If you missed Teri Hatcher’s rendition of Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats,” thank your lucky stars. Your ears will praise you. If you were unlucky enough to hear it (why oh why did I click it?), then you will now know that she is a horrible singer. True, I’ve probably heard worse via American Idol tryouts, but seriously, Teri needs to stick with the acting - because, ya, she’s the best actress there is.
Most people I know, who’ve listened to or saw Hatcher’s performance on Idol Gives Back, thought she sucked. I’d have to agree. Every blog or celebrity site I’ve read, came to that same conclusion. However, there is at least one person on the planet who thinks “she was pretty good.” Ya, that’d be my husband.
Mr.Man has a boner for Teri Hatcher, but still, I was sure when he actually listened and watched her performance, he’d agree with the masses - that Teri should never pick up a microphone and sing in public. Ever.
But nope, he only had positive, nice things to say, such as:
She’s pretty good, stayed in key the whole time (Yes, her voice was like liquid gold and that’s why she’s famous for her singing - oh she’s not famous for her fantastic singing? My mistake)
She’s not a professional singer but did fine for not really having any training (Uh huh)
I’ve heard worse, but really, she wasn’t bad at all (I’ve heard worse too - Teri Hatcher, ha)
I don’t know why people are saying she sucked (Uh because she did?)
Listen, I’m not stupid - had she been 5000 lbs of jiggly fat, hairy, sporting a thick mustache, had huge pit stains on her blouse and farted live on stage, then he’d say she sucked, no doubt about it, even if the “quality” of her performance was exactly the same. But since he’s got the hots for her, ya, “she was pretty good.” Ha, men. Soooo transparent.
And just incase you missed it, here’s Teri in her full singing glory - note: You MAY want to wear earplugs or pray beforehand that your ears don’t bleed.
I love my cameras. I love taking pictures. I’ve been doing it for many years now and don’t plan to stop anytime soon.
Last week, my husband asked if he could borrow my smaller camera. I said sure. He doesn’t often take pictures but he wanted to go shoot some wildlife photos. Before he left, he had asked me to charge the battery. I put the battery in the charger and then headed out, telling him to call me if he needed help figuring out the camera.
He calls me a couple of hours later and asks me if the camera battery is charged. I tell him it should really charge for several hours but it should be good enough for the short time he’ll need it.
I get home later in the afternoon and see the battery for the camera - still in the charger. I start laughing, because duh, how is he supposed to take pics if the battery is missing? Well he can’t.
He and oldest son get home sometime after dark and when husband walks in, I start laughing and tell him I hope he didn’t see something fantastic that he took photos of because, ah, they won’t turn out. I show him the battery still in charger. He sorta laughs - kinda, not really. I ask him to bring my camera in from the truck but he had already locked it up and said he’d get it in the morning. No biggie.
A couple of days go by and I ask him to bring the camera in before he leaves for work. He goes out to his truck and comes back in a few minutes later - with no camera.
Where’s the camera?
I don’t know. That’s weird, I must have brought it in on Monday night.
Um, no you didn’t - I asked you when you came in to get it and you said it was locked in the truck.
Okay, I’ll check again. He checks again. No camera.
Okay, strange, but it’s not in my truck.
Not in your truck? OMG tell me you didn’t lose another camera? He’d lost my other camera last fall, somewhere in the great big wilderness of Alberta.
I can’t see me losing TWO cameras.
I hope not. That’s TWO cameras.
He arrives home after work and realizes that the camera is no where in his truck. At all.
I can’t find the camera.
You can’t find it? For real? Are you shitting me?
No I’m not kidding you.
Um, you lost ANOTHER camera? It’s practically brand new! AND, I had 10 videos of the kids and 100 photos on it!
I’ll get it.
You’ll get it? Where is it?
I must have left it out on Mark’s property, somewhere in the field.
Somewhere in the field? You mean the acres and acres of field?
Yes.
Oh well, that should be easy. My camera lying out in the wilderness. Wild animals eating it.
I don’t think the wild animals are going to eat your camera. And we have no snow and it’s going to be nice here for the next few days. I’ll go out on Saturday and get it.
You’re just going to “get it?”
Yup.
Okay.
Saturday rolls around and I decided I’m going with him. I mean I want to see him actually find it. I’m not believing it.
We drive out to the farm, which is an hour away. The owner is there and tells us to go through another gate, not the one that hubby normally goes through when he’s there. We drive down and then spend almost 2 hours driving through the massive field, husband trying to figure out where he was parked days ago. The field is free of snow, so the black camera bag will be easy to spot should we actually find it.
He’s convinced that he must have set it on the truck when he got back from his walk and then when he drove off, it had fallen and was lying in the field. After hours of looking, we head back down to the main yard. Hubby says he’s going to walk over to the gate he normally goes through - we couldn’t previously drive through there because the owner had brought his calves closer to the main yard, so it was gated off.
After a few minutes, I see my husband walking back to the SUV with my camera bag! OMG! It was there, in the bag, I was in shock - he actually found it. My heart is skipping a beat. Here’s a picture:
Isn’t it lovely? My heart soon stopped skipping and I pretty much had a stroke right there. My practically brand new camera, which was a replacement for the OTHER one that my husband lost. And the best part of all of this? Had he gone on Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday or Friday to search for the camera, it would have most likely been just fine. But just our luck - the farmer had just let his cattle out through that gate Saturday morning. My poor camera hadn’t a chance - it was trampled by 85 700 pound calves. Moo.
Yes, he’s buying me a another new one. I’m going to stock up on disposable cameras for him. Say cheese.
Every Friday night, we usually go to a particular restaurant with all 4 kids. Since both of our vehicles are only five passenger, some of us go in hubby’s truck and the rest of us go in my SUV. However, sadly the story doesn’t end there.
It’s been bitterly cold here for a few days. When it’s bitterly cold, we plug our vehicles in. Again, sadly, story doesn’t end here either.
My husband and Matt, leave in the truck. Myself and the 3 other kids are a few minutes from going out the door. I start the SUV, run back in and get the two younger kids ready to leave. The four of us head out into the cold. I pull away from the front of our house, leave the cul-de-sac and drive down the street to the first stop sign. As I approach the stop sign, I look in my rear view mirror, and see another car behind me. I’m not quite to a complete stop yet but the driver starts blowing his horn. I’m thinking what a moron. Get a life buddy, I’ve not even stopped yet. And if he thinks I’m going to do one of those lame, half assed rolling semi stops, he can forget it. I’m stopping.
I make a right turn, head down to the lights. Buddy is following me, I guess going in the same general direction. As I’m approaching the lights, which are red for me, dude behind me starts blowing the horn. I’m slightly annoyed by this. Does he think I’m going to run the red light. Not happening shit head.
What is his freakin’ problem? I ask my oldest son.
I dunno. Want me to give him the finger?
No. He might have a gun.
What?
He might have a gun and get pissed off if we flip him off and shoot us.
Oh my god, paranoid much?
You just never know.
The light turns green and guy starts blowing his horn. Holy, what is his PROBLEM? It’s snowing out, roads are slippery and I’m being cautious but not driving that slow. Buddy needs to flippin’ chill.
I go through the green light and glance to my right and horn blower extraordinaire is beside me and this maniac is waving his fist around at me. Had I not had my children with me, not been driving a new-ish vehicle and had a wee bit more balls, I would have rammed my SUV against his shitty little beater.
My son is getting annoyed right along with me.
What is buddy’s prob?
I don’t know but he needs to get a life and stop harrassing me.
Hey, at the next red light, make sure you blow your horn if we’re behind him, you know, piss him off right back.
Okay, I’m not doing that. Again, he could have a gun and shoot us in the face through his back window.
Of course.
Crazy guy passes me, is now ahead of us at the next red light. I decide not to blow my horn, um, yes because I think he’s packing and is going to go all Clint Eastwood on our asses. We arrive at the restaurant, hubs and son arrive shortly after. We relay the story of a-hole blowing his horn, being totally obnoxious, waving his arms/fist around and tell the incident with great disgust for this guy. We eat our meal, which was yummy by the way and head home.
My husband goes out this morning to warm up his truck to take our sons to work. He comes back in and we have a conversation. This is going to be the part, where it may seem like I’m an idiot.
Hey, where’s my extension cord?
What extension cord?
Ah the one I use to plug in the vehicles.
Well the one you use for the truck hangs over the fence, so if it’s gone, then some asswipe stole it! Nice. Why do people feel the need to take other people’s stuff? Geez.
Um, the one I use for the truck is there, my truck was plugged in. I’m talking about the other one - the one that we plug the SUV in with.
The SUV?
Yes, the SUV.
Well duh, why would I take a big extension cord. I don’t need one. Why would I take it?
Well it’s not outside, plugged into the house. I plugged the SUV in yesterday, before we went out.
You did?
Yes, I did. I told you I did. And didn’t we just have this conversation a few days ago about you FORGETTING to unplug your vehicle before driving away? And how you wouldn’t do that? Remember?
Yes. Um, are you saying I possibly, maybe drove away with the car plugged in?
That’s what I’m saying. Perhaps buddy, who was being obnoxious wasn’t being obnoxious and maybe he was blowing his horn several times, waving his arms, his fists, blowing his horn some more, trying to get your attention because you were driving down the street DRAGGING A FIFTY FOOT BRIGHT YELLOW EXTENSION CORD BEHIND YOU.
Oh. I see where you’re going with that theory.
Ya, I don’t think it’s a theory, I’m pretty sure it’s a reality.
Oops.
Ya, oops.
See? Idiot. And I’m not talking about the dude blowing his horn. If you happen to see a big yellow extension cord out on your travels, um, it’s mine.
My daughter is 7 going on 23. She’s alot of what I’m not - ballsy, gutsy, bold, speaks her mind, which isn’t a bad thing obviously. Sometimes she’s obsessive. Not sure where she gets that trait.
I had taken my youngest two shopping last week and we stopped at one of my favorite stores - Winners. As we’re browsing around, daughter spies a clearance bin (now I do know where she gets that trait) and sees a cute pink and purple purse which is on sale for $3. She immediately gets excited and tosses it into our cart. Our cart, by the way, had our jackets in it, my purse and some other things we were purchasing.
I find a pair of pants and a shirt that I want to try on. I let Ryan stay in the toy section and bring Madison with me to the changing rooms. I ask the lady at the counter if I can leave my cart in front of her counter, she says yes. I leave our jackets in the cart, along with our other items, taking only my purse and the two items I’m going to try on. We come back out a few minutes later and Madison looks in the cart and asks me where the purse is? I start looking through the cart, but it’s gone. The lady at the counter asks me if there’s a problem and I explain to her that the purse my daughter picked out and placed in the cart is now gone. Counter lady says she didn’t see anything.
My daughter runs back over to the clearance bin and starts looking in it, wondering if it had somehow walked back there by itself. As she’s riffling through the bin, she looks over to her left and starts waving to me, wanting my attention.
“Mom, mom, mom, mom!” Saying it in a hissed whisper.
“What?”
“That lady took my purse! Look in her cart, right there, she’s got it.”
I look over and see a woman standing by her cart, two kids in tow and her cart filled with toys. And she’s GOT THE PURSE THAT MY DAUGHTER PICKED OUT. BITCH took it from my cart.
As we’re watching her, she walks away from her cart to go look at the rack of clothes. Madison runs over to me and begs me to take it back from her cart. Now I’m in a bit of a dilemma. I want to take that purse, and give it back to my child but at the same time, I, who, do not like confrontation at all, and who also wants to think the best of people, and maybe that,that lady didn’t take it from our cart, that maybe the purse got up and walked into her cart, by itself. Because that’s plausible.
My child is not happy. I walk over to the clothing rack, the purse thief is at the other end and I say, quite loudly, “Wow, it’s really rude when people take things from someone else’s cart.” Lady aka THIEF looks over at me and glances down at my cart, which still holds our jackets and other items. I see the look on her face for that split second. She knows that I know that she took the purse that my daughter picked out.
Madison comes over to me and starts her rant.
“See? That lady is rude mom, rude! Why are you not taking it from her cart? She doesn’t deserve that purse. I saw it and picked it out and she just walked up to our cart when we weren’t looking and took it. That’s STEALING.”
“I know Madison, it’s rude and I wouldn’t ever do such a thing, but I know what you mean, I know you want it back, but technically we didn’t see her take it, so I don’t think we can just go over and take it back.”
“Why not? We had it first and she didn’t mind taking it from us. I say we march over there and take it back.”
At this point, I’m envisioning a riot, police being called, handcuffs and making a call to my husband to bail me out. Do I have an over active imagination? I’m thinking, yes.
Again, we watch as the lady walks away. By this time Madison is practically foaming at the mouth.
“If you don’t go take it from her cart, then I will. I will march right over there and take it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a GREAT idea.”
I tell daughter to just wait a minute so I can think about this, think about how to approach someone and accuse them of stealing something from our cart. Is there a polite way to do that? However, as I’m picturing things in my head, the decision is taken out of my hands.
“Mom, I see their cart! She walked away, I don’t see her, I’m making a run for it.” And with that, my child dashes over to the lady’s cart and quickly takes a look around, and snatches the purse.
She makes her way back to me and throws the the purse in our cart and buries it under our jacket.
“That lady was rude mom and there was no way I was going to just let her get away with that. And when she realizes that the purse is gone, then she’ll probably KNOW that I took it but I don’t care because she was the one who was wrong, not me.”
“Ah huh.”
“I’m so not letting any rude lady get away with that. NO way.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and said, “Let’s go pay for MY purse.”
Remember when I talked about needing to get the bedroom downstairs in my home painted? No? Holy. You’ve got the attention span of a chihuahua. Anyway, no time to be petty on my part, I’ve things to discuss that are of great importance. Really.
I did it. I got the painting done. And with little incident. Unlike the time I painted this room. I did of course get some paint where I really didn’t want to. On my pants, in my hair, on my arms, on the blinds, on the floor, on the tv, on the dvd player and on the cat (don’t ask). Other than that, it went pretty smoothly. I really should become a professional painter. Home owners would love to see me coming with a can of paint and a brush. Roll your eyes here because I am.
Today my youngest children are going to be totally freaked out. Our 19 year is coming back to live with us and we’ve not told them. So we are dressing him up to disguise him and giving him a bag of potatoes to ‘pretend’ he’s selling door to door. You know, often we get potato sellers ringing our doorbell. However, I’m sure my kids won’t know that usually that doesnt happen. I’m of course video taping it and will show you the results pending the entertainment value. If the video sucks, I’ll just make something exciting up and tell you the video camera ‘broke’ unfortunately.
Oh, forgot to mention my trip to the grocery store. I swear I’m jinxed. I was standing in line at customer service and there was one other woman ahead of me returning something. Another lady comes up beside me and shoves her receipt in my face, literally and starts talking to me in Chinese and although I do not know one single word of the Chinese language, I’m quite certain she was swearing. I’m unclear why she was hollering at me about her purchase because I don’t work at the grocery store, either as a checkout chick or in customer service. She kept throwing her arms up in disgust and pointing to her receipt and pleading with me (I think) to help her. I shrugged my shoulders in a display of ‘I don’t know how to help you’ but she apparently didn’t care or wasn’t paying attention to my flailing limbs. She continually pointed to an item on her receipt and would then look at me with angry eyes. I thought for sure she was going to poke mine out. She was shooting lazer beams of pissed off-ness at me and I was sorta scared. I was hoping the lady ahead of me would hurry up so I could ask the clerk to hold me. I mean save me. Finally, it was my turn to go to the counter and angry woman beside me, followed me up to the counter. The cashier looked at us and asked me if we were together? Ummm, well we’ve spent a lovely 2 minutes in angry and frightened (on my part) togetherness but now I must move on. Not happy lady is still flipping her receipt all around in an attempt to be noticed. I quickly explained why I was at customer service so the cashier could shoot wait on upset lady because I thought for sure she was going to humanly combust at any moment. After another tortuous minute, I was done and on my way, far, far away from the scowling crazy person.
That about sums up my life over the last few days. I’m just about in a coma too, so get over it. What else exciting do you have to read? Nada. You can thank me for making your day just a little bit brighter. Call me Ms. Ray of Sunshine.
…that’s my mumbling typing up there by the way. What I was asking was, did you ever talk to someone who sounds like they have a mouth full of shit and can’t really speak in a clear, coherent way? I experienced that this morning. I’m not saying the chick actually had poo in her mouth, I mean if she did, whatever floats yer back teeth but honestly, I couldn’t understand a word she said. I was at a certain establishment which I won’t name incase they’re all sitting around reading this, which of course they probably are because I’m so popular and famous and I doubt they have anything better to do. I was placing my order and she was asking me something and I had no clue what she was asking. Her lips were barely moving. Maybe she was training to be a ventriloquist? That’s admirable but really, I hardly think the time or place to practice is while waiting on customers. Just sayin’ is all.
I had the weirdest dream last night which I won’t bother boring you with. Wait. You wouldn’t be bored. You pray by your laptop each night that you’ll wake up to me having written to brighten your day. I get confused sometimes. So I was running in the dream and there were these creepy clowns chasing me, wanting me to try some of their spagetti. I like spagetti, however, I’m not trying food from clowns that I just don’t know. Even in my dreams, I’m a genius. That’s about it. There may have been some kinky stuff involved later on but really, that’s not something you want to hear. Let’s not get nuts here.
I got in my husband’s truck this morning and the smell that slapped me in the face was horrid. I thought something had perhaps died in there over the last couple of days. I hadn’t been in it since Monday and didn’t recall having any dead bodies in there at that time but sometimes I get forgetful, so maybe I, er, just forgot. Anyway, I’m trying really hard to place the smell but it was escaping me. I hadn’t had any takeout in there, so I knew it wasn’t rotting food. Neither of the kids had puked in there, so I also knew it wasn’t stale chunks just lying around. I happened to glance down at the floor on the passenger side and see something wet. Then I see the empty bottle on the floor as well. What was in that empty bottle? Mouthwash. Who knew that something you swish around in your mouth to make your breath smell super nice, could smell so putrid after being spilled out onto a truck floor? Certainly not I. I can’t even describe the odour. Just that it was gross. So guess who’s going to have to clean the truck out? Yup, you got it. Not me. I’m too busy anyway as I’m still thinking about the painting I have to get done downstairs by Saturday. Do you realize how much work it is to think and think and think? I didn’t think so. Oh see that? See my big word play with the word think? Impressed aren’t you? You should hear me talk. You’d be awed by my fantastic word speak but I don’t wanna toot my own horn. You’d be tooting it for me. Ha.
I’ve been MIA because I was on a drunken celebration binge secret mission for the government, which because it’s secret and it’s for the government, I cannot speak about it. Shucks.
You’re wondering what I’ve been doing right? Of course. You cry when I don’t speak to you from this internet world. You weep greatly when I’m not around and for that, I’m so super sorry. Oh let me tell you about my grocery store situation. It’s been awhile since I had one and I want to make your life complete.
My children and I decided to walk to the grocery store last week. It was a beautiful summer day, slight breeze and we wanted to pick up a few items. My husband had given me some ‘Superbucks’. He gets them when he gets gas from the grocery store gas station. They’re basically like ‘grocery store money’ and you can use them for anything with the exception of alcohol or tobacco products. I had about $25 dollars in Superbucks. My purchase came to $22 bucks and some change. Now, the only thing with Superbucks, is if your purchase is under the amount you give them in Superbucks, they don’t give you change back. But usually people will grab some gum or a candy bar to make the purchase amount as close to the amount of Superbucks as possible. However, it’s usually some change, so noone is going to be upset that they’re not getting back a few cents.
Clerk: Ah you purchase is $22.64 and you are giving me $23.00 in Superbucks and I no make change.
Me: That’s fine. It’s 36 cents, so I’m not worried about it. I understand that I don’t get change back.
Clerk: I take one of them off k?
Me: Why?
Clerk: ‘Cause then it will be not me owe you money.
Me: It’s 36 cents, I’m cool with that. I won’t go bankrupt because I’m not getting my change back. Honestly, it’s fine.
Clerk: No I take one off.
So she proceeds to take one of the Superbucks off and now I OWE her $2.67. Ummmm what?
Me: Umm, I now owe you $2.67. Why would I want to pay you in cash when I can pay for my WHOLE purchase with the Superbucks? Please put that back on.
Clerk: But I owe you .36 and I can’t give you that back.
Me: I realize that. I’m totally fine with that. It’s T.H.I.R.T.Y. S.I.X. C.E.N.T.S. I can handle that.
Clerk: I take another one off instead.
Me: What???????????
Now the amount I owe her is $5.83. There are people behind me, waiting to be served and this chick is making a mountain out of a mole hill.
Me: What are you doing? I don’t want to OWE $5.83! Get it? I don’t care if I will lose THIRTY…..SIX…..CENTS. Said through clenched teeth. Please put that coupon back on so I can move on with my life.
Cashier reluctantly scans the coupon again and now she’s back to ‘owing’ me thirty six cents. Then she just stands there looking all confused, while the people behind us are looking all, you know, PISSED OFF.
Clerk: I call my supervisor.
Me: Ah why?
Clerk: ‘Cause I owe you money.
Me: OH.MY.GAWD. No you don’t. Can I just have my receipt and then I will be on my merry way? Please?
That can’t happen though can it? Nope. She calls her supervisor over, who explains to me, like I’m a retarded ass monkey, that I don’t get my change back. To which, I explain right back to her like she’s the retarded ass monkey, that I’m aware that I don’t get my change back but hey, it’s THIRTY SIX CENTS and I will totally survive not having it. I’ll still be able to afford to get myself a strawberries n’ cream from Starbucks AND get my kids a treat. See how happy I am? Okay, now complete the transaction, so I can have my receipt and I can get going because I have dirty, sharp knives to drive into my skull later. Thanks.
Supervisor explains to cashier that she just opens the till to complete the sale and it will then print my receipt and then she just leaves the .36 cents in the cash register. Supervisor smiles at me and leaves. Great. Things are happenin’ now. Cashier opens the till and counts out thirty six cents and proceeds to hand it to me. I stare at her blankly, envisioning myself throwing jelly beans at her and then happily punching her in the neck.
Me: What are you doing?
Clerk: I owe you thirty six cents.
Me: Your supervisor just told you what to do. You DO NOT give me the change, just give me the receipt and you can give the change to the very angry lady behind me if you like.
Clerk: I owe you .36 cents.
Me: I don’t want it. I’m allergic to money. Take it away. OH MY GAWD I’m blind now. Can I have my receipt please? Please? My head is about to explode and you’ll have a huge mess on your hands because I’m so filled with brains, it’s not even funny.
Clerk: I owe you thirty six cents.
Me: Give. me. my. receipt.
She hands me my receipt, while still holding onto the change, unsure of what to do with it. I have a few ideas that come to mind. I watch her as I’m walking away and she’s putting the change onto the top of her cash register, then she picks it up and puts it in her pocket, then takes it out and puts it back on top of her cash register. At that point, I stop looking before I self destruct and run over and smack her upside the head, give her a wedgie and scream in her ear. Oh please remind me to use Superbucks again when making a purchase at the grocery store. I need more excitement in my life.
There you have it, my awesome grocery store experience. No need to thank me, you reading it and not killing yourself from boredom means alot.
I ate pasta tonight for supper and now I’m paying for it because I have heartburn. I do have Tums, so I will take one in a minute or I suppose I could get off my duff and get one now and stop the suffering, but maybe I want to suffer. Ever think of that?
Do you realize what today is? Yes, it’s Monday evening, perhaps even Tuesday somewhere. Or maybe it’s Friday on Mars. My point is, wait, did I have a point? I forget. Oh, I know, my kids go back to school in a week. Next Tuesday I will be dragging my arse gleefully getting out of bed to make breakfast, pack lunches, brush hair, get backpacks ready, shoes laid out by the door, offer a hug and a kick kiss and off they go. The excitement is bubbling up. Sure summer is fun because you don’t have to be on a particular routine, you can stay up late and there’s no trying to get homework done before Survivor comes on but there’s drawbacks too. There’s the whole, ‘I gotta be a parent thing’ from about 7am to 11pm because they don’t sleep in even though it’s summer and they of course stay up late because you’re passed out drunk being sweet and letting them stay up way past their regular bedtime. Pros and cons all around.
I’m happy to report that I have a new 6 in 1 scanner/printer/fax thingamajiggy. I had to set it up today. Only took me about 5 hours minutes, well because I’m a brainiac. I know what is going through your mind. She’s model material AND super smart. Bitch. It sucks being this awesome, trust me. Oh and I’m a doctor. Naw, just yankin’ yer chain (no seriously, I’m a doctor). I printed out some calendar things for the kids today which totally made them jump around as if I’d handed them a sack of money to spend at the toy store. Apparently, all we have to do, is keep the ink stocked up, print out a few cartoon pictures and they’re in heaven. Certainly another thing for me to threaten them with. ‘Oh you want to print a Spongebob picture out? Well then, you’d better get your room cleaned, vaccuum, make the beds, cook all meals, rub my feet and bake a cake, then we’ll talk about that guy that lives in a pineapple under the sea picture’. Again I’m just kidding. They don’t have to rub my feet.
I received a call the other day from some dude from the head office of my bank. I forget exactly what he said his title was, something like ANNOYINGTHESHITOUTTACUSTOMERS Bob or something close to that. He wanted to know why I’m not very active concerning my account. Well, Bob, I just opened it 2 weeks ago, so I’ve not had much time to rob other banks and deposit my ‘findings’ in my account. I’m sure Bob, if you had taken, oh, 30 SECONDS to view my account, you’d see the date I opened it and therefore be able to deduce the fact, that my account is NEW and that I’ve not had that much time to be active with it. And it’s my bank account, so if I want to ignore it for awhile or smother it with deposits, I will when I feel like it. My choice. He blabbered on about how they want to have a relationship with me. Ah ya, because my past experience with banks has been stellar and they’ve all wanted to have ‘relationships’ with me. Always helpful, those banks. Okay, so if I need a drive at 3am because I have a flat tire on the highway, you’re going to come and rescue me Bob because we’ve created a relationship through my bank account? Okay. I’ll be calling yer ass. We’ll test this theory out Bob. Have your phone ready. You want a relationship, you got it. Ha.
My tan is fading. Not that I was super dark, but hey 3 shades above PASTY is hot you know. Soon I will be back to being whiter than white bread but less crusty of course. Oh see that? See that awesome play on words. Word play? You know you’re impressed. I often get that reaction. Sorry for being so fabulous. It’s truly a curse.
Well I must go clean my kitchen…wait…I think my youngen’s are supposed to be doing that because I’m supposed to be threatening them with ‘if you want that printed out, you will do this’. Oh this is gonna be fantastic. If you’re a parent, get a printer. I highly recommend it.
I made an appointment today with my doctor, who is apparently not my doctor. Confused? Ya, join the club.
We moved here almost 4 years ago and I put my name on a waiting list to be accepted at the clinic near my home for a family doctor. I was called late in 2003 and told, indeed I would be accepted as a patient with Dr. X. He’s name really isn’t Dr. X but that sounds very mysterious, doesn’t it? I thought so. I’ve been to Dr. X a few times, not many as I’ve been relatively healthy. I do have to occasionally go get my prescription refilled (for my intense beauty, gotta combat the effects with pro-ugly pills just so I’m not sooo hot) (remember, S.A.R.C.A.S.M) and there have been times that my doctor, who apparently ISN’T my doctor has been away so I therefore, had to see another doctor, who also isn’t my doctor, to refill my pro-ugly pills. Let’s flash forward now, a few years, to today. I was told that I wasn’t in the system and that Dr. X isn’t really my doctor because I didn’t have a meet and greet kinda visit the first time. Umm okay. I did but that’s okay if you don’t remember me. I wasn’t on my pro-ugly pills back then and I probably blinded him with my gorgeous self and thus, he has blocked me out as the ‘woman who took my eye sight with her fantastic self’. I can hardly blame the man. But still, I should be in the system of being the patient of my doctor who isn’t my doctor.
I hope I’ve sufficiently confused you because it would be totally not fair to me if I were the only one in a dense state over this whole ‘he’s not your doctor but really is your doctor but we have no record of him being your doctor’ scenerio. Let’s keep the score card fair people, fair.
I go on Monday, so let’s hope I remember to take my pro-ugly pills so I don’t give the doctor who’s not really my doctor a heart attack. Making him blind was bad enough. Oh the guilt.
As we all know, my trips to the grocery store are usually filled with freaks, more freaks and now mighty fucking annoying clumsy people.
As I’m putting my groceries on the conveyer belt thingy, there’s a man behind me, holding a few things. He starts pushing my stuff further up the counter, which, listen buddy, you can wait the 30 seconds it takes for my crap to be rung through. So he continues to push my groceries and as I turn back to the cashier to roll my eyes, we hear a huge crash. The moron pushed my glass jar of barbeque sauce off onto the floor. Of course the sauce doesn’t just fall in a plop on the floor, it splatters like some kind of yucky crime scene and I now have bright red barbeque sauce splashed on my pants. My nice capris actually. My nice white capris.
I look back at Mr Pushalot and he’s smiling like an idiot and literally saying, “he he he”. He what? He gonna get his ass kicked by white capried lady with red sauce sloshed on her pantlegs, that’s what. I give him my best death glare, which I’m told is about as scary as Bambi giving a dirty look but still, I’m giving it my best effort. The cashier apologizes, which was sweet, but it’s not your fault honey, it’s the dumbass behind me. I’m thinking, he’s going to say he’s sorry at least. Nope. Instead, he again starts pushing my groceries and then my son’s butterscotch pudding cups fall onto the floor, and you guessed it, into the big blob of sauce. I give yet another death stare and the guy is still smiling like he’s won a prize. I gotta prize for you buddy, bend over and let’s see just how far my pretty high heels can fit up your butt. Wait. I like my nice shoes, so forget that. Let’s see how far the cashiers fist can go up your butt. Wait. That’s not fair to her. She was lovely and friendly, and why should she be grossed out? Let’s get the janitor and his mop and we’ll see how far that mop handle goes up shall we?
I’m looking at this guy and he’s still not said he’s sorry. I turn to the cashier and roll my eyes again. Then I see his wife coming over (or maybe she’s his nurse from the PYSCHO ward) and she’s pointing to the mess and he starts giggling again (weird) and then they both run away. Ummm, they’re in their 50’s and acting like they’re 10. Or 2. Whatever.
That was my fun evening. How was yours? Did you get splattered with barbeque sauce? No? Well no need to brag. Gah.
