My favorite thing to overhear at work

Don't bother giving this to the editors; I KNOW it's right. 

Okie doke! Good luck, to you!

It's nice being so busy and yet so unnecessary each day. :)

What fresh hell is this?

The items that actually make it through R&D and onto the shelf astound me.

Frozen blackberry wine "cocktail". Also known as the Hangover in a Pouch.
Hey Arbor Mist! Real wine called. It wants its reputation back.

When I think of the chemical compounds that went into making this "softer, chewier" Rainbow Nerds Rope,
I worry about the fact that I even touched the outer packaging.

I might be in the minority on this one. But yuck. I believe everyone should have the right to marry
EXCEPT chocolate and raspberry. Surely this is what evil must taste like.

Cracked-out dreams

Perhaps it's been a little warm in my house lately, because my dreams have gotten weird.

Like the one I had where we were all forced to wear swimsuits and funny socks to a company meeting.

That seemed like an odd one until their royal heinousess (I spelled it that way on purpose) William and Kate decided to renew their vows... In my old high school gymnasium.

Maybe it's time to turn a fan on in my room.

Chuckleworthy compliment (I think)

I went to dinner with Beau last week. The waiter IDed me. He looked at my ID, looked at me, and said:

"You... Are doing VERY WELL!"

;)

At the Texas Roadhouse...

You must wear shoes.
You must wear a shirt.

But, evidently, chewing with your mouth closed is 100% optional.

Nobody will care about this but me...

But it's my blog, so HAH!

Last night I bowled 175 INCLUDING FOUR STRIKES IN A ROW (which, my friend Jen informs me, is a Wild Turkey!).

Happy happy joy joy!

I don't care if it's all natural

I still don't want it.

Yuck.

Though I think it would be a funny substitute for lemonade to refresh someone you don't like.

New level of denial discovered

A couple of Beau's friends became grandparents recently.

When he talked to them on the phone, he asked the woman what it felt like to be a grandma.

Oh, I'm NOT a grandma, she replied. I'm a GLAM-ma.

Bless her heart.

What do YOU wear to buy mulch?

If you're like this lady, you wear a faux mink coat (with a hood, because that's what makes it classy), plaid Bermuda shorts, running shoes, and a purse worth more than my car.

A little advice for the fellas when you'e chattin' up the ladies

Don't tell us you have big balls.

Women don't care about that kind of stuff and when you mention it, the inevitable mental image presents itself.

Not good.

Also, don't repeatedly touch and/or talk about your nipples in casual conversations.

We tend to see that as a red flag too.

Happy to help!!

More drug store treasures

I love Rite Aid. I could walk around that store for hours.

You can find so many awesome, unnecessary things under one roof!

(ALL nail color is scented. And it all smells horrible.
The neon colors are insult to injury.)

I'm not sayin' this is unnecessary. It just concerns me
that it's marked down sooooo much.

Edible Easter Grass! The best part?
It's IMPORTED FROM GERMANY!

There are so many things wrong with this gummy meal.
Things that are right about it? Zero.

It's a boob bib! AS SEEN ON TV!

Miracle on Broadway

The title makes it sound so much more poetic than it is.

Last week, I had to take Daisy (a.k.a., The Sweetest Cat in the World) to the vet for something I'll politely describe as a butt problem.

The visit was horrible. While one person held her down and the vet did unspeakable things, she stared at me with baleful eyes. The message was clear: That new couch you love so much? I'm shredding that fucker when we get home.

The vet fixed the problem, gave me three medications (that I'm still dutifully applying/cramming down her throat each day), charged me $200, and sent me on my way.

Yesterday, while "treating the affected area," something didn't look right.

Sigh.

Back into the cat carrier and back down Broadway to the vet.

Sigh.

Only this was the most awesome trip EVER.

Nothing was wrong with her.

AND...

... are you ready?

THE VET DIDN'T CHARGE ME FOR BRINGING HER IN!

It's a miracle, I tell you. A ding-dang-ol' miracle!!

Mother's Day update

We did NOT eat at McDonalds for lunch (we ate at Olive Garden--her favorite fancy-occasion restaurant).

She loved the card I gave her (This is no ordinary day because you are no ordinary grandma).

AND...

As a gift, I gave her a shiny blue cane to replace her beaten-up cane. And it was a hit!

I WIN AT MOTHER'S DAY!!!

Luxury home

At petco, I stumbled upon a dream house!

A Luxury Chinchilla Pet Home, to be specific.

Could be me, but that Chinchilla looks pissed.

I guess money CAN'T buy happiness. Or chinchilla furniture, for that matter.

Mother's Day 2012

As much as I might gripe about her, I do love my grandma (both of them, but you know which one I'm talking about here).

I looked and looked for the right Mother's Day card (she's been known to read one, say This doesn't describe me at all!, and leave it behind when she goes home).

This year, I nailed it.

On the outside, a pretty flower.

On the inside, the PERFECT sentiment.

BOOM!

Happy Mother's Day, everybody!

Priorities

I was in the supermarket (so much more fun to say than grocery store) produce section looking for braeburn apples. As I searched, I heard the following exchange between two store employees (both of whom could not have been older than 23).

woman: It's getting harder to support my kids.

man: Do you get child support?

w: I did, from the dad of my first two, until he got locked up.

m: So you don't get any support from him now?

w: He has a job inside.

m: How much do you get?

w: $50 a month.

m: Wow. That probably won't even keep your kids in underpants.

w: You know how much it used to be before he went to jail? For two kids, it was $400.

m: You're getting ripped off.

w: I know! $50 won't buy a pair of Jordans!

She's got at least three kids. Two of whom are fathered by a convict. She's working at a grocery store. And she's worried about BUYING JORDANS?

Sigh.

Live every day to the fullest!

Is it just me, or does the sentence above just stress you out?

I like the idea of it, and I try to find happiness in each day, but that directive makes me feel like I should be jumping out of a plane or mountain biking until I puke each day.

I don't like anything that makes me feel guilty about sleeping late and enjoying a good book on the couch.

Duff might have won the war

If you're not familiar with our silly little war, click here. 

Friday afternoon, I got a very special email.

Well played, Duff. I tip my hat to you, sir.

Postscript: Duff just called. Apparently, he got a little home visit from the Latter Day Saints. He managed to scare them off by answering the door wearing only a low-slung towel. 

I think we might be even. 

One more couch post and I swear I'm done

I enlisted the help of two neighborhood heroes to help me get my old couch out to the curb (nobody but Waste Management wanted it; I checked).

Not TWO MINUTES had gone by before one of my Mean Old Lady Neighbors was on the scene with her walker, screeching WHAT'S GOING ON HERE? IS SOMEONE GOING TO PICK THIS UP OR ARE YOU JUST LEAVING IT HERE?

Sigh. This shit makes me so tired.

Most insane impulse purchase ever

I used to work with someone who had lots of problems. But the big three were:

1. She had Borderline Personality Disorder.
2. She had a drinking problem.
3. She had a shopping addiction. 

I'm sure she still has all three, but who am I to say at this point?

She was a ball of fun to work with, lemme tell ya.

Her habit was to go to lunch, drink, and then shop.

One day, on a search for Baskin Robbin's, she came back with a set of bunk beds.

Beer + the thrift store always equaled lots of those weird troll dolls.

But one afternoon beat them all.

She came back to the office reeking of booze and told us that she'd purchased something beautiful.

An $8,000 Corinthian leather couch.

And then she asked us if we thought her husband would mind.

We told her that she could probably keep the couch or keep her marriage intact. But keeping both weren't likely.

So she took an even longer lunch and returned the couch.

Oh boy to I miss her.

Bargain books

Yesterday, I made up a reason to go to the bookstore.

I shop in the bargain section at the bookstore because I could never afford my habit if I bought books at full price.

And while I found and purchased four books that had promise, I also found a bunch of crappy, pointless books.

For example, the Internet Password Logbook. It's an alphabetized address-style book to hold ALLLLLL of your passwords.

I also found this gem.

Step 1: Find a rock.
Step 2: Paint the rock.

Mind-blowing.

This next book has the best title EVER (also the best answer to How are you today?).

I was happy to see that nobody really gives a shit about what reality "stars" have to say.

OR what someone with no connection to reality at all has to say.

I love the bookstore.

War among grownups

The other night, I embarked on a new adventure.

I cooked chicken for the first time.

Go ahead and laugh, but I've always had a huge chicken-cooking phobia.

But I did it, and I lived to tell the tale. And the chicken was delicious.

I made the mistake of posting my exploits on facebook.

Upon reading my status, my friend Duff (I'm not even giving him a fake name), decided to be funny.

So he signed me up for PETA's Vegetarian Starter kit.

I returned the favor by sending Mormon missionaries to his house (the quote I put in the comments section on the request form was "I just feel so... lost.").

Then I got an email asking me to verify my email for the Michael Jackson Serbia Fan Club (oh yes, such a thing exists).

Duff then received a subscription to the Barry Manilow HotLine email list.

And then... things were strangely quiet. 

But I smell somethin' brewin'.

He'd better be careful; I'll sick the Scientologists AND the New Kids on the Block on his ass.

"Lazy Boy" doesn't cover it anymore

My beloved, bright red floral sofa has seen better days. And when the cushions started to rip from too much asswear, I knew it was time to trade her in for something a little more presentable.

So I went shopping.

There's a lot of HEINOUS furniture out there.

It's the household equivalent of the canary in the coal mine as to how lazy we as a country have gotten.

• coffee tables that rise up at the push of a button to meet you at the couch and become a dining surface
• sectionals that would seat a family of 11 (or two beached whales) comfortably
• sofas that plug into the wall and light up your reading space, massage your legs, act as stereo speakers, keep your drink cold, and lord knows what else (I shudder to think--but I'm guessing the sofatoilet isn't far behind)
• recliners that rise up to meet your ass and sit you down gently so you don't have to go through all of the irritation and hard work of sitting down and standing up on your own
• a massive black leather sectional with a "padded" leather coffee table that slides in to create a sitting/sleeping/screwing surface the size of a California king-size bed

I could go on, but do you really want me to?

I wanted a simple sofa and chair to replace the ones I and my animals have lovingly destroyed over the past decade.

To find those, you've gotta go alllll the way to the back!

I'm not joking. The couch I wanted (a simple, normal sized, chocolate-brown, super-cozy corduroy couch that does not plug into the wall) was wedged into a dark corner like a red-headed stepchild.

The mission-style recliner I chose was in a more respectable region of the store because, I'm guessing, it has moving parts!

I'm sure there are folks out there who scoff at my furniture-purist leanings. People who love plug-in couches that take care of their every need.

To them, I say this: I paid cash for mine. How's that payment plan treatin' ya?

:)