This made me giggle.
Me a lottery ticket. hehehehe
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Random Thoughts
I think my oldest doesn’t like her birthday or something. Every year right before her birthday Super Girl becomes Super Brat. I don’t understand this. Out of the 7 birthdays she’s had, I’ve canceled two of them two years in a row. She’s very, very close to having her 8th birthday canceled due to extreme brattyness and she’s only got 5 more days until her birthday.
Correction on the Dead Gerbil post: The wishes followed on the gerbil burial were the wishes of Cabbage Patch not the deceased gerbil who did not have a will and at the time of his horrible demise had not verbalized his wishes for burial or otherwise.
Peanuts. Does anyone actually LIKE that comic/cartoon? I absolutely despise each and EVERY one of their holiday specials. The best thing about growing up was not EVER having to watch another Peanuts holiday special. Okay maybe that’s not the BEST part of being a grown up… Being able to buy booze and having sex and not having a curfew and… well you get the picture… but not having to watch that crap is still damn good.
Why is dating so fucking difficult? No really, WHY? Why do the few guys I DO like seem to lose interest after the first date? And WHY do all the other guys I want to forget me continue to pursue me almost to the point of needing a restraining order or a witness protection order? (some idiot is messaging me at this very moment) Honestly are there any nice, intelligent, good looking, straight men out there who aren’t just out for sex and want to date me (believe me, the freaky sex will come to those who wait)? Maybe I should just join a convent… oh wait… I’m Jewish.
I think the lone male gerbil is lonely… or maybe he’s a bit psychotic and he’s pondering how he murdered Spike.
Where the hell did the warm weather go? Yesterday I was walking around in shorts and a t-shirt and today, well today I damn near froze my ass off in my shorts when I took Coco out.
And that is all. The End.
PS - the best insult in the world is to call someone a TWAT, as in "(fill in the name) is a TWAT." Thank you Savol for putting it in perspective and giving me a giggle.
I think my oldest doesn’t like her birthday or something. Every year right before her birthday Super Girl becomes Super Brat. I don’t understand this. Out of the 7 birthdays she’s had, I’ve canceled two of them two years in a row. She’s very, very close to having her 8th birthday canceled due to extreme brattyness and she’s only got 5 more days until her birthday.
Correction on the Dead Gerbil post: The wishes followed on the gerbil burial were the wishes of Cabbage Patch not the deceased gerbil who did not have a will and at the time of his horrible demise had not verbalized his wishes for burial or otherwise.
Peanuts. Does anyone actually LIKE that comic/cartoon? I absolutely despise each and EVERY one of their holiday specials. The best thing about growing up was not EVER having to watch another Peanuts holiday special. Okay maybe that’s not the BEST part of being a grown up… Being able to buy booze and having sex and not having a curfew and… well you get the picture… but not having to watch that crap is still damn good.
Why is dating so fucking difficult? No really, WHY? Why do the few guys I DO like seem to lose interest after the first date? And WHY do all the other guys I want to forget me continue to pursue me almost to the point of needing a restraining order or a witness protection order? (some idiot is messaging me at this very moment) Honestly are there any nice, intelligent, good looking, straight men out there who aren’t just out for sex and want to date me (believe me, the freaky sex will come to those who wait)? Maybe I should just join a convent… oh wait… I’m Jewish.
I think the lone male gerbil is lonely… or maybe he’s a bit psychotic and he’s pondering how he murdered Spike.
Where the hell did the warm weather go? Yesterday I was walking around in shorts and a t-shirt and today, well today I damn near froze my ass off in my shorts when I took Coco out.
And that is all. The End.
PS - the best insult in the world is to call someone a TWAT, as in "(fill in the name) is a TWAT." Thank you Savol for putting it in perspective and giving me a giggle.
How To Get Searched At The Airport
This past weekend I ventured to Houston to attend Queen Mystic’s Super Bowl Party. K procured tickets for me from his adorable boyfriend who is employed at a major carrier and could get me a good price on the ticket (i.e. FREE).
Saturday morning I got up at the obscene hour of 4:25 am to shower and get packed (oh like you don’t wait until the last minute also) and be ready to leave casa de Karmically Challenged at 6:45 am to arrive at the airport by 7:15 am. Moments before we left I had this brilliant idea to put the things I needed into a new purse instead of cleaning out the old purse that contained many extraneous items that probably wouldn’t make it through airport security (as in the small bottle of vodka – Absolute I think, (oddly enough it came from an airplane and was gifted to me by D after one of her many trips abroad), the cute pink flask of tasty loki with my name on the front of it (Judypooh), the various packets of ketchup, jelly and taco sauce deposited there by my offspring, I’m sure there is probably a knife – possibly plastic, possibly metal -, a spork and the makings of some kind of explosive with detailed instructions any 5 year old could understand also deposited there by my progeny). Part way to the airport I discovered that my brilliant idea might have been really great if I had actually put things in my purse that I’d really need – as it was I only had my driver’s license, $15, lipstick, a book, house keys, some mints and a Starbucks card – because, come on, who really needs a debit card when you have a Starbucks card with $15 on it??? That’s like 4.5 lattes!
K deposited me at the airport and I kissed the family then waved them off as I headed to catch my flight. First stop, the ticket counter to collect my tickets from Will Call. I approached the counter and told the clerk that my tickets were in Will Call and gave her the confirmation number K had passed along to me. She tapped something in the computer and stared at it asking me if I had my tickets because she had my reservations but I needed tickets. I looked at her and considered panicking but decided not to as K had informed me on the way to the airport that he had left his phone at home so hopefully I wouldn’t have any problems. BASTARD! Fine. After 5 minutes of exchange and bewildered looks, I again mentioned Will Call and my tickets being there (actually it was the third time I mentioned it) her mental light bulb went off and she said “Oh why didn’t you say so. Will Call is different.” And before I could give her the bitch slap she deserved she disappeared behind a door to search for the tickets. Ms. Clerk took entirely too long to find the tickets but finally did reappear all smiles and sunshine and directed me to head for security.
And now the real fun part happens! I followed the other passengers to the security line like grazing cattle and presented the first security person with proof that I should be in the line at all – my ticket and my driver’s license. The security person looked at the ticket and then at the license, then looked at me then back at the documents. I smiled back, anxious to get through this and get on my flight. Then she said “Do you have up to date identification?” I said no and wondered how in the world she knew that the address was incorrect on my license (yes I am blond at times). She said okay and told me to go to Lane 1. Lane 1 was a shorter security line so I was happy to go there. I followed a couple of other people to that lane and casually looked down at my license to compare it to my ticket and at that moment I realized that my damned license is expired! Shit! I shoved everything back in my purse and put it and my boots, and my coat into the plastic bin and put my luggage on the belt next to the bin. Then I proceeded to prove to airport security that I’m a total ‘tard because I can’t go through the metal detector right. After my second walk through the metal detector I was told that due to my license being out of date I had to be searched as well as my bags. Oh FUN! How was I to know that an expired driver’s license is a sure sign of being a member of Al-Qaeda?
I stepped aside with two security officers and got politely felt up by the female officer while the male looked on and prepared to paw through all my belongings. Dude, it’s all good – I hadn’t had a date in a couple of weeks so it was like a double date for a moment. As I watched them go through my belongings I was hit with a pang of regret that I hadn’t packed anything more interesting than a couple of books and some lipstick. I suddenly wished I had a bag full of batteries, vibrators, whips and hand cuffs so I could smile knowingly and mumble “business trip” to their curious looks. But no, nothing so exciting as that – not even garb as I chose not to garb because I didn’t want to have to deal with the extra weight in my bag. Bad planning on my part. And then it was over, no phone number, no thank you, no ‘call me sometime’, just ‘have a nice flight’. I’ve had dates like that before, just not usually felt up in public at an airport nor has it ever happened so quickly. Bastards.
After my encounter with the security people, I raced to my gate having realized that all this fun left me with a mere 10 minutes to get to the gate. No worries though, I got there and on the plane right away then I text messaged K “I got searched!” and turned off my phone. I figured that would give him something to think about for the next hour.
This past weekend I ventured to Houston to attend Queen Mystic’s Super Bowl Party. K procured tickets for me from his adorable boyfriend who is employed at a major carrier and could get me a good price on the ticket (i.e. FREE).
Saturday morning I got up at the obscene hour of 4:25 am to shower and get packed (oh like you don’t wait until the last minute also) and be ready to leave casa de Karmically Challenged at 6:45 am to arrive at the airport by 7:15 am. Moments before we left I had this brilliant idea to put the things I needed into a new purse instead of cleaning out the old purse that contained many extraneous items that probably wouldn’t make it through airport security (as in the small bottle of vodka – Absolute I think, (oddly enough it came from an airplane and was gifted to me by D after one of her many trips abroad), the cute pink flask of tasty loki with my name on the front of it (Judypooh), the various packets of ketchup, jelly and taco sauce deposited there by my offspring, I’m sure there is probably a knife – possibly plastic, possibly metal -, a spork and the makings of some kind of explosive with detailed instructions any 5 year old could understand also deposited there by my progeny). Part way to the airport I discovered that my brilliant idea might have been really great if I had actually put things in my purse that I’d really need – as it was I only had my driver’s license, $15, lipstick, a book, house keys, some mints and a Starbucks card – because, come on, who really needs a debit card when you have a Starbucks card with $15 on it??? That’s like 4.5 lattes!
K deposited me at the airport and I kissed the family then waved them off as I headed to catch my flight. First stop, the ticket counter to collect my tickets from Will Call. I approached the counter and told the clerk that my tickets were in Will Call and gave her the confirmation number K had passed along to me. She tapped something in the computer and stared at it asking me if I had my tickets because she had my reservations but I needed tickets. I looked at her and considered panicking but decided not to as K had informed me on the way to the airport that he had left his phone at home so hopefully I wouldn’t have any problems. BASTARD! Fine. After 5 minutes of exchange and bewildered looks, I again mentioned Will Call and my tickets being there (actually it was the third time I mentioned it) her mental light bulb went off and she said “Oh why didn’t you say so. Will Call is different.” And before I could give her the bitch slap she deserved she disappeared behind a door to search for the tickets. Ms. Clerk took entirely too long to find the tickets but finally did reappear all smiles and sunshine and directed me to head for security.
And now the real fun part happens! I followed the other passengers to the security line like grazing cattle and presented the first security person with proof that I should be in the line at all – my ticket and my driver’s license. The security person looked at the ticket and then at the license, then looked at me then back at the documents. I smiled back, anxious to get through this and get on my flight. Then she said “Do you have up to date identification?” I said no and wondered how in the world she knew that the address was incorrect on my license (yes I am blond at times). She said okay and told me to go to Lane 1. Lane 1 was a shorter security line so I was happy to go there. I followed a couple of other people to that lane and casually looked down at my license to compare it to my ticket and at that moment I realized that my damned license is expired! Shit! I shoved everything back in my purse and put it and my boots, and my coat into the plastic bin and put my luggage on the belt next to the bin. Then I proceeded to prove to airport security that I’m a total ‘tard because I can’t go through the metal detector right. After my second walk through the metal detector I was told that due to my license being out of date I had to be searched as well as my bags. Oh FUN! How was I to know that an expired driver’s license is a sure sign of being a member of Al-Qaeda?
I stepped aside with two security officers and got politely felt up by the female officer while the male looked on and prepared to paw through all my belongings. Dude, it’s all good – I hadn’t had a date in a couple of weeks so it was like a double date for a moment. As I watched them go through my belongings I was hit with a pang of regret that I hadn’t packed anything more interesting than a couple of books and some lipstick. I suddenly wished I had a bag full of batteries, vibrators, whips and hand cuffs so I could smile knowingly and mumble “business trip” to their curious looks. But no, nothing so exciting as that – not even garb as I chose not to garb because I didn’t want to have to deal with the extra weight in my bag. Bad planning on my part. And then it was over, no phone number, no thank you, no ‘call me sometime’, just ‘have a nice flight’. I’ve had dates like that before, just not usually felt up in public at an airport nor has it ever happened so quickly. Bastards.
After my encounter with the security people, I raced to my gate having realized that all this fun left me with a mere 10 minutes to get to the gate. No worries though, I got there and on the plane right away then I text messaged K “I got searched!” and turned off my phone. I figured that would give him something to think about for the next hour.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Dead Gerbils Are No Fun
So it’s done, I told the wee child of the demise of her gerbil. After a brief discussion with K I decided to go with the cold hard truth as he was unwilling to come up with a good lie. Not that really mattered, the whole thing went like this:
Me: Cabbage Patch, I have something to tell you.
Her: What?
Me: Look in the gerbil cage and tell me what’s missing.
Her: The food?
Me: No.
Her: *looking more closely* The water?
Me: No. *rolling eyes and cursing her father for her getting his observation skills*
Her: Da wheel?
Me: No, no, no. That’s all in there. Your gerbil. He’s dead.
Her: *looking at me with surprise* He’s dead.
Me: Yeah honey. Spike is dead. *pulls her into a hug*
Her: *muffled sniffles*
Me: It’s okay honey. *getting teary eyed*
Her: *looking up at me* Can I see him?
Me: Umm… no, it’s gross.
Her and her sister: I wanna see. It won’t be gross.
Me: NO. It’s GROSS.
Her: Can I get a new gerbil?
Me: Um… yeah, I guess.
Her: Okay, can I play outside now?
And that was the end of that. K buried the corpse in a small soap box under a tree by the creek per her instructions (actually she wanted it buried much closer to home but that just seemed a bit to creepy for me.
So it’s done, I told the wee child of the demise of her gerbil. After a brief discussion with K I decided to go with the cold hard truth as he was unwilling to come up with a good lie. Not that really mattered, the whole thing went like this:
Me: Cabbage Patch, I have something to tell you.
Her: What?
Me: Look in the gerbil cage and tell me what’s missing.
Her: The food?
Me: No.
Her: *looking more closely* The water?
Me: No. *rolling eyes and cursing her father for her getting his observation skills*
Her: Da wheel?
Me: No, no, no. That’s all in there. Your gerbil. He’s dead.
Her: *looking at me with surprise* He’s dead.
Me: Yeah honey. Spike is dead. *pulls her into a hug*
Her: *muffled sniffles*
Me: It’s okay honey. *getting teary eyed*
Her: *looking up at me* Can I see him?
Me: Umm… no, it’s gross.
Her and her sister: I wanna see. It won’t be gross.
Me: NO. It’s GROSS.
Her: Can I get a new gerbil?
Me: Um… yeah, I guess.
Her: Okay, can I play outside now?
And that was the end of that. K buried the corpse in a small soap box under a tree by the creek per her instructions (actually she wanted it buried much closer to home but that just seemed a bit to creepy for me.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
To Tell The Truth or Make A Fantastic Lie?
Which should I do? I’m completely torn. I’m a terribly truthful person but I’m in a quandary as to what I should do at this very moment. I just discovered Cabbage Patch’s gerbil quite dead. EWWWW! Now I’m not certain if I should tell her and let my tiny 5 year old experience grief for the first time or if I should concoct a fabulous tale and have K purchase a replacement Spike.
Internet if I ever needed you it’s RIGHT NOW! Give me your input! I have until 4 pm to decide what to do about this dead gerbil problem. Do I tell her Spike has gone to the big running wheel in the sky or do I tell her that her daddy took Spike to the vet for a check up?
Which should I do? I’m completely torn. I’m a terribly truthful person but I’m in a quandary as to what I should do at this very moment. I just discovered Cabbage Patch’s gerbil quite dead. EWWWW! Now I’m not certain if I should tell her and let my tiny 5 year old experience grief for the first time or if I should concoct a fabulous tale and have K purchase a replacement Spike.
Internet if I ever needed you it’s RIGHT NOW! Give me your input! I have until 4 pm to decide what to do about this dead gerbil problem. Do I tell her Spike has gone to the big running wheel in the sky or do I tell her that her daddy took Spike to the vet for a check up?
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