Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
A Stitch in Time...
So the other day I was in Dairy Queen with my dad, and there was this girl at the counter ordering, who was completely oblivious to the fact that her pants were split in the back. Like major split almost all the way to waistband, undies on display and everything.
Also, did I mention it was me?
Yeah. I flashed Dairy Queen. Sigh.
My favorite pair of capris had recently ripped in the derriere region, but because I got mad mending skillz yo, I figured I could just stitch it up and all would be good as new. As it turns out, I figured wrong. My dad and I had been out running errands before Dairy Queen, and each time I got in the car, I could tell the pants were ripping a bit. I just assumed it was my sewing coming undone, but because the initial tear really wasn’t all that noticeable in the first place, I didn’t think much of it. Again…wrong. Apparently, you cannot make the pants be something they are not. If you try to change the pants into what you believe they should be, their only response will be to act out in a much more dramatic fashion. Thus, leaving you arse out in the middle of a fast food restaurant.
So, you know, I hope we all learned something here.
Also, did I mention it was me?
Yeah. I flashed Dairy Queen. Sigh.
My favorite pair of capris had recently ripped in the derriere region, but because I got mad mending skillz yo, I figured I could just stitch it up and all would be good as new. As it turns out, I figured wrong. My dad and I had been out running errands before Dairy Queen, and each time I got in the car, I could tell the pants were ripping a bit. I just assumed it was my sewing coming undone, but because the initial tear really wasn’t all that noticeable in the first place, I didn’t think much of it. Again…wrong. Apparently, you cannot make the pants be something they are not. If you try to change the pants into what you believe they should be, their only response will be to act out in a much more dramatic fashion. Thus, leaving you arse out in the middle of a fast food restaurant.
So, you know, I hope we all learned something here.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
So....um.....let's see....
You guys. I am blank. Like blank blank. I keep telling myself that I am going to keep up with this blog and post every day and whatever. But each time I come to this little white box it's like my whole brain powers down. What is that about? Because I sure think of lots of things to say when I'm driving in my car by myself.
For example: Today, I learned the proper way to open a Wendy's salt packet. I'm pretty sure I dumped like 3 things of salt on my fries solely because I was so thrilled by this new way of opening the salt. As it turns out, you don't have to tear the packet open at the top. It is apparently pre-perforated (actual word?) and you just have to snap it in half. RIGHT ALONG THE DOTTED LINE! Um, excuse me genius salt packet maker?! Why has the world not made a bigger deal of your brilliance? Because seriously? Life changed, right here.
Sidenote: How delicious are Wendy's fries? And do you dunk them in chocolate frosty like I do? Because you should be doing just that. I dare you to find something more amazing than Wendy's fries in a frosty. Double dare you. You might have an argument if you chose to throw spa massage on the table, but then I would just counter with a $3 price tag, and you would again be wrong. So that's something to think about.
End sidenote.
Point being? I'm not sure really. But the salt thing was pretty cool.
For example: Today, I learned the proper way to open a Wendy's salt packet. I'm pretty sure I dumped like 3 things of salt on my fries solely because I was so thrilled by this new way of opening the salt. As it turns out, you don't have to tear the packet open at the top. It is apparently pre-perforated (actual word?) and you just have to snap it in half. RIGHT ALONG THE DOTTED LINE! Um, excuse me genius salt packet maker?! Why has the world not made a bigger deal of your brilliance? Because seriously? Life changed, right here.
Sidenote: How delicious are Wendy's fries? And do you dunk them in chocolate frosty like I do? Because you should be doing just that. I dare you to find something more amazing than Wendy's fries in a frosty. Double dare you. You might have an argument if you chose to throw spa massage on the table, but then I would just counter with a $3 price tag, and you would again be wrong. So that's something to think about.
End sidenote.
Point being? I'm not sure really. But the salt thing was pretty cool.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
A love story...
Everyone spends their life looking for that something special. That one thing that will fill their hearts with love and their lives with meaning. Very few people are actually lucky enough to say they have found it. And of the ones who have found it, even fewer are able to say that they’ve actually been able to call it their own. This is one of life’s greatest and most elusive wonders.
I am talking, of course, about Tupperware.
Real, true, brand name Tupperware. The organizer’s dream. The baker’s heart’s desire. Never has it been so thrilling to have leftovers that need storing. We all know there is none that can compare. But Tupperware, like most things honest and pure, is not easy to come by. Tupperware can only come into your life when the stars line up and you happen to have a distributor and a full bank account at the same time. You may be lucky enough to be fixed up by a well meaning family member, who just thought you and a one touch canister would be a perfect match. Or a friend who recently purchased a FridgeSmart set and now believes it their mission to ensure everyone else is as happy as they are.
Still sadly, most will never know the joy of customized airflow. We go through life trying to pretend it doesn’t matter, and eventually, we start to believe the lies we tell ourselves: “I don’t need the real thing. That kind of freshness only happens in fairy tales. Plastic containers weren’t meant to last a lifetime.” We try to fill the void with brightly colored sets we found at Wal-Mart for $5, convincing ourselves that this set is just as good as that other stuff. Things are great for a short time, and it appears your dreams are coming true, until one morning you wake up to find that all the lids are either missing or warped from bottom rack dishwashing. Much like our hopes of containers with lifetime guarantees. We resign ourselves to the fact that it just wasn’t in our stars.
Until one morning, as we open the front door, something flutters to the ground. What is this? Gasp! A Tupperware catalog?! Can this really be happening? This is the day we’ve dreamed of since we were little girls! The Tupperware party is coming! Hope fills our hearts and we RSVP with an eager YES!
On that special day, all the guests arrive with airy hearts, ready to witness one of life’s most sacred rituals: product demonstration. As our fearless Tupperware leader demonstrates bowl after airtight bowl, the room is filled with a reverent silence (and some hysterical laughing because Heather is funny, yo). The ceremony comes to a close, and we all glance around the room, knowing we just witnessed something special. None of us will be the same. It is time to place our orders, and we all take turns vowing our eternal devotion to item x on page y. As the exchanging of payments and receipts concludes, it is official. We are the owners of Tupperware.
Till death do us part.
I am talking, of course, about Tupperware.
Real, true, brand name Tupperware. The organizer’s dream. The baker’s heart’s desire. Never has it been so thrilling to have leftovers that need storing. We all know there is none that can compare. But Tupperware, like most things honest and pure, is not easy to come by. Tupperware can only come into your life when the stars line up and you happen to have a distributor and a full bank account at the same time. You may be lucky enough to be fixed up by a well meaning family member, who just thought you and a one touch canister would be a perfect match. Or a friend who recently purchased a FridgeSmart set and now believes it their mission to ensure everyone else is as happy as they are.
Still sadly, most will never know the joy of customized airflow. We go through life trying to pretend it doesn’t matter, and eventually, we start to believe the lies we tell ourselves: “I don’t need the real thing. That kind of freshness only happens in fairy tales. Plastic containers weren’t meant to last a lifetime.” We try to fill the void with brightly colored sets we found at Wal-Mart for $5, convincing ourselves that this set is just as good as that other stuff. Things are great for a short time, and it appears your dreams are coming true, until one morning you wake up to find that all the lids are either missing or warped from bottom rack dishwashing. Much like our hopes of containers with lifetime guarantees. We resign ourselves to the fact that it just wasn’t in our stars.
Until one morning, as we open the front door, something flutters to the ground. What is this? Gasp! A Tupperware catalog?! Can this really be happening? This is the day we’ve dreamed of since we were little girls! The Tupperware party is coming! Hope fills our hearts and we RSVP with an eager YES!
On that special day, all the guests arrive with airy hearts, ready to witness one of life’s most sacred rituals: product demonstration. As our fearless Tupperware leader demonstrates bowl after airtight bowl, the room is filled with a reverent silence (and some hysterical laughing because Heather is funny, yo). The ceremony comes to a close, and we all glance around the room, knowing we just witnessed something special. None of us will be the same. It is time to place our orders, and we all take turns vowing our eternal devotion to item x on page y. As the exchanging of payments and receipts concludes, it is official. We are the owners of Tupperware.
Till death do us part.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Post Traumatic Spider Disorder...
So I'm not scared of spiders. Never have been. I think tarantulas are cool. I admit I saw this tiny bit of Arachnophobia which messed me up pretty good for a short while, but lately all has been well.
Until this morning...
I grabbed my face wash out of the shower and right by the drain, I swear to you, was the biggest spider ever created. Looked like a hubcap. Luckily, I reacted coolly and calmly, and by coolly and calmly, I mean I screamed bloody murder. Then I got that feeling. You know the one where all your blood turns to ice and you get goosebumps all over and realize you now have to move? Yeah that one.
Okay think fast! Turn on the faucet and try not to hurl in the tub. My fast thinking and not hurling triggered his spidey sense, and he ran back down into the drain. GROSS! So I kicked the faucet on high and let it run for a long time. Washed that horror right down the drain. Still completely freaked out, but, proud of my awesome mutant spider drowning skills, I went back to cleaning the living room.
Then it hit me...That thing was one of those creepy water spiders. He was much too quick to dive back in the drain. That little effer is probably just chilling under the sink plug waiting for it to quit raining. So I snuck back in there to peek in the tub.
Dude. That thing had climbed back out of the drain and was all chilling with his crazy legs on top of the drain plug drying out. Cue "that feeling." I may or not have blacked out. I cannot be sure. I cranked the faucet up again and he just sort of flinched with his omgsocreepiness. Oh no sir. This calls for more than lame shower pressure.
I filled a pitcher in the kitchen (which is totally hard to do when you're all shaking and goosebumpy and oh so nauseous from the sci fi action) to completely wash him down the drain. HOT water! Oh yeah. Dumped it in there and he just sort of gross spider wrinkled up and was not giving up his grip on the drain plug. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! (Sorry if you're reading this Shell.) OMGOMGOMG!!! More pitcher water! OMG, now he's like wedged between plug and tub. (This is EXACTLY how Xanax was developed you guys.)
OMG, okay think! Dawn! Dawn cuts the grease, and I sho nuff need somebody to do some cutting! Dawn dish soap in the pitcher water, and he finally gave it up and was washed down the drain. Now, because my short term memory is heightened in this sort of trauma, I know not to be fooled by the whole oh he's gone down the drain act. I dumped at least 7 more pitchers of water down along with the running faucet. And for good measure? I used a broom to close the drain. Yeah! Take that!
So now does anybody mind if I borrow their shower? I can't open the drain in mine.
Until this morning...
I grabbed my face wash out of the shower and right by the drain, I swear to you, was the biggest spider ever created. Looked like a hubcap. Luckily, I reacted coolly and calmly, and by coolly and calmly, I mean I screamed bloody murder. Then I got that feeling. You know the one where all your blood turns to ice and you get goosebumps all over and realize you now have to move? Yeah that one.
Okay think fast! Turn on the faucet and try not to hurl in the tub. My fast thinking and not hurling triggered his spidey sense, and he ran back down into the drain. GROSS! So I kicked the faucet on high and let it run for a long time. Washed that horror right down the drain. Still completely freaked out, but, proud of my awesome mutant spider drowning skills, I went back to cleaning the living room.
Then it hit me...That thing was one of those creepy water spiders. He was much too quick to dive back in the drain. That little effer is probably just chilling under the sink plug waiting for it to quit raining. So I snuck back in there to peek in the tub.
Dude. That thing had climbed back out of the drain and was all chilling with his crazy legs on top of the drain plug drying out. Cue "that feeling." I may or not have blacked out. I cannot be sure. I cranked the faucet up again and he just sort of flinched with his omgsocreepiness. Oh no sir. This calls for more than lame shower pressure.
I filled a pitcher in the kitchen (which is totally hard to do when you're all shaking and goosebumpy and oh so nauseous from the sci fi action) to completely wash him down the drain. HOT water! Oh yeah. Dumped it in there and he just sort of gross spider wrinkled up and was not giving up his grip on the drain plug. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! (Sorry if you're reading this Shell.) OMGOMGOMG!!! More pitcher water! OMG, now he's like wedged between plug and tub. (This is EXACTLY how Xanax was developed you guys.)
OMG, okay think! Dawn! Dawn cuts the grease, and I sho nuff need somebody to do some cutting! Dawn dish soap in the pitcher water, and he finally gave it up and was washed down the drain. Now, because my short term memory is heightened in this sort of trauma, I know not to be fooled by the whole oh he's gone down the drain act. I dumped at least 7 more pitchers of water down along with the running faucet. And for good measure? I used a broom to close the drain. Yeah! Take that!
So now does anybody mind if I borrow their shower? I can't open the drain in mine.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Don't be famous this week...
WOW. Rough week to be a celebrity...
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_obit_billy_mays
If somebody tries to put you on tv or give you a Grammy, RUN!
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_obit_billy_mays
If somebody tries to put you on tv or give you a Grammy, RUN!
Monday, June 22, 2009
What title can suffice...
I found this quote on another blog I was reading...
"P.S. I think the reason salad is healthy is that midway through you get so bored you forget to eat, whereas, no one forgets when they’re eating bacon."
Word.
"P.S. I think the reason salad is healthy is that midway through you get so bored you forget to eat, whereas, no one forgets when they’re eating bacon."
Word.
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