Monthly Archives: October 2011

Sometimes You Meet the Most Interesting People…

…in the most unlikely of places…

I live in N. Texas.

I was raised in St. Louis.

I love baseball. Specifically, Cardinal baseball.

Last week was…umm…interesting, to say the least.

For those of you cave-dwellers who don’t know what I’m talking about; the Texas Rangers and St. Louis Cardinals played a little baseball last week.  Something called the World Series.

When you read this, we will know who won…but as I write this the deciding game is still hours away.

So this morning I had to go to both my local copy shop and craft store for work-related errands.  I’m wearing a bright red Cardinals baseball t-shirt.

The looks I got!  Wow, you’d think I was wearing an “I Heart Hitler” shirt or something the way some people viewed me with such disdain.

I was kinda getting a little annoyed at these bandwagon Ranger fans.  I mean, hell I’ve been a Cardinal fan almost since birth and we’ve already established that was a long, long time ago.

Anyway, the one bright spot was the kindly gentleman at the craft shop who helped me pick out framing for an item.

He jokingly told me it would take six weeks to get my picture back after ribbing me for being a Cardinal fan.  When I told him the picture was actually for my boss who is a Ranger fan, he said it would only take two weeks.

The funniest exchange, though, was not between he and I.  It happened as I was leaving the counter.  Up walked two young men, one wearing a Cubs shirt and the other a Boston Red Sox sweater.

Rangers fan behind the counter threw his hands up in the air and said, quite loudly, “Cubs? Sox?  Over there we’ve got a Cardinal just leaving! What is this, an invasion?  I’m tellin’ ya, this is RANGER country, boys!”

It was even funnier because the two guys walking up to the counter had not been part of our good-natured jesting, so they were completely confused by his reaction.

“Dude, all I wanted was this..”, the Cubs fan said as he handed a small tube to the Rangers fan, “that’s all…I don’t want no trouble.”

I had to hustle on out of there as I was trying to stifle a hearty guffaw.

To whichever team won, congratulations…unless it’s the Rangers and then I salute you.

Whaddayamean I’m a “sore loser”?  Huh? Huh?

 

Re-Tread? No… Re-Coil? No…

Re-cap…that’s it!

Time for the weekly recap.

Monday, Monday..just can’t trust that day. Of course, I couldn’t hear it if it called me on the  phone anyway. 

Tuesday rolled around and with it a fond memory.

On Wednesday something happened…but I forget.

I explained this wart on my nose on Thursday.

And on Friday the whole Internet made me proud.

Have a great weekend and see you back on Monday!

 

I’m So Proud Of You People

Yes, YOU…my fellow smart-asses.

It’s all about the bacon – and the snarkified hilarity is in the comments.

Little by little we are taking over the Internet.

I love it when a plan comes together.

With Age Comes….

…….the ability to totally mess with the minds of children and get away with it.

What?

You were expecting me to say something profound like, “With age comes wisdom.” weren’t you?

Let me tell you a little secret.

The true wisdom of aging is that you can get away with a lot more mischief and people chalk it up to your being on in years.

Ah, it’s truly sweet when embraced.

Truly sweet.

Case in point.

It was near Halloween a couple of years ago and I was standing in line at the pharmacy waiting to pick up  some medication.

That’s another truism about aging.  You spent half the time you have left waiting in line to pick up some drug that’s either going to make you feel drunk, nauseated or both.  Of course, without the drug you’d drop dead before morning, so there’s that.

Anyway, I was waiting in front of a harried young mother and her three *darling* little boys.  They had to be about aged 3-6 if I had to guess.

She had managed to get them all inside a shopping cart which can only mean one thing.

Total bedlam.

I can tune out the sounds, but when the bedlam includes kicking/punching me in the back repeatedly, well…I take exception to that.

I think harried mother might have done something if she had any strength left, but judging by her exhausted look I can honestly say that lifting a teacup would’ve been too much for her.

After the third or fourth whack upon my arthritic spine I turned around to face the little devils darlings.

“Oh NO!! SHE GOTS A WART ON HER NOSE!” , the youngest exclaimed as he looked at me wide-eyed.  The other two monsters cherubs stopped their fighting long enough to stare at my face gape-mouthed.

It’s true, I have a small wart on the side of my nose.  Been there all my life and little did I know it would ever be useful.

“How observant you are my dear,” I said in my best sing-songy-but-vaguely-terrifying voice, “I’m a witch and all witches have warts.”

“Oh, she’s not a wi—-“, Mom had begun to listen, but stopped mid-sentence as I shot her the look.

You know “the look”, the one that says “shut-yer-face-I’m-workin’-here”. 

That look.

“Yes, I am a witch and do you know what my specialty is?”

Three little heads shook in unison.

“I specialize in turning little boys who don’t listen to their mothers into toads.”

Three little mouths dropped open and the littlest gasped.  They all looked at Mom, but she had turned her head and I could see her shoulders shaking.

They thought she was crying, no doubt at the prospect of having to care for three toads.

I knew better.

I turned back around and didn’t hear a sound from the cart for the rest of our wait.

When I got my prescription I turned around to see three little sets of eyes still staring at me.

I raised a finger, they huddled together, and I pointed at them each one at a time.

“Remember me, because I will remember you.”

As I walked past their cart, Mom mouthed a silent “thank you” as the boys sat stock still afraid even to breathe.

I laughed long and hard over that one, and have since used it on my own grandkids.

It works because they are never really sure if I’m putting them on or not.

Who knows?

I do, after all, have that wart on my nose.  A true hallmark of any witch.

“I’ll get you my pretty…and your little dog too!”

 

 

Well, There’s Yer Trouble, Right There…

….I forgot about writing a post today…

Huh….

See, that’s what happens when you get old…like me…

Drusilla

A long time ago, in a galaxy far..far…away…

There lived a young maiden with cinnamon buns stuck to either side of her head who had a brother she didn’t know about yet, which led to a very awkward kiss when looked back at, and this brother ran around a sand-covered planet wearing only his pajamas because the dryer was broken and those were his only clean clothes and if you live in a virtual sandstorm and wash your clothes you’re not going to hang them outside to dry when your dryer is on the fritz, because what is the point…

…oh..wait….wrong story…

This one is much more riveting.

Much.

Or maybe not…you be the judge, but not too harshly.

Years ago I worked a middle-management job.  It was loads of fun. Oh yes, I not only got yelled at by the boss, but my underlings were always disgruntled about something.  One even going so far as to complain that while there were certainly enough Almond Joy bars in the vending machine, well, sometimes she just didn’t “feel like a nut…” and wanted Mounds, too.

The bright spot was my receptionist.  Her name is not important (meaning I don’t really recall), but for the sake of this story let’s just say her name was Drusilla.

She was a gem. Hard working, bright, funny and warm.  She and I hit it off right away. We both viewed the world through a decidedly skewed lens, which lent itself to much hilarity.

We worked in a high-rise office building and one Halloween she dressed as Wednesday from the Addams Family and I dressed up as a black cat – ears, tail, etc and painted on nose and whisker.  As we got into the elevator to ride down to the cafeteria for lunch we noticed the strange looks from the other riders.

I swear Dru was a dead-ringer for Wednesday.

Turning to “Wednesday” I said, “It is such a shame we weren’t allowed to dress up this year for Halloween.”

She replied, “I know…and frankly, I don’t understand it.  I’m more than a little disappointed and intend to speak to MaMa about perhaps doing something about it.”

We heard the collective sounds of feet shuffling towards the corner of the elevator and were barely able to contain the giggles until getting off.

The elevator was one of our favorite “playhouses” from then on.

Another ride was the scene for this one:

Me: So, what did the doctor say?

Dru: About?

Me: You know..the…um…you know.

Dru: (coughs..loudly) OH, that!  Yes, well the rash is nearly gone, but this cough…….

Me: Well, from now on, get all of your vaccines before going to Haiti.

Drusilla was also constantly barraged by irate customers on the phone.  One was a high-profile surgeon and he started screaming at her one day that he wanted to speak to the owner.  The owner was out of town and Dru kept trying to tell him that.  She’d get halfway through and he’d start cussing, so she’d hang up on him – something I’d given her orders to do anytime anyone got abusive.

On the last call, when she answered he screamed,  “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” 

Unable to control herself any longer, Dru replied, “I’m sorry, I thought you were just an asshole.  I guess you’re really an asshole with amnesia, in which case the owner is still out of town but before she gets back maybe you could find out who you are.”

I nearly peed myself laughing, but had a lot of explaining to do when the boss came back and found one of her highest paying clients was threatening to take his business elsewhere.  She finally came around and he never called to berate Drusilla again.

Eventually, the business grew to the point that they had to move to what would turn out to be a distance too far for me to commute every day.

Drusilla left, too, to attend school in Galveston.  She wanted to become a marine biologist in the worst way. Too bad she forgot about her incurable seasickness when she enrolled in college.  Two trips out to sea and that accounting degree was looking pretty good.

I Can’t Hear You!

I hate cell phones..and yet if I leave my house without mine I panic.

Maybe I should say that I hate cell phone reception/random call dropping.

This is a conversation I had last week with my youngest son (hereafter called YS) on not only my phone, but hubby’s as well.

*my phone rings – or rather plays the theme from “Halloween”*

YS: Hi Mom, I was just wond…grsl…slfla’…faower

Me: WHAT?

YS: I was just..glsla..afaofi..faoeur0..

Me: I CAN’T HEAR YOU! (as if my screaming into the phone would make it somehow easier for me to hear him)

YS: I’ll…. 

*call drops and hubby’s phone rings..or rather plays “Sweet Home Alabama”, he’s obviously not in the Halloween spirit..whatevs..*

Me: Hello?

YS:  Hi Mom…I just thought…saofiaof..aa;dfa;f;a..sauwua;…..

Me: I CAN’T HEAR YOU!

YS:  I SAID……

…..and the called dropped, again…..

*my phone rings…or rather…aw hell, just look up there*

Me: Hello?

YS:  Mom..I….a;dflajf;p8rua.a..afglafys ….fish

Me:  I get something about a “fish”.

YS: YES, I have a.a..aafafjhajf…do you…adf.afayf..aouyoat….

Me: You’re asking me about a fish, but I can’t make it out.  Why don’t you text me?

YS: O

*and the call dropped*

*hubby’s phone rings…blah, blah..*

Hubby: Hello?

YS: Dad, I just caught a 4-lb. blue cat and wondered if you guys wanted it.

Hubby: (asks me if I want it and I say “not unless he’s skinned and fileted it I don’t”)  Um…your mom says no unless you’ve cleaned it already.  You haven’t?  Okay…thanks anyway.

*hubby hangs up phone*

Me: So, that’s what he’s been trying to tell me for the last ten minutes??

Hubby: (shrugs) I guess.

Me:  Here I thought there was some major crisis since he kept calling and calling.  Usually, he’ll just send a text if it’s not important. He scared me half to death…over a fish??

Hubby: I guess it was important…to him.

Me: I hate cell phones.

Curse you Alexander Graham Bell!!

 

Look What You Missed!

An entire week’s worth of crapola right here!

Monday I yakked about blondes.

On Tuesday I told you about my brush with pirates…aarrrrr!

Wednesday…what was I doing?  Oh yes, I shared something you never see on the Internet.

Thursday I gave you my version of end times..or maybe it was just a three-day bender.

Friday…ahh…sweet Friday…and the sad end to Romy and Michelle’s Post-It invention.

Which brings us to today, Saturday, the day when I try to come up with something clever to draw you in and keep you coming back for more.

Or, I just re-post shit I’ve already posted.

One of those.

 

This is Why…….

……..you shouldn’t leave your post-its unattended……….

I’ll bet Romy and Michelle never thought their little sticky note invention would lead to art.

 

Imploded Eardrums! Dogs and Cats Living Together! Mass Hysteria!

I went to see my asthma doctor for a regular check-up on Tuesday.  I do this twice a year and it’s usually a routine check of lung function, adjusting of medications (if needed) and a pat on the head sending me on my way…sometimes, I get a stamp on my hand but that’s only if I grab one out of the kiddie basket as I’m waiting to pay for the pleasure of the doctor’s company and do it myself. 

This time, though, it was a bit different. I’d been awakened, last weekend, by an extremely painful  stabbity, shooting, throbbing pain in my left ear.   The accompanying dizziness and nausea was just an added bonus.   I get these from time to time and had always assumed my ear was irritated or infected or just pissed off,  so I’d put these drops in it – the ones you use for swimmer’s ear – and the pain would go away.

Yeah, well all did not go according to plan this time and after two days of the incessant pain and dizziness I was ready to kill somebody. 

I knew about the doctor’s appointment so I figured I could hold out till then to see if she could check it out and maybe give me something for it.

She looked at my right ear and it was good.

She looked at my throat and it was good.

She looked up my nose and it was good.

She looked at my left ear and it was…not so good.

My first clue that it was not so good was her…”Huh” comment.

“Huh” comments by doctors rank right up there, for me, with “Well” and “Oops”.  They’re not as bad as the “I’ve NEVER seen that before”, but still they usually set my teeth on edge.

“What?” I asked in response to her “Huh”.

“It’s your eardrum. It’s retracted a bit.”

“It’s what?”

“You know how an umbrella will turn inside out whenever the wind creates a vacuum above it?”

*I’m now picturing an umbrella stabbing my eardrum and no longer wondering about the intense pain..it has been explained, I have an umbrella in my ear*

“Yeah.”

“Well, your Eustachian tube – that’s the tube that runs down the side of your neck and connects to the inside of your eardrum – it’s got fluid in it and creating this vacuum which, in turn, is causing your eardrum to retract.”

“Why?”

“Your nose.”

*now it was my turn to say “huh”, but in a more question-y way*

 “Excessive drainage from the nose and/or sinuses into the tubes will cause this.”

“But my nose is clear.”

“Yes, because it’s all running down the back side and into the Eustachian tube.”

“So, how do we fix this?”

“Sudafed.”

“Really?”

“Yep, take the Sudafed to clear the fluid from your nose and your ear will feel better.”

“Will the eardrum go back to the correct position?”

“Maybe.”

*Maybe? Maybe? Sigh…awesome*

So, I am taking the Sudafed and still feel like I’m drunk…only drunk’s more fun…and my ear hurts, but not as much.

I have no idea when, or if, I’ll stop feeling like I’ve been on a three-day bender, but I hope it’s soon.  The cat’s beginning to look at me very strangely…it’s like he thinks I’m going to topple over on him if he gets too close.

Whatevs..cat.

You try walking around with an umbrella stabbing you in the ear and see how well you handle it.