There’s a Lowe’s commercial that, if you’re not listening to the words, and if your mind is so one-tracked that you can’t think outside your tiny box for a moment makes NO sense at all. The commercial shows different views of the Lowe’s logo with a makeshift letter T attached to the end of it. This happens throughout the commercial at least six times. For example, the Lowe’s logo from the department store is shown and then someone is holding a push broom upside-down at the end to make the letter T. I watched this and my train of thought was this:
“Lowe’s - T. I don’t get it. What the heck is Lowe’s - T. Are they giving away T-shirts? Nobody’s wearing a Lowe’s T-shirt. Lowe’s - T. Is this like the ING commercial where you just have to know what Lowe’s - T is? What a crappy commercial. Whoever thought this up should get fired because that makes NO sense at all.”
I did this twice - as in, I watched the commercial twice, and had the same exact thought process twice. Finally on the THIRD time around, it clicked. OHHHHHHH. They’re saying they have the LOW-EST prices! They are using the T to make the word LOWEST! AHHHHHH. I get it now.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I noticed my husband avoiding using his finger yesterday when he came home from work. He was clutching a shirt, but his pointer finger was straight - which caused me to ask, “What happened to your finger?”
“My finger?” he asked.
“Yes, what happened to your finger?” I asked again, this time holding up my pointer finger.
“What?” He asked again.
“Your finger - what happened to your finger? Did you hurt your finger?”
He stared at me, looking as if I had completely lost my mind. What could I possibly be talking about now? Clearly I was on Crack and needed to be institutionalized.
“You aren’t using your finger.” I said, wiggling my pointer finger around. “You are holding your finger out like you’re trying not to use it. Did you hurt it?”
He looked at his straight finger. “Oooohhhh. I cut a big gash out of it today.”
I laughed at him. “Yes, the finger that you cut a big gash out of earlier, that you are holding weird and trying not to use. THAT’s the finger I’m talking about. Not the other nine fingers that you didn’t hurt today.”
I love when this happens to him because it happens to me all the time! Blain refers to this phenomenon with me as my “google button is stuck”. It’s that deer-in-the-headlights look I get when I can NOT figure out what the heck he is talking about, no matter how relevant and obvious the subject at hand.
I can’t think of a good “for instance” for myself because my short term memory downloads most of that stuff into the recycle bin of my brain about every 9 minutes, - which is probably why my google button gets stuck so often.
“My finger?” he asked.
“Yes, what happened to your finger?” I asked again, this time holding up my pointer finger.
“What?” He asked again.
“Your finger - what happened to your finger? Did you hurt your finger?”
He stared at me, looking as if I had completely lost my mind. What could I possibly be talking about now? Clearly I was on Crack and needed to be institutionalized.
“You aren’t using your finger.” I said, wiggling my pointer finger around. “You are holding your finger out like you’re trying not to use it. Did you hurt it?”
He looked at his straight finger. “Oooohhhh. I cut a big gash out of it today.”
I laughed at him. “Yes, the finger that you cut a big gash out of earlier, that you are holding weird and trying not to use. THAT’s the finger I’m talking about. Not the other nine fingers that you didn’t hurt today.”
I love when this happens to him because it happens to me all the time! Blain refers to this phenomenon with me as my “google button is stuck”. It’s that deer-in-the-headlights look I get when I can NOT figure out what the heck he is talking about, no matter how relevant and obvious the subject at hand.
I can’t think of a good “for instance” for myself because my short term memory downloads most of that stuff into the recycle bin of my brain about every 9 minutes, - which is probably why my google button gets stuck so often.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
My husband loves, and yet at the same time is irritated by my "ability" to see the funny side of almost anything. As I have said before I am immature, and sometimes I can't help myself from saying things that I think are funny, even though the timing might be off.
If my brothers or dad are reading this, you might wanna stop now or risk bearing the mental scars of the following information.
I've had 3 kids, and as most "real" women know, with each child born, the "bosoms" hang a little lower. I lamented this to my husband who reassured me that it could be fixed with some plastic surgery. I was glad to hear this, but expressed my concern over the cost/lack of quality surgeons in Alaska. Also, I had heard that sometimes when extensive repair is done - which my paranoia leads me to believe is my case - a "follow up" surgery is needed. My husband said that we would spare no expense if it would make me feel better about myself, and said that maybe one option would be to have one done and a while later the other one done.
Did that hit you the way it hit me? I LAUGHED and LAUGHED and LAUGHED, for like 3 minutes, all the while my husband getting more and more annoyed with me. Apparently he meant one surgery and then later the next, if necessary, not - get one boob fixed and then later, the other one.
If my brothers or dad are reading this, you might wanna stop now or risk bearing the mental scars of the following information.
I've had 3 kids, and as most "real" women know, with each child born, the "bosoms" hang a little lower. I lamented this to my husband who reassured me that it could be fixed with some plastic surgery. I was glad to hear this, but expressed my concern over the cost/lack of quality surgeons in Alaska. Also, I had heard that sometimes when extensive repair is done - which my paranoia leads me to believe is my case - a "follow up" surgery is needed. My husband said that we would spare no expense if it would make me feel better about myself, and said that maybe one option would be to have one done and a while later the other one done.
Did that hit you the way it hit me? I LAUGHED and LAUGHED and LAUGHED, for like 3 minutes, all the while my husband getting more and more annoyed with me. Apparently he meant one surgery and then later the next, if necessary, not - get one boob fixed and then later, the other one.
Friday, March 13, 2009
As a parent, the things that come out of my mouth never cease to amaze me.
The following statements are things I have actually said at one time:
“Don’t use your cookie to wipe your snotty nose!”
“We only use TOILET paper to wipe our butts, NOT REGULAR PAPER!”
“We DON’T LICK the bottoms of OUR shoes OR your sisters shoes!”
“Please oh PLEASE let that be mud on your hand!”
“No, you can’t ride the dog like a horse.”
“You can’t have ice cream till you eat all your hot dog.” - Because the hot dog is clearly so nutritious!
“What did she eat? WHAT DID SHE EAT? Is that SUPER GLUE?!?!?”
“Just pee in your pull-up.” - In my defense it was 3:00 a.m.
“I don’t care if she peed in the tub - urine is sterile.” -Right?
I know, it’s weird, and a little horrifying.
The following statements are things I have actually said at one time:
“Don’t use your cookie to wipe your snotty nose!”
“We only use TOILET paper to wipe our butts, NOT REGULAR PAPER!”
“We DON’T LICK the bottoms of OUR shoes OR your sisters shoes!”
“Please oh PLEASE let that be mud on your hand!”
“No, you can’t ride the dog like a horse.”
“You can’t have ice cream till you eat all your hot dog.” - Because the hot dog is clearly so nutritious!
“What did she eat? WHAT DID SHE EAT? Is that SUPER GLUE?!?!?”
“Just pee in your pull-up.” - In my defense it was 3:00 a.m.
“I don’t care if she peed in the tub - urine is sterile.” -Right?
I know, it’s weird, and a little horrifying.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Too Much Information
Today I breech a delicate and somewhat uncomfortable topic. I only do so because I realize that my own children are becoming more aware of what’s going on around them, and they are not afraid to repeat whatever they hear, and have not developed a filter on what you should and should not say. My oldest is getting a bit better, but will still occasionally blurt out something like, “Hey, there’s the fat lady who’s supposed to help us!” And, my two toddlers will repeat ANYTHING.
Knowing this about them, I have put the kibosh on almost all television - Especially anything after 5:00 p.m.. It’s just not safe. Here’s what I am most afraid of:
WAY too frequently I am assaulted with commercials promoting “male enhancement”. I can’t even imagine how many shades of red I would turn if my daughter blurted out something about (as one commercial puts it) “that certain part of the male anatomy”.
Maybe it is my wholesome upbringing, and I am just being a prude. Or maybe I am just incredibly immature and need to grow up. In fact, that’s not even a maybe. I am immature. I still giggle whenever my husband says things like, “I don’t do that, but what I do do, is ______“ Pretty much it doesn’t matter what he says from there on, because I’ve been too distracted by the “doodoo”. I also giggle when people say “duty” but don’t enunciate the “T” so it sounds like “doody” I know. It’s bad.
But still, even so, I say, Enough!
When the ads come on, I get embarrassed. I feel I ought to avert my eyes, but then again, if I avert my eyes, I feel like I might as well shout to the room,
“Hey, everyone! This makes me uncomfortable!”. But guess what - IT DOES make me uncomfortable. I don’t wanna know about it. I definitely don’t want to know that you use it, and I don’t wanna have your catchy little whistling tune in my head for the rest of the day, so that I CAN’T forget about it even if I want to! And I really, REALLY don’t want anyone else to hear me whistling it! - You know the one I’m talking about.
I related this to my husband and he retorted with:
“Well, you started it”. I was dumbfounded. WHAT? He said that men have for years had to suffer with the unpleasant “tampax” and “always - with wings” bombardery. He doesn’t like the enhancement commercials any more than we love the tampax commercials, and isn’t defending them, but he was making a point. Men don’t wanna watch the “lady stuff” crap any more than you wanna watch the enhancement ads. They all know it happens, but they definitely don’t want any details, and they don’t want some “fresh as a Daisy” feminine hygiene jingle running through their heads.
Hmmm. Touche. (I’d have accent aigu’d that e if I had one on my computer.)
He is right. Ladies, we don’t really need the ads, do we? We all know which aisle to find that stuff in the grocery store. We know it exists, and we pretty much can’t (even if we want to ) forget that we need it. Even if we forget to put it on the grocery list, lets face it at some point we’re going to make a special trip JUST for that if necessary!
And, men, if you need… whatever it is that you need, you, I’m sure, could track it down. My grandma can “work the internet” and if she can find a way to forward me all the cartoons and inspirational sayings that she does, SURELY, you could find…. That stuff, if you really tried. Heck, who knows, pretty soon it will probably be right next to the tampax in the grocery store.
So, here’s my solution. Let’s call a truce. We’ll go back to being mysterious, and you can just - ya know, whatever - I just don’t wanna know about it.
Fair nuff.
I’m just sayin’. <(Just for you B.B.)
Today I breech a delicate and somewhat uncomfortable topic. I only do so because I realize that my own children are becoming more aware of what’s going on around them, and they are not afraid to repeat whatever they hear, and have not developed a filter on what you should and should not say. My oldest is getting a bit better, but will still occasionally blurt out something like, “Hey, there’s the fat lady who’s supposed to help us!” And, my two toddlers will repeat ANYTHING.
Knowing this about them, I have put the kibosh on almost all television - Especially anything after 5:00 p.m.. It’s just not safe. Here’s what I am most afraid of:
WAY too frequently I am assaulted with commercials promoting “male enhancement”. I can’t even imagine how many shades of red I would turn if my daughter blurted out something about (as one commercial puts it) “that certain part of the male anatomy”.
Maybe it is my wholesome upbringing, and I am just being a prude. Or maybe I am just incredibly immature and need to grow up. In fact, that’s not even a maybe. I am immature. I still giggle whenever my husband says things like, “I don’t do that, but what I do do, is ______“ Pretty much it doesn’t matter what he says from there on, because I’ve been too distracted by the “doodoo”. I also giggle when people say “duty” but don’t enunciate the “T” so it sounds like “doody” I know. It’s bad.
But still, even so, I say, Enough!
When the ads come on, I get embarrassed. I feel I ought to avert my eyes, but then again, if I avert my eyes, I feel like I might as well shout to the room,
“Hey, everyone! This makes me uncomfortable!”. But guess what - IT DOES make me uncomfortable. I don’t wanna know about it. I definitely don’t want to know that you use it, and I don’t wanna have your catchy little whistling tune in my head for the rest of the day, so that I CAN’T forget about it even if I want to! And I really, REALLY don’t want anyone else to hear me whistling it! - You know the one I’m talking about.
I related this to my husband and he retorted with:
“Well, you started it”. I was dumbfounded. WHAT? He said that men have for years had to suffer with the unpleasant “tampax” and “always - with wings” bombardery. He doesn’t like the enhancement commercials any more than we love the tampax commercials, and isn’t defending them, but he was making a point. Men don’t wanna watch the “lady stuff” crap any more than you wanna watch the enhancement ads. They all know it happens, but they definitely don’t want any details, and they don’t want some “fresh as a Daisy” feminine hygiene jingle running through their heads.
Hmmm. Touche. (I’d have accent aigu’d that e if I had one on my computer.)
He is right. Ladies, we don’t really need the ads, do we? We all know which aisle to find that stuff in the grocery store. We know it exists, and we pretty much can’t (even if we want to ) forget that we need it. Even if we forget to put it on the grocery list, lets face it at some point we’re going to make a special trip JUST for that if necessary!
And, men, if you need… whatever it is that you need, you, I’m sure, could track it down. My grandma can “work the internet” and if she can find a way to forward me all the cartoons and inspirational sayings that she does, SURELY, you could find…. That stuff, if you really tried. Heck, who knows, pretty soon it will probably be right next to the tampax in the grocery store.
So, here’s my solution. Let’s call a truce. We’ll go back to being mysterious, and you can just - ya know, whatever - I just don’t wanna know about it.
Fair nuff.
I’m just sayin’. <(Just for you B.B.)
Monday, March 2, 2009
Deep Thoughts
Not the Jack Handey Kind.
Have you ever been caught off guard by the question, posed by your significant other, “What are you thinking?”
I have.
Because lets face it, sometimes our minds wander. However, not wanting to let on how shallow and insignificant our train of thought has become, we grapple for something deep and meaningful to have been thinking about so we blurt out something like,
“Us - I was thinking about us.”
This, will generally shut up the inquiring party. If it does not, from there, you paddle your own canoe, because that statement can open a can of worms that you didn’t intend, and the rest of the conversation can go SO many directions.
However, if, we were to answer the question honestly, it might sound something like this:
“Well, first I was thinking that I could really use a cup of coffee, but then I was thinking that I really must stop drinking caffeine this late in the day, then I wondered why inside my own head I would use the word “must” instead of “should” because must is so proper and it’s just me - thinking to myself. I’m not British. Who says must anyway? I must, I must, I must increase my bust. Who said that? I forget, but I remember there were arm motions and everything. I don’t need bigger boobs anyway, I just want them to point the right direction. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate a little cleavage once in a while, but even if I had it, it’s not like I’d be comfortable showing it anyway. Boba stuck her finger down my sports bra earlier today and called it a butt. I don’t want butt boobs.”
See? If we really let on what we’re thinking, we sound very ridiculous.
Have you ever been caught off guard by the question, posed by your significant other, “What are you thinking?”
I have.
Because lets face it, sometimes our minds wander. However, not wanting to let on how shallow and insignificant our train of thought has become, we grapple for something deep and meaningful to have been thinking about so we blurt out something like,
“Us - I was thinking about us.”
This, will generally shut up the inquiring party. If it does not, from there, you paddle your own canoe, because that statement can open a can of worms that you didn’t intend, and the rest of the conversation can go SO many directions.
However, if, we were to answer the question honestly, it might sound something like this:
“Well, first I was thinking that I could really use a cup of coffee, but then I was thinking that I really must stop drinking caffeine this late in the day, then I wondered why inside my own head I would use the word “must” instead of “should” because must is so proper and it’s just me - thinking to myself. I’m not British. Who says must anyway? I must, I must, I must increase my bust. Who said that? I forget, but I remember there were arm motions and everything. I don’t need bigger boobs anyway, I just want them to point the right direction. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate a little cleavage once in a while, but even if I had it, it’s not like I’d be comfortable showing it anyway. Boba stuck her finger down my sports bra earlier today and called it a butt. I don’t want butt boobs.”
See? If we really let on what we’re thinking, we sound very ridiculous.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Why the Glitter?
Well, here's why. If you're in the greeting card aisle and you're looking for a card, and there's one with glitter and one without glitter, obviously you're going to go for the one with glitter! So, I figured the same principle might apply here. If you're looking for a blog to read and you find one with glitter, you might be more inclined to read it!
As I am a first time blogger, it may take a bit to work into a blogging groove, that will keep all you readers rivited and longing for more. So, for today, I am just going to paste a note that I posted on my facebook page earlier this week. Enjoy!
I have three kids. All girls. And, as I am sure any honest parent on the planet would agree, they tax my mental moxie to the utmost. I rarely get a moment to myself these days, and yet on the gloriously rare occasion that I do, I find myself thinking the strangest things. I call it “down time”. As in - the server is down, and clearly everyone has gone home for the night, or is on coffee break, and this is all we (your brain) could come up with.
Here’s what goes on in “down time”.
I like to run words through my head, and add the letters ERY to the end of them. Turning “them” into “themery”. I think this started about the time I began going to the midwifery to have my third child. Kids make you do crazy things anyway, and I think that with each pregnancy, “down time” is compounded and begins leading you down the bright and shiny path to nonsense - or - nonsesery. I can’t stand the word midwifery. It ought to be hyphenated so as to keep the long I in “wife” instead of turning it into the short I that makes it say “wiff”. So to prove how ridiculously silly it sounded, I began adding ERY to regular words. However, my mind, being so super-saturated with more important things, like wiping butts and finding Barbie shoes, found the ERY game amusing and now it is kind of the screen saver game my head does when nothing else is bombarding me. Bombardery. Annoying isn’t it?
But, I’m not the only one to add letters to words for one reason or another. I’ll bet almost everyone at some point in their life has added SCHM or some variation of those to the beginning of a word, in order to NIX the word they said right before it.
For example, “Hey, Jon, you need to come over here!”
Jon says, “I can’t I have to go running.”
“Running SCHMunning! You can go later!”
See that? The SCHM apparently makes such a mockery of the previous word, that it has to hide in shame and become undone. Which makes me wonder, does this translate universally? Of course, it doesn’t work nearly as well with words that already begin with SM, like small, which would make it schmall, because then you would just sound like you had a speech impediment. Either that, or you’re doing a really awful Sammy Davis Jr. impression.
I digress.
What I want to know is does everyone accept this SCHM rule? If you were, say, on the Floor of the NY stock exchange and were holding…. Holding….holding…..SELL! But oh crap! As the words leave your mouth you realize you didn’t want to sell, could you shout out “SCHMELL” Immediately and completely undo the sale?
“Ha ha. Can’t count it. I said Schmell!”
Just wondering. In my “down time”.
There’s another phenomenon that happens more frequently than I’d like to admit in “down time”. It’s elevator music that is apparently directly linked to the “system not responding” blank out moments that are way too frequent. Here’s how it happens. All day long I’ll have tried to make a mental note to ask my mom to
1. Watch the kids on Friday night so I can go to a movie, and
2. To come over on Sunday for lunch.
So I’ll tell myself, “Don’t forget to ask mom those 2 things. You should e-mail her because you might forget when you‘re on the phone. Don’t forget those 2 things.” So, finally, when I sit down to e-mail her, and please keep in mind this is not “real time” playback. By the time I actually sit down to do this, I’ve done a load of laundry, made lunch for kids, fixed a few owies, de-puddinged children etc., - there’s been other things happening.
So, I sit down and write:
“Hey Mom, I was wondering if you can watch the kids on Friday night so I can go to a movie, and also………………………………....” and here comes the music. Da da da da dum doo do doo de dum. I kid you not. And usually I imagine it being “doo-dah’d” by some soft French lounge singing lady. Don’t ask me why she’s French.
I also have running “down time” which is when I’m on the treadmill, and don’t have any music to listen to, (I mean on my Zune - I don’t think I ever run out of elevator music) or if I’m running outside. I count. But, I don’t count 1,2,3 etc, on to infinity. No. I usually just suddenly become aware that I am counting and usually it is around the numbers 16, 17, 18, 19 and I find that I am repeating the same four numbers over and over again. 16, 17, 18, 19. Don’t ask me what will happen if I ever get to 20. I think subconsciously I am afraid the Apocalypse will ensue. Either that or my little “down time” buddies up there just REALLY like that sequence. Sequencery.
As I am a first time blogger, it may take a bit to work into a blogging groove, that will keep all you readers rivited and longing for more. So, for today, I am just going to paste a note that I posted on my facebook page earlier this week. Enjoy!
I have three kids. All girls. And, as I am sure any honest parent on the planet would agree, they tax my mental moxie to the utmost. I rarely get a moment to myself these days, and yet on the gloriously rare occasion that I do, I find myself thinking the strangest things. I call it “down time”. As in - the server is down, and clearly everyone has gone home for the night, or is on coffee break, and this is all we (your brain) could come up with.
Here’s what goes on in “down time”.
I like to run words through my head, and add the letters ERY to the end of them. Turning “them” into “themery”. I think this started about the time I began going to the midwifery to have my third child. Kids make you do crazy things anyway, and I think that with each pregnancy, “down time” is compounded and begins leading you down the bright and shiny path to nonsense - or - nonsesery. I can’t stand the word midwifery. It ought to be hyphenated so as to keep the long I in “wife” instead of turning it into the short I that makes it say “wiff”. So to prove how ridiculously silly it sounded, I began adding ERY to regular words. However, my mind, being so super-saturated with more important things, like wiping butts and finding Barbie shoes, found the ERY game amusing and now it is kind of the screen saver game my head does when nothing else is bombarding me. Bombardery. Annoying isn’t it?
But, I’m not the only one to add letters to words for one reason or another. I’ll bet almost everyone at some point in their life has added SCHM or some variation of those to the beginning of a word, in order to NIX the word they said right before it.
For example, “Hey, Jon, you need to come over here!”
Jon says, “I can’t I have to go running.”
“Running SCHMunning! You can go later!”
See that? The SCHM apparently makes such a mockery of the previous word, that it has to hide in shame and become undone. Which makes me wonder, does this translate universally? Of course, it doesn’t work nearly as well with words that already begin with SM, like small, which would make it schmall, because then you would just sound like you had a speech impediment. Either that, or you’re doing a really awful Sammy Davis Jr. impression.
I digress.
What I want to know is does everyone accept this SCHM rule? If you were, say, on the Floor of the NY stock exchange and were holding…. Holding….holding…..SELL! But oh crap! As the words leave your mouth you realize you didn’t want to sell, could you shout out “SCHMELL” Immediately and completely undo the sale?
“Ha ha. Can’t count it. I said Schmell!”
Just wondering. In my “down time”.
There’s another phenomenon that happens more frequently than I’d like to admit in “down time”. It’s elevator music that is apparently directly linked to the “system not responding” blank out moments that are way too frequent. Here’s how it happens. All day long I’ll have tried to make a mental note to ask my mom to
1. Watch the kids on Friday night so I can go to a movie, and
2. To come over on Sunday for lunch.
So I’ll tell myself, “Don’t forget to ask mom those 2 things. You should e-mail her because you might forget when you‘re on the phone. Don’t forget those 2 things.” So, finally, when I sit down to e-mail her, and please keep in mind this is not “real time” playback. By the time I actually sit down to do this, I’ve done a load of laundry, made lunch for kids, fixed a few owies, de-puddinged children etc., - there’s been other things happening.
So, I sit down and write:
“Hey Mom, I was wondering if you can watch the kids on Friday night so I can go to a movie, and also………………………………....” and here comes the music. Da da da da dum doo do doo de dum. I kid you not. And usually I imagine it being “doo-dah’d” by some soft French lounge singing lady. Don’t ask me why she’s French.
I also have running “down time” which is when I’m on the treadmill, and don’t have any music to listen to, (I mean on my Zune - I don’t think I ever run out of elevator music) or if I’m running outside. I count. But, I don’t count 1,2,3 etc, on to infinity. No. I usually just suddenly become aware that I am counting and usually it is around the numbers 16, 17, 18, 19 and I find that I am repeating the same four numbers over and over again. 16, 17, 18, 19. Don’t ask me what will happen if I ever get to 20. I think subconsciously I am afraid the Apocalypse will ensue. Either that or my little “down time” buddies up there just REALLY like that sequence. Sequencery.
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