Sorry for the posting lag; we were out of town for the weekend. I tried to post something during our trip out on Friday, but something went wrong with my Wordpress app and, as far as I know, it’s still in limbo, trying to decide whether to post my entry. Believe me, I was metaphorically throwing myself around the car in frustration.
However, we have been back for a few hours now, and already I have had to issue the following directive: “Everyone’s butt is their own private part!! If you have a butt, keep it to yourself and leave everyone else’s butts alone!!!” Now I’m wondering if my neighbor, who is outside in her yard, heard me. (Answer: of course she did.)
Anyway: here– for your Sunday afternoon enjoyment and because it’s one of my Top Ten Favorite Songs– is Sir Mix a Lot with “I Like Big Butts.” I just sat and watched this all the way through, and I want to know: who was in charge of finding all the ass-shaped produce??
As we were getting out the bread machine to make pizza dough (the only thing I ever use my bread machine for, by the way), Addie J took one look at the bag of flour and spontaneously created a haiku:
To quote my husband: Facebook is not your secret diary. If you post it, someone will read it. That’s how your cousin found out you think she looked fat last weekend, and how your friend knows that you can’t stand her bratty daughter. You know how that guy you hardly know saw you at the grocery store, and he asked you if the cranberry juice was for your bladder infection? It’s because he read about it on your wall. Remember when your boss “somehow” found out you played hooky all afternoon instead of going to that seminar? It’s because he read it on your wall. Please– take 5 seconds and think before you hit “Post.” You’ll thank me when your mother is NOT asking you what “walk of shame” means.
First I went for a run, giving myself a super-red face which will not go away for at least an hour. Then I took a shower and put on my ancient, ancient, ugly sweatshirt with the holes in the cuffs, plus some mismatched pajama pants. I may or may not have been wearing a bra (SPOILER ALERT: no). I took out my contacts, put on my glasses, tucked my hair behind my ears which makes it look like a mullet, came down the stairs….. and answered the door to my neighbor and her son, who was selling popcorn for Boy Scouts.
I have come to realize that my neighbors rarely see me looking poised and groomed.
Addie J is currently watching an episode of “Dora the Explorer” complete with her baby brother and sister, the Super Babies. Dave just walked through the family room, looked at the television, and said, “Those Super Babies look like they have problems, ” and walked out again, quoting There’s Something About Mary: “Exceptional, my ass!!”
I’ve mentioned before that Cammy’s Zune isn’t working properly. Well, we just got it less than a year ago, so it’s still under warranty. The problem was that we couldn’t find the original order number. Dave called the Repairs Department at Microsoft with the serial number, hoping that would be enough: “Sorry sir, we need the original order number.” So he called the regular help line and asked them to look it up under our name: “Sorry sir, we can’t find it for you.” He tried the serial number: “Sorry sir, there’s no way for us to look that up.” He retrieved the date of the charge on our credit card: “Sorry, sir.”
So he hung up, thought for a minute, then called back. This time, he told them he had ordered a Zune and his card was charged all these months ago, but he never received it. The response? ”Well, sir, our records show that order number XXXXX was shipped to you on this date and signed for by you.”
I have hated Bendaroos since I first lay eyes on them. My feeling is, when you really look at them, they are useless as a toy and pretty crappy as a craft item– what kid really wants to decorate their freaking bedroom lampshade!?!? True, some of the projects they show on the commercial look cute– but who do you think would wind up making them? My kids would spend about 10 minutes on it, have trouble getting the Bendaroos to stick, and go their merry way while I sat at the kitchen table for two hours, trying to make the stupid 7-Up Bottle Hula Girl.
Today, my niece Sophia found the Bendaroos that my sister-in-law had hidden away, and made this “rainbow shark” with them. She also uncovered the dirty secret of Bendaroos– they leave a disgusting residue on everything. Of course, right??? Frigging Bendaroos. I put them in the same category as Moon Sand: Stupid Toys That Come Out For Christmas That Aren’t A Tenth As Fun As Their Commercials Make Them Seem, That Your Kids Must Have, That Turn Out To Make A Mess and That You Wind Up Hating With a Fiery Passion.
When possible, Gabby likes to make her own lunch. She especially enjoys using super-odd combinations, like American cheese and a sugar cone, for example. So the other day she was putting together one of her patented combos; I looked over and saw that her plate held Cinnamon Toast Crunch, cherry tomatoes and a small puddle of chocolate syrup. For some reason, this particular odd combo tipped the scales for me and I said, “Gabs– you cannot eat that for lunch.” “But you said I could pick it!!” she wailed, getting more and more vehement. Finally, exesperated, I said, “Gabby!! I told you no!! That is not a healthy lunch.” I opened the fridge and muttered to myself, “What do you even call that?”
And Gabby in turn muttered to herself, “I call it delicious.”
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