Towel-buying will never be the same

I am shattered.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/jessicamisener/bed-bath-beyond-is-a-palace-of-lies

Buzzkill

On Sunday morning, Beau and I lazed around the house.

I, of course, made inane chatter (something Beau is used to, so don't feel sorry for him).

It was snowy outside (something that simultaneously made me gleeful and Beau annoyed). I was happy to sit under my new blanket.

It's fleece. It's soft. It's warm. And it's a cheerful shade yellow. It makes me happy every time I see it.

Don't you love my new blanket? I asked Beau.

Sure, he groused. It's like sitting under a big ShamWow.

:|

Thanks to Mr. Wet Blanket I am no longer as thrilled with my yellow blanket. 

Permission

This is something I've noticed a lot lately.

In random discussions with folks from different walks of life, I've encountered some version of the following statements:

My husband/boyfriend says I'm not allowed to do that.

My wife/girlfriend won't let me do that. 

I'm not talking about the things that anybody who loves someone wouldn't allow (like drunk driving, fucking around, or mainlining heroin). I'm talking about everyday things like small purchases or getting a pet (when there's no allergy or financial strain involved) or eating a treat.

The Denver metro area is rife with folks who have coupled with despots. 

Why else would a grown-ass adult blindly follow the rules of another?

Beau and I discuss things and give opinions (and respect those opinions), but nobody lays down the law.

Life is a series of choices and consequences. Shouldn't we all be able to make choices on our own (keeping in mind the needs and wants of loved ones and the consequences of our actions)?

I'm surprised it doesn't inspire more rebellion. Because the second someone tells me I can't do something, I want to do it. And I want to do it in a big way.

Don't tell me I can't. Give me a reason why it upsets you, and I'll take that into consideration.

I don't need permission. 

Am I alone in this?

I'm sure this will alienate someone, but whatever

I just can't respect anybody who names their daughter NEVAEH.

That's HEAVEN spelled backward, for those of you who are not in the know.

Putting aside the fact that you're setting your baby up for a career on the pole with a name like that, here's my question:

If an upside-down cross is the mark of Satan, how is spelling Heaven backward not the mark of Hell?

These are answers I fear I'll never get.

If you've named your child NEVEAH and I've offended you horribly, I'm YRROS.

(not really.)

On Wednesday morning

I walked out of the house to find a mysterious box wrapped in plastic bags on my front porch.

I had been left there during the night or in the wee hours.

I went to open it and then stopped, with visions of some sort of shit bomb dancing through my head.

There was about a 50/50 chance of that box being a good thing.

I left it there. And then I did what any wimpy 39-year-old woman would do. I called my dad and made him drive over (we live in the same neighborhood) and open it.

Oh yes, I did. I'm that pitiful.

Turns out it was a box full of pictures my aunt found in my grandma's house (she's moved into assisted living--this is not McDonalds grandma) and wanted me to have.

But it COULD HAVE been a shit bomb. 

Sigh.

I need to reexamine my life.

Dear Gummy Corp.

For the love of God, MAKE THIS SHIT STOP!

The words Adult Gummies Fish Oil need never EVER appear together like this.

[shudder]

Overheard at Macy's

Two saleswomen were chatting as Mom and I browsed nearby. (One had long--waaaay too long--hair that had been curled in those pink foam curlers for the past 40 years. She found a look she liked and NEVER changed it.)

Saleswoman 1: If you want to keep it long, keep it long. But those split ends are gross and they bother me. Just let me get after them. [brandishes scissors]

Saleswoman 2: No! I'll just deal with split ends the way my sister taught me to deal with them when we were growing up.

S1: What was her method?

S2: She just bit them off and ate them.

HORK!!

Bought a candy thermometer

Just in case I want to make caramels.

I took a look at the thermometer and was thrilled to find out that I can also cook hard and soft (chewy?) crack with it!!

Shitflag update NUMBER TWO (get it?)

Shit's still there, but the other neighbors have seen fit to swipe some of the flags and stick them in offensive poop piles on their property.

I don't know if I should be more flattered or annoyed.

For now, I'm saving my annoyance for the shitters.

ValManTine

Beau and I don't usually go all out for Valentine's Day.

We usually do a little something to mark the day, but we're not one of those One Dozen Roses for Every Year I've Loved You, Carriage Rides in the Park, and Candlelit Rose Petal Loveliness couples.

He usually makes me a card and I make him dinner (usually meatballs--this year, it's going to be turkey meatballs made with stuffing and dried cranberries: Thanksgiving in every bite!!).

But this week, I got a text that said I bought your Valentine's Day Gift. 

This simultaneously made me happy and anxious.

What am I going to get him?

He's not a candy guy.

Flowers would be silly.

Shoot, shoot, shoot!

Then I decided to go with something tried and true.

So his ValManTine consisted of:

• A six-pack of Shiner Bock
• Sunflower seeds (he's an addict)
• Beef jerky

I. Am. A. Genius.

Shitflag update

Apparently, installing shitflags in the poo next to your garage will do a few things.

1. Amuse you
2. Amuse your neighbors
3. Deter new poos

It will NOT get the boys across the alley to clean up the initial offending shits.

Oh well.

Live and learn.

Top-notch marketing again, Dollar Tree!

Who WOULDN'T want to eat a breakfast cereal named after the action a dog takes to drag its ass across the floor?

Why these aren't all over the DIY boards on Pinterest, I'll never know

Too cheap and lazy to find and buy Truck Nutz?

Make. Your. Own!

String a couple of ball mounts (no pun intended--ok, well maybe a little bit) on a length of chain and you're GOOD TO GO! 

$5 at the Dollar Store and my twist on being neighborly

My neighbors across the alley are two fellas in their late teens/early twenties. They don't usually pay too much heed to HOA rules, which is fine--you might have noticed I'm not a fan of the HOA either.

However... Some things, HOA or no, are just common courtesy.

The boys across the alley have a huge dog. Had I not actually seen the dog, I'd have reason to believe they're stabling a miniature donkey over there. You've never seen such enormous piles of shit in your life.

And the reason I'VE seen them is that THEY NEVER CLEAN THAT SHIT UP. And Fido's prime shitting action happens right next to my garage. It's a fucking minefield out there.

I've put up with it for awhile, but I'm sick of it. Beau suggested I scoop it all and leave it on their front porch, which is tempting. But that could lead to backlash; it's not like they don't know where I live.

So I decided to do something that would make me laugh and get the point across. I bought pinwheels, paper bells, and clear tape at the dollar store and enlisted Beau's artistic help in making some charming little signs.

And then, I planted a pinwheel in each pile of dog shit.

I. Shit. You. Not.

I crap myself up sometimes.

I'll keep you posted on any results.

You had me at hello

I was on my way out the door this morning when I realized that I needed something to peruse over my lunch hour (yes, I read for a living and then, for a break, I eat lunch and read some more--yes, my life is a glamorous one).

I picked up a food magazine without glancing at the cover, stuffed it in my bag, and left.

While I heated up my can of Progresso soup and dug into a box of Girl Scout cookies (glamor overload? Sorry. I'll try to tone it down for you little people out there), I took a look at the magazine.

HELLO! Come to mama!!!

Yes, it's an entire issue devoted to my favorite food group.

• 50 mac & cheese recipes!
• An article that explores aaaaaaall of the (edible) things you can dip into fondue!
• A map of all the best places to get and eat cheese across this great nation of ours!
• How. To. Make. Your. Own. Cheese. (In 30 minutes!)

The best part was an article about how cheese is actually good for your health because certain varieties might help stop cancer, make you smarter, support your heart, keep your bones strong, and help prevent type 2 diabetes!

Never has one magazine given one girl such joy!

I might put some of the articles into frames or just bronze the whole damn thing.

Guess what I'm having for dinner tonight! And tomorrow night! 

Another weird dream

I dreamt my boss called me in to a meeting and told me We've come to the conclusion that being Lead Copyeditor might be a little much for you. But don't worry, we're going to give you a new task. 

He slides a book across the table to me. I open it up and find a lot of scribbles inside.

What's this? I asked.

We're going to put you in charge of ordering the breakfast burritos each morning.

We don't get breakfast burritos each morning. 

No, YOU don't get breakfast burritos each morning. The rest of us do. 

I pick up the book and can't make heads or tails of it.

Ok, I guess I'll just jump in. What kind of breakfast burrito do you want? 

He proceeds to give me a complicated answer that's not breakfast burritoey at all.

That's not even a burrito! I exclaimed.

Then he raised his eyebrows and wrote something down on a pad in front of him (something like Can't even order a simple breakfast burrito, I'm sure).

Then I woke up in a cold sweat.

When I told him about the dream the next morning at work, he laughed.

So I think I'm in the clear.

Right? 

Give me the fat a million times over

If it's between this...

And THIS.

This morning, I looked up into the clouds

And saw a cloud in the shape of Snoopy's buddy Woodstock.

After he'd been killed, plucked, and hung in a Chinatown window.

It was then that I really started to wonder about myself.

Did anybody ELSE see that this morning?

Sit on this!

Beau went to a Super Bowl party at a friend's house last night (I stayed close to home to avoid the drunks on the road).

His buddy has very interesting decorating tastes.

This is the picture of a chair I got. There are two of them, apparently.

I need to rethink my home decor.

From the superhero files down under

My friend Jen lives and works in Melbourne, Australia.

The only thing that sucks about her is the fact that she moved so far away from me, but I'll stop whining.

She told me that she'd recently had to give a written reprimand to one of her direct reports regarding his abuse of his corporate credit card.

He, in turn, went to HR, claiming that she sent him to the hospital due to the unfair treatment.

Jen can send folks to the hospital WITH HER MIND!

Watch your asses, Aussies. She walks among you.