Wednesday, March 27, 2013
John rated this a B- but I'm posting it anyway
Don't you hate it when you're stopped at a traffic light and the car next to you starts to slowly roll forward and you think that your car is rolling backward? Even though you drive an automatic so that's not even possible. So you jerk up straight in your seat and slam on your brakes? And then you feel like an idiot? Or is it just me?
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Women's Lib
Let me first say that I'm all for the advancement of women and how all those "women's issues" that used to be hushed up are now being discussed openly, and we're raising a generation of wiser women for it, blah, blah, blah......But does this really mean I have to hear about some woman's miscarriage while on the elliptical at the gym? (oh, she didn't have the miscarriage on the elliptical, she was just on one while she was talking about it) I'm just sweating and minding my own business and "oh, gross". Perhaps just a touch of decorum, ladies. And come on, I only get to listen to Journey at the gym and this is a good song.
(Yes, you do like Journey. You also like the Police. Just embrace it.)
(Yes, you do like Journey. You also like the Police. Just embrace it.)
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
My kids are ruining my furniture. And it must be a genetic boy thing because they were never (NEVER) allowed to do those things that other kids did. Like walk on the couch or jump on the bed. After they were born, I can vividly remember this, my sister told me, "DON'T let them walk on the couch. They will NEVER STOP!" Not that I'm blaming her for becoming a furniture-nazi, that was inevitable. You throw enough neurosis into one individual and certain idiosyncrasies are gonna pop out. That's just science.
And anyhow, I'm pretty sure all old wives tales arose in just that same way. Some moron let her toddler go swimming with the crocodiles and bam, no more toddler. Then she ran around the village screaming "Oh my god, she had just eaten lunch! Don't let your kid go in the river right after they've eaten!! THEY'LL DIE!" And the smart ladies were too polite to say, "Jesus, Gladys, you're such an idiot" and everyone else raised generations of kids who weren't allowed in the pool until 20 minutes after they'd eaten. That's how it happens. Except the furniture stuff is true. They will never stop jumping on the bed. And I have the broken bed slats to prove it.
So these two boys were raised by a furniture-nazi, but they are still ruining my furniture. They rock on the kitchen stools. They constantly rock on the stools and the legs are starting to come apart. I've told them so many times that the legs are going to break that I don't say anything anymore. I just watch them, hoping that this will be the time that legs give up the ghost and the kid will come crashing down onto the hardwood floor. I really want to be there when it happens. And it's gonna happen, the physics are indisputable. But I have to be there when it finally does so I can stare down at them and say, "SEE!!!" And I know this is not one of my better child-rearing traits, but I just can't fucking take it anymore.
They lean back on the kitchen chairs. They wrestle on the papasan chair. (And let me tell you, that thing, while fun and kitschy and only $199 at Pier One, was not built to last.) I have these little leather side chairs with permanent indentations on the arms from being used as pummel horses. And my couch, my poor couch. They wrestle on it and squat on it and sit on the arms. It's only 2 years old and it looks 30. And you can't laugh it off with a "oh, they're laugh lines". They're not laugh lines, they're destroyed cushions because they're found a way to sit on the back cushion instead of the bottom cushion. <fuckkkkkk>
Well, last night I reached an all time low when I shouted, "Is it not enough that you ruined my uterus, can't you leave my couch alone?!?!?!"
And anyhow, I'm pretty sure all old wives tales arose in just that same way. Some moron let her toddler go swimming with the crocodiles and bam, no more toddler. Then she ran around the village screaming "Oh my god, she had just eaten lunch! Don't let your kid go in the river right after they've eaten!! THEY'LL DIE!" And the smart ladies were too polite to say, "Jesus, Gladys, you're such an idiot" and everyone else raised generations of kids who weren't allowed in the pool until 20 minutes after they'd eaten. That's how it happens. Except the furniture stuff is true. They will never stop jumping on the bed. And I have the broken bed slats to prove it.
So these two boys were raised by a furniture-nazi, but they are still ruining my furniture. They rock on the kitchen stools. They constantly rock on the stools and the legs are starting to come apart. I've told them so many times that the legs are going to break that I don't say anything anymore. I just watch them, hoping that this will be the time that legs give up the ghost and the kid will come crashing down onto the hardwood floor. I really want to be there when it happens. And it's gonna happen, the physics are indisputable. But I have to be there when it finally does so I can stare down at them and say, "SEE!!!" And I know this is not one of my better child-rearing traits, but I just can't fucking take it anymore.
They lean back on the kitchen chairs. They wrestle on the papasan chair. (And let me tell you, that thing, while fun and kitschy and only $199 at Pier One, was not built to last.) I have these little leather side chairs with permanent indentations on the arms from being used as pummel horses. And my couch, my poor couch. They wrestle on it and squat on it and sit on the arms. It's only 2 years old and it looks 30. And you can't laugh it off with a "oh, they're laugh lines". They're not laugh lines, they're destroyed cushions because they're found a way to sit on the back cushion instead of the bottom cushion. <fuckkkkkk>
Well, last night I reached an all time low when I shouted, "Is it not enough that you ruined my uterus, can't you leave my couch alone?!?!?!"
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
the games people play
The boys are outside hitting each other with sticks. And then getting upset because it hurts to get hit with a stick. There's probably more to this game but I can't really figure it out. An A+ mom would go outside and explain to them that it's not a good or kind idea to hit each other with sticks. I, however, think this is an important lesson to learn on one's own. Teach a man to fish and all........
Monday, March 18, 2013
Animal Husbandry
So I rented this National Geographic DVD for the boys. It sounded really cool because they used 3D ultrasounds and computer imaging and showed how mammals develop in uteri. The movie featured elephants, dogs and dolphins. All very huggy, lovable mammals. No baby zebras getting eaten by crocodiles and no nasty bugs. The boys are totally into science things like that and it shows things like, how dolphins start to develop feet but then the feet are reabsorbed so scientists think they used to be land animals. And you can see how the bones in their fins look like long fingers. Cool stuff, right?
So I pop in the DVD then dash out of the room to do something real quick. I'm so excited about my movie that I've completely forgotten that National Geographic is the magazine that sent generations of preteen boys scurrying into their rooms to look at pictures of naked natives. And they're not about to be upstaged by the YouTube generation. I walked back into the family room to hear the narrator saying, "The male elephant is unable to physically penetrate the female so it sprays sperm around the vaginal opening." Oh, good, I didn't miss the money shot. WTF???
Now, let me first say that I was really proud of myself for not racing across to the dvd player screaming, "SSTTOOOPPPPPPPP!!!!!" I casually walked over to the couch and sat down. I glanced over at my mom, who happened to be visiting. (This kind of shit never happens when I'm alone.) She's sitting there knitting, not missing a stitch, like this kind of shit happens everyday. And I'm thinking, <okay, stay calm. they're 11. they're going to get "the movie" at the end of the school year before entering middle school so fine, they'll be a little familiar with the material. it's kind of like studying ahead, right?>
So we get past the elephant fucking and move on to the cool interior graphics stuff. And it was really awesome. They think elephants used to be water mammals but evolved into land animals. Sort of like the dolphin thing but in reverse. And you could see it's tiny little truck starts off all short and squatty but get's longer. Awesome science stuff. They move onto dogs next. Now I'm thinking, we've covered the whole penetration stuff so surely they'll just move on to the similar yet different fetal development of the dog. right?
No such luck, cause you see, dogs do it differently than elephants and here's the video footage to prove it. <Holy shit> I'm starting to break out in a sweat and Tom mutters, "that's awesome" And did you know that dolphins are the only other animal to have sex for pleasure? <oh sweet Jesus, how long is this fucking movie?> It's 90 seconds of hell followed by 20 minutes of cool science; rinse and repeat.
Well, the movie finally ends and the boys silently get up and go to bed. I had to get myself a glass of wine and thank the lord that John was out of town. I sat back down on the couch and my mom says, not looking up from her knitting, "Well, they don't know about Santa but they know about sex." Thanks, mom.
(Oh, I did warn their teacher. Dear Joni, I showed the boys animal porn last night. Not sure what they'll share with their classmates on the playground but best of luck with that.)
And I had rented another dvd that explained the cardio-pulmonary system. I reread the dvd sleeve and it said something about "following a human female from birth to death". I just sealed it up and mailed it back. Now, I don't care how they kill the bitch but we're not watching how they bring her in.
So I pop in the DVD then dash out of the room to do something real quick. I'm so excited about my movie that I've completely forgotten that National Geographic is the magazine that sent generations of preteen boys scurrying into their rooms to look at pictures of naked natives. And they're not about to be upstaged by the YouTube generation. I walked back into the family room to hear the narrator saying, "The male elephant is unable to physically penetrate the female so it sprays sperm around the vaginal opening." Oh, good, I didn't miss the money shot. WTF???
Now, let me first say that I was really proud of myself for not racing across to the dvd player screaming, "SSTTOOOPPPPPPPP!!!!!" I casually walked over to the couch and sat down. I glanced over at my mom, who happened to be visiting. (This kind of shit never happens when I'm alone.) She's sitting there knitting, not missing a stitch, like this kind of shit happens everyday. And I'm thinking, <okay, stay calm. they're 11. they're going to get "the movie" at the end of the school year before entering middle school so fine, they'll be a little familiar with the material. it's kind of like studying ahead, right?>
So we get past the elephant fucking and move on to the cool interior graphics stuff. And it was really awesome. They think elephants used to be water mammals but evolved into land animals. Sort of like the dolphin thing but in reverse. And you could see it's tiny little truck starts off all short and squatty but get's longer. Awesome science stuff. They move onto dogs next. Now I'm thinking, we've covered the whole penetration stuff so surely they'll just move on to the similar yet different fetal development of the dog. right?
No such luck, cause you see, dogs do it differently than elephants and here's the video footage to prove it. <Holy shit> I'm starting to break out in a sweat and Tom mutters, "that's awesome" And did you know that dolphins are the only other animal to have sex for pleasure? <oh sweet Jesus, how long is this fucking movie?> It's 90 seconds of hell followed by 20 minutes of cool science; rinse and repeat.
Well, the movie finally ends and the boys silently get up and go to bed. I had to get myself a glass of wine and thank the lord that John was out of town. I sat back down on the couch and my mom says, not looking up from her knitting, "Well, they don't know about Santa but they know about sex." Thanks, mom.
(Oh, I did warn their teacher. Dear Joni, I showed the boys animal porn last night. Not sure what they'll share with their classmates on the playground but best of luck with that.)
And I had rented another dvd that explained the cardio-pulmonary system. I reread the dvd sleeve and it said something about "following a human female from birth to death". I just sealed it up and mailed it back. Now, I don't care how they kill the bitch but we're not watching how they bring her in.
Friday, March 15, 2013
You just never know how hard some people have it
So my husband got home from a business trip yesterday. During the course of it, someone had called home to their wife and found out that it had been 80 degrees back here. He asked me, "Was it really 80 degrees here?" I said, "Yeah, it got pretty close. It's been really hard to dress because it's freezing cold in the morning but then by noon it's hot and you're pealing off layers that you have to carry around with you. You start the day at 42 degrees and end up at 79". Then he said this...."You think 42 degrees is freezing? It snowed a foot in Paris! There was so much snow you couldn't get a cab! There were no cabs! They had to call a car to get us back to the hotel from the restaurant!"
I'm sorry, you lost me at "Paris".
Look for my upcoming tele-a-thon "Poor Cold Businessmen in Paris" Hats and mittens are urgently needed. This madness has to stop.
I'm sorry, you lost me at "Paris".
Look for my upcoming tele-a-thon "Poor Cold Businessmen in Paris" Hats and mittens are urgently needed. This madness has to stop.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
My dog is taking advantage of me
We have our little morning routine. My alarm goes off, she comes over for an ear scratch. I get out of bed, she rolls over on the rug and won't get up until I rub her belly. Then I let her out. Sometimes this is the best part of my day. My husband can't figure out why I do this. When he lets her out in the morning, she walks to the door and he lets her out, "See, that's how you do it. Not with all the stupid belly rubbing". "Yeah, well, that's because she knows you're a jackass", but I don't say that out loud. Needless to say, if he's the first one out of bed, she doesn't even get out of her kennel. She waits for the second showing.
But lately she's been wanting a second belly rub. One in her usually spot at the end of the bed and then another over by the door. And sometimes she'll drag herself commando across the rug to the second spot. (You know, how they crawl with their front legs but drag their back legs behind them? Like she's trying to get to the next trench without getting her ass shot off. It's so fucking cute!) But enough is enough. I do have other things to do....
Me: Abbey, go potty!
Abbey <rub my tummy>
Me: No, I already rubbed your tummy, now go potty!
Abbey <rub it again>
Me: Abbey, go outside!
Abbey: <rub it again, rub it again, rub it again>
and she's squirming around on her back, wagging her tail
<rub it again, rub it again, rub it again>
Me: God damn it, Abbey, just get outside and go potty!
Abbey: <you know you want to>
Me: Abbey!
Abbey: <rub it>
Me: ABBEY!
John: Would you shut up!
Jeez, good morning to you too.
But lately she's been wanting a second belly rub. One in her usually spot at the end of the bed and then another over by the door. And sometimes she'll drag herself commando across the rug to the second spot. (You know, how they crawl with their front legs but drag their back legs behind them? Like she's trying to get to the next trench without getting her ass shot off. It's so fucking cute!) But enough is enough. I do have other things to do....
Me: Abbey, go potty!
Abbey <rub my tummy>
Me: No, I already rubbed your tummy, now go potty!
Abbey <rub it again>
Me: Abbey, go outside!
Abbey: <rub it again, rub it again, rub it again>
and she's squirming around on her back, wagging her tail
<rub it again, rub it again, rub it again>
Me: God damn it, Abbey, just get outside and go potty!
Abbey: <you know you want to>
Me: Abbey!
Abbey: <rub it>
Me: ABBEY!
John: Would you shut up!
Jeez, good morning to you too.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Bumper Stickers
I had such good luck with my customized parking sign that I ordered customized bumper stickers.
(They wouldn't spell out 'Fuck' because apparently we live in Russia or something.)
(and, no i'm not putting one on my car. it's a joke, people. jeez)
(They wouldn't spell out 'Fuck' because apparently we live in Russia or something.)
(and, no i'm not putting one on my car. it's a joke, people. jeez)
Monday, March 11, 2013
Captain Grouchy
Apparently my super power is the ability to get angry at anybody, anywhere, at anytime, for any reason. I really shouldn't be around others until I've learned to harness my powers for good and not evil.
I always thought my super power was invisibility. The boys can never seem to find me in our 2400 sq. ft. home. On more than one occasion, I've been sitting on the couch just to have one of them walk past me yelling, "MOM! Mom? Moooommmmmm!"
Which makes me think of the time that Sam couldn't find his soccer jersey anywhere. And when I walked into his room, he was, get this, standing on it! God, I wish I'd taken a picture of that.......
I always thought my super power was invisibility. The boys can never seem to find me in our 2400 sq. ft. home. On more than one occasion, I've been sitting on the couch just to have one of them walk past me yelling, "MOM! Mom? Moooommmmmm!"
Which makes me think of the time that Sam couldn't find his soccer jersey anywhere. And when I walked into his room, he was, get this, standing on it! God, I wish I'd taken a picture of that.......
Super Heroes
This week is the book fair at the boys' school. The theme is "Reading Gives You Super Powers" so one of the ladies said, "Let's wear capes and masks and pass out flyers". I said yes because I can rock a cape. So when I got into the school this morning, they were passing out the superhero paraphernalia. I got the purple cape. Score. A green flashy jelly ring. Suck it, Green Lantern, mine has rainbow colors. Then they hand me a mask and I actually said this, out loud, "Why doesn't mine have glitter?" (Who says things like that? 6 year olds, that's who) And for 2 seconds, I was actually upset that my mask didn't have glitter. Like it somehow made me less of a fake superhero. Like I was the sidekick or something, and I am nobody's sidekick. Jeeeez. Then she gave me a mask with glitter and all was right with the world again.
(And I love my green flashy jelly ring. I'm still wearing it. It makes me happy. And it looks awesome in the bathroom when the lights are off)
(And I love my green flashy jelly ring. I'm still wearing it. It makes me happy. And it looks awesome in the bathroom when the lights are off)
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Sunday Mornings used to be perfect
I'd get up, make myself a cup of coffee, one of the boys would get the newspaper from the driveway, and I'd go out into the sun room and do the crossword puzzle. The boys would watch cartoons, John would sleep and I'd do my crossword puzzle in glorious peace. All was right with the world.
But a few weeks ago John cancelled the newspaper because "it was crap and not worth the paper it was printed on". Fine, I'm only in it for crossword puzzles so whatever. But now if I want my puzzle before 10:00 am, I have to leave the house, drive down to the newspaper box and get it. And it's cold out there.
This morning it's 42 degrees out. I scrounged around for 12 quarters and drove down to the machine but the fucking piece of yellow metal would not give me my newspaper. I put the quarters in 3 times. Okay, it was actually 5, and I know that's the definition of insanity "doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result" but I just want my peaceful morning in the sun room so just give me my fucking puzzle!! And I'm yanking on the stupid handle, trying to get the fucking door to open......
So I drove back home, stomped into the bedroom and yelled down at John.
"GO GET ME A NEWSPAPER!!"
"wwwhh"
"THE MACHINE WOULDN'T GIVE ME A NEWSPAPER! GO GET ME A NEWSPAPER!"
"you woke me up"
"I KNOW I WOKE YOU UP"
"ahn, waaa, it's 8:00 in the morning"
"NO, IT'S 9:00 IN THE MORNING. THE CLOCKS CHANGED LAST NIGHT FOR DAY LIGHT SAVINGS TIME!!!"
"huh? there are papers at Starbucks"
'I KNOW THERE ARE PAPERS AT STARBUCKS! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO STARBUCKS! I JUST WANT A NEWSPAPER! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CANCELLED THE NEWSPAPER AND NOW I HAVE TO GO GET IT! YOU START THESE THINGS AND THEN THEY'RE MY PROBLEM AND I JUST WANT MY PUZZLE!!!"
"fine, jesus, I get a paper"
And get this, now he's mad at me.
But a few weeks ago John cancelled the newspaper because "it was crap and not worth the paper it was printed on". Fine, I'm only in it for crossword puzzles so whatever. But now if I want my puzzle before 10:00 am, I have to leave the house, drive down to the newspaper box and get it. And it's cold out there.
This morning it's 42 degrees out. I scrounged around for 12 quarters and drove down to the machine but the fucking piece of yellow metal would not give me my newspaper. I put the quarters in 3 times. Okay, it was actually 5, and I know that's the definition of insanity "doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result" but I just want my peaceful morning in the sun room so just give me my fucking puzzle!! And I'm yanking on the stupid handle, trying to get the fucking door to open......
So I drove back home, stomped into the bedroom and yelled down at John.
"GO GET ME A NEWSPAPER!!"
"wwwhh"
"THE MACHINE WOULDN'T GIVE ME A NEWSPAPER! GO GET ME A NEWSPAPER!"
"you woke me up"
"I KNOW I WOKE YOU UP"
"ahn, waaa, it's 8:00 in the morning"
"NO, IT'S 9:00 IN THE MORNING. THE CLOCKS CHANGED LAST NIGHT FOR DAY LIGHT SAVINGS TIME!!!"
"huh? there are papers at Starbucks"
'I KNOW THERE ARE PAPERS AT STARBUCKS! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO STARBUCKS! I JUST WANT A NEWSPAPER! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CANCELLED THE NEWSPAPER AND NOW I HAVE TO GO GET IT! YOU START THESE THINGS AND THEN THEY'RE MY PROBLEM AND I JUST WANT MY PUZZLE!!!"
"fine, jesus, I get a paper"
And get this, now he's mad at me.
Friday, March 8, 2013
My clothes are fucking with me.
So a few weeks back I couldn't find my white gap t-shirt. I used to have three but I finally got rid of two of them because I could no longer ignore the fact that they were nasty. I kept one to wear under things but once it starts to warm up I'll get rid of it too and be forced to buy new non-nasty white t-shirts. I hate to shop so this is how things work around here...
Anyway, I was looking for my last white t-shirt and it wasn't in my closet. I know this for a fact because I looked several different times. I even left the room a few times and came back to check, I don't know why. And my closet is not very big. I have about 3 feet of clothes that are "in rotation". The other stuff hangs on different racks (I have a very weird closet) and there are sweaters in a chest at the end of the bed. So if something is not there, it's pretty obvious that it's not there. I even spent a good 5 minutes just staring at the hanging shirts, waiting, I guess, for the white t-shirt to "appear". I'm sad to say, I did that twice. No white t-shirt.
I checked the boys room because we've started having issues with my t-shirts and socks ending up in their rooms. They're all basically the same size so it's an honest mistake on my husbands part. And if he's putting away the fucking laundry, who am I to complain, right? But it's not there either. And I've pretty much convinced myself that I got rid of all three white t-shirts because, let's face it, the third one was nasty also.
But this morning I woke up, went to the closet, grabbed a shirt and the white t-shirt is fucking hanging there! And it's looking at me like, "you got something to say? Yeah, I didn't think so." I grabbed a shirt and walked slowly away because I really don't like it when my clothes taunt me. I don't care if it is a naturally fiber, it should just hang there and shut the fuck up. Now I'm sitting in the kitchen, clutching my coffee and staring out the window. There's something wrong here......
Anyway, I was looking for my last white t-shirt and it wasn't in my closet. I know this for a fact because I looked several different times. I even left the room a few times and came back to check, I don't know why. And my closet is not very big. I have about 3 feet of clothes that are "in rotation". The other stuff hangs on different racks (I have a very weird closet) and there are sweaters in a chest at the end of the bed. So if something is not there, it's pretty obvious that it's not there. I even spent a good 5 minutes just staring at the hanging shirts, waiting, I guess, for the white t-shirt to "appear". I'm sad to say, I did that twice. No white t-shirt.
I checked the boys room because we've started having issues with my t-shirts and socks ending up in their rooms. They're all basically the same size so it's an honest mistake on my husbands part. And if he's putting away the fucking laundry, who am I to complain, right? But it's not there either. And I've pretty much convinced myself that I got rid of all three white t-shirts because, let's face it, the third one was nasty also.
But this morning I woke up, went to the closet, grabbed a shirt and the white t-shirt is fucking hanging there! And it's looking at me like, "you got something to say? Yeah, I didn't think so." I grabbed a shirt and walked slowly away because I really don't like it when my clothes taunt me. I don't care if it is a naturally fiber, it should just hang there and shut the fuck up. Now I'm sitting in the kitchen, clutching my coffee and staring out the window. There's something wrong here......
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Help Wanted
My house needs a court reporter. You know, the quiet unassuming lady in a basic black suit who takes down everything that is said in court on that funny little machine. I want that lady in my house 24/7. My very own Della Street. Of course Della Street wasn't the court reporter but she still wrote everything down in her steno pad. I'm not sure why but anyway....
I want her there so that the next time my husband says something silly like, "you didn't tell me that" I can turn to her (she'll probably have a name like Barbara) and say, "Barbara, would you please read the transcript from Monday, March 4th?" Then she'd flip through the pages and read:
Ms. Moore: We're meeting people for dinner on Friday.
Defendant: Do I have to come?
Ms. Moore: Yes, you have to come.
Defendant: Are the other husbands coming?
Ms. Moore: No, John, the other husbands are staying home but you have to come.
Defendant: I was just asking. This Friday?
Ms. Moore: Yes, this Friday
God, I want that so bad. Or better yet, the Star Trek computer. Then it could help me find things too. I could look up and say, "Computer, where is my cell phone?" And the voice of Hugh Jackman would say, "You left if in the car again, baby, but no worries, I've got your back."
I want her there so that the next time my husband says something silly like, "you didn't tell me that" I can turn to her (she'll probably have a name like Barbara) and say, "Barbara, would you please read the transcript from Monday, March 4th?" Then she'd flip through the pages and read:
Ms. Moore: We're meeting people for dinner on Friday.
Defendant: Do I have to come?
Ms. Moore: Yes, you have to come.
Defendant: Are the other husbands coming?
Ms. Moore: No, John, the other husbands are staying home but you have to come.
Defendant: I was just asking. This Friday?
Ms. Moore: Yes, this Friday
God, I want that so bad. Or better yet, the Star Trek computer. Then it could help me find things too. I could look up and say, "Computer, where is my cell phone?" And the voice of Hugh Jackman would say, "You left if in the car again, baby, but no worries, I've got your back."
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Talking Through Doors
So this was my morning....
(first, you should know, our bathroom light is hooked up to the fan so you can't turn on one without the other. If you turn the light on, the fan is on, and you can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You'd think that would be pleasant.....)
So I'm sitting in the bathroom minding my own business when one of the kids comes to the door.
knock knock knock
"Can we use the computer?"
Me: "yes"
He walks away.
Then the other kid comes to the door.
(first, you should know, our bathroom light is hooked up to the fan so you can't turn on one without the other. If you turn the light on, the fan is on, and you can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You'd think that would be pleasant.....)
So I'm sitting in the bathroom minding my own business when one of the kids comes to the door.
knock knock knock
"Can we use the computer?"
Me: "yes"
He walks away.
Then the other kid comes to the door.
knock knock knock
"Can we use the computer?"
Me: "Yes"
He walks away.
Then another kid comes to the door.
<Strange, I only have two kids>
knock knock knock
"Can we use the computer?"
Me: "YYEESS!"
He walks away.
Then I hear the dog.
whimper, whimper, whimper
Translation: Why did you close the door?
Now I can hear mumbling coming from the other room. I can't hear any words but I can only assume the conversation went something like this:
Kid 1: "She keeps saying yes"
Kid 2: "I know, it's so odd"
Kid 1: "I bet if we ask her again she'll totally flip out!"
Kid 2: "Yeah, but we can't see her. I really like to see her when she flips out."
Kid 1: "I know, she gets all red faced and veiny...."
Kid 2: "Oh well"
knock knock knock
"Can we use the computer?"
Me: "J^&^%S F&^*&G C&%&*T!!!!!!!!!!"
And then the dog comes back.
Whimper, whimper, whimper
Translation: don't you love me anymore?
WHIMPER!
Translation: I LOVE YOU!! LET ME IN!!
<sigh> I can't even shit in peace.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Actual Email String
Me: Please send agenda items for Monday's Leadership Meeting
Site Council Rep: Health Concerns - example: how does the school clean up messes that involve feces on the carpet, etc.
<lovely>
Me: Just so I'm clear on the agenda, are the kids shitting on the carpet or is it the staff?
Site Council Rep: Health Concerns - example: how does the school clean up messes that involve feces on the carpet, etc.
<lovely>
Me: Just so I'm clear on the agenda, are the kids shitting on the carpet or is it the staff?
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