’. {wink}
For some reason, evil aliens descending upon my suburban home, commandeered my right hand and forced me to surf Blog Explosion blogs for a couple of hours. Owie. My wist huwts.
That was most definitely an experience. In honor of the unsettling and frightening things I saw and read while surfing…here are the Top Ten Things You’ll Never Hear Me Say or Write About on My Blog…
10. OMG! I am SO BUSY and have absolutely NO TIME to fix my husband (but I call him my “third kid” to all my ‘net friends!) a meal or clean the house. However, I do have plenty of time to blog all day about not having any time! Please be sure to comment at least 50 times to this post so I know there are people out there who like me! Smooch! {giggle}
9. DS is having trouble with his potty training. He said that eating was more important than pooping, so he pooped in his Huggies training pants. He told me this while eating fish sticks.
8. I’m 17 and, like, you know, I thought I’d have life all figured out by now. Those 16-year-olds have no idea what’s ahead of them.
7. Help me get an iPod!
6. I’ve had my blog up for a week now, and only 20 people a day read it.
5. I mean it…really…I’m moving to Canada! No joke! Seriously! Don’t dare me, ‘cause I’m gonna do it!
4. Get gazillions of hits to your blog a day by linking to ME!
3. I think people with blog skins they paid for are just showing off…in reality though, I’m just jealous I don’t have one.
2. IF YOU FOUND ME THROUGH BLOG EXPLOSION PLEASE READ MY BLOG FOR LONGER THAN 30 SECONDS!
And…the #1 thing you won’t hear me say at my blog…
I’m not really a drama queen…I just play one on the internet.
The Dallas Morning News has an article about the three-ton, $300,000 Maybach.
The Maybach and Phantom are similarly loaded, but the Maybach has gotten more attention for its amenities. Both cars also pack a serious performance punch: The Maybach has a 543-horsepower V-12, and the Phantom a 453-horsepower V-12. The Maybach’s base price is $305,500, the Phantom’s $320,000.
Inside the Maybach, flat-screen televisions connected to the car’s DVD system are mounted on the backs of both leather-covered front seats. A 600-watt surround-sound system supplies the audio. In back, besides the wood-trimmed compartment for champagne flutes, the car has wireless headsets and a jewelry holder in the door.
Last month, Maybach introduced a “business package” that includes a portable Internet connection and a wireless color printer to supplement the two cellphones that come standard.
Now, I am of the opinion that if you can afford something like this, more power to you. Congrats for living a life of both luck and opportunity, and seizing both. Spoil yourself silly, I say. I don’t judge people who live this kind of a lifestyle negatively just because I am not able to live it myself.
Having said that, the Dallas Morning News asked this question…for $300,000…what amenities would you expect in a luxury car? Imagine you’re on a beach with a frothy cocktail in your hand and you know when you get home from your fabulous vacation you will be taking delivery on a new Maybach. In your world, what options did you get on the car?
From CNN.com:
Gunman Steals Salvation Army Kettle
ALLENTOWN, Pennsylvania (AP) — A gun-wielding robber swiped a red Salvation Army kettle from an attendant in front of a supermarket, police said.
Volunteer Jerlene Howard said she was ringing her bell to solicit donations from shoppers Friday night when a man wearing a scarf over his face got out of a car and demanded the kettle. He “had a gun and he told me not to say anything,” she said.
The man then got back into the car, which was driven by an accomplice, police said. Howard was not injured.
Howard said her kettle was “kind of heavy,” but she didn’t know how much money was inside. She has collected up to $135 a day in the past.
The Salvation Army’s annual Red Kettle fund-raising drive helps buy food for the homeless and toys for poor children.
From the Cincinnati Enquirer…
The truly shopper-savvy don’t need a wake-up call to get to the day-after-Thanksgiving sales.
But if an overdose of turkey and pumpkin pie puts you in a coma, Target is ready to ring you awake, preferably for the stores’ 6 a.m. Nov. 26 and 8 a.m. Nov. 27 openings. And the call won’t be some somber hotel-voice.
Instead, you pick the voice – Heidi Klum, Ice-T, Cheech Marin, Darth Vader, a rooster, a crying baby and others – to call you to shopping attention.
Americans can log on Nov. 17 to www.target.com/wakeup to register for a call between 4 a.m. and 10 a.m. (You can hear sound bites at the site.) You’ll be asked to pick a character and a time and provide a first and last name, zip code, e-mail address, confirmation that the person is 13 or older, date of the call, time of the call, time zone and phone number of a landline or cell phone.
It’s early, but I just don’t see anything else beating this. I don’t want to call it yet…but…
This election night’s Stupid Quote Award goes to Dan “I have anthrax” Rather who, at 8:41 p.m. CST, commented regarding the election results, “It’s humming along like Ray Charles.”
God, CBS sucks.
How about an informal poll? Just out of curiosity, if kids were to show up on your doorstep on Saturday night, would you give them candy? I wouldn’t. Halloween is Sunday. Besides…the UberHusband and I are going out to dinner Saturday night.
The Associated Press reports that some American towns are decreeing that Halloween be celebrated on Saturday instead of Sunday Oct. 31 this year in order to avoid offending folks who might object to the sight of mini goblins and demons wandering around on the Sabbath.
“You just don’t do it on Sunday,” Sandra Hulsey of Greenville, Ga., said of the trick-or-treating tradition. “That’s Christ’s day. You go to church on Sunday, you don’t go out and celebrate the devil.”
“That’ll confuse a child.”
If you’ve got such a problem with kids dressing up like a goblin or a witch or Pretty Pink Princess Barbie on the Sabbath that you have to shame your children by taking them out the night before, perhaps you should consider a move to Puyallup, Washington.
Assistant Superintendent Tony Apostle advised Puyallup principals in a memo last week that Halloween costumes and parties are now banned. Pumpkins and cornstalks are fine, he said, but witches, black cats or “similar decorations that are intended to frighten or scare individuals” are not.
Halloween is a religious holiday for Wiccans, the memo noted, and its celebration in mainstream culture has generated unsavory images that might offend real-life witches.
“Building administrators should not tolerate such inappropriate stereotyping (images such as witches on flying brooms, stirring caldrons, casting spells, or with long noses and pointed hats),” Apostle’s memo states.
Maybe I’m just cranky today but for chrissakes…people…please…quit making such a big deal out of everything! GAAAAAAH!!!
I’m just finding all sorts of yummy tidbits this morning. Big Orange Michael sent me in the direction of a Christian mom who thinks “blog” is a euphamism for sex. Big Orange Michael also points out that the Holy Observer appears to be Christianity’s answer to The Onion so…enjoy.
As net-savvy teenagers everywhere know, “blog” is nothing more than a shortened form of “weblog,” or online diary. Mrs. Harrington, however, is worried that her daughter may be engaging in premarital sex. “Just yesterday Brittany told me she had been late for dinner because she had spent the day blogging at Heather’s house,” she told THO. “When I told her she was grounded for her sexual indiscretion, she lied and said that’s not what she meant. But I’ve seen those Monty Python movies, and I know all the lingo.”
Bonus points if you get the movie reference in the title of this post! Never mind…Vinny already got it…
I just realized every post title today has the word “snark” in it…guess I’m just in one of those moods. {wink} Thanks to All Things Jennifer for the inspiration…everything you never wanted to know about me.
Firsts
First job: Burger King, but it was only for a day so I don’t really count it. After that, I worked for my mom’s company after graduating high school.
First screen name: I think it was UCSBgirl71 or something mid-20s cutesy like that.
First funeral: My father-in-law, last summer.
First pet: That I remember…a little dachsund named Lucky, when I was about 5. Evil little guy…dug everything up. Parents gave him away. Not so lucky.
First piercing: LOL…just my ears. First set at…gosh I don’t remember, but I had Hello Kitty earrings so I couldn’t have been that old…10 or 11? The 2nd set was my senior year of high school.
First tattoo: Ummm…no.
First credit card: Ah yes…the AT&T Universal MasterCard. Bastards.
First kiss: Eric M. my freshman year of high school.
First enemy: Andrea M. (no relation…ha ha) ~ 4th through 6th grades. She and her little posse of Mean Girls had a swell time torturing me, the Dorky Smart Girl. Grrrr.
Lasts
Last car ride: Half an hour ago…when I went out to get Seattle’s Best Coffee.
Last kiss: This morning, when the UberHusband went to work.
Last movie watched: Oh geez…I can’t remember. How sad is that?
Last beverage drank: Nonfat vanilla latte…still drinking it.
Last food consumed: Turkey & ham sandwich.
Last phone call: The UberHusband, returning a voicemail of mine.
Last time showered: This morning.
Last CD played: The soundtrack from Chicago
Last website visited: CNN
Nows
Single or taken: Taken. Legally.
Gender: Female
Birthday: November 18
Sign: Scorpio…and all that implies
Hair color: Medium brown
Eye color: Grey
Shoe size: 8 1/2
Height: 5′ 4″
Wearing: Jeans & a pink sweatshirt with brown penny loafers
Thinking about: Why my schnauzer is giving me Big Sad Eyes.
Listening to: The Pugs & Kelly Show on Live 105.3
Well, you have to give them points for ingenuity.
Clinic Gives Chicken Soup in Lieu of Flu Shots
Thursday, October 14, 2004FERGUS FALLS, Minn. — People who went to a Fergus Falls clinic to get a flu shot didn’t receive the vaccine they wanted. Instead, they received an old-fashioned remedy for warding off the flu.
The 20-some people who went to the flu shot clinic at Affinity Plus Federal Credit Union were sent home with a can of chicken soup and a pack of tissues.
Nick Mariotti, the branch supervisor, said the idea started out as a joke when he and his staff learned they had to cancel last Friday’s clinic because of the nationwide shortage of flu vaccines.
Mariotti decided to buy a case of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and a bunch of tissues. He said the workers “kept them at the front desk, so when people walked in for the flu shot clinic, we could break the news lightly.”
When the vaccine seekers turned to leave without their flu shot, Mariotti pointed to the soup and said: “Maybe this will help.”
Most left with smiles on their faces, he said.
Article courtesy of Fox News.
Looking for something new, fun and creative to do as a married couple that doesn’t involve John Gray? Do you like beer? How about the 2004 North American Wife Carrying Championship? Too bad you missed it this year. Technically, the teams don’t have to be married but if you’re just dating, it sort of loses the symbolic irony.
Carrying methods often include the piggy back or firemen’s carry, but teams are encouraged to create their own style. Experienced teams and all winners to date employ the highly-technical Estonian carry, which has the woman upside down with arms wrapped around the man’s waist and her legs draped over his shoulders. This frees the man’s arms for balance and negotiating the obstacles. The team will have a penalty added to their finish time if the “wife” is dropped.
If you prefer your spousal transport competitions to sport more of a continental flair, Lonely Planet provides the scoop on the event in Finland. I can see Fox ripping off this premise and creating a new reality show called Wife Drop.
That rude, arrogant, skinny New Yorker with a mouth that won’t stop running ruined my project.
See? I can spout off stereotypes, too…but I have relatives who are New Yorkers, so that makes it okay.
I’m guessing the strong, virile, able-bodied men who are lurking over at ConservativeMatch.com haven’t the slightest clue what they’re up against when it comes to wooing the ladies this election year.
Props to Lisa by way of Grub for raising my awareness by bringing these significant issues to light. I didn’t verify that the source was accurate, but what the Hell, they seem trustworthy enough. {wink}
I made a vague reference to Most Extreme Elimination Challenge back at the beginning of July and actually watched it for the first time this morning, courtesy of Tivo.
You see, uber-husband and I were having lunch with visiting-from-out-of-town uber-girlfriend and her uber-husband yesterday when the conversation flowed to television. First we bantered about the idiocy that is Trading Spouses, then I think I made an Amazing Race joke that kind of flopped, then there was some talk about Britney, her bridesmaids and their pink Tacky Couture tracksuits. After that though, conversation turned to girlfriend’s uber-husband discussing this show he watched called Most Extreme Elimination Challenge and how hilarious it was…if you muted it.
This reminded me of yesteryear, when I would play Pitfall! on my Atari 2600 with the TV sound turned all the way down (no mute button back in the day), because the auditory wrath of Harry Pitfall swinging across the alligator pit became rather bothersome after playing the game 456,887 times. With no sound, I would play either my cassette tape of Hall and Oates or my cassette player-recorded episode of Solid Gold in the background. You know what I’m talking about. You held the recorder up to the television speaker so you’d be able to catch Andy Gibb and this week’s Top Ten countdown? Uh huh…you know of which I speak.
But I digress. I had forgotten MXC (that’s what the Spike TV hipsters call it, I guess) was on Spike TV but fortunately, his reminding me what channel it was on gave way to me practically begging them to rent the first season of Joe Schmo if they thought MXC was funny.
Anyway, uber-husband and I fast-forwarded through most of MXC because (a), we needed to hurry up and get to the mall to buy uber-husband some uber-ties for his uber-meetings in uber-Seattle this week and (b), it was even funnier sped up. It reminded me of that now-defunct Fox show called Banzai!, which aired about four times before we hypersensitive Americans deemed it “offensive†and forced Fox to pull it off the air. Subsequent attempts to revive that dying show on Comedy Central were unsuccessful. Personally, I find the thought of trout ice cream to be more objectionable, but I have a hunch I am not the target demographic for any of these programs.
Nevertheless, here I am. And, MXC was funny. But, it was funny in that “I’ve had WAY too much beer†Mystery Science Theater 3000 kind of way. Don’t sit down and watch this after Meet the Press. Do sit down and watch it after The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Sake and wasabi are optional.
Also, as I was watching MXC I couldn’t help but constantly think about the Simpsons and their appearance on The Happy Smile Super Challenge Family Wish Show. Do I find these “game shows†funny because they take advantage of the Japanese/Korean/Insert Other Asian Group Here good nature? Heck no, I find them funny because we Americans have too much ego to do those shows ourselves. But Stacy, what about Fear Factor? Please. Fear Factor is an excellent example of how Americans take themselves far too seriously, even when they’re mocking themselves by acting in such an insanely “Look at me! Look at me!†manner. At least the folks on MXC have the confidence to laugh at themselves.
I can breathe easier at night now, knowing these think-tankers are protecting the Land of the Free and the Home of the Whopper.
The AP is now reporting that the Bushgate Military Documents are…say it isn’t so…inauthentic. I knew this was coming. My husband knew this was coming. When these “documents†first appeared, he immediately went to his old Army files and pulled out several Authentic Documents, none of which were typed with Microsoft Word. Tragically, no spell checker, either. I detect they were also copied via mimeograph, or perhaps carbon paper was used.
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