Nothing reverts a grown up back to childhood like being sick. You wish your parents were there to bring you hot chicken noodle soup, put a hand to your forehead and instantly know by touch whether you have a fever or not, and wait on you hand and foot until you are well again.
Yeah, I miss the good ol days, now that I'm all adult-like and have to make my own chicken noodle soup, have no clue if I have a fever and the only thermometer in the house has been up the dog's butt, and the laundry sits and mocks me until I'm well enough to do it.
Today I felt well enough to take a shower. Actually I just couldn't stand myself any more and threw myself in the shower, my mom's words ringing in my ears "take a shower, it'll make you feel better and wash the germs off of you". Yeah, I did feel somewhat better. "Now don't forget to dry your hair, if you go out with wet hair you'll catch pneumonia". My mom really did think that going out in wet hair would cause pneumonia, ear aches, tuberculosis and all manner of other horrible things. Apparently that's not the case, but you can't convince her otherwise.
My grandmother felt that you could catch horrible "private" diseases and pregnancy just by sitting on a public toilet. She also felt that we would all meet the same fate as the Titanic if we took the Ferry over to Mackinaw Island. My grandmother was also the one that gave me the middle name "Lou" because I didn't have a middle name. Grandma took a lot of pills. She also thought that you could catch worms from a myriad of things, such as eating raw cookie dough. I guess this was why my dad thought that everything was caused by worms.
"What's wrong?"
"I have a headache"
"Its the worms"
"I don't have worms"
"That's the worms talking".
My husband has an upset stomach now, which he's blaming on the pepermint white mocha he drank earlier. I'm pretty sure he has worms.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Economy
Despite the stupid title, I assure you that there's no need to run off and poke your eyes out with a fork, I'm not going to do one of those long drawn out, drawling, make ya wanna puke dissertations on the U.S. Economy or anything like that... although if someone paid me I could, but instead I'll just sound the alarm over something I found on the back of a Wheat Thins box that disturbed me greatly.
Oh sure, you've probably seen the commercials where people are telling you to rip the gold fillings out of your teeth and mail them to their company in this handy trustworthy envelope because the value of the dollar is in the crapper and you'll need something to barter with when the rogue element starts racing around in crazy looking cars and speak with Australian accents, and you only have so many viable organs to trade. I laughed at those commercials as well, until I was eating Wheat Thins (that delicious snack cracker, and yes, since I haven't received a semi trailer full of Butterfinger Crisps, I'm now whoring for the Wheat Thin people), and found this
alarming statement on the back of the box:
You can clearly see here that the U.S. Dollar is now only worth 16 Wheat Thins and 2 Tablespoons of humus. Oh dear lord are we screwed!!! Well, I'm not too screwed, because I happen to have a whole box of Wheat Thins (that I only ate approximately $3.00 out of before learning how valuable they now are). I have no idea why the Federal Reserve wanted to go with a snack cracker as the next monetary thing, but whatever, I'll go with it. The toll booth operator apparently hadn't gotten the memo and yelled at me for tossing 36 hummus slathered wheat thins into the toll hopper. She's probably still using that paper crap, the poor thing.
My husband had called and left me a voicemail that consisted of a high pitched whine that is commonly used by one of our dogs when she wants something (oyster cracker, our dinner, a Lexus). Having been married for 3,000 years, we no longer leave real messages for each other like "Hey honey, hope your day is going well, give me a call when you have a chance". Nope, our voicemails consist of high pitched keening noises, sometimes a whispered "shoot me now, please, just shoot me", or the "I want noise".
I called him back:
"What do you want?"
"Um, I don't know, I forgot"
"Well, you left a voicemail that said EEEEEEEeeeerrrrrrrrr"
"Oh, I need to go buy a beard trimmer"
Yes, from EEEEEEEEeeeeeerrrrrr he got beard trimmer. Its now quite apparent that we've evolved into our own guttural language and we can just do away with english altogether.
In case you were wondering, he didn't get a beard trimmer, because I ate all of the wheat thins.
Oh sure, you've probably seen the commercials where people are telling you to rip the gold fillings out of your teeth and mail them to their company in this handy trustworthy envelope because the value of the dollar is in the crapper and you'll need something to barter with when the rogue element starts racing around in crazy looking cars and speak with Australian accents, and you only have so many viable organs to trade. I laughed at those commercials as well, until I was eating Wheat Thins (that delicious snack cracker, and yes, since I haven't received a semi trailer full of Butterfinger Crisps, I'm now whoring for the Wheat Thin people), and found this
alarming statement on the back of the box:You can clearly see here that the U.S. Dollar is now only worth 16 Wheat Thins and 2 Tablespoons of humus. Oh dear lord are we screwed!!! Well, I'm not too screwed, because I happen to have a whole box of Wheat Thins (that I only ate approximately $3.00 out of before learning how valuable they now are). I have no idea why the Federal Reserve wanted to go with a snack cracker as the next monetary thing, but whatever, I'll go with it. The toll booth operator apparently hadn't gotten the memo and yelled at me for tossing 36 hummus slathered wheat thins into the toll hopper. She's probably still using that paper crap, the poor thing.
My husband had called and left me a voicemail that consisted of a high pitched whine that is commonly used by one of our dogs when she wants something (oyster cracker, our dinner, a Lexus). Having been married for 3,000 years, we no longer leave real messages for each other like "Hey honey, hope your day is going well, give me a call when you have a chance". Nope, our voicemails consist of high pitched keening noises, sometimes a whispered "shoot me now, please, just shoot me", or the "I want noise".
I called him back:
"What do you want?"
"Um, I don't know, I forgot"
"Well, you left a voicemail that said EEEEEEEeeeerrrrrrrrr"
"Oh, I need to go buy a beard trimmer"
Yes, from EEEEEEEEeeeeeerrrrrr he got beard trimmer. Its now quite apparent that we've evolved into our own guttural language and we can just do away with english altogether.
In case you were wondering, he didn't get a beard trimmer, because I ate all of the wheat thins.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Why do I even bother with titles
Yes, its time for more ranting, but before I start my rant, I'm going to start with a commercial of sorts.
The Butterfinger Crisp. I bought one of those halloween sized bags of them, with no intention of giving them to children. Nope, I view Halloween as socialist propaganda, if children want candy
they can get a job and buy it themselves, why should I work hard only to fork over good candy to kids who just want a hand out. Anyhoo, back to the Butterfinger Crisp. I would like to inform all of you that the only thing they could do to improve this candy treat is if they found a way for them to unwrap and throw themselves straight into your mouth. I can't vouch for the regular sized bar, but the bags o' little tiny bars are fantastic, and yes, I would definitely whore myself out to the Nestle company and accept a truck load of these treats for this stellar and unbiased review of their incredibly delicious treat.
I would also like to ask those people that design online courses that make you sit through an explanation of the "right" answer, even after you answered the question right, to immediately throw themselves off of a high building, and if you survive, crawl with your broken legs back up to the top of the building and jump again. You suck. You really, truly suck. If I get the question right, move on. Stop wasting my time by going over something I already know, I know it, I answered your stupid question, if I wanted to know more... well why would I need to know "more" if I answered the question right, you idiot. This goes especially to those types of courses that are mandatory and you have to take year after year. Sure, things may change, but ask me a question about the things that changed, and if I get the pre-test wrong, then make me suffer through the drivel, but for the love of GAH stop the madness!!!
There is a very big bug sitting near the ceiling of my living room. It hasn't moved for some time now, and since I'm too lazy to do anything about it until it swoops across the room and smacks me in the forehead, I'm inclined to let it just sit there. If you don't hear from me in a few days, please call the police and report that a large bug killed me. Of course, by that time the dogs will have eaten my carcass and frankly I'm ok with that.
I close tonight's very quick, yet efficient rant with the following: Facebook, I know you are free and I should be grateful for whatever I get, but lately I haven't gotten anything from you, other than a notice saying my account is under maintenance, and when I do get in, you won't let me do anything. You are about worthless for the past week and if you don't watch out, I'll just go back to the dark ages and start e-mailing people again... um... or not. Just fix it will you.
The Butterfinger Crisp. I bought one of those halloween sized bags of them, with no intention of giving them to children. Nope, I view Halloween as socialist propaganda, if children want candy
they can get a job and buy it themselves, why should I work hard only to fork over good candy to kids who just want a hand out. Anyhoo, back to the Butterfinger Crisp. I would like to inform all of you that the only thing they could do to improve this candy treat is if they found a way for them to unwrap and throw themselves straight into your mouth. I can't vouch for the regular sized bar, but the bags o' little tiny bars are fantastic, and yes, I would definitely whore myself out to the Nestle company and accept a truck load of these treats for this stellar and unbiased review of their incredibly delicious treat.I would also like to ask those people that design online courses that make you sit through an explanation of the "right" answer, even after you answered the question right, to immediately throw themselves off of a high building, and if you survive, crawl with your broken legs back up to the top of the building and jump again. You suck. You really, truly suck. If I get the question right, move on. Stop wasting my time by going over something I already know, I know it, I answered your stupid question, if I wanted to know more... well why would I need to know "more" if I answered the question right, you idiot. This goes especially to those types of courses that are mandatory and you have to take year after year. Sure, things may change, but ask me a question about the things that changed, and if I get the pre-test wrong, then make me suffer through the drivel, but for the love of GAH stop the madness!!!
There is a very big bug sitting near the ceiling of my living room. It hasn't moved for some time now, and since I'm too lazy to do anything about it until it swoops across the room and smacks me in the forehead, I'm inclined to let it just sit there. If you don't hear from me in a few days, please call the police and report that a large bug killed me. Of course, by that time the dogs will have eaten my carcass and frankly I'm ok with that.
I close tonight's very quick, yet efficient rant with the following: Facebook, I know you are free and I should be grateful for whatever I get, but lately I haven't gotten anything from you, other than a notice saying my account is under maintenance, and when I do get in, you won't let me do anything. You are about worthless for the past week and if you don't watch out, I'll just go back to the dark ages and start e-mailing people again... um... or not. Just fix it will you.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Just Plain Rambling
I apologize for the lack of funny cartoons with this post (and yes, I’ll be updating my Facebook icon soon with the new hairdo and some blood will be involved, but that’s another story for another day, shut up I’ll tell you when I’m ready), and this will also be a rambling diatribe (whatever that is) while I wait for my iPhone to download the latest update and hopefully fix the totally f’d up Facebook app that refuses to show me anything but a page that says “no comments” which happens to be the story of my life but does Facebook have to rub it in?
Apparently I’ve eaten something that has grown in my stomach, raised some children and is now fighting its way out via the only available exit and its not happy about the trip. No, I don’t know what it was, nor do I want to know, but frankly I’m going to find out eventually and I hope it doesn’t seek retribution for something.
I’m currently mad at my husband because he won’t let me blog things. Its to the point now that any time anything remotely funny and/or/not cool happens, he immediately says: “Don’t you dare blog that!” I mean, come ON! There’s so much material in our dysfunctional lives that telling me I can’t blog something makes me want to blog it even more and then I become fixated about it and actually blog it in MacJournal (MacJournal, the most wonderful piece of software known to humans and I highly recommend it and would love the makers of MacJournal to give me something for free). I’m all about the shameless promotion and frankly if you want to give me something, I’ll totally review it, but frankly if it sucks, I’m gonna say it sucks so you better only give me totally cool stuff or else I’ll rip it to shreds and run you out of business.... are you listening UPS?
Anyhoo, I’ll ramble in an entry in MacJournal and would it be my fault if I actually blogged about it in MacJournal (where you can set up different types of journals for different blogs and upload them, except it won’t allow you to imbed pictures and upload them, but I blame blogger for being a butthead about that, not the wonderful MacJournal. I also truly have no idea why I’m fixating on MacJournal tonight, perhaps its the 7 foot tapeworm in my gut about to burst out and take over the world, which I would totally blog about whether my husband asked me to or not and yes, I would upload pictures before I died of total blood loss.
Perhaps my stomach is all upset before of stories like this. Seriously? Converting hotels and old people homes into places to hold illegals while they wait to be deported? How about you find them, you determine they are illegal, you drive them to the border and shoo them back where they came from? Do we really need to hold them in hotels? I’m about ready to lawfully sneak into Mexico, then cross the border without my passport so I can get me a nice free stay in a hotel. I haven’t been on vacation in like 10 freakin years! I work my butt off and can’t afford a vacation and don’t have any accrued vacation time, so this seems to be the easiest and cheapest way to get me a vacation! I can’t think of a better waste of my hard earned dollars than to house people who break our laws in the comfort of a hotel. Frankly, I don’t see why all criminals aren’t housed in hotels, why should we just limit it to illegal aliens, don’t our citizen criminals deserve better accommodations?
Ok, I have to go get some paper towels because my head just exploded.
Apparently I’ve eaten something that has grown in my stomach, raised some children and is now fighting its way out via the only available exit and its not happy about the trip. No, I don’t know what it was, nor do I want to know, but frankly I’m going to find out eventually and I hope it doesn’t seek retribution for something.
I’m currently mad at my husband because he won’t let me blog things. Its to the point now that any time anything remotely funny and/or/not cool happens, he immediately says: “Don’t you dare blog that!” I mean, come ON! There’s so much material in our dysfunctional lives that telling me I can’t blog something makes me want to blog it even more and then I become fixated about it and actually blog it in MacJournal (MacJournal, the most wonderful piece of software known to humans and I highly recommend it and would love the makers of MacJournal to give me something for free). I’m all about the shameless promotion and frankly if you want to give me something, I’ll totally review it, but frankly if it sucks, I’m gonna say it sucks so you better only give me totally cool stuff or else I’ll rip it to shreds and run you out of business.... are you listening UPS?
Anyhoo, I’ll ramble in an entry in MacJournal and would it be my fault if I actually blogged about it in MacJournal (where you can set up different types of journals for different blogs and upload them, except it won’t allow you to imbed pictures and upload them, but I blame blogger for being a butthead about that, not the wonderful MacJournal. I also truly have no idea why I’m fixating on MacJournal tonight, perhaps its the 7 foot tapeworm in my gut about to burst out and take over the world, which I would totally blog about whether my husband asked me to or not and yes, I would upload pictures before I died of total blood loss.
Perhaps my stomach is all upset before of stories like this. Seriously? Converting hotels and old people homes into places to hold illegals while they wait to be deported? How about you find them, you determine they are illegal, you drive them to the border and shoo them back where they came from? Do we really need to hold them in hotels? I’m about ready to lawfully sneak into Mexico, then cross the border without my passport so I can get me a nice free stay in a hotel. I haven’t been on vacation in like 10 freakin years! I work my butt off and can’t afford a vacation and don’t have any accrued vacation time, so this seems to be the easiest and cheapest way to get me a vacation! I can’t think of a better waste of my hard earned dollars than to house people who break our laws in the comfort of a hotel. Frankly, I don’t see why all criminals aren’t housed in hotels, why should we just limit it to illegal aliens, don’t our citizen criminals deserve better accommodations?
Ok, I have to go get some paper towels because my head just exploded.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Greatest Thing Since Coffee
I'm sure all of you have seen the new coffee thing from Starbucks, the Via.
I've said all along that someone needed to create this and leave it to Starbucks to steal the idea straight from my head and make a million bucks from it (I hate you as much as I'm addicted to you, you suck Starbucks).
Picture this: you are trapped in a well and without coffee, what do you do? I'm sure a lot of you have thought this, and went into a full tilt panic. How the heck are you suppose to survive in the bottom of a well without coffee? I wake up in a sweat every time I think of this, but thanks to Starbucks, the answer is simple: Via. The concept of a pixie stick-like coffee is pure genius and should have won the Nobel Peace Prize for keeping people from ripping each others' heads off when there's no coffee around... but noooo, they gave it to some guy that spent 10 days in office and didn't do a freakin thing except clog the airways with speeches about wonderful things he would do (and still hasn't done).
Simply rip open the top and pour that delicious powder straight into your mouth and TAH DAH you have instant coffee!!! I mean why did it take someone this long to come up with the concept. Pixie sticks have been around since 1952 so you would have thought that a company or person would have thought: HEY! If you can pour pure sugar down your throat from a little tube, then why not coffee? It took 57 years for someone to actually market this wonderful thing.
Hey, wait a minute... what do you mean you're suppose to pour it in hot water? That's stupid!
I've said all along that someone needed to create this and leave it to Starbucks to steal the idea straight from my head and make a million bucks from it (I hate you as much as I'm addicted to you, you suck Starbucks).
Picture this: you are trapped in a well and without coffee, what do you do? I'm sure a lot of you have thought this, and went into a full tilt panic. How the heck are you suppose to survive in the bottom of a well without coffee? I wake up in a sweat every time I think of this, but thanks to Starbucks, the answer is simple: Via. The concept of a pixie stick-like coffee is pure genius and should have won the Nobel Peace Prize for keeping people from ripping each others' heads off when there's no coffee around... but noooo, they gave it to some guy that spent 10 days in office and didn't do a freakin thing except clog the airways with speeches about wonderful things he would do (and still hasn't done).
Simply rip open the top and pour that delicious powder straight into your mouth and TAH DAH you have instant coffee!!! I mean why did it take someone this long to come up with the concept. Pixie sticks have been around since 1952 so you would have thought that a company or person would have thought: HEY! If you can pour pure sugar down your throat from a little tube, then why not coffee? It took 57 years for someone to actually market this wonderful thing.
Hey, wait a minute... what do you mean you're suppose to pour it in hot water? That's stupid!
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