Open mouth, insert foot

I preface this story by saying I didn't do anything wrong, really. I was asked a question, and I answered it. Honestly.

Sigh.

The fact that it's cringe-inducing is just gravy for you, dear reader.

Last week, Mom and I went into a number of antique shops in Old Littleton. We found some good stuff here and there.

While I was at the register in one store, I spotted a box of old photos. I like old photos that are a bit strange. I found one of two little boys. The way the photo was taken, their eyes were really dark, giving them an eerie, Children of the Corn vibe (I'm not including the photo in this post, and you'll know why soon enough).

The woman rang up my purchases, including the photo, and asked me what I do with old photos. I answered honestly: "I like to collect photos that are a little... off. And these little boys have crazy eyes."

[silence]

The woman straightened and said "Those boys are my grandsons."

shit.

There wasn't much more to do after that other than smile and walk out of the store.

So much for being honest with strangers.

Happy New Year, everybody!!

Dear neighbor

I don't know which neighbor you are, but your wifi handle, HORSELOVER, concerns me.

A lot.

I will openly mock you on the street

If I see you wearing this.

It's an "M&M's Celebration" fleece jacket! A wearable work of art with your favorite characters in appliqué and embroidery.

And, for the opportunity of advertising for MARS, you get to pay $99.00 (+ $9.99 shipping and service).

I'd buy mine now, but I'm waiting for the NASCAR version.

Day-after-Christmas chuckle

A hearty thanks to the department-store sales girl who pulled me aside and offered me $40 to be nasty to a customer who'd been giving her a hard time because "a customer can't get fired for being rude to another customer."

You made my day.

If Mom hadn't been with me, I might have taken you up on it.

Green

Three green things in my house that make me happy.

The succulents in my kitchen window.

Green wreath cookies made of corn flakes, marshmallows, and green food coloring that only Mom and I like.

Lola'a big green eyes.

Some resolutions I'd like to see *others* make in 2012

This might be my last post of the year (unless I get a bee in my bonnet about something next week--and that NEVER happens).

And while I'll make my own resolutions and keep them to myself (so that nobody can call me on it when I break them), I've got a list of resolutions that I'd like others to make.

• Lazy bones: No more pajamas in public
• Weirdos: If you've broken a world record for longest fingernails/toenails, cut that shit off and find another hobby
• Fellas: pull up your pants and cinch your belts
• Ladies: if you have a muffin top, go up a size; you'll look thinner as a result
• Dog owners: pick up the poop
• Republicans: resolve not to vote this election (heh, heh, heh)
• People who use an apostrophe to denote pluralism rather than ownership: cut that shit out
• Cell-phone chatterers: Hush. We don't need to hear about your yeast infection while we're trying to buy juice at Target
• Grandma: try. new. restaurants.
• Cats: stop puking on my belongings
• MTV: Cancel Jersey Shore already
• Drivers of rear-wheel-drive vehicles: stay home on snowy days
• Everybody: resolve to laugh a bit more, forgive yourself more, and enjoy more about this sweet but short life

Happy holidays! See you in 2012 (barring unforeseen bees in bonnets)!

Lawdy, I love stories like these

My friend Erin told me this gem today.

Her dad went to the grocery store on a search for pasteurized eggs. He looked everywhere, to no avail. Finally, he asked an employee if the store carried them.

Of course we do, replied the employee.

Erin's dad, tired of searching, asked the employee to come with him and point out the pasteurized eggs.

The employee led him to the egg aisle and proudly pointed out all of the free-range eggs.

See, the employee said.  These are all pastureized.

The poor boy thought pasteurized meant that the bird walked around in a pasture before laying the eggs.

Sigh...

By all means, America, let's cut education spending. Our kids are thmart enough!

Annoying verbal phenomenon

I've noticed lately? That a lot of women use this weird inflection?

And every sentence/phrase they utter? Sounds like a question?

Whether it is or not?

It drives me up a f*&king wall!

What IS that?

It makes grown-ass women sound like four-year-olds.

Learn to speak like an adult!

Sweet fancy Moses!

I'm taking part in an email chain letter recipe exchange type of thing where you send an easy recipe to the person on the top of your list and forward on to 20 or so friends, etc.

The crux of it is that the recipe must be simple enough for you to remember it (which, in turn, usually means that you've made it a bajillion times). 

I've gotten a couple of good ones that look easy, yummy, and semi-healthy.

But this one simply blew my mind.

I think ice cream might be a healthier side dish. In fact, I KNOW ice cream would be healthier (mmmmm... ice cream as a side dish). Judge for yourself.

GRANDMA'S SWEET CREAM CORN

2 lb. frozen corn
1 stick butter
1/4 cup self rising flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 carton whipping cream
salt and pepper to taste.

Cook corn and butter in a large pot, add flour, sugar, and whipping cream.
Cook until mixture becomes thick, stirring frequently.  Milk can be added if corn becomes too thick.
Season with salt and pepper to taste, and enjoy!

If any of you try this, be sure you have someone with you who can dial 911 or shock you back to life with a defibrillator.

Good luck and good eatin'!

In all of the hurry and scurry of the season

It's hard to take a moment to sit back and be thankful.

Especially when the woman in front of you in line is nasty to the store clerk because she can't understand her accent.

Or when the person ahead of you lets the door slam in your face rather than taking an extra second to hold the door open.

Or when you get the finger from a sweet little old lady during the morning commute because you stopped at the yellow rather than running the red.

Sigh. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year gets to all of us eventually.

But I AM thankful.

Thankful for

• My wonderful family (even McGrandma), who sticks by me through everything, helps pick me back up and dust me off after a stumble, and somehow finds my personality flaws lovable
• Beau, for being a good sport, giving me so many fun and funny things to write about, and for being my true blue partner in crime (even though I can't stop coughing, which annoys him to no end)
• My wonderful friends who are all so funny, kind, and supportive. I'd be lucky to have just one of you in my life; I don't know what I did right to get all of you
• My cats. I'm a lady who has cats, not a Cat Lady. But I do love coming home to two fat, furry lumps of love every night
• My job. I'm happy just to have a job at a time like this. The fact that I work with amazing people and get to read for a living is gravy
• My health. Ok, I'm not *technically* healthy right now, but I'm on the road to recovery (and it could be so much worse). When I'm healthy again, I'll be even more thankful
• All of the little things that make each day worth it. Little gestures and chuckleworthy situations are what life is made of (they're what this blog is made of too)

And...

• In an effort to be truly thankful, I'm also glad that some folks showed their true colors this year. The big bad wolf is much easier to see (and avoid) when he takes off the grandma disguise. Thanks for letting me know who--and what--you are

Last but not least, I'm thankful for every person who reads my silly blog. It makes me happy to know someone out there cares enough to read it.

I hope your holidays are, at some point at least, happy and relaxing.

And try to be patient with the bird-flipping old lady. Maybe someone slammed the door on her earlier in the day. :)

My immature, sad little pick-me-up

This week has been... not all together great (for a number of reasons; one of which is that I'm still sick, and no doctor seems to be able to fix it--we're down to voodoo and guesswork at this point).

But there's one thing that never ceases to at least make me chuckle (and at most, make me laugh until I cry and nearly wet my pants).

It's the Diarrhea Song.

That horrible song from childhood that never, EVER ceases to amuse me.

When you're walking down the hall and you feel somethin' fall
Diarrhea, diarrhea.


When you're sittin' with your honey and you feel something runny
Diarrhea, diarrhea. 

When you're slidin' into third and you feel a little turd
Diarrhea, diarrhea. 

It's horrible, I know. It's juvenile, I know. And diarrhea can be DEADLY. I know, I know, I know.

But I can't stop myself.

It's funny.

I thought I might be the only one on earth this pathetic, and then I found this blog.

Luckily, there are folks far sicker than me.

And thank God for that!

Why copyediting is essential

My friend Nick sent me this ad with a very special message. (Scroll down)

HOORAY FOR DISCUNTS!

Job security, folks! Job security.

Um...

I went to Target to buy some Toys for some Tots. I bought two sparkly dolls and a Nerf gun (the big kids here in the office love them, so I figured little kids would too).

While I searched for appropriate toys, I came upon THIS.

It's a Swimming Ariel doll. If you... ahem... wind her up, she'll wiggle her tail and swim!

How to do you wind her up?

You turn her shell!

Awesome! Where's the shell? I want to turn it and make Ariel wiggle her tail and swim!

Why it's... it's... umm...

(I cannot be the only person who sees how twisted this is.)

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good. 

He knows if you've been playing with Mommy's lipstick.

He knows when you've been smoking doobies.

HE KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE!!!

 RUN, CHILDREN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!

If you own and use one of these

I will pretend I don't know you on the street.

NOW IN PINK!

Worst. Fortune. Ever.

Coming in at with a close second is the "fortune" my dad got.

Yeesh. Have a nice day!

Hallmark goes alternative

Something's a little different at Hallmark this holiday season.

These ornaments look innocuous enough...

Until you find out what they really are.

And what goes better with Pierced Balls than a Pierced Snowman??

 Deck them halls, y'all!!

Feel-good story of the year (of my year, at least)

First, a little back story. My grandpa, Country Buffet aficionado, WWII hero, and husband to my McDonald's loving grandma, used to be a much-beloved head mechanic at Burt Chevrolet/Burt Toyota. He retired 25+ years ago, but the fellas he worked with still stop by and chat with him almost weekly.

Flash forward to last Thursday (his 91st birthday). Grandpa was out shoveling the front walk (what else would you do on your 91st birthday???) when a car pulled up in his driveway. A tall, broad man stepped out of the car and approached Grandpa.

Tall stranger: Hi, are you Don? 

Grandpa: Yes I am.

Tall stranger: Do you know who I am? 

Grandpa: No, not really.

Tall stranger: You're not a football fan, are you? I'm John Elway.

John Elway had recently acquired a number of dealerships, including the former Burt Chevrolet/Toyota dealerships. He hired a number of people who used to work for Burt. On a visit, the guys at the shop told Mr. Elway how wonderful it was to work with my grandpa and how nothing ever ran as smoothly after he left. In fact, they told him, Grandpa lived just around the corner.

And so Mr. Elway took it upon himself to drive to Grandpa's house, introduce himself, and have a nice chat.

That says so much to me about the character of both of the men in this story.

How wonderful would it be to have been so nice to work with that people are still talking about you 25+ years after you retire?

I love my grandpa.

And I have a whole new respect for John Elway.

WT&B holiday single!

A long time ago, I wrote about how my friend Vonn and I started a band called White Thighs & Boobies.

Unfortunately, our busy-ass lives haven't allowed us much time in the studio. But today we were totally inspired to create a brand-new holiday single!

Vonn stopped by my office with this verdict: Wearing a Santa hat when you're already a huge douchebag doesn't make you any less of a douchebag.

So very, very true.

And so very inspiring.

Look for our holiday single, Douchebag in a Santa Hat, in stores and on iTunes!

You forget how young 21 really is until...

My friend Lori is scheduled for a mammogram this month.

For those of you who have not experienced the joy and magic of the mammogram, let me enlighten you. They stick your boob between two metal plates and squish it until it's as flat as a pancake. Flatter than you EVER thought it could get. And then you hold that position for what seems like FOREVER while they take a photograph.

It's not comfortable. But it's very necessary. And it saves lives (get one, ladies).

When Lori mentioned her appointment to her 21-year-old coworker, the girl's eyes got wide and, in a very grave voice, she asked Do your boobs go back to their original shape after it's done???

Bless her heart.

I told Lori she needed to fuck with her and tell her that there are special bras you have to wear for the rest of your life after your first mammogram.

Alas, Lori is a nicer person than I am, and she wouldn't do it.

Sigh.

Woulda been funny.

More crap you don't need

Holiday catalogs do not disappoint, my friends.

Popsicle Maker.
Psst! You already have one of these.
Hint: it's attached to your refrigerator.

Cotton Candy Maker.
Just how jacked up on sugar do you want your kids to be this season?

Emeril-Inspired Kitchen Towels.
Save your money and put it toward a douchebag forehead tattoo instead.

Skewer Station.
Because "showcasing grilled meat and veggie skewers" on plates is sooooo 2010?

Snowball/Snow Block Maker Set.
If your kids are lazy/prissy enough to need this, they're in front of the TV
with no desire to play outside in the snow anyway.

And, last but not least...

These leopard-print PJs. Not because they're useless, mind you. But because they seem to pack a little more than flannel and an elastic waistband.

The adorable deviousness of the six-year-old mind

My dear friend Lana Greck has a sweet, spunky six-year-old named Addy.

Today I got this message from Lana:

I was fixing Addy’s hair this morning and she asked if she could use my comb so she could text me. She says “Mom, you got a text from a girl named, um, Addy Greck. Do you know her? She says she loves you and she is your best friend.” 

I said “Aw, that is nice.”

“Mom, you just got a text from Zickle! She says that she hopes an alligator eats you at work today! I guess you can’t be friends with HER anymore! Addy sure is a nicer friend, isn’t she?”

A little jealousy there, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

That's the cutest character assassination I've ever experienced.

PS: I'd be sad if an alligator ate Lana. VERY sad. :)