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Showing posts from December 5, 2010

A Conversation in Text

Last night I received a text from my older, wiser sister. But only older by 16 months. And only wiser by 16 points on the ACT. (Lies. I don't really know the ACT difference. At this point in my life I'm not even sure I've ever taken the ACT.) (I am, however, certain I took some military test that told me I'd be perfect as some sort of small weapons mechanic-y person. I took that to mean the test was bogus and the Army just needed someone to fill some slots.) (I went into a position where I did administrative work.) (But I digress.)

Here is our texted conversation:

Sister:  It's the 'damn, I washed another kleenex time of year'. Third load of laundry I've had to pick pieces off while I fold. And no one to blame but me.

Me:  That's exactly why I'm a staunch proponent of using sleeves.

Sister: I don't know why I put them in my pocket anyway. I grab a new one almost every time and end up emptying my pockets because they get too full.

Me:  Shove them…

'Tis the Season

If I were President of the United States, I would make it mandatory that all cell phone alarms have a minimum 9-minute snooze because this four minute thing my new phone is doing is just not fair. I've started setting five separate alarms to go off at 9-minute intervals so I can just turn the alarms off and not depend on their stingy snooze.

My plan was foiled this morning when the babysitter called saying something about massive vomiting, digestive parasites and  possible cholera, so guess who had to wake up that very second to track down a child sitter pinch hitter? No snoozing for me. Luckily, our Martha Stewart/Betty Crocker back-up was available which made me think (1) Thank God for this gracious woman, and (2) I totally could've slept for seven more minutes.

All was not well when I went to wake the baby, who looked at me with one eye open ala pirate style due to the fact his other eyeball was crusted over with a gunky puss. Then he smiled this cute little adorable smile …

Up My Dose of Cipro, Please

I was putting a file away at work when I got a paper cut. I immediately contacted the proper personnel to file a workman's comp claim but they wouldn't do it. Instead I was offered some antibacterial wash and a band-aid. I made them pinky swear that if this gets infected and my finger needs to be amputated they'll backdate a claim. I'm not messing around here, people. Infections are serious.

By they way, when I was writing this I couldn't remember the word "amputated" (probably because the infection is already rapidly attacking my brain cells) so I googled remove finger and was somewhat traumatized by the first site suggestion which provided the following detail:

Ever wondered what two colliding
high-strength magnets would do to a lime? What about a finger?
There is no way I'm clicking on that video. As if I don't have enough things in this world to worry about, now I have to make sure to teach my children to stay away from high-strength magnets be…

Oh, Just Wear a Patch, Kid

Apparently someone (or something) has been socking my 9-year old in the eyeball causing an inflammation and bruising situation that requires medicated eye drops and multiple visits to the eye doctor. Which wouldn't be too bad if I suddenly hadn't gone all anti-hoarding and held on to the medicated eye drops as opposed to tossing them in the trash last week. I have cough medicine that expired 3-1/2 years ago yet I toss the drops. I know I make no sense.

Eye appointment looming I toss a bottle at the toddler and attempt to find his shoes. The kid owns exactly one pair of shoes. Do you want to know why my kid owns only one pair of shoes? Because he's not my first born. The first born had thirty-eight pairs of shoes to choose from at any given time. The third born child is lucky he gets shoes at all. But because the clock is ticking and the I-need-to-arrive-twenty-minutes-before-my-scheduled-appointment-or-I'll-implode 9-year is twitching I cannot locate the shoes. It'…