If there was an Olympic Freefalling event, I am quite sure that I would take home the gold. I have pulled of a perfect-10, awe-inspriring free-fall from a bar stool into a fire-fire truck metal bunk bed and managed to pass by $300 worth of breakable artifacts without so much of a splinter. My body however, well, that is another story altogether. I guess a fat girl trying to teeter on a bar stool to hang a light on the ceiling is not a good idea. Who knew?
Friday afternoon, approximately 4 hours prior to our leaving for vacation, I was at the store doing some last minute things before leaving for the week. One of these last minute things included hanging a light fixture in the corner of what is going to be a spectacular kids room. I couldn't quite reach the ceiling by standing on the bed, so I grabbed a bar stool and used that to hang the light. I am standing on the bar stool with both arms reaching toward the ceiling, when the bar stool tips out from under me. Because my hands were full, I was unable to cushion my fall, and sadly, my knee took the brunt of the force.
As I was writhing around on the floor in excruciating pain, all I could think of was leaving in a few hours for my vacation. HOW COULD I HAVE DONE THIS??????
I get up and attempt to assess the damage. My leg is kind of dangling so I know that it can't be good. I try to put some weight on my leg, I hear a loud pop, and I'm back on the floor. Nothing really holding it together but some fat and skin.
Now I'm a bit nervous and starting to sweat. I call my mom and she comes to take me to the emergency room. (I had to pass by Enrique Los Hotpants in a wheelchair. Oy. That guy really gets to see the best in me.)
By the time we arrive at the ER I am just writhing in pain. Serious pain. And lucky for us, we got right in. My blood pressure is 150 over 110. Um, yeah, it hurts THAT bad.
The cute PA feels sorry for me so I quickly get a large injection of morphine. I am still in tons of pain, but I seriously don't care. A cute college kid gets put in the bed next to mine and before long he is asking for my number. Morphine is my friend.
As it turns out, the PA is leaving for Cancun in 4 hours, so he is just as eager to get out the door. I am quickly sent off for x-rays, and after a few minutes, I am told there is no break, given some crutches and a brace, and told to follow up with an orthopedic when I get back.
Well, as it turns out, even though morphine is my friend, morphine and crutches are mortal enemies. So, I had to finish packing from the perch of my wheelchair. (It only took me 17 minutes to scoot up the stairs.)
Needless to say, I was a bit suprised to find a screwdriver and 3 packets of parmesan cheese in the bottom of my bag.
So, dear Paco finishes up the packing and gets the car all neatly packed. He is totally OCD when it comes to packing so everything is perfectly weighted and balanced.
Our normal ritual is for me to drive the first and last leg, and Paco drives the middle bit. However, since I was seeing rainbows and unicorns, Paco did all 12 hours on his own. He is such a good man. And he never once complained when he had to stop every 2 hours to walk his wife. Good man. Very good man. (I'm still on drugs.)
So, now we are here at the beach. My favorite place in the world. I am still seeing rainbows and talking to unicorns, just in much better surroundings.
I will keep you all posted as to the foils and follies of the next 7 days. Wish me luck . . .
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
It Takes A Village
As I am typing, the sounds of "Vacation" by the Go-Go's are swirling in my head. Since today starts the official beginning of our vacation, I am going to skip my normal ranting, and instead I am going to post something by my extremely hysterical Girlfriend Amy "Boom-Boom" B. (Official names have been changed to protect innocent families and wives from the wrath of deranged husbands.) This is something she emailed me and another Girlfriend the other day when we were all stuck home with sick kids. We are soo gonna write a book together. I totally peed myself whilst reading . . . (I LOVE the word whilst. I didn't make it up either.)
It Takes A Village , by Girlfriend Amy
Ok, so we are all home with sick kids...Miss M. came home with a fever...no other symptoms, and looked awful. Once she had some soup (Oh Lipton Cup O'Noodle, why didn't I buy your stock shares?) she seems to be on the rebound....Girlfriend J.--your comment about Z-man being active despite the fever pretty much sums up our house right now...
Since I'm getting caught up on everything I blew off over the weekend, I guess it's a productive day. Of course, when I have no vacation time left at the end of the year I will be happy that the laundry was caught up once. (eye twitch). And I can't find my mop! I know it's been a while, but how the hell does someone lose a mop? I'd ask the hubby, but I know that he wouldn't even know that we owned a mop, and that will lead into some comment about me wearing a french maid's outfit and he'll allude that I could dust his balls or something....
Overshare much? Between this and my comment about you two prostituting for groceries I imagine that you'll never open a message from me again....
With that, I have been thinking about how how we are each in our own homes, with our designated sick kid, and maybe there is something behind the "it takes a village" theory.....
so, imagine that we are in our village in the rainforest, while our sick kids recover....I think it may go a little something like this:
-There would not be snow predicted for tomorrow's weather forecast. We could complain about how the endless rain makes our hair frizz
-All the kids would be in their hammocks, if one of us was walking by we could give their forehead a quick check, swing the hammock a little bit, and go back to our spot around the fire
-The men would be out hunting a boar or wild pig (or are those the same?) and we would compare recipes about how to best cook it, as well as swap the leftovers--kind of like a Rainforest Buffet
-We could sit around the fire and laugh about how the Village Whore thinks she is so sexy, but really we know that she has stuffs her coconut bra with leaves and she really isn't as endowed as the men think she is
-There would be a steady supply of fermented fruit (I may not know how to build a fire, but I will figure out how to get wine of some sort)
-We could compare how to wrap ourselves in palm leaves that best accentuates our figures
-We could rearrange the hammocks in our huts. Then when the menfolk came home after the hunt, they could complain that their hammock wasn't where is was that morning, and they'll "totally crash into it when going out for a pee in the early morning hours, and why can't we just leave the hut as it was"
-We could gossip about how the couple in the hut next door were arguing because he wants her to dress up in a sarong that is much shorter than she finds acceptable
So, I think that really, there is a good purpose behind the "takes a village" approach....at least we could all chat and have a coffee or something while the kids recover. And I just watched Miss M. "recover" by being angry that there is a tv commercial. Clearly she is regaining her strength....
And I think that there is something questionable going on between Moose A. Moose and Zee on the Noggin channel. Those 2 spend a lot of time together, and I don't think either one wears pants.
Good luck girlfriends, hope the kids feel better soon so they can return for a HALF day tomorrow and NO SCHOOL on Thursday. Not that I'm bitter.....
(and where the hell is my mop??? Now I'm tempted to get once of those steamy ones that they sell on tv...the H2O mop or whatever it's called...I've already been conned by the Sham Wow...that Vince guy deserves getting bit by that hooker).
It Takes A Village , by Girlfriend Amy
Ok, so we are all home with sick kids...Miss M. came home with a fever...no other symptoms, and looked awful. Once she had some soup (Oh Lipton Cup O'Noodle, why didn't I buy your stock shares?) she seems to be on the rebound....Girlfriend J.--your comment about Z-man being active despite the fever pretty much sums up our house right now...
Since I'm getting caught up on everything I blew off over the weekend, I guess it's a productive day. Of course, when I have no vacation time left at the end of the year I will be happy that the laundry was caught up once. (eye twitch). And I can't find my mop! I know it's been a while, but how the hell does someone lose a mop? I'd ask the hubby, but I know that he wouldn't even know that we owned a mop, and that will lead into some comment about me wearing a french maid's outfit and he'll allude that I could dust his balls or something....
Overshare much? Between this and my comment about you two prostituting for groceries I imagine that you'll never open a message from me again....
With that, I have been thinking about how how we are each in our own homes, with our designated sick kid, and maybe there is something behind the "it takes a village" theory.....
so, imagine that we are in our village in the rainforest, while our sick kids recover....I think it may go a little something like this:
-There would not be snow predicted for tomorrow's weather forecast. We could complain about how the endless rain makes our hair frizz
-All the kids would be in their hammocks, if one of us was walking by we could give their forehead a quick check, swing the hammock a little bit, and go back to our spot around the fire
-The men would be out hunting a boar or wild pig (or are those the same?) and we would compare recipes about how to best cook it, as well as swap the leftovers--kind of like a Rainforest Buffet
-We could sit around the fire and laugh about how the Village Whore thinks she is so sexy, but really we know that she has stuffs her coconut bra with leaves and she really isn't as endowed as the men think she is
-There would be a steady supply of fermented fruit (I may not know how to build a fire, but I will figure out how to get wine of some sort)
-We could compare how to wrap ourselves in palm leaves that best accentuates our figures
-We could rearrange the hammocks in our huts. Then when the menfolk came home after the hunt, they could complain that their hammock wasn't where is was that morning, and they'll "totally crash into it when going out for a pee in the early morning hours, and why can't we just leave the hut as it was"
-We could gossip about how the couple in the hut next door were arguing because he wants her to dress up in a sarong that is much shorter than she finds acceptable
So, I think that really, there is a good purpose behind the "takes a village" approach....at least we could all chat and have a coffee or something while the kids recover. And I just watched Miss M. "recover" by being angry that there is a tv commercial. Clearly she is regaining her strength....
And I think that there is something questionable going on between Moose A. Moose and Zee on the Noggin channel. Those 2 spend a lot of time together, and I don't think either one wears pants.
Good luck girlfriends, hope the kids feel better soon so they can return for a HALF day tomorrow and NO SCHOOL on Thursday. Not that I'm bitter.....
(and where the hell is my mop??? Now I'm tempted to get once of those steamy ones that they sell on tv...the H2O mop or whatever it's called...I've already been conned by the Sham Wow...that Vince guy deserves getting bit by that hooker).
Friday, April 10, 2009
No Hatin'
I don't want you all to be hatin' on me, but at this moment, I am finishing packing for our trip to Myrtle Beach. We will be leaving as soon as Paco gets home from school.
For the next seven days I will be holed up at a fabulous Ocean-front resort with 20 pools sipping margartitas and getting sand in my toenails.
But, alas, it is not all good as I am taking Paco and the kids with me. I couldn't talk them out of it.
However, I will keep you all posted with tales from the land of fabulosity and (hopefully) sun and warmth.
Until them, remember, it IS 5:00 somewhere . . .
For the next seven days I will be holed up at a fabulous Ocean-front resort with 20 pools sipping margartitas and getting sand in my toenails.
But, alas, it is not all good as I am taking Paco and the kids with me. I couldn't talk them out of it.
However, I will keep you all posted with tales from the land of fabulosity and (hopefully) sun and warmth.
Until them, remember, it IS 5:00 somewhere . . .
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
Rarely do I have the time or energy to do two posts in one day, but I have exciting news and I must shout it from the rooftops! I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in LOVE!! And I don't care who knows it! (That is my quote from the movie "Elf" because that may be one of the best movies, like, EVER.)
I have found a fabulous swimsuit that actually FITS! (Cue trumpets, sun beams, and parting of the sea.) Dum, dum, da, dum, I SAID that I found a fabulous swimsuit that fits AND looks halfway decent. (Cue loud gasps and applause!)
I was completely freaked out a first, because when I opened the package and pulled out the suit, it looked like it was supposed to fit a 7 year old. I may have had to lube up my thighs with baby oil and jump off the bed to get into the darn thing, but once it was up and on the sun came out from behind the clouds and I could hear the angels in heaven trumpeting the sweet sounds of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah."
The darn thing cost me more than a week's worth of groceries, but it is a "miraclesuit:, and I must say that it lives up to it's name. I actually have two separate boobs, a distinct right, and a distinct left. And, my girls are even in the proper hemisphere. I don't have that loaf-of-bread bosom that you usually get with swimsuits. It is simply fabulous!
And the truly exciting part is that when you look at me from the front, I have an actual waist. There is this fabulous hourglass thing going on. (Sadly, when you look at me from the side, there too is a not-so-fabulous hourglass thing going on. However, that one is all on me. Oy.)
I don't know what this suit is made out of, perhaps duct-tape fibers and anti-gravity solution, but it is quite possibly the greatest piece of clothing I have ever owned. I am so gonna wear it to my Parent-Teacher conferences today. I will get my money's worth one way or another.
Perhaps I have merely overdosed on happy pills and this suit doesn't look nearly as good as I think it does . . .
Santa! Oh my God! Santa's coming! I KNOW him! I know him!
I have found a fabulous swimsuit that actually FITS! (Cue trumpets, sun beams, and parting of the sea.) Dum, dum, da, dum, I SAID that I found a fabulous swimsuit that fits AND looks halfway decent. (Cue loud gasps and applause!)
I was completely freaked out a first, because when I opened the package and pulled out the suit, it looked like it was supposed to fit a 7 year old. I may have had to lube up my thighs with baby oil and jump off the bed to get into the darn thing, but once it was up and on the sun came out from behind the clouds and I could hear the angels in heaven trumpeting the sweet sounds of "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah."
The darn thing cost me more than a week's worth of groceries, but it is a "miraclesuit:, and I must say that it lives up to it's name. I actually have two separate boobs, a distinct right, and a distinct left. And, my girls are even in the proper hemisphere. I don't have that loaf-of-bread bosom that you usually get with swimsuits. It is simply fabulous!
And the truly exciting part is that when you look at me from the front, I have an actual waist. There is this fabulous hourglass thing going on. (Sadly, when you look at me from the side, there too is a not-so-fabulous hourglass thing going on. However, that one is all on me. Oy.)
I don't know what this suit is made out of, perhaps duct-tape fibers and anti-gravity solution, but it is quite possibly the greatest piece of clothing I have ever owned. I am so gonna wear it to my Parent-Teacher conferences today. I will get my money's worth one way or another.
Perhaps I have merely overdosed on happy pills and this suit doesn't look nearly as good as I think it does . . .
Santa! Oh my God! Santa's coming! I KNOW him! I know him!
Eating me out of House and Home
I have three little boys that are capable of eating mass quantities of food. These boys can easily eat their body weight in food. When I complain to people all I get is a “you’re so lucky that they are such good eaters.” What I am looking for is an “I am so sorry that you have to mortgage the house to buy groceries.”
For some reason breakfast in our house has somehow turned into a bit of a diner experience. They basically “order” what they want. At any given point I try to be well stocked with eggs, sausage, toast, toaster strudel, hot pockets, French toast sticks, Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Mini Wheats, All-Bran with Strawberries (this is a favorite of Deuce, weird, I know), yogurt, fruit, and Fiber One Bars. I know this sounds like a lot of food, but they fly through it all in record time.
If you think I am exaggerating (as I might have a slight tendency to do), I will assure you that I am not. For breakfast this morning we went through 8 eggs, a pound of sausage links, 3 yogurt smoothies, a bowl of fruity pebbles and a half a loaf of bread. And that is just the kids. And the truly sad part is that I got two “I’m hungry”s before we even made it out the door. (I sooooooooooo wanted to cry.)
Yes, I am lucky that my kids are good eaters. They will eat just about anything, and they are always willing to try new things. But for 3 skinny little boogars, they seem to have endless stomachs. I can’t even begin to think of what they will be like as teenagers. Oy.
I posted a note on my Facebook page the other day that I couldn’t believe the mass quantities of food three boys are able to consume, and that I may have to prostitute myself for groceries. Naturally, I thought this was hysterical, and I got many responses that supported that.
However, when I mentioned this to Paco he flipped out. “This is exactly the type of thing that could come back to haunt you some day. What if a potential employer is looking at that?”
Um, well, then, they would think I am hysterical and they would hire me because they know I need the money to feed my kids.
And then Paco says “You know, if I ever do decide to run for President, it is this type of thing that will be my downfall.”
OK, so seriously?? The only thing he has ever talked about “running” for is to lose weight by “running” on the treadmill. But, this is the SECOND time we have had this sort of conversation.
Honestly, I think America would LOVE me as a First Lady. Don’t you? I can’t understand why he would think that a comment about prostituting for groceries would be construed as negative. If anything, it would make me seem more humane. I mean the fact that I am willing to do anything to feed my kids would certainly score some points with conservatives, right?
But I love that we keeping having this conversation. It gives me something to aspire to. However, it will not change the way I think, speak, or act. I am who I am, and as a possible, potential future wife of a political candidate I can only think that it would serve to better our position to have all our skeletons out in the open. Perhaps we can start a new trend in politics. Put it all out there up front and let the voters decide. Now there’s a concept, don’t you think?
In the meantime, I will continue to clip coupons and shop sales for groceries. I don’t have to resort to drastic measures yet . . .
For some reason breakfast in our house has somehow turned into a bit of a diner experience. They basically “order” what they want. At any given point I try to be well stocked with eggs, sausage, toast, toaster strudel, hot pockets, French toast sticks, Fruity Pebbles, Frosted Mini Wheats, All-Bran with Strawberries (this is a favorite of Deuce, weird, I know), yogurt, fruit, and Fiber One Bars. I know this sounds like a lot of food, but they fly through it all in record time.
If you think I am exaggerating (as I might have a slight tendency to do), I will assure you that I am not. For breakfast this morning we went through 8 eggs, a pound of sausage links, 3 yogurt smoothies, a bowl of fruity pebbles and a half a loaf of bread. And that is just the kids. And the truly sad part is that I got two “I’m hungry”s before we even made it out the door. (I sooooooooooo wanted to cry.)
Yes, I am lucky that my kids are good eaters. They will eat just about anything, and they are always willing to try new things. But for 3 skinny little boogars, they seem to have endless stomachs. I can’t even begin to think of what they will be like as teenagers. Oy.
I posted a note on my Facebook page the other day that I couldn’t believe the mass quantities of food three boys are able to consume, and that I may have to prostitute myself for groceries. Naturally, I thought this was hysterical, and I got many responses that supported that.
However, when I mentioned this to Paco he flipped out. “This is exactly the type of thing that could come back to haunt you some day. What if a potential employer is looking at that?”
Um, well, then, they would think I am hysterical and they would hire me because they know I need the money to feed my kids.
And then Paco says “You know, if I ever do decide to run for President, it is this type of thing that will be my downfall.”
OK, so seriously?? The only thing he has ever talked about “running” for is to lose weight by “running” on the treadmill. But, this is the SECOND time we have had this sort of conversation.
Honestly, I think America would LOVE me as a First Lady. Don’t you? I can’t understand why he would think that a comment about prostituting for groceries would be construed as negative. If anything, it would make me seem more humane. I mean the fact that I am willing to do anything to feed my kids would certainly score some points with conservatives, right?
But I love that we keeping having this conversation. It gives me something to aspire to. However, it will not change the way I think, speak, or act. I am who I am, and as a possible, potential future wife of a political candidate I can only think that it would serve to better our position to have all our skeletons out in the open. Perhaps we can start a new trend in politics. Put it all out there up front and let the voters decide. Now there’s a concept, don’t you think?
In the meantime, I will continue to clip coupons and shop sales for groceries. I don’t have to resort to drastic measures yet . . .
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Car and Driver
I don’t speak Car and Driver. So, I find it humorous that Paco always has me take the cars to be serviced and then complains because I never get it right. And it must be that time of year because I have spent 2 days in the last week stuck at various auto dealerships getting the vehicles repaired and serviced.
The other day I took the van to get the brakes looked at and to have some warranty work done to the door and a seat frame. First of all, I was charged a “diagnostic fee” for the dealership to even look at the car. Needless to say, that upset me quite a bit. I bought the dang car there, and they need to charge me money to tell me what’s wrong with it so then they can charge me more money to fix it. After dropping off my van at 8:30 am (I had an appointment) I finally get a call at 3pm that my van needs new rotors, brakes, an air filter, and an oil change. And, they can do this for $587 plus tax. WTF??????
OK, so I don’t speak car and driver, but I’m not a FREAKIN’ MORON either!
I kindly tell the gentleman just to do the warranty work and I will take the van elsewhere to get repaired.
Then he has the nerve to try to talk me into the repairs. “Ma’am, you really shouldn’t be driving your car in this condition. We could make all the necessary repairs and have everything ready for you in 2 hours.”
“OK then, if you can have everything ready in two hours , then why are you charging me 8 hours worth of labor? And why are you charging me $109 for rotors and $72 for brake pads when I can get them at the parts store for $39 and $24? Oh, and also, if you blow out the air filter with an air compressor, they clean up like new.”
Obviously he wasn’t expecting me to have a clue because there was a long silence and then I got a “ok then, all your warranty work has been done and you car can be picked up any time.”
Yeah, thanks.
So today I am getting the Suburban serviced. It needed an oil change. The fancy place that I’m at today even does a free 29 point inspection. And of the 29 things, I think this guy is trying to tell me that 28 things are wrong.
Again, we need brakes and rotors. (just on the rear this time.) And, the transmission fluid is almost black. And we really need an alignment. And wiper blades. And, they can fix it all up for us for the low, low price of $818 plus tax.
OK, do I really have MORON tattooed on my forehead?
I kindly tell the nice 18 year old that is helping me that my husband can replace the brakes and rotors, and that I’ll have him switch out the transmission fluid as well.
“But ma’am, we have a machine that can do all the work for you. Your transmission holds 14 quarts of fluid. It can be very messy.”
Didn’t I just tell you that my husband can do it? My hands won’t get dirty. No worries. And, it will only cost me about $250 for everything. Thanks though. I did cave and tell him to do the alignment because I know Paco can’t do that.
So as I am waiting for my alignment to be completed I pour myself a cup of really bad coffee with some pathetic powdered creamer and start watching the Today show. Did you know that during the last hour of the Today show that Kathie Lee Gifford is a host? I had no idea. So anyway, after watching for 20 minutes I have decided that I CAN NOT STAND KATHIE LEE GIFFORD. I even had the pleasure of seeing her cheating-hubby Frank because he had a cameo. Seriously, someone needs to send her away on a cruise that never comes back. How can someone that spells Kathy with an “ie” on the end NOT be annoying? (um, if any of you spell your name that way it totally doesn’t count.)
But after this last week of dealing with car repairs I have decided that I am going to open a garage. Obviously there is some big money to be made in this business. And since no one is shopping at my store, I am thinking I might have to find another job soon enough anyway.
I will cater my garage to women and the few men on the planet that have no clue about cars. I will serve great coffee with real creamers, have great shows on the TV, have clean and comfy chairs in the waiting area, and women working behind the counter that can explain in human terms what really needs to be done. There will be a huge glass wall so people can see the hot mechanics in muscle shirts working on their cars. (And, seriously, I will ONLY hire hot mechanics in muscle shirts.) And, I will charge less than everyone else. (When they bill you $90 an hour for labor and you KNOW they are only paying the staff minimum wage, you can’t go wrong.) It’s brilliant! I might even offer spa services while you wait. Oh, the possibilities. . .
I feel another career move coming on . . .
The other day I took the van to get the brakes looked at and to have some warranty work done to the door and a seat frame. First of all, I was charged a “diagnostic fee” for the dealership to even look at the car. Needless to say, that upset me quite a bit. I bought the dang car there, and they need to charge me money to tell me what’s wrong with it so then they can charge me more money to fix it. After dropping off my van at 8:30 am (I had an appointment) I finally get a call at 3pm that my van needs new rotors, brakes, an air filter, and an oil change. And, they can do this for $587 plus tax. WTF??????
OK, so I don’t speak car and driver, but I’m not a FREAKIN’ MORON either!
I kindly tell the gentleman just to do the warranty work and I will take the van elsewhere to get repaired.
Then he has the nerve to try to talk me into the repairs. “Ma’am, you really shouldn’t be driving your car in this condition. We could make all the necessary repairs and have everything ready for you in 2 hours.”
“OK then, if you can have everything ready in two hours , then why are you charging me 8 hours worth of labor? And why are you charging me $109 for rotors and $72 for brake pads when I can get them at the parts store for $39 and $24? Oh, and also, if you blow out the air filter with an air compressor, they clean up like new.”
Obviously he wasn’t expecting me to have a clue because there was a long silence and then I got a “ok then, all your warranty work has been done and you car can be picked up any time.”
Yeah, thanks.
So today I am getting the Suburban serviced. It needed an oil change. The fancy place that I’m at today even does a free 29 point inspection. And of the 29 things, I think this guy is trying to tell me that 28 things are wrong.
Again, we need brakes and rotors. (just on the rear this time.) And, the transmission fluid is almost black. And we really need an alignment. And wiper blades. And, they can fix it all up for us for the low, low price of $818 plus tax.
OK, do I really have MORON tattooed on my forehead?
I kindly tell the nice 18 year old that is helping me that my husband can replace the brakes and rotors, and that I’ll have him switch out the transmission fluid as well.
“But ma’am, we have a machine that can do all the work for you. Your transmission holds 14 quarts of fluid. It can be very messy.”
Didn’t I just tell you that my husband can do it? My hands won’t get dirty. No worries. And, it will only cost me about $250 for everything. Thanks though. I did cave and tell him to do the alignment because I know Paco can’t do that.
So as I am waiting for my alignment to be completed I pour myself a cup of really bad coffee with some pathetic powdered creamer and start watching the Today show. Did you know that during the last hour of the Today show that Kathie Lee Gifford is a host? I had no idea. So anyway, after watching for 20 minutes I have decided that I CAN NOT STAND KATHIE LEE GIFFORD. I even had the pleasure of seeing her cheating-hubby Frank because he had a cameo. Seriously, someone needs to send her away on a cruise that never comes back. How can someone that spells Kathy with an “ie” on the end NOT be annoying? (um, if any of you spell your name that way it totally doesn’t count.)
But after this last week of dealing with car repairs I have decided that I am going to open a garage. Obviously there is some big money to be made in this business. And since no one is shopping at my store, I am thinking I might have to find another job soon enough anyway.
I will cater my garage to women and the few men on the planet that have no clue about cars. I will serve great coffee with real creamers, have great shows on the TV, have clean and comfy chairs in the waiting area, and women working behind the counter that can explain in human terms what really needs to be done. There will be a huge glass wall so people can see the hot mechanics in muscle shirts working on their cars. (And, seriously, I will ONLY hire hot mechanics in muscle shirts.) And, I will charge less than everyone else. (When they bill you $90 an hour for labor and you KNOW they are only paying the staff minimum wage, you can’t go wrong.) It’s brilliant! I might even offer spa services while you wait. Oh, the possibilities. . .
I feel another career move coming on . . .
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Learning the lingo
I don’t think it’s a big secret that I am not the most technologically advanced. I am slowly learning the ropes. It may take me a few tries, but eventually I am able to figure things out.
I am very proud to confess that in addition to my presence on FaceBook, I am now tweeting on Twitter. That sounds very kinky, but in actuality it is very innocent. Twitter is a site that basically allows everyone to give a brief sentence to let the world know what they are up to. It’s basically just the status update part of Facebook. But the fun part of Twitter is that you can follow anyone, and you don’t need to get permission. For instance, I am currently following Justin Timberlake, Jimmy Fallon, Tina Fey, and Chewbacca. Chewbacca mainly just says things like “Arggghhhhuuuurrr” and “Rrraaaagggeeuurrr”, but I can totally relate. (Um just so you don’t think that I have all sorts of time on my hands, I actually went to a small business seminar and they recommend that you connect yourself on all these social networking sites so that people can relate to you on a more personal level and they will feel like they know you personally when they shop your store. In theory that is great. But when I tweet about hooker boots and xanax somehow I feel like I might be taking a step in the wrong direction. Ooops.)
The thing I have the most trouble with right now is probably one of the most basic. My cell phone. My cell phone is probably far more advanced than I could ever possibly need. I use the phone for 4 things: making phone calls, taking pictures, an alarm clock (laugh now, but every Monday through Friday I get an obnoxious buzzing sound at 1:30 pm that reminds me I need to go and pick up my kids. Without it I’m sure I would be late 95% of the time) and texting. The fact that my phone has internet, GPS, and music playing capabilities is all beyond my capabilities.
The texting part is a still bit advanced for me. I am one of the few people on the planet that must text with proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation. So I am not very fast to say the least. And I am still learning all the texting lingo. For the longest time I thought LOL meant “Lord oh Lord”. (It’s far more fun than “laugh out loud” don’t you think?)
Well recently I have been turned on to WTF, which in texting lingo means “What the F.?” And I just love it. I have a whole “What the????” face and sound that I make every time I see it or type it. It is so much fun to just sort of wrinkle up your face, squint your eyes, and say “What the . . . .???” You don’t even need the swear word. I find myself thinking it all the time now. And I will often just give people (aka Paco) the “look” now. I don’t even say it. He totally knows my WTF face now. He even has his own version.
But it’s so much fun to throw it into everyday living.
“Honey, I made tacos for dinner.” WTF?? (Insert wrinkled face making the WTF look)
“Babe, the dog just puked up a green army man on the leather couch.” WTF???
“Mom, I’ve got skid marks.” WTF????
It’s my private little joke. And for some reason, I over-use it to such a point that I find it absolutely hysterical. (Yes, I know, I need to up my meds.)
I am slowly starting to learn the proper texting lingo, as I have had to ask my niece just about every time someone texts me something beyond my basic knowledge.
I will share some of the lingo that I have learned recently, and some that I have created because I think it is far more fun.
LMAO- laughing my ass off
ROFL – rolling on the floor laughing
LSHIS – laughing so hard I sharted (a shart is a moist fart that leaves behind
residue Mom. I know you will ask)
PM – peed myself
TNTSTK – trying not to strangle the kids
As I am starting to master the acronyms, I am now moving on to making the smiley faces and winky faces. I am quite proud that I recently learned how to make a heart! (The less than sign with the number 3)
I have even figured out how to twitter my status updates on my cell phone so that they automatically update on my Facebook page. WTF??? Yes, I agree that sounds very technologically advanced, and I am quite proud to say that I actually know what it all means. (Even if I did have to have somebody else show me how to do it.)
So, if you are tweeting, I’m JPwiczer. Follow me, and I’ll follow you. And if you have no idea what I am talking about, well that’s ok too. We all have to start somewhere.
I am very proud to confess that in addition to my presence on FaceBook, I am now tweeting on Twitter. That sounds very kinky, but in actuality it is very innocent. Twitter is a site that basically allows everyone to give a brief sentence to let the world know what they are up to. It’s basically just the status update part of Facebook. But the fun part of Twitter is that you can follow anyone, and you don’t need to get permission. For instance, I am currently following Justin Timberlake, Jimmy Fallon, Tina Fey, and Chewbacca. Chewbacca mainly just says things like “Arggghhhhuuuurrr” and “Rrraaaagggeeuurrr”, but I can totally relate. (Um just so you don’t think that I have all sorts of time on my hands, I actually went to a small business seminar and they recommend that you connect yourself on all these social networking sites so that people can relate to you on a more personal level and they will feel like they know you personally when they shop your store. In theory that is great. But when I tweet about hooker boots and xanax somehow I feel like I might be taking a step in the wrong direction. Ooops.)
The thing I have the most trouble with right now is probably one of the most basic. My cell phone. My cell phone is probably far more advanced than I could ever possibly need. I use the phone for 4 things: making phone calls, taking pictures, an alarm clock (laugh now, but every Monday through Friday I get an obnoxious buzzing sound at 1:30 pm that reminds me I need to go and pick up my kids. Without it I’m sure I would be late 95% of the time) and texting. The fact that my phone has internet, GPS, and music playing capabilities is all beyond my capabilities.
The texting part is a still bit advanced for me. I am one of the few people on the planet that must text with proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation. So I am not very fast to say the least. And I am still learning all the texting lingo. For the longest time I thought LOL meant “Lord oh Lord”. (It’s far more fun than “laugh out loud” don’t you think?)
Well recently I have been turned on to WTF, which in texting lingo means “What the F.?” And I just love it. I have a whole “What the????” face and sound that I make every time I see it or type it. It is so much fun to just sort of wrinkle up your face, squint your eyes, and say “What the . . . .???” You don’t even need the swear word. I find myself thinking it all the time now. And I will often just give people (aka Paco) the “look” now. I don’t even say it. He totally knows my WTF face now. He even has his own version.
But it’s so much fun to throw it into everyday living.
“Honey, I made tacos for dinner.” WTF?? (Insert wrinkled face making the WTF look)
“Babe, the dog just puked up a green army man on the leather couch.” WTF???
“Mom, I’ve got skid marks.” WTF????
It’s my private little joke. And for some reason, I over-use it to such a point that I find it absolutely hysterical. (Yes, I know, I need to up my meds.)
I am slowly starting to learn the proper texting lingo, as I have had to ask my niece just about every time someone texts me something beyond my basic knowledge.
I will share some of the lingo that I have learned recently, and some that I have created because I think it is far more fun.
LMAO- laughing my ass off
ROFL – rolling on the floor laughing
LSHIS – laughing so hard I sharted (a shart is a moist fart that leaves behind
residue Mom. I know you will ask)
PM – peed myself
TNTSTK – trying not to strangle the kids
As I am starting to master the acronyms, I am now moving on to making the smiley faces and winky faces. I am quite proud that I recently learned how to make a heart! (The less than sign with the number 3)
I have even figured out how to twitter my status updates on my cell phone so that they automatically update on my Facebook page. WTF??? Yes, I agree that sounds very technologically advanced, and I am quite proud to say that I actually know what it all means. (Even if I did have to have somebody else show me how to do it.)
So, if you are tweeting, I’m JPwiczer. Follow me, and I’ll follow you. And if you have no idea what I am talking about, well that’s ok too. We all have to start somewhere.
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