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Showing posts from May 24, 2009

Clearly, now...

Three guys were standing around my office chatting about someone and, since I missed half the conversation, I piped up with: "Who?"

And just the way it came out, I knew... sure enough one wise guy mocks, "Hoo! Hoo! What are you - an owl?" (and they all rolled with laughter)

And the second wise guy says, "Maybe we should ask if she shits through suspenders!"

And it was silent. Dead silent, because, really, what does taking a crap through suspenders have to do with a nocturnal bird?


** After further investigation it was determined second wise guy had actually said, "Maybe we should ask if she sheds lots of feathers." This is an example of why it's important to enunciate.

Get a clue!

If you reek of alcohol at 2:00 in the afternoon - EVERY afternoon - you drink too much.

If you have alcohol oozing from your pores and you haven't even broken a sweat - you drink too much.

If you ask for cologne for your birthday and people give you bottles of scotch because that's what they think you wear - you drink too much.

Thank you, Mr. Drunk Guy, for entertaining me this afternoon. It almost made me forget about Ms. Inconsiderate who hacked in my face - no worries; she stated she wasn't sick. She just has allergies and coughs a lot. I think she should have just apologized, but apparently when you explain your allergic-cough condition it absolves you from following proper health and hygiene ettiquette. But I digress....

I was thanking you, Mr. Drunk Guy, for coming in and taking the time to slobplain (that's my made up word for "pathetically slobbering through an explanation") that you have to park your green cadillac in our municipal lot because your drive…

water... please...

While cleaning at my grandmother's house I found myself getting increasingly dizzy. More than likely the result of going up and down a step ladder attempting to wash shelving and walls, and the ever enlarging offspring hanging out in my womb, cutting off vital circulation. I'd pause for a moment, take a few deep breaths, and continue on. But then it got to a point where I literally felt the walls closing in on me and the floor started to slip beneath my feet. Clawing my way to the living room, I did my best to mimic the whole head between your knees thing (yeah, right...). Luckily I was not alone:

Bean: What's wrong ma? Are you okay?

About to Pass Out Mother: ...no... I need water... get me water...

Bean: What's wrong with you?

APOM: (struggling to breath) ... I just need some water.... please....

Bean: (sitting down comfortably in the cozy chair across from me) It's kind of hot in here, don'tcha think? Great-gramma should open some windows.

APOM: (head still dropped…

What happens at 23?

I am 23 and one-half weeks pregnant today. That means 16 and one-half weeks to go... unless, for some reason, Cletus the Fetus is intent on remaining in my womb until s/he feels willing to exit, or until I convince the Scheduling Gods to bless me with an injection of the synthetic form of oxytocin, used to induce and augment labor (commonly referred to as pitocin, for those of you wondering).

So far, Cletus has shared with me the wonderful world of Extreme Heartburn. I'm sure there's a maximum consumption limit of Tums, but I simply cannot get enough to allow me to sleep through the night without holding on to the fire extinguisher - I'm convinced the burning will reach levels conducive to spontaneous combustion.

The little fetus (who I'm told is about 11½ inches long and weighs 1 pound, or about the length and weight of a Harry Potter book) delights itself on hanging out on my nerves, sending shooting pain through my stomach, down my leg, out my feet, where it apparentl…

Oh, What a Nasty Webb!

Dear Mrs. Webb,

I understand you're upset. For what particular reason, I can only guess. Understanding your position that the Sate of Wisconsin requires municipalities to conduct certain inspections to your property for the purpose of ensuring it is safe to live in is asinine, unnecessary and a waste of tax payers money, I invite you to consider something a little different....

What if these required inspections catch a construction error that saves your 4-year old granddaughter from getting her head stuck in between the deck railings and strangling herself? Or catch a wiring error and your home doesn't start on fire causing the smoke inhalation death of your husband of the last 43 years?

From your cuss-laden tirade on the phone this morning I understand that safety is not really a priority to you, but - and this may come as a surprise to you, sitting on the receiving end of your angry and ignorant (and unbelievably loud) commentary is not exactly MY priority. So, it was with …

Day 8 of my Sabbatical

I bet you think that by 8 days into my domestic sabbatical I'd be sneaking around the house at two in the morning putting things back in their proper places... but NO! I have stayed strong. In an effort to pull the blinders off Big V's eyes and show him that indeed, my role in the household is a lot more difficult than "it only takes twenty minutes to do the dishes" I have refrained from conducting any sort of domestic duty (except for once when I dusted, but that was because he reaminded me - over and over and over again - that he helped me when I was the one in charge).

This past Memorial Day weekend my extended family and I went to my 91-year old grandmother's house to perform a mini extreme home makeover. It was necessary it so many ways. I personally spent two days scrubbing every nook and cranny in her house, including a much neglected bathroom. (Look, I'm not judging - my time will come, but it was SO GROSS!) Big V did manly macho stuff like shoveling …