Friday, July 31, 2009

Watch Out Superheros of the World - You've Got Competition

It’s my 100th post!

(As long as you don't count the contact me, profile, etc ones for the nav menu)


Sorry, it’s taken me a whole week to post something new, but I was hoping something extraordinarily funny would happen this week to write about. But it didn’t so I’ve got to reach back into the archives of my brain.

Watch out folks, the dust could choke a small child and send all you allergy types to the hospital for a breathing treatment. I didn’t have to reach back too far, it’s just that I don't like to use my brain all that often.

Back in April, I told you all about the Pleasantville Beer Tasting event. Lots of fun, but last year’s was even better.

In case you’re too lazy to click back to my prior post, I’ll give you a quick run down on how the beer tasting event works:

  1. You pay to get a card listing 20 beers. The card has the name of the beer, country of origin, and a brief description.

  2. You get a 3 ounce cup of each beer (we opted to get 2-4 at a time – you don’t want it to get warm) and the distributors put an “X” through the box to the left of the beer name. You’re only allowed one taste of each unless you’re a pretty good flirt, or you know the people distributing the beer (I had both these things going for me)

  3. The event is 2 hours long.



Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh (that’s the sound of time going backwards). Ah, we’ve reached Summer 2008, night of the first Pleasantville Beer Tasting event Hubby & I attended, near the site of the first fill-your-beer-tasting-card-first contest.

We filled our cards within two hours. Hubby claimed I cheated because I gave away some of the nastier tasting beers. Not that it mattered, he filled his card first. There wasn’t Moose Drool on the list, but some of it tasted like gutter water.

Using my flirting skills I scored myself an entire bottle of some beer from Brazil – I remember it being the best one. This was after consuming more than the equivalent of a six pack (considering I gave some away) in two hours.

Then, our friends Ken & Barbie knew one of the distributors, and they had extra bottles of beer left over. Scored another beer or two here as well. It was no Brazilian beer, but at that point the taste buds are so numb, who cares?

Hubby and I stumbled over to the amphitheatre to “watch” the band. The amphitheatre was only a block away, but we felt the need to wheel our bikes over because we didn’t want to leave them at the Wine Bar (where the beer tasting event took place – weird, I know). I kept bumping them on the pedals so my shins were bruised all to hell the next day.

We parked our bikes at the top of the amphitheatre and plopped down on a bench. I saw a friend about 20 yards away and told Hubby I’d be “right back” because I wanted to talk to her. If any of you have ever read my post about breaking and entering, you would know that I NEVER come “right back”. After 15 minutes, Hubby came stumbling over and hung out with the guys.

Someone offered him a bottle of beer.

Why would you do that? He could barely stand up as it was.

By this time, I had started sobering up. While Hubby doesn’t remember this, I remember it very clearly.

Hubby came running (in a weaving, stumbling kind of way) with the most excited look on this face (kind of like his proud I-ate-half-a-watermelon smile).

“I bent glass! Look, I bent glass!”

He turned around and repeated this to anyone standing nearby and shoving the beer bottle in their face to show them the bent neck.

This continued for about five minutes as he made his way around to everyone standing in a 10 foot radius.

Someone finally pointed out he was holding an aluminum bottle.

He had tried to twist off the cap (aluminum bottles are not twist offs) and ended up bending the neck of the bottle.

Silver Lining:

  1. I had sobered up enough to remember this proud moment.

  2. While Hubby doesn’t remember, I’ve got witnesses.

  3. Just like this year, we rode our bikes so there was no driving involved. Unlike this year, we had to walk the babysitter home (we didn’t even want to drive around the block).


PS – While we felt the need to move the bikes a block to the amphitheatre, we didn’t feel the need to move them over by our friends. The bikes were completely obscured from view because of all the people there. Good thing we live where we do. They were still there later, and they weren’t even locked up.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Fruit Salad, Yummy, Yummy

Ha, ha - I can see you all bobbing your heads to that high quality Wiggles song. Well, I can't really see you, but I still know you're doing it.

Anyway, we LOVE fruit salad. It's not the kind your Aunt Matilda used to make with all the corn syrup, way too many canned peach slices, and was just plain slimy. No, we make ours with grapes (green & red), pineapple, strawberries, watermelon, apples, bananas, and sometimes oranges.

Hubby was in charge of getting eggs and bread. He came home with five hundred bags of stuff - that's a lot of bread. My we-can't-be-blowing-money-at-the-grocery-store-just-because-it-looked-good face changed very quickly once I realized the makings for fruit salad made up some of those bags.

My kids recognize the ingredients as well. Apparently, we weren't moving fast enough on cutting up fruit because Stinkles reached up and rolled the watermelon right off the counter; thus, splitting it in half. She was just kick starting the process, I guess.

After letting the split watermelon sit on the counter for 1/2 hour (just long enough to make a watery mess requiring at least ten Bounty paper towels to clean up), Hubby cut up one half for the fruit salad. We only needed half, and Hubby made a comment about just cutting up the rest and sticking it in the fridge.

I said, "Or you could just get a spoon."

I WAS KIDDING!

Next thing I know, he's grabbed a spoon and the salt shaker, plunked his a** in a chair, and proceeded to eat the other half while watching Grease.

Take a quick detour with me for a second. What's up with salt on watermelon? This is the goofiest thing I've ever heard of - sounds like a great way to screw up a good watermelon. Although Hubby doesn't understand putting cheese on everything either. I guess we're even.

Does anyone find it amusing my husband was watching Grease? I do.

So there he is enjoying every morsel of his watermelon and its salty goodness, when he asks Cupie to bring him a fork. I raised an eyebrow.

"What? I need something with a little more bite. The watermelon kind of slides around on the spoon, and I can't get my usual Hubby-sized (aka fist sized) bites in my mouth." It seems the watermelon kept slipping off the spoon and landing in the "bowl".

Cupie was more than willing to help him out. I'm sure she was hoping to get the spoon.

Eventually, the juice started getting in the way. He couldn't see the bottom of the proverbial bowl to be sure he was gouging out the red part instead of the white part. Also, the juice was becoming a potential hazard. According to Bill Cosby, salty juice in the eye could blind you for life (or was that soap?). Not to mention the damage I'd inflict on him due to spilling juice on the furniture and/or carpet.

A solution was conceived!

No, it did not involve dumping the juice in a sink.

It involved a straw.

Cupie ran to get one. This time she "benefited" from this action. Hubby was so generous, he let her drink the juice using the straw. Yum, salty, nearly tasteless watermelon juice. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

She did come back for seconds and thirds. The third time, she exclaimed, "Oh yay! There's more juice!" Sad.

As "Hopelessly Devoted To You" was almost over, Hubby finished the watermelon and was very sad about the whole thing. I think the whole event is just plain sad.


Silver Lining:

1. I didn't have room in the refrigerator for an extra container of watermelon. Hubby solved that problem - he's just so full of solutions isn't he?

2. Fruit salad - need I say more.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Who Is This Idiot - Blog Hop '09



I know there are lots of you ladies out there who are sad that you didn't get to go to Chicago for Blogher '09. However, I've found an alternative - an online party/networking dealio!

Even if you're not into the whole "Blogher" thing, you can meet new bloggers, and attract some new readers too.

So here's what you do:

Click the picture above to get the rules, put a link in your side bar & write a post telling people a little bit about you!

Have fun!

OK, here's what you "need" to know about me:

  • I'm married to Hubby - almost 10 years now!

  • I have two beautiful daughters - Cupie & Stinkles

  • I live an idealic town I call Pleasantville. It's super cute! There are lots of amenities and entertainment within walking distance. We can ride our bikes to an organic farm where they have live animals & crops. Most of the houses have front wide, deep front porches - but even if you don't have a porch we're all super friendly.

  • My family rents a garden plot at the organic farm. We can't use any chemicals and almost everything was started from organic seeds. It's a slow process and we're learning a lot. I chronicle some of it in one of my other blogs - The Goofy Gardener.

  • Speaking of which, besides this and my gardening blogs, I have one more. I have a passion for photography and I share it in Picture This . . .

  • I crochet baby blankets and knit scarves.

  • I'm really quite a DIY'er. I've made all my curtains for every home I've ever had. When I see something I really like, but can't afford, I figure out a way to either make it myself or find a frugal alternative. I'm not too shabby with a jig saw and a drill either.

  • I love to laugh and I see the good in almost every situation. Let's face it, I'm funny and I'll give you a chuckle at least a couple times a week. I crave attention and comments just feed that need so I'm looking forward to making a bunch of new people laugh.

That's just a few of the facts about me, but there is so much more. You'll just have to comb through "The Idiot Chronicles" to find out more. I've made it a little easy on you by listing my favorite posts in the sidebar.

Now go out there and meet some new people. Click the button at the top!

Silver Lining:

1. I enjoy finding new blogs to read and this is a great opportunity!

2. At least I know about Blogher now - I learned about it too late to join in the fun. Maybe next year!

First Dear So and So "Letters"

Dear So and So...


Dear So and So is hosted by Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow for Let in Crazytown. Here's my first set of letters:


Dear Mother Nature,

Have you been sleeping? Are you just hitting the snooze button instead of getting up and changing the season over to summer?

Or did someone send you a letter saying that they didn't believe in you so you've totally left Pleasantville without a summer? Don't tell me we're going to have to build a clock that chimes:



Seriously, it was only 70 some degrees the other night. My kids had to wear jackets! Where is the usual almost 100, humid as a rain forest July weather.

You don't have to return with a vengeance. I'm thinking mid 80's would be good. At least we could use the pool we pay a zillion dollars for each year as part of the HOA.

Thanks in advance for dropping in,
TLI


Dear Hubby,

When we eat dinner outside on a July evening that leaves you so cold, you have to huddle under a blanket because you "just can't seem to warm up," don't ask me to get you a brown thing (aka fudgicle) out of the freezer. Hello!

Love you tons anyway,
M


Dear Follower Who Stopped Following,

I hope I didn't offend you. I'd rather have someone call me on going over the line by contacting me via e-mail (there's a contact button in the nav bar) instead of just dropping out. At least let me apologize. You kind of hurt my feelings.

Sincerely,
TLI


Dear Faithful, Loyal, Awesome, Wouldn't-Let-Me-Down Readers,

I'm falling behind a bit in my quest to be number one on the Blogs in Babeland top ten. I know it's a top ten list, but my pride is on the line here. If you haven't already, please click the red button to get to the poll, and vote for me. If you've already voted for me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Groveling shamelessly,
TLI


Dear Mascara Marketers,

FYI - Nothing short of fake eye lashes is going to make my eyes look like the model's in your ads. Quit claiming your want makes a difference. Also, I'm sure I'm wiggling my want just fine without paying double to get one that does it for me.

Just going to buy the cheap stuff from now on,
TLI


Silver Lining:
1. It feels good to get some of this off my chest.
2. After that letter to Mother Nature, maybe we'll get some warmer weather here.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Anyone for Pizza?

I didn’t bring my lunch today, nor did I feel like going out. The food drawer at my cube is also empty seeing as how I ate my last pop tart for lunch yesterday. A friend of mine regularly plays trivia in the lunch room so I decided to take my chances with the wheel of death and play a little trivia.

The wheel of death is a vending machine that contains “fresh-ish” lunch type food – salads, sandwiches, square pizza, etc. It’s a frustrating machine.

Sometimes it takes your money, but doesn’t let you open the compartment door.

Sometimes I rotate the food I want to the door, but the machine decides otherwise and will spontaneously turn to some other random compartment (which is usually empty).

Other times, the dang door doesn’t open far enough. I got a salad last week and the door opened about four inches when there was a seven or eight inch salad container to get out.

That sucker was $2.75, there was no way I was letting that door close. The compartment was giving birth to the salad whether it wanted to or not. I yanked it out, slapped it’s bottom, and heard that newborn salad cry as I pulled off the crinkled-up lid.

Today, I decided to go for the square, elementary school pizza. When you put it in the microwave it gets all chewy. I decided I should give the toaster oven a whirl.

I’ve never used a toaster oven in my life.

And there were no instructions near by.

There was a button for pizza. Duh, let’s push that one.

Gee whiz! It started blinking at me. I stared back at it with a blank look on my face. Now what?

Another friend happened to be in the kitchen and came over to help. He had never used it before either, but he was kind enough to point out the “start” button.

I pushed the start button. A blue light came on, but the display continued to blink at me. So I pushed the start button again.

Everything turned off.

Like an idiot I went through this routine three more times. I finally let it blink just to see what happened.

Lo and behold, it started to warm up!

It continued to blink until it hit a desired temperature of 400 degrees, then switched over to timer mode. 20 minutes!!! I don’t cook a frozen pizza at home for that amount of time! It was at this point I realized we had frozen pizza for dinner last night. And my mother-in-law was bringing pizza over for dinner tonight. *sigh*

I pulled open the door after five minutes (the cheese was bubbling) and discovered there weren’t any pot holders or oven mitts around. It was 400 degrees, how the heck was I going to get it out of there?

I got a fork to slide it out onto a plate, but it was stuck to the little pan.

After I singed my knuckle, trying to work a plastic knife between the pizza and the pan, I got a wad of napkins to use as a pot holder.

By the time I extracted my pizza from the pan, the whole dealio had cooled off enough to use my hands. I made my way over to the trivia group, picked up my pizza, and discovered it was chewy.

Next time, I’ll just microwave it.

Silver Lining:

1. The pizza must have been somewhat fresh or I cooked it long enough because I haven’t shown any signs of food poisoning yet.

2. I won’t be craving pizza anytime soon. That’s better for the diet that I re-start every day because I failed the day before.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Bunco - RTT Edition

randomtuesday




Random Thoughts Tuesday. Hmmm, this seems like a good time to get out all the Bunco stories I’ve got rambling around in my brain, but haven’t had a way to bring them together in a coherent story. Thanks Kat (3 Bedroom Bungalow to Let in Crazytown) for turning me on to this.


If anyone else wants to join in, click the button above to get to Keely's blog for all the "rules" and to grab your own button.

In case you don’t know what Bunco is, it’s a dice game requiring twelve players. I belong to two different groups – one with mostly ladies from church and the other with my Pleasantville neighbors. Bunco has been referred to as “Drunco” because, let’s be honest, you get twelve women together without kids & husbands, alcohol will be involved.

Also, don’t think the church group is different from the Pleasantville group. They can get just as loud and raunchy as any other group. For this reason, I don’t feel like I actually have to differenciate between the two for any of these random thoughts – you can make up your own vision.

I have another post about Bunco. To get a little more understanding, you can read it here.

Anywho, here we go.

Misty has these “Native American Story Teller” dolls littering her family room. I didn’t think the one's she had looked as much like Native Americans as I thought they looked like those Russian nesting dolls, but that doesn’t matter. So these dolls sit there with their mouths open holding babies. Apparently, the more babies these dolls are holding, the more valuable they are – what a scam, you could just glue as many babies on as you wanted to make more money. Their mouths are open because they are supposed to be telling a story, but I gotta say, I don’t know if they are telling stories or offering blow jobs – they totally got their “O” face going on. Maybe this is how they get so many babies.

One gal carries a vibrator around in her car, just so she can say that she does. You never know. It may come in handy when there is an extra long light, or an accident that totally shuts down the highway.

There is a lot of counting in Bunko – adding is not allowed. Do you know how hard it is to add 2+5 after two or three hours of drinking margaritas? When we roll the dice (there are three), we count out the points (just go with it & don’t ask questions):

Roll 1: One
Roll 2: Two-tree (two points here – it’s a U.P./Northern WI thing – it’s always “Two-tree”)
Roll 3: That’s it

“That’s it” is a common phrase.

Why we feel the need to announce, “That’s it,” when we don’t score any points is a mystery really. Everyone at the table can see that, duh!

It’s like playing Poker and losing all your money. “Well, guys I’m out of chips, I guess I’m out of the game.” Really? You think the guy next to you with all your money isn’t thinking, “Ha, ha sucker – that’s because it’s all riiiiiight here.”

Also, after a few drinks just reading the dice can be difficult.

One night, Dusty rolled a 4, 5, 6 and the target number was three. When we said, “That’s it,” she got all up in arms. Dusty said, “Well, it was close to a three.” Hmmm, 4-5-6, yah that’s close.

And finally for this Random Tuesday Thoughts Bunco Edition, the bean dip at the last Bunco night was so delicious we gobbled it up with everything. It was like cheese to a Wisconsinite (cheese goes with everything to us). We had the dip on top of nachos, with the tortillas, just chips themselves, strawberry shortcake, Reese’s Peanut Buttercup cookies, margaritas. Nothing was too sacred for the bean dip – it’s the whore of dips.

Silver Lining:

1. I’ve got several more score sheets with notes to fill a book – although some of the notes, I’m not sure I understand anymore. Remember, they were taken under the influence.

2. Bunco isn’t going to end anytime soon. There will be more stories.

PS – If you like me. If you really, really like me, please click on the red button in my side bar. Vote for Life Makes Me Laugh for the top ten Babes in Blogland. You don’t even have to really like me, you can just sorta like me – I’ll take the vote anyway.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

I'm a Babe!

Do you remember that movie Airplane?

You know, the one with Leslie Neilson and that awesome speech his character (Rumack) gave to Ted Striker? The speech went something like this:

Well, I don't have anything to say, you've done the best you could. You really have, the best you could. You can't expect to win em all. But, I want to tell you something I've kept to myself through these years. I was in the war myself, medical corps. I was on late duty one night when they brought in a badly wounded pilot from one of the raids. He could barely talk. He looked at me and said, "The odds were against us up there, but we went in anyway, I'm glad the Captain made the right decision." The pilot's name was George Zip. The last thing he said to me, "Doc," he said, "some time when the crew is up against it, and the breaks are beating the boys, tell them to get out there and give it all they got and win just one for the Zipper."

Well, here's your chance to "win one for the Zipper."

There is a contest to name the top ten blogs amongst the Babes in Blogland. Being a delicious babe myself, I think I am definately one of the top ten - if not number one :)

It's up to you, my loyal readers, to place a vote for me. See that cute little red picture that says, "VOTE FOR ME" above it? I'll give you a minute.

Yes, that's the one.

Now click it, and "Life Makes Me Laugh" is the sixth one on the list.

Please, oh please take a moment to vote for me!!

The contest closes on August 20th, but don't worry I'll keep reminding you with every post (I'm just annoying that way).


Silver Lining:

1. I've already got one vote! Nevermind that it was me voting for myself - I'm just being honest here.

2. I have all of you wonderful, faithful, loyal, reliable, wouldn't-leave-me-hangin' readers.

"Just want to tell you folks good luck, we're all counting on you."
Well, I'm counting on you. Thanks for not letting me down. No pressure or anything.

Friday, July 17, 2009

I Hear Voices

My parents live 500 miles away from me, and 99% of the time they are not in the room with me and my kids. To this end, I don’t understand why I keep hearing their voices when I’m yelling at my kids.


This happens any time I hear the following phrases:

Turn that down.

Don’t make me come over there.


Grouschmockit! (This means move it)

Put your shoes away.

I’m sick & tired . . .

Do you want me to turn this car around?

Stop that crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.

Because I said so.

Turn off some of these lights, the house is lit up like a Polish chapel.

I’m on the phone!



One time I was on the phone with The Mom, when I heard the phone phrase. I said, “Did you just say that?”

She said, “No, honey. That was you”

Then it hit me. Oh, crap! I’ve turned into my parents.

Silver lining:

1. Sissy & I aren’t too screwed up so I guess I’m not scarring the kids for life with these phrases.

2. Grouschmockit is actually endearing. This one has been in the family for generations. I’d heard both my grandma & great-grandma use it. I don’t know how to actually spell it or what language it is – my guess is either German or Russian.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Favorite Game

What was the first body part your child was able to identify?

Probably their nose, eyes, mouth or belly button, right?

Not my kids.

They are both extremely ticklish in their armpits. Since my favorite sound is my children's laughter, their armpits get tickled a lot.

Early on, one of our favorite games with them was, "Where's Your Armpit?"

As a result, the first body part they were able to identify was their armpits.

Wow, aren't I a great parent?

Silver Lining:
1. It's still a fun "game" we play. And they willingly raise their arms. Too funny.
2. The game always ends with snuggles, and that's just awesome.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Good Grief!

What a morning!

What’s the first thing you do when you get to work?

Beside quickly flipping on the lights, radio & signing in to my computer, I need COFFEE!!!

So, I pick up my cup (the kind with a lid) and head over to the mini kitchen to make my poor man’s Starbuck’s cup of coffee. But first I need to clean out my cup. This is a morning ritual because I just don’t get to it the day before.

I pull off the lid and scrub everything up real well. Then, I grab some paper towels to dry it all off. Even the inside, which I know doesn’t make sense because I’m just going to pour coffee in it.

I proceed to add six sugar substitutes (Splenda is preferred, but work is too cheap), an entire packet of sugar free hot cocoa, powdered creamer (not measured by any means, just pour for a second or two), and finally the coffee goes in. If I’m lucky, my friend Demi will have saved a bit of her cereal milk to top it off. I don’t know what this combo would be called or what it would cost at Starbuck’s, but I get it free at work. HA, HA all you Starbuck’s suckers!

I went to put the lid on the cup and it set in the top way to easily. The little rubber ring was missing!!! You know, that ring that prevents the beverage from dribbling down your shirt.

Crap, what happened to it?

I looked at the floor – nothing but a bunch of paper towel scraps. How hard is it to pick those up people? Never mind the fact that I didn’t pick them up either – I was too busy stressing over the missing rubber ring.

I looked in the sink – not there. Sweat was starting to form on my brow.

Was it in the disposal [Cue the Psycho stabbing scene music]?

I used a plastic knife to push back the black thingy that prevents the food from flying out when you start it up.

Ewwww! There were pieces of chicken in there!

If I was sticking my hand in there, I had to know exactly where the rubber ring was. I needed a flashlight. Fortunately, being the stuff queen, there was one in my purse.

Rush to the desk.

Rush to the mini kitchen.

Rushing was good for the moment because the wind dried up that sweaty brow.

Me and my handy-dandy knife inspected the disposal using the flashlight. Geez, those things are wide. I couldn’t see all the way to the edges. I needed a wider view.

I started to pull the black thingy up, but the underside was covered in slime! ABORT! ABORT!

After washing my hands I looked despairingly around the kitchen. It’s got to be some place else and thought to myself, “Please oh please Magic Rubber Ring Fairy, make it appear. Make it rise up like the Great Pumpkin. To be sure I’ll see it, have the Hallelujah Choir sing loud and proud so I can turn in the right direction.”

Guess what? There is no Magic Rubber Ring Fairy. Dammit!

Dejected, I made my way back to my desk. I figured I’d drink the coffee without a lid and pray to God I didn’t tip the cup over. With the state of my desk, finding a secure place to set it down was a challenge. Not only did it have to be a place where it was unlikely to be tipped over, but it also had to be convenient. I can’t be turning around (I have a U-shaped cube) and reaching way over to the back of my desk for my coffee.

The optimist in me started laughing at the whole situation and I decided to write this blog entry. I had gotten three lines in (right up to the picking up the cup part), and [Bing!] a light bulb went off.

It had to be in the trash. I hadn’t been sitting here very long and I had mostly been the only person in the mini kitchen during this saga so it should be near the top right?

Nope.

In the five minutes I had left the kitchen, someone had come in and made a new pot of coffee. I had to dig past the coffee filter & grounds plus all the paper towels I had used in my garbage disposal quest.

Woot! Woot! There it was!!!

I washed that baby, got it on my lid and guzzled the coffee. Now, I need another cup. I just may skip back to the mini kitchen.


Silver Lining:

1. Duh, I found the ring!

2. There were powdered donettes – five seemed like a good consolation prize for my efforts.

3. I managed to accomplish all this activity without an ounce of caffeine in my body. That’s a major feat. My boss doesn’t even ask me to do things without making sure I’ve had a cup of coffee first – he knows better. That’s what makes him so great. I might just get him a card for Boss’s Day this year.

I've Got Boobs

Recently, I was getting dressed and happened to drop my bra right in front of my three-year-old, Stinkles.

She cupped by boobs and said, "What are these Mommy?" As if the question weren't weird enough, her hands cupping my boobs was just plain uncomfortable.

We've never had any of these conversations in our house because they've never asked.

I bit the bullet, and said, "They're boobs, Honey."

She excitedly pulled up her shirt and said, "I've got boobs too!"

Now she looks at everyone and asks to see their boobs or wants to show off her own.

We've explained that boobs are a private area, but modesty has completely escaped her.


Silver lining:

1. She's only three so it's cute now. We won't find it so cute when she's sixteen though.

2. That first private body parts conversation wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

4th of July 2009


We've had some seriously weird weather here in Pleasantville. Normally, the 4th of July is hot as Hades with a humidity level that rivals the tropics. No amount of de-frizzer is going to save your 'do.

The weekend was looking unbelievably good - 80-some degrees all weekend with a good chance of rain Saturday morning. I swore it was an April Fool's joke, but the applicable grace period for that expired at midnight on April 2nd.

For once, the weather guys were right. It rained (a lot) Saturday morning, but went to mostly cloudy for the afternoon & evening with a few sprinkles here and there. The temperature was awesome, but we ended up with the standard level of humidity - I know Hubby had to change his shirt once because I was soaked with sweat just from being outside.

We headed over to the block party around six-ish and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. All the neighbors had contributed with food of some sort (what's a party without too much food) plus cash for a band and the BIG fireworks.


The kids got to play with water balloons.


And sparklers.



And ate sugary food (heaven forbid they put something healthy, like a hot dog, in their mouths).

We partied with the band right up to fireworks time.

Like I said, we all chipped in for the big stuff. It was a good show.
I didn't time it, but it was at least half an hour.

Then, the party was over. The monsoon had arrived.

Oh well, what's an Island Block Party without a little rain (we had rain for the block party last year too)?

Silver Lining:

1. The humidity didn't hamper our enthusiasm.

2. The rain came right after the fireworks.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Do the Marketing People Laugh to Themselves When They Come Up With This Stuff?

So, I was at Target the other night because I needed to pick up a couple of prescriptions. Hubby was kind enough to keep the kids at home so I just had to walk the aisles – I couldn’t help myself. Sad, that I see going to Target without kids as an escape, a luxury, if you will.

Once I got home and unloaded my purchases, I observed the following oddball information on the product tags:


  • I got an awesome insulated bag. It’s just the right size to lay at least six bottles of beer on their side & zip it up. This is important because we live in a community where people regularly carouse the streets & impromptu gatherings occur. You need the bag just in case. Of course it would be better if I could find one where the bottles (we don’t do cans, we’re bottle snobs) stood upright, but this will do.

    Here’s the tag on the outside of the bag. I didn’t actually read the tag at the store. I saw the size & that it was insulated. I didn’t care what it was intended for.



    Since I already had beer on my mind, I thought the fact that I could have a lunch of eight beers was very intriguing. Really, how many times have you thought, “I need a drink” at lunch time? While eight beers might be excessive for one (depends on how badly the day was going), you could find some other poor soul & share.


  • Still on the bag. Check out the tag on the inside.



    California Innovations, based in Toronto Canada, but made in China. I just found this to be quite humorous. I wonder what the guy developing the tag thought.

    Hmmm, I’m representing three countries on this tag. I wonder how many more I can get. [imagine phone dialing] Hey, Tom, are you sure this 8 Can Lunch Bag was exclusively made in China? Were there any other countries involved? Did it stop in Australia when it was shipped over here? [pause] It has an Arctic Zone tag on it. How about the Arctic, did it go there at all? [more pausing] OK, thanks (in a deflated tone). [phone hangs up] Darn it, I’ll just have to leave all this extra white space. Would have been cool to include Australia.


  • Then, there was the toilet bowl cleaner.



    Huh? Kills the flu virus?

    I’m sorry, I never thought about catching the flu from a toilet bowl. Does the flu virus travel via human waste? I’m not touching, let alone drinking toilet water so why should this be of importance? I guess if you flush while still sitting, some vapor water could splash up onto your butt. Does the flu some how work its way in from there? After you flush, are you rubbing your butt? Aren’t you washing your hands?

    I think “Kills the flu virus” is a stupid claim.


  • Finally, I went to McDonald’s before shopping.



    Iced Mocha – served hot or cold. Wouldn’t it just be a mocha if it were served hot? Enough said.
Silver Lining:

  1. Shopping alone – definitely nice.

  2. Along with all the other stuff I bought, I managed to remember the original purpose of the trip (prescriptions). I hate it when I leave a store, get half way home, & then remember that I was supposed to get X, which is why I made the trek out of “the compound” – Pleasantville has almost everything you need on a given day including entertainment so you generally don’t have to leave except for that whole work thing and the occasional trip to Target.

  3. I’m not going to get the flu from my toilet anytime soon.

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