Category Archives: humor

August 16, 2007 · 12:01 am

Where Superheroes Deign to Dine

How is YOUR eyesight? Do you see with perfect 20/20 clarity? Is that corrected or uncorrected? Do you wear contacts or glasses?

Me? I wear contacts, sometimes glasses. But if you’ve read this then you already know that. Without glasses my vision is something like 20/bringthatahellofalotcloserifyouexpectmetoseeit. With contacts, I’ve got 20/20 vision.

That’s what my eye doctor’s records say anyway. The truth… the truth is something they can’t record on paper because well, that would give me away and then when the government needs my extraordinary skills I’d be called up and put to work when all I really want is to be left alone to live my life in peace and sandwiches. Subs, to be exact.

Because you see (no pun intended) I have Superhero X-ray eyes! No, I can’t see through walls (unless they’re made of glass). I can’t see through clothes (but if I could I’d hang around a bunch of good looking muscled firemen). And I can’t see through skin (and who would want to look at skeletons all day anyway? Well, okay, maybe a radiologist). However, I CAN see through paper. A very special kind of paper, the kind that Subway uses to wrap their subs in!

“Bah!” You say. “Who cares?” You ask.

Well, it’s a VERY important and most useful ability. In fact, I didn’t even know I had this ability until a few weeks ago. But I’m honing it now, oh yes I am!

You see (there I go again, and really I don’t mean to rub it in), I went to Subway recently to get a sub for lunch. This particular Subway draws a fairly large lunch crowd. Often, the line snakes out the door and onto the sidewalk beyond. Once inside, while still in line mind you, you shout your order to the sandwich maker guy (you know he’s the one because he’s got the letters S and M on the front of his shirt) and he gets the basics of bread and meat together. Then you move up a bit and shout out the toppings you want, be it vegetables or condiments, and a lady with a hair net does your bidding. Then the sandwiches are wrapped in the special sandwich wrap and shoved on down the counter near the register.

This is where it gets hairy and my Superhero X-ray vision must be activated. The cash register lady doesn’t even look up at you. Seriously, I could be Jared standing in front of her and she wouldn’t even notice. She wouldn’t say “Jared! What a treat to have you here at my Subway franchise. I see you’ve kept the weight off! Do you want a Veggie sub?” Oh, no she would not because, as I said, she doesn’t look at you. Instead she points to a wrapped sub and asks in a bored monotone “What sandwich is this?” Seriously, that’s her job. She stands there and repeats “What sandwich is this? What sandwich is this? What sandwich is this?” Until the last lunch buying person hands over their money and the crowd is gone.

The first time she asked me this I was just about to say “How the hell should I know? Do you think I can see through the wrapper? I don’t know what THAT sandwich is but I ordered an Italian Club…” Only I didn’t actually say that. I simply responded, “Italian Club” and it turned out I was right! And that’s how I realized I had this fantabulous gift! It’s funny in a way because I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I don’t have a sudden vision or anything. It’s not like I see the bread layered with meat and cheese and lettuce and tomatoes and mayonnaise and hots (that’s how I like my subs by the way, just in case you ever wanted to buy me lunch). It’s more like a simple knowledge. But really, how else could I have that knowledge unless I was actually looking through the wrapper? And the cash register lady knows this! She expects me to be able to see through the wrapper and give her an answer. And so, when it’s my turn and I am asked “What sandwich is this?” that is exactly what I do. I summon up my Superhero X-ray vision, look through the wrapper, and tell her what sandwich it is so she can enter the price accordingly.

Also, I am not the only one with this incredible ability. Most of the people who come to this particular Subway have the same skill! I think we all go there because it’s “just” a sandwich shop. Villains wouldn’t expect to find us there, would they? They probably assume (and you know what happens when you assume, right?) that because we are Superheroes that we’d be eating somewhere fancy. Somewhere with sparkling silver, and clinking crystal, and linen napkins. We should. With powers like these we deserve to. But we don’t. We just grab a sandwich and pretend we’re normal folk.

Really though, at this particular Subway it’s like a lunchtime Superhero convention; it is! Except when it’s not. Because sometimes NORMAL people come in and get a sandwich. I know they are mere mortals with eyes that can’t see beyond what’s in front of them because they pay for their sandwich and leave only to return 5 minutes later complaining: “This is the WRONG sandwich!” because they ordered the Subway Tuna Club but got a Subway Roast Beef Club instead. And that’s their own fault. If they could see through the paper like I can, then that wouldn’t have happened. Honestly, I don’t know why when asked “What sandwich is this?” they don’t just admit “Uh, I don’t know. I can’t see through the wrapper.” I guess they want to appear cool like the rest of us there, but the jig is totally up when they come back for an exchange. I mean, how embarrassing is that? “Duh, I got the wrong sandwich. Duh…” They could have saved themselves both time and trouble though if they’d just told the truth. Obviously, I would have offered my services. All they’d have to do is tell the truth, ask for my help, and buy me lunch.

7 Comments

Filed under eyesight, humor, lunch, Subway, Superheroes

August 11, 2007 · 12:14 am

Breaking News

This just in… Luke Skywalker, of Star Wars fame, was injured in a Y-Wing crash yesterday. R2D2 immediately responded by turning himself into a medical droid and attempting to shock Luke Skywalker back to health. The “shocking procedure” is quite shocking in nature as it entailed R2D2 straddling Luke’s face as Luke lay prone on the bed. As promising as this procedure looked, it failed to revive Luke and so he was transported to the hospital, where a bed was constructed for him out of Kleenex. Luke was left there to recover.

The crash is still under investigation but it appears that it was not caused by Darth Vader’s use of the Force. An anonymous witness to the crash stated that Luke “couldn’t steer because too much wind blew back his hand” and Darth Vader was observed trying to stop the oncoming crash by taking the Y-Wing to the battle station. Because he was unsuccessful, a crash recovery team will be tasked with transporting the Y-Wing back to the battle station for repair.

Darth Vader, in what appears to be a change of heart spent the afternoon at the injured Luke’s side, taking care of him. Princess Leia, Luke’s sister and one of the seven faces of Belle, was surprised at the news of her father’s actions. “But I thought he was a bad guy!” she said.

A different unnamed witness came forth and reported that after the crash a “strange character” had been spotted in the vicinity. The character at first appeared to be Belle from Beauty and the Beast. That information could not be verified because the witness admitted that the strange character’s face could not be seen. However, it has been confirmed that the character was wearing all of Belle’s clothing at once. The character reportedly floated in the air and said “Hello!” to the real Belle who happened to be passing by on her way to the refrigerator to grab a can of Diet Coke. The real Belle commented that “You look very warm in all of those clothes with that coat on” and the figure responded, “There’s nobody here, I’m just a bunch of scary dresses!” The real Belle screamed in terror and ran away.

The distraught Belle was later reached by telephone where an accusing voice cried “Where did you put the Storm Trooper’s bodies? They were in your bed!” Not wanting to be caught in any kind of infidelity, Belle at first tried the Iran Contra defense where she stated that she couldn’t “recall” a situation where Storm Troopers had shared her bed. Later though, when it was, in fact, revealed that the Storm Troopers had been found under Belle’s nightgown, she resorted to using the Shaggy defense and claimed “It wasn’t me!”

Further confusing the investigation is a somewhat recovered Luke Skywalker who is now claiming that he was not the one flying the Y-Wing at the time of its crash. He has denied his involvement and claimed “The ‘LEGO guy’ was flying the ship.” Additionally, he claims that he is “Luke from a different movie.”

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming where I admit that I was playing with the LEGOs I spoke of here. But only for a little while. It turns out that when a company prints on the box that a toy is for children ages 8 and up, you really ought to heed their warning. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself having to assemble the toy yourself because your five year old is unable to do so.

Then shortly afterward, your son will drop the Y-Wing you so lovingly spent four hours assembling for him, and one million of the 17 trillion pieces will shear off upon impact and scatter all over your kitchen. Some will land in the dog’s water bowl, some will slip under the refrigerator, and some more will slide under the door to the basement and fall down the steps where you won’t find them again until you step on them with your bare foot. This will leave a LEGO impression on your foot that stays for a full 36 hours.

At that point you will be forced to consider whether or not you repaired the Y-Wing adequately after its initial crash. Perhaps if you had actually moved the refrigerator to get at the “unrecoverable” pieces, the craft might have been more stable. Perhaps a more stable aircraft would have spared Luke Skywalker from such severe injuries.

You can choose to debate this. You can write both NASA and the NTSB to get their ruling on the incident. Or, you could resort to your original premise that the “witness” to the crash is simply crazy. Especially since he is claiming HE is the REAL Luke Skywalker, and it was “the LEGO guy” that crashed the plane. Also, because he is five, and makes “scary dresses” talk.

5 Comments

Filed under Beauty and the Beast, breaking news, humor, insanity, LEGOs, Luke Skywalker, Star Wars, toys, Y-Wing

August 8, 2007 · 12:55 am

Please Check Your Calendars

Please check your calendar. Somebody, no… EVERYBODY, please check your calendars.

Can you confirm to me that today’s date is, in fact, August 8, 2007?

And that means it is still summer, right? At least, technically?

I mean, I seem to recall that the official start of summer falls somewhere around June 21st on what’s known as the summer solstice. And then fall doesn’t officially start until September 23rd or so, the date of the autumnal equinox. And all the days in between… summer. Summer, summer, summer. At least, that’s the way it is here in the Northern Hemisphere.

More so than the dates on the calendar, I have this other evidence to present in the hopes of proving it is still summer…

It’s 100 degrees outside. It feels, when you walk out the door, like that Jaws ride at Universal Studios in Florida where you’re in the boat and there’s a big fiery explosion and the searing heat is more than a touch alarming and you check to see if your skin might be blistering before your eyes. In the end, it’s really not, it’s just hot. HOT LIKE FIRE.

Also, there’s baseball. As far as I know, the major leagues are still in action. Then again, baseball season is so damn long that it might not be an actual indicator of anything anymore. Still, I’m claiming it. Baseball equals summer.

School hasn’t started yet either. It’s still, for better or worse, summer vacation. At least for a few more weeks. And I know this counts because there’s that song with the lyrics, “School’s out for the summer!” I think Alice Cooper sang it. And I think, if it’s in a song, then it must be true.

So to recap the evidence:

a. the calendar says it’s August and August equals summer
b. It’s hot out, and HOT LIKE FIRE usually only happens in the summer (well, unless there’s an actual fire)
c. Baseball equals summer
d. Alice Cooper said so

So, if all evidence points to the fact that it’s still summer, then WHY, pray tell, is my local grocery store already pushing HALLOWEEN CANDY?

Why did I get this fall catalog in the mail today?

And most worrisome of all, why today when I bought some LEGOs for my son from Target, did the cashier put them in this large CHRISTMAS bag?

O Holy Night!

Give me some time to buy school supplies first, won’t you?

I don’t know. Maybe the cashier thought I was buying the LEGOs as a Christmas gift since I was shopping alone and when she asked, I told her that I didn’t need a gift slip for them. That must mean I’m keeping them, right? But I’m a grown woman, and grown women don’t usually play with Star Wars LEGO sets, ergo, Christmas gift!

When she handed over my bags, all of my other purchases, like disposable razors and shampoo and Burt’s Beeswax (incredible deal on a 3-pack!) and gauze for wrapping up my husband’s mangled foot, were in regular Target bags. You know, the white ones with the red Target symbol on them? She handed over the LEGOs and said “And here is your toy.” And she kind of winked and nodded at the bag which was not see through. So I think she was suggesting that the LEGOs should be a Christmas gift and that I shouldn’t hand them over to Snags to play with the moment I walk through my front door. Perhaps she thinks that giving children toys for no reason, in the middle of summer no less, is akin to spoiling them.

But I like to think I’m fostering his creativity because he got a mini-set of LEGOs and has been spending hours upon hours making things with them and entertaining himself for hours more. And I was thinking that more LEGOs would allow him to make more things and be more creative and entertain himself for even MORE hours. And more is better, right? When you are talking about five year olds playing quietly with LEGOs for hours, more is better. Just… trust me on this.

But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m used to seeing Christmas stuff go up early. It takes a lot of time to set up 20 trees with ornaments and lights and tinsel. I start the day after Thanksgiving at my house, and I only put up one tree, some stockings, and a wreath. So stores, with all their twinkling lights and snow globes and dancing Santa’s have to start early.

And then there’s the whole thing where they start selling bathing suits in January. Now that totally pisses me off because if I wait the 6 months it will take me to lose enough weight ~~to look good~~ so people won’t vomit when they see me in a bathing suit, it would be June before I could buy one. Only by then there won’t be any bathing suits left except for those on clearance, and those are all in a size 2 and I couldn’t pull one of those up past my ankles even with a weight loss.

But really, I don’t recall seeing Halloween Candy out THIS early before. I’m especially perturbed at this because it means I have two additional months where I can stock up for trick-or-treaters only to say “Oh, what the hell, just one piece” and then before you know it, I’ve not only opened the bag, I’ve eaten the entire contents, all 240 pieces. And then I have to go buy MORE. This is bad enough when I do it through the entire month of October, because after that, I’ve still got Thanksgiving and Christmas goodies I can’t keep myself away from. So come January and bathing suit sales, I’m in trouble. Only now I’ve got August and September stretching before me with Halloween candy on the shelves, and with those two extra months, I can do some serious damage. I might have to tape 20 large Target Christmas bags together just to make myself a bathing suit come January.

7 Comments

Filed under Bathing Suits, Calendars, Candy, Christmas, Halloween, humor, LEGOs, life, Weight Loss

August 6, 2007 · 12:12 am

It’s an Evil World in Here

Snags watches a lot of Scooby Doo. He’s particularly fond of the movie Scooby Doo in Where’s My Mummy featuring Cleopatra’s Tomb, an army of the dead, and a curse. Cleopatra’s Tomb, in case you didn’t know, is located in “Ancient Egypt”. Snags has decided he wants to go there one day. To Ancient Egypt, that is.

There’s also a necklace featured in the movie; it serves as a key to unlock both the tomb and a curse.

Now I hadn’t given that movie much thought lately, but perhaps I should have paid closer attention. You see, Snags had mentioned something to me about necklaces and jewels, and building a tomb, and unleashing an army of the dead to guard the tomb. Those broader aspects I remember, but the specific details, not so much. Because what you have to understand is that Snags, like most 5 year olds (at least I think that other kids his age are like this), can talk and talk and talk and talk until your ears start to bleed. So sometimes, I’m not proud to admit it, but, uh, I think I’ve more or less confessed to this before… sometimes I’ll nod and agree and hope he tires of the conversation before I’m bled dry. At any rate, whenever this tomb and army of the dead issue came up, I figured he was probably just going on about the movie again.

Snags also likes to write. If he’s not talking about a Scooby Doo movie then he’s asking how to spell something so he can write a letter about it. Or, if he’s thinking really grandly, a book. Sometimes he asks you to spell just a word or two, and you can breathe a sigh of relief that your work is done. Other times he’s got whole sentences, whole catalogs, whole encyclopedias worth of things he wants you to spell out for him. This gets tiring rather quickly, so in those instances, I demand that he tell me the thing he wants to say in its entirety so I can write or type it all out for him at once. And then he can copy it. Occasionally I have fallen over from the sheer exhaustion of this never-ending spelling bee and he’s been left to ask his father to finish spelling things for him.

And here I should mention that I find it disturbing that when Snags asks his father how to spell a word, his father spells it for him. But when I ask him how to spell a word, he tells me to look it up in the dictionary. And this has been a thorn in my side for oh, the past 14 years. Because, I think it’s perfectly clear that if you don’t already know how to spell a word, then it’s a bit hard to find it in the dictionary. By way of example, I have been needing to write the word cupboard a couple of times lately, but the problem was, I didn’t know how to spell it. I typed it as cuppard, and cubbard, and every strange variation thereof, but I was so far off that my computer spellchecker was no help at all, and the dictionary wasn’t either.

Do you want to know how I finally figured out the proper spelling? I read the story Friends Are Sweet to my son and there it was in a sentence:

“Belle turned toward the cupboards and said, ‘Who wants to help make cupcakes for Mrs. Potts?”

And I thought, Oh! So that’s how you spell it. Cup board. Okay then. And now you see, I’ve used the word here, although this wasn’t the place I’d originally intended to use it. But no matter. Now at least I can spell it. So where was I? Oh yes…

Snags also likes to draw pictures of the things he sees. Such as Scooby Doo. Or the monsters from Scooby Doo. Or the Mystery Gang from Scooby Doo. Or… Scooby Doo. Well, you get the picture. He has pads and scads and reams of drawing tablets for this, but goes through them faster than you can say “Goodbye Forests!” He tears unfinished drawings from the tablets while crying, “I need more paper! I messed up this picture!” And he leaves mounds of half drawn pictures lying in his wake as he sneaks down to the basement to snatch a few more sheets of paper from the printer next to the computer.

And so it was that I was listening to Snags go on and on about Scooby Doo while I was cleaning up piles upon piles of drawings and writings that were strewn across the kitchen table. We’d taken to pushing the pile back each night so that we had room to eat dinner, but it had gotten so big that I finally had to dive in and start pitching the creative works that weren’t quite masterpieces. Which I must admit, was most of them.

So imagine my surprise as I was sorting through these papers and came across a page that said, simply “CURSE NECKLACES”. And underneath that were several pages of drawings of necklaces in red and green crayon.

I was slightly taken aback, because surely I hadn’t spelled “Curse Necklaces” out for him, and yet, there is was. I showed the papers to my husband who knew immediately what they were, only he said he couldn’t remember the exact curses that each curse necklace represented!

When I asked Snags about them he said, “Oh! Those were curse necklaces I was making. But don’t worry, they aren’t real because we aren’t going to build a tomb anymore.”
And that’s when I realized that the last conversation about tombs and armies of the dead might have been about more than just the movie. And so I said to Snags, (you know, just to be sure) “I think, if we aren’t going to build a tomb, then we won’t need the army of the dead hanging around here either, right?” To which he confirmed the army of the dead would not be necessary after all. And I’m pretty certain that the neighbors will be relieved over that.

3 Comments

Filed under humor, Scooby Doo

August 3, 2007 · 11:06 am

The Office

I recently had the opportunity to attend a 3-day seminar. I’d been told by someone whose opinion I value, and who attended the seminar before me, that it was a pretty good one and well worth my time. It was, he said, rather enjoyable.

Only now I think my friend must have been hit in the back of the head by a baseball bat and gotten all the sense knocked completely out of him. Because the seminar was awful. It was a nightmare in that “OMG this is so dull I think I’m going to die!” nightmare kind of way. And most unfortunately, the whole thing was not a dream. Unless it’s possible to have dreams that continue for 3 days straight?

I know it sounds cliché but still, I would have had more fun watching paint dry for the rest of eternity than sit through this seminar for three days. Nonetheless, I was in it for the duration.

The seminar leader had lots of anecdotes to share and he insisted we go round the room and introduce ourselves.

One woman was named Loretta only he thought she had said “Lorrette” and he said “I have a sister named Lorette. I wasn’t sure if you said Lorretta with an “A” or “Lorrette” with an “E” but I’ve never met any one else with the name Lorrette so I thought “Wow! This is the first time I’ve met another Lorette!” Only he was wrong because the woman said, “Well, it’s Loret-TA, with an A, so…”

When he got to me I expected him to say “Oh, one of my aunt’s is named Belle only she spells it B-E-L-L. You have an extra E on the end I guess, but WOW! I’ve never met another person named Belle…” And I was all ready to say to him “Okay, YOU are a total and complete ding dong.” Only I didn’t get a chance to because he didn’t have much to add after I’d introduced myself. And he didn’t have anything to say about my name.

The seminar mostly entailed the speaker droning on and on and occasionally directing us to a particular page in our seminar binder. Then once we’d found the correct page he’d read it out loud to us, only in a Cliff’s Note’s version, skipping most of what was written and emphasizing anything that happened to be printed in the binder in BOLD. Because clearly, those of us who signed up for this seminar can’t read. Or rather, we can’t read between the lines where it said “This will bore you off your ass to the point that you’ll contemplate pinching your nipples in the 3-ring binder just to wake yourself up.”

At some point I happened to look up and noticed that the speaker was looking at me and nodding fast with raised eyebrows in a “Yes? Yes?” kind of way as if he were confirming something. Because I was only half paying attention I stared back at him and started to worry. Had I inadvertently agreed to something? Had I offered to meet him back at the hotel bar after we wrapped up for the day? I didn’t think I had, so why was he looking at me like that? Had I drifted off, fallen asleep? Had I been caught SNORING?

But then I noticed he was doing the same thing to all the other attendees. In fact, he raised his eyebrows and nodded his head swiftly up and down after each thing he said, as if to emphasize a point. The more I watched, the more I realized that thing he did was a tic more or less and that actually this guy had an uncanny resemblance to Steve Carell from the T.V. show The Office. He was quite tan too. Like maybe Steve Carell had been hanging out at the tanning salon with George Hamilton.

Once I figured out he looked like Steve Carell I spent the better part of the first afternoon just under the surface of mirth, trying but sometimes failing, not to laugh out loud as I imagined him veering off topic and spouting something inane and politically incorrect. Perhaps, I thought, he’d tell us how all the women in the class ought to pinch their nipples in their 3 ring-binders to liven the place up. Only he didn’t.

The second day I imaged we could put on a live version of an episode of The Office and I twisted in my seat and began to search around the room for suitable folks to play the roles of various characters on the show. I decided I would play the part of Pam or maybe I’d let the lady with the long hair do that and I’d be the person who holds the video camera that everyone talks into on the show. That way I wouldn’t have to touch up my makeup or memorize any lines.

After that I imagined we were being addressed by Evan Almighty. Only I couldn’t take that line of thinking very far because I haven’t actually seen the movie. My musings were limited to the bit scenes I’d caught in the movie’s trailer.

On the third day I racked my brain for other Steve Carell movies but could only come up with The 40 –Year- Old Virgin. That didn’t work for me because that guy, well I kind of rooted for him in that movie. He was geeky, sure, but he was endearing. This guy standing in front of us was just boring. I couldn’t empathize.

Finally, I resorted to the only tactic I had left. I clamped the 3-ring binder down hard on my left nipple. I pretended it was an accident and I left the room in search of a band-aid and some pain killers. I couldn’t find any band aids but I did find the coffee cart and got myself a hunk of chocolate. I ate that slowly and by the time I returned to the seminar room, Steve Carell was wrapping it up and everyone got to go home.

Now that I’m done telling you my story I’m going to call my friend who suggested the seminar in the first place and see how his head is feeling. I’m thinking that to have recommended that seminar he had to have been injured pretty badly. I wonder if his head hurts as much as my left nipple does?

4 Comments

Filed under humor, office, seminar, Steve Carell

August 2, 2007 · 12:08 am

My New White Skirt

I bought this new skirt. It’s white, it’s bright, it’s summery. It falls just above my knees. The perfect length, I think, for a summer skirt. It’s not too long and not too short. Too long and I’d look like a grandmother. Too short, I’d look like a hooker. I can even do cartwheels in it if I want. If I could. Well, you know, if I could do a cartwheel without ending up on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance being hauled off to the ER for breaking my spine. Because I’m not that limber. I’m gymnastically challenged. And almost 40. So I don’t do cartwheels. But if I did, nobody would see my underwear because technically, my white skirt is a skort; it has shorts sewn in underneath, but it looks like a skirt on the outside. So I don’t need to wear a slip and I don’t have sit with my knees pressed together (nothing to see there folks, shorts in the way, sorry). It also lays well, has a flat front, and so far, I haven’t stained it. Best of all, it looks good on me!

There’s just one… tiny little… totally irritating problem. What’s the problem, you ask? This skort has a side zipper. And 3 buttons, on the side, over the zipper. Two of the buttons are the hidden kind, hidden under the waistband on the inside of the skort. Under the best of circumstances hidden buttons like these can be a little… tricky. Move them to the side of the skirt and they may as well be a combination lock of some sort. The third button is your run-of-the-mill “button on the outside” kind of button. Still, it’s on the side of the skort as well.

The side zipper is a great design feature in that it doesn’t interfere with the lines of the skirt. But it’s awful when you have to use the bathroom. It’s even worse when you (and by you I mean me) have to go really, really, really badly. Like when you’ve sat at your desk working and pretending you don’t have to pee so you can finish this one thing and then that one thing and just one more phone call and that other little thing… Only THEN it’s suddenly an EMERGENCY not unlike those commercials where they sing… “gotta go gotta go gotta go right now…”

I mean, really! Have you ever tried to unzip a side zipper when you are doubled over with your legs crossed trying not to wet yourself as you hop up and down? It’s much easier to undo entrapments like side zippers and hidden buttons when you are standing still, standing calmly, and standing erect. That is to say, when you are not doubled over in an attempt to kink your urinary hose so it won’t spill the contents of your bladder all over the floor.

If this was a skirt, I’d be able to yank the whole thing up with one hand, shove down my undies with my other hand, and just… pee. Ah, the relief, you know?

But nooooo. Since there are shorts here, the only way out is down, and the only way down is to undo the multitude of buttons and then the zipper on the side. But I’m short and maybe a few pounds too wide, and not so limber (can’t do cartwheels, remember?). I’ve found that turning to the side to unzip and unbutton this pretty little skort really seems to require the skills of a circus performer, or a magician. A contortionist, perhaps.

I’m kicking myself now for not getting in on the yoga craze. It might have helped. I could start now, I suppose, but I imagine by the time I got limber enough to twist my upper torso sideways and undo this skort in a jiffy, Fall would be upon us, or maybe even Winter, and well, I can’t wear a white skort then, can I? That would be a clear and utter violation of the fashion rules and I certainly don’t want to be fined.

So imagine, there I was, having waited so long to use the facilities that I was desperate. I bolted down the hall, praying not to run into anybody looking to stop me with a question. Yet at the same time, praying I would run into someone I could accost and demand they undo the buttons and the zipper for me. I wouldn’t have asked them to pull the skort down, mind you, just unhook all the fastenings. Similar to how you might have someone help you unzip the back of a dress, you know? But I was at work, and that wouldn’t have been appropriate.

Still as I half walked, half ran down the hallway I envisioned the whole scene in my mind: barking to someone “Help! Unzip me now! FAST. Come on, come on… Hurry up, Franklin! If you don’t make it snappy I’m going to pee right here, right now, and the puddle will be so large it will seep onto your shoes!” Only there was nobody there. The hallway was deserted.

Too bad for me, the bathroom stalls weren’t. There are three of them and like some cosmic joke they were all taken! So I stood there, cross legged, hopping ever so slightly, bent nearly in half hoping and praying and muttering to myself as I unfastened and unzipped and very nearly removed the entire skort “hold it… hold it… I told you that you should have gone an hour ago…” And then, at the last second, a stall opened and I dashed inside and vowed to never again buy something with a side zipper and hidden buttons. Or, given the clothing designs these days, if that’s not possible, I’ll look for a skort with depends sewn in, rather than shorts. Too bad that still won’t enable me to do a cartwheel.

4 Comments

Filed under bathroom, buttons, gymnastics, humor, life, skirt, skort, summer clothing, white skirt, zippers

July 29, 2007 · 11:37 pm

Faster Than A…

How fast is fast? Maybe it depends what you’re measuring. Or who you’re asking.

Surely, at some point, you’ve had a passenger in your car tell you to “SLOW DOWN! You’re driving too fast!”

No? Okay, maybe it’s just me. But then I AM used to driving on the interstate everyday and I’m just trying to keep up with the rest of the traffic, officer. And here’s a little hint I learned from a bus driver. Sometimes, the slow lanes, especially the ones that merge, actually move way faster than the far left lane, the one everyone dubs “the fast lane”. Try it sometime. Only, not on MY highway, okay? I don’t want EVERYONE to know my secrets.

But I digress, because this isn’t about traffic. It’s about my son’s perception of how to measure the passing of time, and the quickness with which events can take place. We were in the car, and I was driving him to school (okay, so maybe this is about traffic) and he was, as usual, talking at me about his current favorite Disney characters from Beauty and the Beast (and yes, I did mean to say “at me”).

Apparently, the Beast and Belle, along with Cogsworth and Lumiere, (if you’re unclear on whose these characters are, I suggest you rent the movie) were up to some kind of shenanigans in my son’s bedroom (and I apologize here for not giving more details, but sometimes I have to tune out from his stories, especially when I’m driving). If you’re a parent, his teacher, a neighbor, or a relative who’s spent any time with the kid, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

But anyway, apparently, whatever these characters were up to, they did it all very fast. “BAM! Fast like that!” “Faster,” my son proclaimed, “than you can count to 22! Faster than you can cook!”

Faster than I can cook? “Faster than I can cook what?” I wondered. Are we talking a seven course meal or Kraft Dinner? Am I watching a pot boil or can I use the microwave? Because it makes a difference here, it really does.

And so I timed myself. I can count to 22, speaking at a moderately fast pace, but still slowly enough to enunciate correctly, in 12 seconds. That’s pretty fast, I think. Speaking even faster, still believing most people would be able to understand me, I can count to 22 in a mere 7 seconds. That’s a whole 5 seconds faster!

You’re not impressed. I can tell. But look, I never claimed to be the speed talk guy who reads the fine print on television commercials. That guy? Now he’s fast!

Back to my original point though. Whatever those characters were up to, if it took them somewhere in the range of 7 to 12 seconds to pull it off, that’s pretty good. I think it’s fast enough to avoid getting caught in the act by most folks. But obviously, not fast enough to get by my son. Because obviously, he saw them do this, and not only that, he timed them! After all, he described to me a way to measure their quickness! If he was a super hero, maybe he’d be “Stopwatch Boy – The Kid That Never Misses a Trick!”.

Anyway, I guess my real point is (and no, I didn’t see this coming either. I thought this was going to lead back to traffic), with kids that quick (and yes, all children are so quick that NOTHING gets by them), it explains why parents these days have so little oppurtunity for intimacy. It’s not like we can grab a quickie, because well, we just aren’t THAT fast.

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Filed under Beauty and the Beast, driving, humor, kids, parenting, quickie, sex, time

July 25, 2007 · 12:04 am

Dead Santa

Tell me, just WHAT do you say when your 5 year old child, riding in the backseat of the car asks you out of the blue, “Mom, does Santa Claus die? And what do they do if he dies? Do they get a replacement for him? How quickly can they get a replacement for him? And what about Mrs. Claus? Does she die? Or can Santa just live forever? How could he be that old to live forever?”

You can only stall for so long. Eventually, you have to answer the question.

After I did as much hemming and hawing as I thought I could get away with, I responded with something like: “Wow! Um… That’s a good question! I never thought about it. I mean, I don’t know. I suppose he might live forever, I mean, he does have Christmas magic. But then, he’d be the only person around that could live forever, so maybe he does die. But if he dies, I mean, they never announce it on the news. At least, I’ve never heard anything on the news about Santa dying. I’ve never read anything in the paper about it. And I watch the news and read the paper a lot, so I think I would have found out about that if it happened, you know? But Santa’s been around as long as I can remember. I mean, they’ve always had Christmas, as far as I know. I never heard anyone say they didn’t have a Christmas when they were a kid. I know he was around when your grandparents, and great-grandparents, and great-great-great grandparents were kids. But some of those folks are dead now, so I guess that would make him really old… Or maybe he does die but they find a replacement before Christmas and they just don’t tell us about it so people won’t be worrying about whether there’s going to be a Christmas…” and then, just for that extra special touch, I added, “You must be the smartest kid in the world to ask that. I mean, I don’t think many kids even think about that to ask. I mean, I’ve never thought about it before. Wow! So, um… How was your day at school today?”

Really, I tell you, it’s hard to come up with an answer when your head is spinning from the shock and you haven’t been given a copy of “The Parent’s Guide to Answering Difficult Questions”. And even if you had a copy, it’d be a little difficult to look up the answer while you’re driving.

After we got home, I distracted my son from his thoughts of a dying Santa with some comic relief in the form of Sponge Bob cartoons on Nick Jr. Then I pulled my husband into the garage where I hissed “HE ASKED ME IF SANTA CLAUS DIES?!”, and I proceeded to tell him the rest of this horrifying exchange. When I finished, my husband said, (rather smugly, I might add), “Santa doesn’t die, he RETIRES and he trains a new Santa in his place. Didn’t you know that? That’s what all the Santa’s in the malls are, Santa’s in training, hoping one of them will get picked to be his replacement when he retires. That’s what you should have told him…”

And I’m thinking, “No. I didn’t know that. And since you’re so damn smart, YOU answer the question next time.”

And there will be a next time. My son was quietly playing the other day, and I heard him talking to himself, something about babies in tummies, and then something that sounded suspiciously like “and the mom eats a babysicle… ” I closed my eyes and pretended that I didn’t hear him. But when it comes up again, I’m going to hem and haw and say, “Hmm… I’m not sure…” Then, I’m handing him the cell phone and say, “Here, call your dad, he’ll know!”

Merry Christmas in July!

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Filed under Christmas, Christmas in July, death, humor, kids, life, parenting, Santa Claus

July 19, 2007 · 12:42 am

Ya’ll Ready for This?

(Whispering) Come ‘ere. Can I show you something? Look… over there. (Normal voice) No, not there. THERE! To the right of your screen. You may have to scroll down a bit. See what I’m talking about? Those two boxes? One is rectangular and pink with a yellow star and one looks Steven Segal’s biceps. Dreamy aren’t they? I mean, can you believe it? I know! Me neither!

And here I am, caught so unprepared! Never in a million years did I expect to win a prize, let alone two! I mean, I never win anything. But my luck must be turning because yesterday I won a Rockin’ Girl Blogger Award AND a Schmooze Award from the FANTABULICIOUS Jo Beaufoix. And then… are you ready for this? Seriously. You better sit down for this one because it’s some kind of miracle and I don’t want you to get hurt when you fall down from the shock…

Okay, then. Are you sitting? Good. Look here: Yes folks, that’s right. I found, in my garden, TWO (2) cucumbers and NINE (9) green beans! In. My. Garden. GROWING!

But how can that be, you ask? Because you’ve read this and you know my garden produces nothing but rocks. Well. If you must know, I’m fairly certain it wasn’t a trick, that nobody just set this bounty in my garden to fool me because they were still. attached. to. the. plants! I had to pick them! Off PLANTS! Growing in my garden. Bearing food!

And so now we have our dinner ingredients for tomorrow. I don’t know exactly what I can make with 9 green beans and 2 cucumbers, but I will come up with something, some kind of salad I suppose. It will be my celebratory dinner for the blogging awards that Jo bestowed on me!

I have to admit I feel kind of funny though. I thought only bad things happened in three’s and now I’ve got this good fortune and I am tempted to go buy a lottery ticket. Only, I don’t want to push my luck here, so I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead. Plus I’ve been drinking mojitos and we all know that drinking and driving don’t mix (public service announcement).

I’ll be totally honest here now too and admit I was drinking in the first place not because I won the awards (although that’s perfectly good reason to have another, I think) but because prior to all this goodness, Snags wanted to know “where a dog’s puppy chute is.” I shook my head to clear it because surely I must have heard him wrong. But upon further questioning I learned that he really WAS asking “where the puppies come out of a dog.” I hemmed and hawed and mentally ran down the list of mind numbing alcoholic beverages I had on hand and could consume to erase this awkward moment from my mind and I said I thought it was “near a dogs butt, but probably hidden like a trap door.” Well what would you have said? Because I didn’t want him to play the role of gynecological veterinarian on our dog! So he said “Oh, so you can’t see it until it opens!” I agreed and we left it at that.

Except later I found he had drawn this and I am praying the small figure inside the large figure is nothing more than a monkey on a t-shirt, but I’m not sure, and I’m afraid to ask, because I am not ready for this and I don’t have enough liquor for this situation, especially because I just finished all the mojitos in celebration of my new awards!

And real quickly, before the Academy cuts me off (I see them twirling their hand in that “wrap it up” kind of motion) I’d like to thank Jo for this awesome recognition and extra special thanks to my husband and to my son Snags, without whom, none of this would have been possible. They even helped with the garden.

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Filed under awards, blogging, celebration, garden, humor, life, mojitos, puppies, Rockin' Girl Blogger, Schmooze award, sex education

July 18, 2007 · 12:22 am

WHAT Did You Say?!

Several times now my son Snags, who is 5, has uttered a word that sounded suspiciously four-letterish in a curse word sounding sort of way.

A few weeks ago my husband and I thought he might have said “shit” and we questioned him on it. Or should I say, we held what could best be described as an inquisition. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” My husband nearly roared.

“Nothing!” Snags responded.

“Yes you did. You said something. Now tell me, what did you say?”

“Nothing!” Snags lied, a smile beginning to spread on his face. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes you did,” my husband insisted. “I HEARD you say something. Now tell me, what was it that you said?”

“Chip!” Snags responded. “I said Chip. Like Chip! Where are you?”

Now the thing is, Snags MAY have been telling the truth. Because at the time he uttered what he claims was “Chip!” but what we think was actually “Shit!” he was playing on the floor with a Beauty and the Beast playset, and “Chip” the broken teacup character, is a part of that playset. And he’s really, really tiny too. About the size of a toddler’s pinky nail. So Snags, he claimed he had lost Chip, and was simply calling his name to find him. Because tiny toys will answer you if you call them, right?

And then Snags added, “I didn’t say a naughty word!” Only it came out like “I didn’t say a NAWTEE wurd.

But you see, we never suggested he’d said a NAWTEE wurd.

What’s that saying? “The lady doth protest too much”? Well, methinks the kid was lying. Probably. Maybe. But… I’m not sure.

Then tonight, as he was climbing the stairs from the basement to the kitchen Snags uttered something else.

When questioned on it, he claimed he said “Buck!”

My husband though, wasn’t convinced. He questioned Snags over and over:

“I said BUCK!” Snags kept insisting.

“That’s not what it sounded like,” said my husband. So then he questioned ME. Only I was typing on the computer (like what else is new) and I wasn’t really paying attention to what Snags had said.

“What does “Buck!” mean?” My husband asked Snags.

“It means a dollar,” Snags replied.

My husband thought about this for a few moments and said, to me: “Well, I don’t even think he knows that OTHER word, does he?”

To which Snags retorted, “You’re right! I don’t know that other word.”

Later, I called Snags over to me and whispered, “What did you say earlier when you were going up the stairs?”

And he looked at me with puppy dog eyes and said, “I didn’t say the dirty word dad thought I said!”

“What dirty word did he think you said?” I asked.

He paused. “I don’t know!” he said.

So I asked, “Well, what dirty word do you think he thought you said?”

And still, Snags said, “I don’t know!”

So I’m left here thinking either this kid really is innocent and hasn’t gone off spouting dirty “wurds” or he’s a champ at covering for himself!

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