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Showing posts from December 12, 2010

The Great Go Fish Christmas Tag Program of 2010

Of course my kids are going to compare the gifts wrapped under the tree. For hours each day they will compare, brag, cry, get upset, do cartwheels, jump around or stomp, all in the name of gift giving. The bigger the gift, the bigger the brag... and the bigger my headache becomes.

And so it is with much excitement I announce the Great Go Fish Christmas Tag Program of 2010!

The gifts do not have names on them. Instead, they are adorned with half of a fish pair from the commonly recognized card game Go Fish. One present has a card attached depicting a narwahl. Another a clown fish. And another a sand shark. Come Christmas morning each child will have an envelope holding the other half of their fish pairs. Pull out the sand shark - go find the matching gift! I'm thinking it will add a fun spin to the Christmas morning events.

I'm also thinking I may just be a genius.

Just Another Day at the Office

Me:  Hello. How can I help you?

Woman on Phone:  I'm going to subpoena your coworker.

Me: Um. Okay. Is there anything else I can help you with?

WoP: He needs to testify at my trial and tell the judge my life was in danger so I can get my two thousand dollars.

Me: Okay. I'll let him know.

WoP: Because I'm suing my landlord. And he said someone was moving in there.

Me: Who said someone was moving in where?

WoP: My landlord. He said people were moving in to the apartment so I have to remove the mailbox.

Me: Do you live in the apartment?

WoP: No. I moved out. But now he said other people are moving in there and so I have to remove the mailbox.

Me: Whose mailbox is it?

WoP:  Mine. Ninety-nine percent of the people are too scared to put in their own mailbox; they just get their mail at the Post Office, but they don't have to. This is America and you can get your mail delivered if you want it.

Me: It's your mailbox and you moved out and now your landlord has asked you to remove you…

Cinderella Syndrome

Setting:
evening; the basement, where the children had been banished hours earlier with strict instructions to clean the playroom and unearth the carpeted floor.

Characters:
The Bean, 15 - in the playroom, barking orders at her sister.
Dotter, 9 - also in playroom, goofing off and being generally uncooperative.
Mother, 27 (don't question the age, people, it's really not that important) - enters basement to do some much needed laundry.

Scene:
As mother juggles dirty laundry she spies The Bean walking by obviously hiding something, because, really, who walks sideways up a set of stairs with their back to their mother? Hello, red flag! Mother, sensing deviousness, pounces on the now alone, innocent, younger daughter:


Mother:  What was she carrying?

Dotter: Huh?

Mother: The Bean. What was she trying to hide from me?

Dotter: I don't know. Something in a bag.

Intent on getting to the bottom of things, Mother waits like a silent ninja for the unsuspecting child to return.... and when s…

Babies Versus Teens (Guess who wins....)

Twenty years ago, in an attempt to deter young people from getting knocked up at a young age, our high school required teens to carry a hardboiled egg around for a week. For some reason the staff felt I may need an extra push in the right direction, therefore I was handed the responsibility of "twins." One egg I named Melchizedek Barron and the other I named something far less impressive since I have no idea to this day what it was. For a week I drove around with the eggs nestled in the cup holder of my sporty blue, two door Pontiac Grand Am, rocking out to Salt-N-Pepa's "Let's Talk About Sex."

What they should've done is made me spend every waking minute with a teenager.

Babies are cute. And cuddly. And they smell good if you wash them on a regular basis. Teenagers are moody and hormonal and either don't use enough deodorant or spend in excess of ninety-eight minutes hogging all the hot water so that when you want to bathe all you get is a shrugge…