So I got in to see the doctor yesterday morning for my back. I couldn't really walk, or drive, so John took me. And he had to walk me down the hall and into the exam room. And this is why you don't take your husband into the exam room.
John: Where do you want to sit?
Me: I think I'll just lean against the wall.
So I gimp over and huddle against the wall.
John: You still have your sunglasses on. Worried about the paparazzi? "Please I just want to be left alone"
Me: <chuckle> <chuckle> <whimper>
John: Bring me your tired huddled masses, yearning to breathe free....
Me: <hehehehe> <oowww> John
John: No stirrups?
Me: stop.
Then he plops in the rollie-chair, pushes over to the purple latex gloves. "So, what can I do for you today?" 'Jesus, your livers a mess!"
<wimper>
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
But all I did was bend at the waist
So I pulled my back out yesterday. It was Sunday so John was home, and the boys were home, and my brother and sister-in-law were visiting so there were lots of people around to help out. "Here, let me help...." "Noooooo, don't touch meeee!" "Well, maybe you could get my sunglasses since I can't get off the floor and the sun is in my eyes. And I plan on laying here forever."
John and I used to throw our backs out all the time when the boys were little and we were constantly bending over to lift car seats. We eventually bought a minivan. Yes, it got that bad. On a side note, you will never have more bargaining power then when you're buying a car you really don't want. Us,"Well, fuck that." Dealer, "Wait, come baaaack!" And say what you will about minivans but all cars should have sliding doors.
Anyway, neither of us have had back problems in years so the only drugs John could scrounge up were 3 pain pills from 2009. And say what you will about the placebo effect but those damn things worked! Well, sort of. My primary form of pain management was a bottle of chardonnay; on a slow drip to deliver a steady stream of loveliness.
So they eventually set me up in the bedroom, in a reclining lawn chair with my heating pad; had my book, ipad, remote control, etc. all lined up on the bed within easy reach, and a small drinks table. It was my conn. I was like Captain Kirk, only wrapped in a quilt.
This morning John was getting the conn set up again but I couldn't stop thinking about what a mess the bed was. It really needed to be made but I knew it probably wasn't the best time to be getting all OCD but how was I going to line up my stuff? And I was trying to figure out how to mention this to John, who was frantically trying to get into work to rearrange things so he could come back to take me to the doctor. Finally I took a deep breath and said, "Ok, I have a request but I know it's not going to go over well" John, "I AM NOT GETTING YOU WINE!" Well, I hadn't even though of that......
John and I used to throw our backs out all the time when the boys were little and we were constantly bending over to lift car seats. We eventually bought a minivan. Yes, it got that bad. On a side note, you will never have more bargaining power then when you're buying a car you really don't want. Us,"Well, fuck that." Dealer, "Wait, come baaaack!" And say what you will about minivans but all cars should have sliding doors.
Anyway, neither of us have had back problems in years so the only drugs John could scrounge up were 3 pain pills from 2009. And say what you will about the placebo effect but those damn things worked! Well, sort of. My primary form of pain management was a bottle of chardonnay; on a slow drip to deliver a steady stream of loveliness.
So they eventually set me up in the bedroom, in a reclining lawn chair with my heating pad; had my book, ipad, remote control, etc. all lined up on the bed within easy reach, and a small drinks table. It was my conn. I was like Captain Kirk, only wrapped in a quilt.
This morning John was getting the conn set up again but I couldn't stop thinking about what a mess the bed was. It really needed to be made but I knew it probably wasn't the best time to be getting all OCD but how was I going to line up my stuff? And I was trying to figure out how to mention this to John, who was frantically trying to get into work to rearrange things so he could come back to take me to the doctor. Finally I took a deep breath and said, "Ok, I have a request but I know it's not going to go over well" John, "I AM NOT GETTING YOU WINE!" Well, I hadn't even though of that......
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Breakfast - The most important meal of the day
We all love breakfast in my household. No one more than Tom. He typically eats two. One when he first gets up and then another while I'm eating. And he loves cinnamon/sugar toast. The last time we ran out of cinnamon/sugar, he watched me make it and fill up the shaker. He must have thought it looked fun, kinda like a science experiment. So this morning, when the shaker was empty again, he decided to mix it up himself. Fine by me, and I left the kitchen to do...something....I don't remember.
When I walked back in, <hmmm, what's that odd smell?> This was about the same time that Tom was saying, "Aaahhhh, bluuugh" and spitting crap out of his mouth. I looked over at the counter and picked up the spice bottle. Me, "Dude, did you read the label?" Tom, "ppwwaahh, ppwwaahhh!!!" Me: "Dude, you're eating cumin/sugar toast." At this point he was gargling orange juice and not really listening.
My kitchen still smells like cumin......
When I walked back in, <hmmm, what's that odd smell?> This was about the same time that Tom was saying, "Aaahhhh, bluuugh" and spitting crap out of his mouth. I looked over at the counter and picked up the spice bottle. Me, "Dude, did you read the label?" Tom, "ppwwaahh, ppwwaahhh!!!" Me: "Dude, you're eating cumin/sugar toast." At this point he was gargling orange juice and not really listening.
My kitchen still smells like cumin......
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Long Live the Captain
I started going to the middle school PTA meetings to I could check things out, see what we were getting ourselves into....
Last month they gave the tech teacher money to buy a 3D printer. (yes, this is where I live) Well, another teacher wasn't quite sure what a 3D printer was and she asked, "Ok, so if you put in a picture of a hamster, will it make a hamster?" Then a couple people politely started explaining how a 3D printer worked. And no one got the Captain Underpants reference! No One! I was glancing around looking for the smirks, the chuckles but nothing. Come on people, don't you remember....that was how George and Harold ruined the science fair....with a hamster.....and the Patsy 2000.....come on, no one? It was a sea of straight faces. Had everyone forgotten their Captain Underpants?! Had none of these people read Captain Underpants? And the meeting was in the library so I started worrying that I was sitting in a library that didn't have Captain Underpants. The box set is like $30. That's way cheaper than a 3D printer. Now this is what's wrong with the education system in San Ramon; Johnny can read but he's reading all the wrong shit!
Last month they gave the tech teacher money to buy a 3D printer. (yes, this is where I live) Well, another teacher wasn't quite sure what a 3D printer was and she asked, "Ok, so if you put in a picture of a hamster, will it make a hamster?" Then a couple people politely started explaining how a 3D printer worked. And no one got the Captain Underpants reference! No One! I was glancing around looking for the smirks, the chuckles but nothing. Come on people, don't you remember....that was how George and Harold ruined the science fair....with a hamster.....and the Patsy 2000.....come on, no one? It was a sea of straight faces. Had everyone forgotten their Captain Underpants?! Had none of these people read Captain Underpants? And the meeting was in the library so I started worrying that I was sitting in a library that didn't have Captain Underpants. The box set is like $30. That's way cheaper than a 3D printer. Now this is what's wrong with the education system in San Ramon; Johnny can read but he's reading all the wrong shit!
Monday, April 22, 2013
Water Wars
So I have this water garden on our back deck. It's a big galvanized tub with water plants and those little fish that eat mosquito larvae. I love it because it looks nice and Abbey loves it because she can drink out of it. She'll walk past her water bowl in the kitchen, past her water bowl on the deck and drink from the scummy water garden. We're pretty sure this is why she occasionally throws up but I've stopped caring. I love the dog but come on. I've moved her damn bowl directly in front of the tub and she still drinks the algae water. What else am I supposed to do, pass out little cards with the drink specials? "This evening, we're featuring clean tap water served at room temperature. It's a nice change from that shit in the tub." Whatever. At this point, I just don't want she to drink any of the fish. (She's definitely a Marcia) Anyway, my water garden sits approximately 12 feet from John's fountain. It's this huge thing that came with the house and it sounds lovely on Sunday mornings when I'm doing my crossword puzzle so I love it too.
But here's where the problems arise. John's fountain needs to be filled every week or it will run dry. Bone dry. My water garden needs 1-2 inches of water every few weeks to top it off because it gets hot on some days and because the dog drinks out of it. But get this, John insisted that my water garden is leaking, and ruining the deck. Not just ruining, RUINING! But the water in his fountain is "evaporating". Can someone, please, explain this to me because every time we have this conversation I want to throw a rock at him....
But here's where the problems arise. John's fountain needs to be filled every week or it will run dry. Bone dry. My water garden needs 1-2 inches of water every few weeks to top it off because it gets hot on some days and because the dog drinks out of it. But get this, John insisted that my water garden is leaking, and ruining the deck. Not just ruining, RUINING! But the water in his fountain is "evaporating". Can someone, please, explain this to me because every time we have this conversation I want to throw a rock at him....
Friday, April 19, 2013
Looking forward to that call.....
So I went in to the school to help out for a bit. As I was walking towards the front door a couple of 5th grade girls were coming out of the Multi-Purpose Room. They were 10-12 feet away and one hollered, "Hi, Ms. Moore!!"
So I hollered back, "HI!"
We're all still walking, each in our own direction.
And she hollers, "Did You Hear What Sam Did to Mr. Haar's Pants?"
(Mr. Haar is the Principal)
Me: "whaaa?"
Then she throws her hands in the air and shouts, "I've Said Too Much Already!!"and keeps on walking.
Me: "WAIT! WHAAAAT?"
So I hollered back, "HI!"
We're all still walking, each in our own direction.
And she hollers, "Did You Hear What Sam Did to Mr. Haar's Pants?"
(Mr. Haar is the Principal)
Me: "whaaa?"
Then she throws her hands in the air and shouts, "I've Said Too Much Already!!"and keeps on walking.
Me: "WAIT! WHAAAAT?"
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Fame costs and this is where you start paying
John took Sam to the Variety Show at school and I stayed home while Tom finished his homework.
This is our actual texting string.
John: 36 acts. 60 minutes. With an intermission.
John: Nope. Wrong.
John: Room is a boulevard of broken dreams.
John: Today's performance is brought to you by the word "vicarious'.
John: For those times when your own life is not quite enough.
John: Bully for you. I am living this sum bitch.
John: They are starting up again. Once more into the breach!
He got home like two hours later.
Me, "I thought it was only an hour"
John, "Nah, man, that was just the fucking overture" Then he walked down the hall singing a Katy Perry song.
This is our actual texting string.
John: 36 acts. 60 minutes. With an intermission.
Me: Wow. That's kinda impressive.
John: Nope. Wrong.
John: Room is a boulevard of broken dreams.
Me: Is the scout from Juilliard there?
John: For those times when your own life is not quite enough.
Me: I'm so blogging this.
John: Bully for you. I am living this sum bitch.
John: They are starting up again. Once more into the breach!
He got home like two hours later.
Me, "I thought it was only an hour"
John, "Nah, man, that was just the fucking overture" Then he walked down the hall singing a Katy Perry song.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
I have an awesome doctor
I found this when cleaning out my phone.
I had cataract surgery last November. And first I'd like to say that if you have a chance to have cataract surgery in your 40's, I highly recommend it. It involves appointments with several different doctors and each one starts with a doctor walking into the room, holding a medical file. Then they look up at you and say, "Oh, you're much younger than I expected." You just can't hear that too many time! "Why, yes! I am very young! Thank you for noticing!"
Anyway when I went in for the standard pre-op appointment it was with my GP. She already knew my age so we skipped that part which made me a little sad but the appointment still went well. She was sent the standard pre-op paperwork even though it's only out-patient surgery and they don't even knock you completely out. She did all the standard stuff then said, "I'm not going to do the rectal or pelvic exams even though the paperwork calls for it."
Me: Well, if they end up down there, something has gone horribly wrong.
Doc: I'd advise you to walk out of the OR at that point.
Me: Of course, that will give them a better shot at my rectal area since my ass will be hanging out of the hospital gown.
Doc: Yeah, it's a tough call.
I love her!
I had cataract surgery last November. And first I'd like to say that if you have a chance to have cataract surgery in your 40's, I highly recommend it. It involves appointments with several different doctors and each one starts with a doctor walking into the room, holding a medical file. Then they look up at you and say, "Oh, you're much younger than I expected." You just can't hear that too many time! "Why, yes! I am very young! Thank you for noticing!"
Anyway when I went in for the standard pre-op appointment it was with my GP. She already knew my age so we skipped that part which made me a little sad but the appointment still went well. She was sent the standard pre-op paperwork even though it's only out-patient surgery and they don't even knock you completely out. She did all the standard stuff then said, "I'm not going to do the rectal or pelvic exams even though the paperwork calls for it."
Me: Well, if they end up down there, something has gone horribly wrong.
Doc: I'd advise you to walk out of the OR at that point.
Me: Of course, that will give them a better shot at my rectal area since my ass will be hanging out of the hospital gown.
Doc: Yeah, it's a tough call.
I love her!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Talking through doors, part II
So we had to get our computer worked on last weekend because it's dying a long, slow death. But it reminded me of the last time our computer needed a major overhaul. It was years ago and the boys were quite small. We were in the Seattle area and John found some guy who'd come over to the house and fix whatever needed fixing. It was also the period of time when I would lock myself in the bathroom as soon as John got home from work, and take a bath, for like a hour.
So I was soaking in the bath, actively ignoring all the sounds coming from downstairs. Then John knocked lightly on the door.
<tap tap tap>
Me: What?
John: You need to come downstairs.
Me: No.
And he walked away.
A few minutes later he came back and knocked lightly on the door again.
<tap tap tap>
Me: what?!
John: I really think you should come downstairs.
Me: Go away.
And he walked away again.
A few more minutes passed and he slipped a note under the door, hastily scrawled on a manila file folder that he'd clearly just grabbed out of his briefcase.
It said, "The DUDE is wearing a TAIL. I'm serious!!"
Well, hell. How do you ignore a note like that??
So I hurriedly got out of the tub, dried off, threw something one and went downstairs. And damn if there isn't a guy sitting on my living room floor, taking apart our computer, and wearing a long fluffy white tail. A tail.
I said 'Hi" and walked in to the kitchen.
Me: Huh.
John: Huh.
Me: So, he's, uh, wearing a tail.
John: Yup. It's a fox tail.
Me: A fox tail?
John: Yeah, he told me all about it. And his business card says, "FoxFixIt"
Me: Oh, that makes sense.
John: Yup.
<silence>
Me: You know, this was on an episode of CSI.
John: hm?
Me: Yeah. They're called fluffies or plushies or something.
John: <just standing there nodding his head> sure....
<more silence>
John: I wonder if he's ever slammed it in the car door?
Me: You know, no one's going to believe this.
John: Good.
Needless to say the genius this weekend wasn't wearing a tail. Too bad, really. They should have to dress like fruit.
So I was soaking in the bath, actively ignoring all the sounds coming from downstairs. Then John knocked lightly on the door.
<tap tap tap>
Me: What?
John: You need to come downstairs.
Me: No.
And he walked away.
A few minutes later he came back and knocked lightly on the door again.
<tap tap tap>
Me: what?!
John: I really think you should come downstairs.
Me: Go away.
And he walked away again.
A few more minutes passed and he slipped a note under the door, hastily scrawled on a manila file folder that he'd clearly just grabbed out of his briefcase.
It said, "The DUDE is wearing a TAIL. I'm serious!!"
Well, hell. How do you ignore a note like that??
So I hurriedly got out of the tub, dried off, threw something one and went downstairs. And damn if there isn't a guy sitting on my living room floor, taking apart our computer, and wearing a long fluffy white tail. A tail.
I said 'Hi" and walked in to the kitchen.
Me: Huh.
John: Huh.
Me: So, he's, uh, wearing a tail.
John: Yup. It's a fox tail.
Me: A fox tail?
John: Yeah, he told me all about it. And his business card says, "FoxFixIt"
Me: Oh, that makes sense.
John: Yup.
<silence>
Me: You know, this was on an episode of CSI.
John: hm?
Me: Yeah. They're called fluffies or plushies or something.
John: <just standing there nodding his head> sure....
<more silence>
John: I wonder if he's ever slammed it in the car door?
Me: You know, no one's going to believe this.
John: Good.
Needless to say the genius this weekend wasn't wearing a tail. Too bad, really. They should have to dress like fruit.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Actual article on Yahoo News
Man buys toy poodles, discovers they’re actually ferrets on steroids
(no fooling, this is an actual news headline on yahoo. I love yahoo.)
One Sentence Review of the Evil Dead
Eric is an Idiot.
(thank god he was or there wouldn't have been a movie but, holy shit, really?)
(thank god he was or there wouldn't have been a movie but, holy shit, really?)
Movies are so complicated these days
Last Sunday, John took the boys on a hike so I went to see the Evil Dead.
I can't wait until the boys get older and I can go to these movies with them. Of course at that point, they'll be too embarrassed to take their mom to a movie and I'll be like, "But you can drop me off a few blocks away. I'll pretend I don't know you." Until then I have my small community of singles who go to these movies alone. We all sit in different rows but really we're together. Of course, they're all dudes who's girlfriends/wives wouldn't go and I'm the only one whose husband wouldn't go to "that foolishness"*. Is this what they mean when they say, "a man trapped in a woman's body"?
Anyway, when I got to the theater the ticket machine (LOVE ticket machines! Why are there still people standing in line?? I really don't get it.) had the 12:20 showing in RPX. Huh. I know what 3D is and I know what IMAX is but this was new. But, hey, it was only $1 more so what the hell. The Evil Dead waits for no acronym.
So I walk to the new theater with fancy blue neon lights around the doorway. Is that the RPX? Inside were brand spankin' new seats. RPX? and that wonderful new car smell. Maybe this was smell-o-vision. But, no, apparently RPX stands for really fucking loud. It should be RFL. Just to be very clear here, it was LOUD. I'm sure there were other neat audio features but this is the girl who honestly couldn't tell the difference between cassettes and CDs. (Don't even get me started on high def because It Looks Exactly the Same, John.) Should have put the extra $1 towards a tub of popcorn....
*Other Foolishness according to John: Bates Motel, Stuffed Face Hugger Aliens, and spending $50 on 10" Flash and Hawk Girl action figures at the Toy Expo even though Flash is really hard to find. And I quote, "Who the fuck is hawk girl?"
I can't wait until the boys get older and I can go to these movies with them. Of course at that point, they'll be too embarrassed to take their mom to a movie and I'll be like, "But you can drop me off a few blocks away. I'll pretend I don't know you." Until then I have my small community of singles who go to these movies alone. We all sit in different rows but really we're together. Of course, they're all dudes who's girlfriends/wives wouldn't go and I'm the only one whose husband wouldn't go to "that foolishness"*. Is this what they mean when they say, "a man trapped in a woman's body"?
Anyway, when I got to the theater the ticket machine (LOVE ticket machines! Why are there still people standing in line?? I really don't get it.) had the 12:20 showing in RPX. Huh. I know what 3D is and I know what IMAX is but this was new. But, hey, it was only $1 more so what the hell. The Evil Dead waits for no acronym.
So I walk to the new theater with fancy blue neon lights around the doorway. Is that the RPX? Inside were brand spankin' new seats. RPX? and that wonderful new car smell. Maybe this was smell-o-vision. But, no, apparently RPX stands for really fucking loud. It should be RFL. Just to be very clear here, it was LOUD. I'm sure there were other neat audio features but this is the girl who honestly couldn't tell the difference between cassettes and CDs. (Don't even get me started on high def because It Looks Exactly the Same, John.) Should have put the extra $1 towards a tub of popcorn....
*Other Foolishness according to John: Bates Motel, Stuffed Face Hugger Aliens, and spending $50 on 10" Flash and Hawk Girl action figures at the Toy Expo even though Flash is really hard to find. And I quote, "Who the fuck is hawk girl?"
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Passwords and Car Keys
You know how every once in awhile, Apple will ask for your password? Just out of the blue it wants to make sure that you are you, and that you still agree with them? Well, it did that the other day and come to find out, John had changed the password. Then he left the city and forgot the password.
It's like the time we went on vacation and he hid his car keys in the house and forgot where he hid them. We tore the house apart but couldn't find them. (I did give the kitchen an amazing purge of crap we didn't use or need. And found a mouse under the sink.) I even googled how to hypnotize someone but it didn't work. "You're getting very sleeeepy. Your eyelids are getting heavyyyyy. You're veeeery relaxed, WHERE ARE THE FUCKING CAR KEYS?' Then he rolled off the couch, laughing. Didn't work, go figure.
Naturally we didn't find the keys until after we ordered a new set. And you couldn't just order a car key, you had to order the the car key "bundle" which consisted of a temporary key, two key fobs, a valet key and a temporary tattoo that said "I"m a dumbass". Then they make you drive the car to the dealer so they could laugh in your face (and rekey the car). And it cost something like $300, fucking audi. And I was the one who had to do all this because I "didn't have a job". (Just twin babies so, you know, tons of time on my hands. The boredom was a real killer.)
Anyway, I finally got ahold of him and asked what the new password was. He rattled off all the usual suspects, which I'd already tried, and then he said, "Just reset the password with something that you'll remember." Me, "Oh, like, 'Johnsadumbass'?"
(John doesn't remember either of these events. Must have been Barbara's day off)
It's like the time we went on vacation and he hid his car keys in the house and forgot where he hid them. We tore the house apart but couldn't find them. (I did give the kitchen an amazing purge of crap we didn't use or need. And found a mouse under the sink.) I even googled how to hypnotize someone but it didn't work. "You're getting very sleeeepy. Your eyelids are getting heavyyyyy. You're veeeery relaxed, WHERE ARE THE FUCKING CAR KEYS?' Then he rolled off the couch, laughing. Didn't work, go figure.
Naturally we didn't find the keys until after we ordered a new set. And you couldn't just order a car key, you had to order the the car key "bundle" which consisted of a temporary key, two key fobs, a valet key and a temporary tattoo that said "I"m a dumbass". Then they make you drive the car to the dealer so they could laugh in your face (and rekey the car). And it cost something like $300, fucking audi. And I was the one who had to do all this because I "didn't have a job". (Just twin babies so, you know, tons of time on my hands. The boredom was a real killer.)
Anyway, I finally got ahold of him and asked what the new password was. He rattled off all the usual suspects, which I'd already tried, and then he said, "Just reset the password with something that you'll remember." Me, "Oh, like, 'Johnsadumbass'?"
(John doesn't remember either of these events. Must have been Barbara's day off)
Saturday, April 6, 2013
John, Your Mistress is Scaring the Children
I had this weird dream last night where John brought his mistress to this barbecue we were at. I told him that he had to make her leave because, get this, she was swinging a pickle ball racket and someone was going to get hurt. Then he gave me the worst pouty face ever given by a 6'2", 42 year old man wearing an "I club Baby Seals" T-Shirt*. Worst pouty face ever. He even hunched up his shoulders. It was pathetic.
Then I woke up mad at him; not so much because of the mistress thing but more because he never takes my safety precautions seriously. He must have been having a sweet happy dream because his hand came over and tried to hold my hand but I snapped mine out of his grasp. I may have been willing to forgive him for his imaginary indiscretion but I certainly wasn't willing to forget just yet.
Then when I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, Sam came in and starting telling me about this scary dream he had about a crazy woman chasing people around the backyard. They all ran inside and she killed someone with the curtains. I asked if she was swinging a pickle ball racket and he sat there, staring into space for a few seconds, and said, "naw". Followed by more staring. Then, "What's a pickle ball racket?" Me, "Go ask your father, he gave it to her."
*You know those 'I heart' t-shirts where it's an actual heart shape in place of the word 'heart'? Of course, you do. Same thing here but with a club. The card suit, not a big wooden stick. He's from Newfoundland. It's actually quite funny.
**He's never clubbed a baby seal. Though, I think he has had flipper pie.
****No, I have never had flipper pie. Are you nuts?
Then I woke up mad at him; not so much because of the mistress thing but more because he never takes my safety precautions seriously. He must have been having a sweet happy dream because his hand came over and tried to hold my hand but I snapped mine out of his grasp. I may have been willing to forgive him for his imaginary indiscretion but I certainly wasn't willing to forget just yet.
Then when I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee, Sam came in and starting telling me about this scary dream he had about a crazy woman chasing people around the backyard. They all ran inside and she killed someone with the curtains. I asked if she was swinging a pickle ball racket and he sat there, staring into space for a few seconds, and said, "naw". Followed by more staring. Then, "What's a pickle ball racket?" Me, "Go ask your father, he gave it to her."
*You know those 'I heart' t-shirts where it's an actual heart shape in place of the word 'heart'? Of course, you do. Same thing here but with a club. The card suit, not a big wooden stick. He's from Newfoundland. It's actually quite funny.
**He's never clubbed a baby seal. Though, I think he has had flipper pie.
****No, I have never had flipper pie. Are you nuts?
Friday, April 5, 2013
Robopocaplypse, Part IV
The computers are slowly cutting off my communication to the outside world. And I think I should be more concerned than I am......
It started with my smart phone. It won't let me send out emails. We've gotten it to work a couple times but after about a week it "can't recognize me" which is odd because I pretty much look that same as I always have. And the 'geniuses' can't figure it out but how much of a genius can you be if you work at the mall?
Then last month our home computer stopped sending emails. No error message, no letting us down gently, no "it's not you, it's me", just bang. Nothing. But we can still email from the ipads so it's basically okay. John did spend 85 minutes on the phone with tech support only to be left very unsupported but other than that we've basically taken it sitting down. Literally sitting down, on the couch.
Now this week our home phone shortened it's ringing cycle. And for the life of me I can't figure out how to change it. It used to ring 5 times before going to voice mail and now it only rings twice. That's two times. You know what I've discovered? I can't answer the phone in two rings no matter where I am in the house. I can't answer the phone in two rings if the damn thing is sitting in my lap. I pick it up, fumble the keys and the call is gone. shit.
So, no emailing from my phone, no emailing from my computer and no incoming calls on the land line. Our response, basically nothing. It's been a bloodless coup. Oh sure, we've gotten frustrated, we've made a few calls but mostly we've adapted. The computers are winning and we really don't care because the cable still works, right? I'm figuring we've got about two maybe three more moves before we're check mated. So if you're driving by my house and there's a "Send Help" sign hanging in the window, please order us a pizza and just keep on driving.
It started with my smart phone. It won't let me send out emails. We've gotten it to work a couple times but after about a week it "can't recognize me" which is odd because I pretty much look that same as I always have. And the 'geniuses' can't figure it out but how much of a genius can you be if you work at the mall?
Then last month our home computer stopped sending emails. No error message, no letting us down gently, no "it's not you, it's me", just bang. Nothing. But we can still email from the ipads so it's basically okay. John did spend 85 minutes on the phone with tech support only to be left very unsupported but other than that we've basically taken it sitting down. Literally sitting down, on the couch.
Now this week our home phone shortened it's ringing cycle. And for the life of me I can't figure out how to change it. It used to ring 5 times before going to voice mail and now it only rings twice. That's two times. You know what I've discovered? I can't answer the phone in two rings no matter where I am in the house. I can't answer the phone in two rings if the damn thing is sitting in my lap. I pick it up, fumble the keys and the call is gone. shit.
So, no emailing from my phone, no emailing from my computer and no incoming calls on the land line. Our response, basically nothing. It's been a bloodless coup. Oh sure, we've gotten frustrated, we've made a few calls but mostly we've adapted. The computers are winning and we really don't care because the cable still works, right? I'm figuring we've got about two maybe three more moves before we're check mated. So if you're driving by my house and there's a "Send Help" sign hanging in the window, please order us a pizza and just keep on driving.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Huge fuckin' OMG
So my day consisted of: failing to pack lunches, failing to make it to the gym, failing to shower, helping at school for 20 minutes and then drinking alone because my poor asperger boy got bullied on the playground. Again.
Then John called. He met Jack Black in the Delta lounge at LAX and had a drink with him.
Really? It's like we're leading parallel lives.
And, get this, he didn't make any Kung Fu Panda references! None! No, "there's no charge for awesomeness, or attractiveness". No, "I'm THE big fat panda".
Any, Tropic Thunder? No? No, really? Not even a "remember way back when I called your mother a cancerous whore? I'm sorry man. I didn't mean that."
Did you, at least, work the word 'bodacious' into the conversation? NO?
Who did I marry?
This may be grounds for divorce. I think I can kill him and collect the insurance money. I'm pretty sure the law is on my side here.
Then John called. He met Jack Black in the Delta lounge at LAX and had a drink with him.
Really? It's like we're leading parallel lives.
And, get this, he didn't make any Kung Fu Panda references! None! No, "there's no charge for awesomeness, or attractiveness". No, "I'm THE big fat panda".
Any, Tropic Thunder? No? No, really? Not even a "remember way back when I called your mother a cancerous whore? I'm sorry man. I didn't mean that."
Did you, at least, work the word 'bodacious' into the conversation? NO?
Who did I marry?
This may be grounds for divorce. I think I can kill him and collect the insurance money. I'm pretty sure the law is on my side here.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Kids on Drugs
So my kids don't pull out their loose teeth. They leave them in until they get all jammed up and then I have to take them to the dentist so I can pay $100 to have them removed. It's fun.
Especially when they get nitrous. Sam had two teeth popped-out this morning and he actually came hopping into the waiting room.
Sam, <hop> <hop> <hop>, "Hey, Moooom!"
"I got nauze!"
Me, "it's gauze"
Sam, "yeah, NAAUUZE!"
"And I can't do P.E."
Then he plants both feet squarely on the ground and throws his arms in the air. "YESSS!!"
<pause>
"Oh, waaaiittt, I like P.E."
"And I need a note"
<worry sets in>
"Oh, maaaan, I don't have a note"
Me, "Why don't you just show Coach K your bloody nauze?"
<pause> <pause> <pause>
Sam, "I knoooow, I'll just show him my bloody nauze!"
That's my boy.
Especially when they get nitrous. Sam had two teeth popped-out this morning and he actually came hopping into the waiting room.
Sam, <hop> <hop> <hop>, "Hey, Moooom!"
"I got nauze!"
Me, "it's gauze"
Sam, "yeah, NAAUUZE!"
"And I can't do P.E."
Then he plants both feet squarely on the ground and throws his arms in the air. "YESSS!!"
<pause>
"Oh, waaaiittt, I like P.E."
"And I need a note"
<worry sets in>
"Oh, maaaan, I don't have a note"
Me, "Why don't you just show Coach K your bloody nauze?"
<pause> <pause> <pause>
Sam, "I knoooow, I'll just show him my bloody nauze!"
That's my boy.
Monday, April 1, 2013
Blog Stats
I don't understand blog statistics. My stats say I've had 1019 total pageviews. (why is that one word?) But if you add up the numbers for each individual view count (two words, really?) it's way less than 1019. So if there's really only 27 people racking up view counts, where are the other 992 pageviews coming from? Why is Asia shaded green on my stats map? I don't know anyone in Kuala Lumpur. I don't even know how to spell Kuala Lumpur; I had to look it up. You know what this means, don't you? It's the computers. Most of my posts are only being viewed by other computers. Which means they're on to me. They know that I know what they're up to and I'm trying to tell people but no one's listening to me. I'm pretty sure this makes me Sarah Connor.
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