I think that Unicorn has a bladder control problem...

Sometimes I mishear things…

…but I don't care, because it's funny.

The letter X, it's phonetic trickery...

I've determined that the letter X is the most useless letter of the English alphabet. I have nothing against X. As a matter of fact, I like X…as a symbol. It's intriguing, mysterious,  and sometimes decorative; but I don't think it was ever really meant to be a letter.

I picture the letter X standing alone and crying in the Hooked on Phonics series. X is just a place holder for other sounds. For instance….

There's the "k" sound:

- example = ek-zample

- excellent = ek-se-llent

- box = bocks (like rocks, clocks, docks, mocks; you could probably even eliminate that silly "c")

...or the "z" sound:

xylophone = zylo-phone

Xerxes = Zerk-cees (this is a local ek-zample)

According to the dictionary, X can also have a "g" sound. It has no sound of its own and has the shortest section in the dictionary. It's a wonder non-native English speakers are actually able to learn this language at all.

I just feel sad for the letter X. I'm certain it didn't ask for this role in the English language. It was probably just hanging out on a map, minding its own business when someone thought, 'hey, we should make this part of the alphabet'. So now it sits between W and Y, stealing its sounds from some other letters further up the alphabet.

Phonetic trickery, that's what X is….phonetic trickery.

Gambling with Mom and Dad

Alright, this isn't a real post either. Like yesterday, it's just another crazy dream.

In the dream I was visiting my folks at their snowbird home (somewhere warm). They decided to take me to this global marketplace that had this weird form of gambling where the gambler purchases colored tortilla chips and is allotted a gambling machine for a period of 10 - 12 hours.

When we got to this marketplace, this racially ambiguous man sold my folks these gold and green tortilla chips. There was only one gambling machine left for them to feed, because the other machine was being used by a non-native English speaker, who happened to be yelling emphatically in whatever language it was she spoke. The chip seller told us that she would be using that particular machine for the next 10 hours, so my folks took the other machine. Several other snow birders were turned away.

At first, I participated in feeding the tortilla chips into the machine; different colors went into different slots. I don't recall anybody winning a thing. After a couple of hours I said I was bored and wanted to go back to the house. My mother informed me that we had at least 6-hours of time left. We fought. 

I said, "why don't I just take the car back to the house and you can call me when you want to come home. I'll come get you". To which she replied, "do you even know how to get to the house"?  "Of course not, but if you would just stop playing that stupid game, you could drive me there yourself". She informed that she wasn't done and I would just have to wait. At that point, my alarm went off.

A couple of points here...first, my parents do not own a snowbird home; second, neither of them gamble. Third, I don't know what the hell is wrong with my brain. Is it my diet? My meds? Am I going insane? Maybe it's the sinus infection I've had for the past three months. Who knows?

I'd say sweet dreams again, but now I'm more inclined to say hope your dreams don't make you feel like you're going insane. Or…I could just change the context and definition for my meaning of sweet dreams. That seems easier. So in that case…

Sweet dreams!

Fuego rojo

This doesn't count as a real post; it's just a crazy dream.

The other night I dreamed that I was 20 years younger and running from something. I don't know what I was running from. I just knew that I had to keep moving. Everything I owned was in the trunk of my red Fuego, which wasn't much, but it was in a black and purple duffel bag.

I met up with my lover. He was Latin (I don't know why that's important, but he had beautiful caramel skin and dark hair), and was very sweet and soft spoken.

Anyway, we had this long tearful goodbye. I left my beautiful Latin lover and drove away in my little red Fuego and was very sad, but I had to move on so whatever it was I was running from didn't catch up with me.

Sweet dreams!


P.S. I have roughly a million questions about where this dream came from, but have absolutely no answers. The only connection I can make is that my parents owned a red Fuego when I was a kid.

Midweek Meltdown

I'm not a hearty Minnesotan by any stretch of the imagination. There are days I question why I live here. I know there are many reasons, I just can't remember them right now because my brain is in the deep freeze along with the rest of this state.

One of the reasons I do live here is because we do have excellent physicians and medical care, and frankly I need it. I was a very healthy kid, but as an adult I've been falling apart a little at a time. Which, I suppose, is better than all at once.

This morning I had an appointment with my physiatrist (different than psychiatrist, look it up if you don't know) because I've been having searing hot, poker pain on the right side of my face, jaw, and temple that is not a migraine (but I get those as well) and is not related to a sinus infection. And when I say pain, I mean the type of pain that brings tears to your eyes and ibuprofen can't touch. Now granted, the pain isn't that intense everyday, but it certainly brings life to a grinding halt. I do tend to wait until things reach that critical level before seeking medical attention.

Well, the appointment was at 8:30 and the office is 8.6 miles away from my house. I've been there before for help in dealing with the two ruptured discs in my neck; a nice cervical epidural works most of the time. But I digress. It generally takes no longer than 15 minutes to get there. But today, I left the house 35 minutes before the appointment (you never know with winter weather). Unfortunately, Mother Nature had conspired against me and it took an hour and twenty minutes to get there (yes, that's 1 hour and 20 minutes), making me 40 minutes late, at which point they no longer had time to see me.

I understand, I really do, but when you're in pain, the drive is a bitch, you're stressed about work in general, and you're going to be charged $50.00 because you didn't call 24 hours in advance to say you weren't going to be able to make it because the roads were beyond bad and people were spinning out and crashing, not being able to be seen might just cause a meltdown…

I politely rescheduled and walked out of the office (seething) debating whether to drive the remaining 50 miles to work or drive the 8.6 miles back home. I figured either option was a lose-lose situation (based on weather and traffic). The only bright spot is that my role in the company is very mobile and I can work from anywhere with an internet connection. I chose to drive the 8.6 miles home and not the 50 miles to the plant, but before I did that I left a voicemail for my boss explaining the situation.

Now I don't recall exactly what I said as I explained the situation to him, but he called me back laughing about the voicemail. When I said, "well, I don't remember exactly what I said, I was having a meltdown". He responded by saying…"that's how you have a meltdown? That's funny. I'll have to play it back for you sometime, it's really funny".

On a positive note, it was a productive day. I do tend to get more done at home than at the office (no interruptions), and I was warm.

Here's hoping tomorrow's drive is better…although I am not going to hold my breath.

Why are there so many orange M&Ms?

I have a few OCD issues and they get worse when I am stressed. My need to clean, sort, and organize transports me to a whole other realm.

I don't understand why there are so many orange M&Ms. What is the purpose of this imbalance in color? Is it some kind of secretive plot? A marketing ploy?

In a "large" bag of M&Ms it seems that orange is the predominant color. Now, I don't know if this is true for all "large" bags of M&Ms or just the one I purchased. I'm certainly not about to make the financial investment necessary to develop a statistically relevant sampling plan, but I am curious.

…and don't think that I'm not stressed out by the fact that the red M&Ms had to go into a different type of container (see below). All of the other little containers that match the ones for the yellow, orange, brown, green, and blue M&Ms are full of spaghetti sauce in the freezer. I actually considered thawing some sauce just for the container. I opened and closed the freezer multiple times (three) before I decided that that would be going just a little too far; but I don't know, I reserve the right to change my mind about that.

I eat M&Ms in a specific color order, starting with yellow. I don't eat like yellow; so they need to be eaten first. Then I eat the orange M&Ms. I am not a big fan of the orange ones either, so I'm a little distressed about the number of orange M&Ms in this bag. I am going to be eating orange M&Ms for many days. Ugh. You might be thinking that I could just ignore them, skip over them, pretend they aren't there, but that isn't how it works.

I suppose I could bring them to work and encourage others to eat the orange M&Ms, but then I would have to explain why I have a container with just orange M&Ms in it…and that would make me sound a bit nuts. Don't you think?

Parental love, Target, and butter...

This post is only funny at the beginning, and that's questionable.

First, a conversation with my dad...
Dad: "I'd be proud of you even if you were a bag lady".
Me: "Thanks. Please remember that when I have a psychotic break and move into a box on my neighbor's lawn".

Second, using a list to shop...
These were things on my list (yes, I had a list; handwritten) for Target (yes, I still shop there):
- probiotic
- toilet paper
- aluminum foil
- AA batteries
- butter
- almonds

What I left Target with:
- Sea Salt Almond Caramel Granola Bites
- Hershey's Milk Chocolate Nuggets with Toffee and Almonds

There is no substitute for butter. People try to tell themselves that there is, and that "this spread" tastes just as good. They lie; and I love butter, which is one of the reasons I was disappointed that I forgot to buy it.

Third, a medical tale…
In September of 2012, I became very ill with a gastrointestinal illness, the cause of which was never identified. There was only speculation, but no scientific proof. I went from 112 pounds to 96 pounds in a short period of time. The illness mimicked Crohn's disease and persisted at varying intensities for over a year. I had every test known to man and woman and they were all negative. I saw specialists and sub-specialists. The final diagnosis was IBS, which I think is what gets assigned to functional disorders when nothing else seems to fit.

The GI sub-specialist I saw recommended I start taking a drug which FDA has pulled from the market due to it's negative side effects, which include adhesions, bowel obstructions, the need for transfusions, and of course, death. Needless to say I did NOT elect to sign the waiver acknowledging that I accepted the risks associated with this medication and chose to seek alternative treatment.

Alternative Treatment...
I have been working with a nutritionist and it has radically altered the way I eat, although I admit I am not successful all of the time. The process started with charting what I ate daily, times I ate, and how I felt (both physically and emotionally). She determined that I was eating way too many fruits and vegetables and not enough grains, proteins, or fat. Who knew a person could eat too many fruits and vegetables? I am sure plenty of people know that. When the nutritionist saw my chart, she said, "wow, thats a lot of fiber". Well, we all know what fiber can do for you.

Anyway, this process has challenged my conditioned way of thinking about food, and believe or not, it has been so incredibly difficult to cut back on the fruit and veggies and replace them with grains and proteins. Mostly because I have an addiction to mangoes, pineapple, pomegranate seeds, dried apricots and dried cherries.

As I've said, I'm not always successful at meeting my daily meal plan, but the changes I have made have truly helped to restore my digestive health, without the use of a very serious drug.

Let food be thy medicine. Way to go Hippocrates.

MMMMM…..butter.

Peace out...

Miniature black market pandas, grow lights, and cat poo...

Today was a typical Friday…I'm always tired, a little slap-happy, and very ready for the weekend.

A friend of mine emailed a panda meme that was absolutely adorable, which I shared with a few coworkers. This is the conversation which ensued:

Julie #1: That's adorable! It makes me want to hug them.

Me: I know! They just made my day.

Natalie: I resign. I am going to China to play with some super cute pandas!

Me: Maybe you should just buy one on the black market and keep it at your apartment.

Natalie: Only if they come in a miniature version and can be potty trained. Cat poo is bad enough!

Me: You could get some grow lights and grow bamboo. I'm sure that it would absorb the odor. And the police would never be the wiser…they would just think you were growing an illegal substance and when they show up you could just say…I'm growing bamboo for my miniature panda. They'd think you were crazy, see the bamboo, and leave. It's a win-win really.

Natalie: You seem to have thought this out. Are you trying to get me to illegally obtain and maintain a panda under the guise of craziness so that you can satisfy your needs for super cuteness?

Me: That's certainly one way to look at it.

Julie #1: It sounds like a fantastic plan.

Me: I think it's quite fabulous.

Julie #2: I'm staying out of this one.


Disclaimer: Although I have been known to have unusual pets in the past (hedgehog), I do not advocate, or have knowledge of how one could acquire a panda for personal use. But it would be really, really cool, until it's "bear" instincts kicked in and it mauled you in your sleep.


And here's a panda video for your viewing enjoyment…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sGF6bOi1NfA

I don't have Channel 986...

My parents often call me to tell me when a "good" movie is going to be on. They will tell me the title, who's in it, why I should watch it, etc. Then, inevitably they will tell me which channel it's on. It's on Channel 6, Channel 58, Channel 4, Channel 986, Channel 6.2; you get the picture.

Then I ask which network this fantastic movie is on, often, the response is, "I don't know". I try and explain that I need to know because my Channel 4 is not the same as their Channel 4. My mother seems to get this, my father on the other hand doesn't seem to grasp the concept that Milwaukee and Minneapolis have different channel numbers for their networks.

Dad: "You mean you don't get NBC? What kind of cable do you have? Don't you have Time Warner"?

Me: "No, I don't have Time Warner and even if I did, our channel numbers would still be different."

Dad: "Why don't you have Time Warner? It's on A-TV. You're not looking right. Check your TV Guide."

Me: "I don't have a TV Guide."

Dad (with haughty derision in his voice): "Not TV Guide. Your TV guide. It's on A-TV, Kathleen. Channel 986 or Channel 6.2."

My father calls me by my mother's name when he gets frustrated with me; which is equally as funny as when my mother calls me by my father's name when she gets frustrated with me.

Me: "ATV? What the heck is that? I don't have ATV."

Dad: "It's Channel 986 or Channel 6.2. Talk to your mother."

Mom: "It's on ATV. Channel 986 or Channel 6.2."

Me: "This whole time I've been searching my TV guide, and I assure you I don't have ATV. I do, however, have Antenna TV. Is that what you mean?"

Mom: "Yes, Antenna TV...A-TV. That's what I said. Channel 986 or Channel 6.2."

I'm silently going insane.

Me: "Antenna TV is not A-TV, it's Antenna TV...A-N-T-E-N."

Mom: "Yes A-TV."

Me: "Not the same...A-N-T-E-N, Antenna TV."

Mom: "A-TV."

Me: "Not the same."

AAAARRRGGGHHH

Mom: "Your father wants to talk to you. I'm sorry, honey."

She gets that he's special and demanding. They'll be married for 45-years on October 5th, which I figure makes her eligible for Sainthood.

Dad: "See, I told you you had it."

Me: "If you had called it Antenna TV from the start, we could have avoided this whole conversation."

Dad: "A-TV."

Me: "Stop calling it A-TV, it's Antenna TV. Are you doing this just to make me crazy? Go watch your movie."

Dad: "Okay, I expect a book report on this...go watch the movie."

Me: "Goodnight."

I didn't want to get into the whole thing about not being able to do a book report on a movie. I'd like to retain what little is left of my sanity, at least for the evening.

Cheers.

George Orwell and Aldous Huxley were right...which means we're all SOL.

This post may seem random, but it really does have a flow and make sense. Sort of.

Have you noticed how many movies are being remade or how many versions on the same theme are being written? Do you think to yourself where have all the original ideas gone?

Movies and novels which involve the annihilation of the planet or humanity and post-apocalyptic dystopian societies seem to be particularly popular. Many authors, filmmakers, and artists have come up with some very exciting and ingenious ways in which the world and humanity will meet their demise.

Are these meant to be cautionary tales? Manuals for living in a dystopian society? Can we escape our own humanity? And then I seriously got to thinking...have all the "good" ideas for humanity's demise and our ever-looming dystopian future been used up?

I mean, there's zombies (classic and cliche); Godzilla (timeless); a planet wide EMP; time-traveling Borg; asteroids; comets; mega-volcanoes; earthquakes; tsunamis; genetically engineered dinosaurs and wives; biological warfare (a personal favorite); 'The Master'; aliens (from outer space not other countries); and evil dictatorships which may or may not have WMDs. Just to name a few.

So, on a rainy Saturday, I challenged myself to come up with some original ideas. I don't know that my heart was really in it though, because I only came up with two...but then again I was already a little depressed so thinking up end of the world scenarios and dystopian living didn't seem like it might contribute to having a positive attitude. My ideas were, in no particular order:
a) blow up the moon, and
b) drill 12 holes into the earth's outer core in strategic locations, and then launch WMDs into the holes simultaneously.

Then I decided to do some research to determine whether they truly were original. They are not, as the link to spaceanswers.com will demonstrate. I couldn't actually find a site for drilling 12 holes into the earth and launching WMDs at the core, but there were plenty of websites that have calculated how many nukes it would take to destroy the planet from it's surface.

Here's a fun link I found that provides a basic tutorial on Earth geology; it's fun for the whole family...
http://www.kidsgeo.com/geology-for-kids/0019-inside-of-earth.php

SpaceAnswers.com is really a great site, and not just because it explains what would happen if we blew up the moon (which the site points out would be really dumb). It has all kinds of interesting space stuff.
http://www.spaceanswers.com/solar-system/2403/what-would-happen-if-we-blew-up-the-moon/

And by the way...there are many websites devoted to figuring all this stuff out (in a very scientific way), which frightens me just a bit; because psychologically, the person/people who would actually attempt something like this are most likely to be scientists, just to see whether they could do it. Science is kind of like that. It focuses on action and reaction; there's no moral judgment, which I won't judge, just state for the record. Although, purposefully destroying humanity or the planet does seem wrong, really wrong.

A former co-worker once told me that he thought I wouldn't survive very well, if at all, if there were a nuclear attack. When I asked why, he told me he thought that because I didn't like to camp. While it's true I don't enjoy camping, I'm not sure what that has to do with surviving a nuclear attack. I told him that if my choices were being at the point of impact or being within a 50 to 100 mile radius I would prefer to be at the point of impact (for obvious reasons). But I digress. Hell, this whole post is a digression, I'm not even sure why I wrote it other than to entertain myself and maybe a few friends.

As humans, we seem to be rather obsessed with death, destruction, and redemption. How would one survive in post-apocalytpic world, a dystopian society? Maybe these movies and novels really are cautionary tales and survival manuals.

As for George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, I find it eerie how close they came to predicting the direction society has taken. I would also add that the MaddAdam trilogy by Margaret Atwood is probably not far off from where we are headed either. If you have not read these books and are obsessed the demise or decline of society, I suggest you do so.

As for humanity's obsession with it's own decline and demise I can only posit that it's for one simple reason...one can only watch so many cute animal videos. But in the meantime, "Don't Worry, Be Happy".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ssa7LMeC_Bw

Cheers!

Norwegian Sharknado, or what the fox say...

Alright, that may be a bit of stretch to call it Norwegian Sharknado, but like Sharknado I think I'll be talking about this for awhile. It's probably more like Norwegian "Weird Al" Yankovic, whose music I totally love.

If you haven't seen this, you should...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE

I really don't have anything else for this post.

Ylvis has left the building.

Thank-you

Incommercials...

I admit, I am not the most eloquent person, however, I'd like to believe that when it comes to pronunciation, I do okay. If I don't, then I just blame my genetics.

There are certain words that my father mispronounces, frequently; no matter how many times I tell him the proper way to pronounce the word. These words include, but are not limited to:

Incommercial (known to everyone else as an infomercial)
Frajita (or fajita)
Valentime's Day (that would be Valentine's Day, with an "N", not an "M")
Bryerly's (there's no "r" after the B; it's Byerly's, a local grocery store, for you out-of-towners)

On a positive note, my father gave me an expandable hose which he purchased after watching an "incommerical"; and it's way better than the stupid hose I bought at Home Depot which gave me bruises. I don't think it's Home Depot's fault, but you get what you pay for; and apparently a $25.00 hose is cheap in the world of hoses. When I told him I wanted another expandable hose for the back of the house he told me I should go to the Target place and ask where "the seen on TV incommercial place" was. I was specifically instructed not to purchase it from the incommercial on TV because the shipping and handling was more than what the hose itself actually cost. Message received and understood. I guess I'm off to Target. 


Expandable hose my dad gave me...

Cheers!

Did you change your underwear?

It's always interesting to come home and visit with my folks. It's about a 5 and half hour drive from my house to theirs. It's just far enough to ensure that weekend visits need to be planned.

When I arrived this afternoon my mom was folding laundry at the kitchen table. My father was sitting at the other end watching her fold his underwear and suddenly blurts out, "don't look at my underwear".

Me - are you talking to me?

Dad - Yes, it makes me uncomfortable.

Me - I've seen your underwear. I used to do the laundry when I was a teenager, and that included your underwear.

Dad - I don't remember that.

Me - It doesn't really matter whether you remember; I used to fold your underwear.

Then turning his attention to my mother he says..."Hey, 11 pairs of underwear, not bad for one week".

Mom - this two weeks, there should be 14 pairs here.

Me - Oh My God! Don't you change your underwear everyday? What's wrong with you?

My father just gives me a blank look and shakes his head.

Me - Well? Do you change your underwear everyday? It's totally gross if you don't.

Dad - When are you leaving? Don't you have to go back to Minnesota now?

Several hours later we are sitting in the family room watching TV, as a family, something that has been totally lost on me for the past 22 years, since I live alone. Anyway, I got up to go get a hair tie and when I returned to the family room, it was obvious some one had passed gas.

Me - Alright, who did that?

Dad - Did what?

Me - You know what? Who farted?

Dad - It was your mother.

Mom - It wasn't me, I have diarrhea; if I have to fart I have to go to the bathroom. Your father farted.

Dad - Why do yo always blame me?

Mom - Because it's you.

Dad - No one farted.

Me - Seriously, Dad. It didn't smell in here when I left and now it does. You farted. Why are you blaming Mom for your smelly fart?

Dad - When are you going back to Minnesota? Are you taking your mother with? Are you going to be here tomorrow?

Good times...I'll be here until Tuesday (maybe), so stay tuned.


Cheers.

Very random crap...

Today's post is brought to you by the number 14,610.

When I told my mother I didn't like my belly button she became upset...because, as she explained to me, it came from her. I had no response to that. Well played, Mom, well played.

There's new information about Mars One, and I think those people are nuts;
http://www.nbcnews.com/science/one-way-mars-trip-attracts-165-000-would-be-astronauts-6C10981032

...but I prefer this tiger cub video.
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Sumatran+tiger+cubs&mid=65FE41E9D23B0B37D75165FE41E9D23B0B37D751&view=detail&FORM=VIRE6#view=detail&mid=65FE41E9D23B0B37D75165FE41E9D23B0B37D751

I threw away a perfectly good hose the other day because the sprayer fell apart and I wasn't able to put it back together, nor was I able to unscrew the sprayer from the hose. Now, before you go all, "why didn't you just cut the hose and put a replacement end on"? It's actually cheaper to buy a new hose rather than take the time to go through all of that. Besides, one of my enterprising neighbors probably took it out of my garbage. I can pretty much set anything out on garbage day and it disappears. Plenty of hoarders around. The new hose sucks by the way, but the sprayer nozzle is excellent.

One of my favorite books (when I was a kid) was The Fat Cat, a Danish Folktale. I recommend checking it out if you've got kids.
http://www.vintagechildrensbooksmykidloves.com/2010/02/fat-cat.html

As a follow up to It's hard to find monkeys for people who are 40...

As you can see, my father found a monkey card,

and it's pretty funny...

The "money" wasn't what I expected. I actually didn't expect any money, but what I got was Allied Issued Military currency (Italian Lire); Chinese money, and Moroccan money.  My great uncle served in WWII and gave this money to my grandfather (long since passed) who gave it to my father, who has now given it to me. Pretty cool, heh?



...and in case you were wondering about the number 14,610, it's the number of days I've been alive. I was able to calculate this number all by myself, despite being a girl. Go suck it Children's Place.           (￣へ ￣)凸

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/06/the-childrens-place-shirts-girls-math_n_3714050.html

Cheers!



P.S. I think it's time for an 800 calorie cupcake.

When you march to the beat of your own drum, you're the only one who knows where the downbeat is...

I've been feeling introspective these past few months and thinking if the present me could go back in time and talk to the 25 year old me, what would she say? There are certainly many things that could be said which the present me would think were wise and insightful. Then I realize it wouldn't really matter, because the 25 year old me wouldn't listen anyway. Some things you just have learn by living.

Joking aside, I have been doing a lot of soul searching recently, assessing my values as well as what I want out of life. I realize that I have a lot of rules, especially about food, so many in fact they can be grouped into categories. I have rules that sound satirical, but aren't; rules that are based on science and nutrition; and socio-political rules. My other rules are mostly about cleanliness and hygiene, and about man hair. What remains is just a bunch of neuroses I use to drive myself nuts.

I figure I come by these rules rightly. My mother had a lot of rules.

One of which was you can't wear shorts until it's at least 75 degrees. When you grow up near Lake Michigan it doesn't hit 75 until mid to late June (usually); but in the meantime, when it's 74, you look like a weirdo running around in your Toughskins when all of your friends are in shorts.

Another rule my mother had was the air conditioner couldn't be turned on until at least June 1st, which is usually not an issue in Wisconsin; the converse however, was the heat doesn't get turned on until at least October 1st. This can be dodgy, but that's why we have sweatshirts. I'm not sure where or how her rules originated, nor do I understand why the cooling and heating rules are date based rather than temperature based, like the shorts rule. She still follows the heat and cooling rules.

Another eccentric rule was that she would never where shorts without nylons; and these weren't the nylons that matched her skin. No, no...these were the nylons that were "mocha" colored. She was embarrassed by how white her legs were, but apparently had no qualms about wearing mocha colored nylons under shorts, because that isn't weird or anything.

My dad's rules were less complex... get up, go to work; come home, wash the car, eat, sleep, repeat. And the big one...stay off the lawn.

And now, I'd like to use this sentence to thank my parents for helping me to become the person I am today. Who knows how I would have turned out without all those crazy rules. I'd like to say a little less neurotic, but probably not.

Cheers

P.S. I used to poke fun at my mom for how white her legs were, because in the summer I lived outside and was very tan. My legs are now whiter than hers and I usually don't wear shorts because I too, am embarrassed by how white my legs are.

P.P. S. I don't wear nylons under my shorts when I break down and wear them.

P.P.P.S. I don't wear shorts unless it's at least 85 degrees...I get too cold otherwise. And my rules about using the heating and cooling systems in my house are temperature based, not date based.

It's hard to find monkeys for people who are 40....

My dad says a lot of stuff, much of which seems odd, even when taken in context.

For example, the title of this post. While it appears to be a stand alone statement, the context in which it was said pertains to greeting cards, specifically birthday cards. My father was apparently looking for a birthday card for my upcoming birthday. So in a couple of weeks, I'll be looking forward to a birthday card with some type of primate on it. Surprise!

Some of the other things I learned about card shopping...Wal-Mart is for old people and they don't have good cards or cards with monkeys. Target has good cards. Hallmark has a section with nickel cards, but they're hard to find. When I informed my father that they did not have a card section where cards cost a nickel and that there is nothing one can buy for a nickel anymore because it isn't 1935, I was informed that you can, in fact, purchase many things for a nickel and was subsequently challenged to a nickel war.

If you're wondering what a nickel war is, you are not alone. So I'll tell you. A nickel war is where you purchase things that cost a nickel every time you find them. Which I'm totally fine with, since this means I'll be saving a lot of nickels. Not really sure who will win this one, but I'm on the edge of my chair. Maybe he'll send a nickel with the card. Stay tuned for details.

Cheers.

Here's Blood in Your Eye...

Welcome to Monday!

If you don't like to look at pictures of eyes then stop reading.

It's always a joy to wake up on a Monday morning and finding a blood spot in your eye. It looks much more alarming than it is, but nonetheless gave me quite the jolt when I looked in the mirror this morning and reminded me why I didn't become a physician. The doc says it should clear up in two weeks or so. Fantastic.

I may have to come up with some fun story of how it happened. Because the truth is, let's face it, rather boring...my pillow did this to me. Yawn.

On a positive note, it should be a grand week. The weather is perfect. The sun is shining; it's warm but not too warm; it isn't humid (which is quite unusual for August); and I am one week closer to vacation. Yeah.

It can only get better.

Cheers.

People will tell you that Xanax and M&Ms are not a proper diet...

The neighbors recently started playing badminton in their backyard. I'm all for badminton...I love badminton, especially backyard badminton. But seriously, if you're playing badminton in your backyard, you should be playing by backyard margarita rules, which basically boil down to, "dude, I hit the birdie over the net". None of this three hits per side, or there's some kind of "imaginary" line that makes the little birdie go out and gives the other side a point.  If you're into the competitive stuff go join a league and let the rest of us have some fun.

When played in a backyard, the following games fall into the let's have fun and not get all competitive so we kill everyone's buzz category: badminton, volleyball, croquet, boccie ball, lawn Jarts (which you probably shouldn't play drunk, but then what's the point really?), and horseshoes.

And let's get this straight, if for some reason I end up on your team and you yell at me because I'm trying to have drunk backyard fun and you're desperate to win, I might just kick you in the nuts (even if you don't have them). Just remember it's the backyard and nobody cares whether you win, but they will remember how big a douche bag you were. And...if there are children involved and you make them cry, I will make you cry. Count on it.

Did you ever have one those weeks at work where you feel like you're in a scene from Animal Farm? That's pretty much how my week went. It really makes want to make up a bunch of random stuff and then say that I never said any of that. Some people would call it a cluster-fuck, however, I prefer goat rodeo.

And one more thing, can someone please explain how a person manages to get a speeding ticket during rush hour? I don't understand. Traffic moves at a crawl or at least 15 miles below the posted speed limit and yet some folks manage to acquire speeding tickets. If I ever figure it out, I'll be sure to let everyone know.

Cheers

I'm going out to find more minions...no, not onions, minions

Today's post is brought to you by the letter "E". 

Warning! If you are offended by swearing, the use of politically incorrect words that used to be socially acceptable in everyday language but no longer are, or socially sensitive topics, stop reading now. 

I've been seeing the letter E around a lot lately and I really like it, the letter E that is, not that I'm seeing it, but that's okay too. I've been seeing the letter K around a lot too, but I don't like that letter as much. And you know I'm pretty sure that Bert and Ernie are not gay...because they're muppets. I'm almost certain that muppets don't have a sexual orientation. Besides, if any muppet was going to be gay (or lesbian, I don't want to be gender biased) I think it would be Janice from Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem Band.

I heard on MPR today (no, that's not a typo, M stands for Minnesota) that they've developed a new shark suit that will reduce risk for scuba divers and snorkelers for being attacked by a shark. Apparently, sharks are confused by black and white stripes. I am very happy for them; but tell you what, I've got a remedy for that too...stay out of shark infested waters. I'm also pretty sure that the black and white stripes won't work if you come across a shark wielding tornado; nope, you need a chainsaw for that.

I'm pretty sure that I've developed adult ADD. On the ride home from work today, I had a gazillion thoughts and in the back of mind I kept thinking, I should have a tape recorder so I can record what I'm thinking because by the time I get home and try to write it all down I'll have forgotten most of it. I sang Outshined at the top of my lungs while driving home today. The guy in the pick up in front of me probably thought I was insane because I was really into it. I'm totally okay with that. I'll be turning 40 in one month. I had a major freak-out at 35, so I'm not expecting too much drama. However, there are a few things I'm looking forward to, like being able to say "Fuck-it, I'm 40"! That should actually work for the next two decades. It's the fffff sound.

My use of the "effen-heimer" goes up exponentially when I get stressed out at work and it was a crap-tacular day. I lost count of how many times I used that word. I used it as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective,  and probably some other parts of speech that don't exist in the English language. And I'm not done. Driving also brings out my effen-heimer vocabulary. There are a lot of fuckers, mother-fuckers, and fuck face drivers out there...and they were all on the road today. This is why I do not have children, nor am I allowed to drive with children in the car. Apparently, today is stop signs are optional day as well as I don't know how to use my turn signal day. It has been suggested that I use the word "genius" to replace the following words (often spoken in anger/frustration): moron, idiot, cretin, retard, fucker, mother-fucker, fuck-face, dick-head, jackass, ass-wipe, and asshole. I'm trying, but only successful about 50% of the time.

I watered my hydrangeas the other day with an acid fertilizer. I'm waiting for them to turn blue...they aren't blue yet. I just checked.

Oh, and here's another thing...Nick Cannon has come out with an album called White People Party Music. Really? Are you fucking kidding me? In light of all the racial issues going on right now...how is this appropriate? At first I laughed and took it lightheartedly, but now I'm totally pissed off. I'm pretty sure that if some "white" dude came out with an album mocking black people it would be considered unacceptable. Of course this has already gone viral and everyone is eating it up like candy. This is just one of many reasons this country will never outgrow its racist past. I guess we all deserve the fucked up world in which we live.

And now I need to go apologize to my coworker who graciously listened to my effen-heimer rant.

Cheers

P.S. I now have seven minions and they make my laugh.

Tornadoes, Sharks, and Chainsaws...Oh My!

I'm having a mid-life crisis. Really. I'm about to turn 40. Now before you poo-poo me, or say I'm too young, recognize that the average lifespan is 78.6 years. I think that I'm the perfect age for a mid-life crisis.

This crisis isn't about turning 40, not really. Age really is just a number and I feel much younger, accept when I meet some punk kid a few years out of college who thinks the world owes them. Their misplaced sense of entitlement irritates me, but that's really a topic for another post. Over the past several months I've found myself asking more and more of those "little" life questions..Is this all there is? What is my purpose? Why am I here? Should I be doing more? Doing less? What makes me happy? Has reading and watching science fiction made my expectations of what life should be warped and unrealistic? The questions are endless, really; but that last question is a great transition to what this post is really about, well sort of.

I couldn't resist writing a post about the SyFy Original Movie, Sharknado. It has gotten so much buzz that I had to watch it (well most of it, the last half) in order to understand what all the fuss was about. Yes, it was bad, but no more so than any of their other intentionally bad movies. And let's face it, it's been done before. MST3K made an entire show on making fun of bad movies with witty repartee. I've actually been beginning to wonder what Crow and Tom Servo would have had to say if they had been watching Sharknado. I really miss MST3K. I have a tough time watching a bad movie without them; it just isn't the same. And if you don't know about MST3K, you can look it up on the internet.

I also have to wonder if the public response to Sharknado is somehow connected to the crazy shit going on in the world right now. Not sure, just a thought.

Just remember, if you're ever going to fight a shark wielding tornado, make sure you bring a chainsaw. You might need to fight your way out of the shark after he swallows you, and a bowie knife just won't cut it. It's certainly a use for a chainsaw I hadn't previously considered. It's good to learn something new.

P.S. I know you're all (all three of you) wondering how the dating scene is these days. It's the same, utterly depressing. There are a lot of emotionally damaged men out there. It's tough to find someone whose emotional damage and fallibility is compatible with your own. But I am a glutton for punishment, so I sally forth.

Cheers