Category Archives: random bullshit

I Will Learn to Whistle

So I went on an outing yesterday. This is unusual behavior for me because I don’t like getting dressed or people.

One of my best friends called me early in the day and I guess because I wasn’t really awake yet I agreed to her scandalous plan of riding in the van of someone I barely know to a town far away for the entire day. It could have been disastrous.

On the long ride I learned that my close friend whom I have known since the second grade “really likes the smell of diesel.” But she’s pregnant, so really “diesel” could have been any other word. At one point she said, “those things, on the sides, that hold clothes together?” and I said, “yes, the seams” and she said, “yeah, the seams and the material that’s made from a plant?” And I said “cotton” and it was like this crazy guessing game all day long because apparently the baby she is carrying has stolen her words.

The driver of the van was a nice lady who I kind of know but I had never put my life in her hands before and by that I mean I had never ridden in her van while she drove. She did okay except at one point she exclaimed, “I’m really not this bad of a driver, it’s just this squash.” And then proceeded to pull a giant squash out from under her feet.

squash

We went first to a repair shop where the pregnant lady and I refused to pee so we danced around madly in the parking lot holding our vaginas. Just kidding. We waited sedately in the van and bitched about how bad we had to pee.

Then we went to a thrift store that sold giant pairs of mens underwear and smelled like the customers looked, which was dirty and kind of poopy.

After that we went to Walmart just for a minute and I learned a new trick from an unkempt-looking lady standing in the front of the store. As we walked past her she put her hand to her mouth and whistled an ear-piercing whistle. From somewhere in the depths of the store came an answering whistle and I surmised that these not smart looking people had devised a genius plan. I will never again search a Walmart for my loved ones. Instead, I will learn to whistle and it will be amazing and effective. Also, I guess I should not assume that people who smell bad are not that smart because obviously these stinky people have street smarts or at least grocery store smarts and who am I to judge. Maybe I smell bad. (I don’t. I don’t smell bad at all.)

Lastly we went to TCBY because my pregnant friend was having a meltdown for some frozen yogurt and I asked what did TCBY stand for and they said “Thank Goodness It’s Yogurt” and I said okay, that makes sense. Once we were inside I got some samples that were just adorable and if you haven’t had tiny samples of yogurt in tiny little cups you haven’t lived. It was good, even though my pregnant friend told the yogurt man that he could “surely do better than that” after she saw her cone.

It was a fun day full of learning about people and squash.


Shit My Family Says To Me, Again

Well, I survived another Halloween. In protest, I attended two fall festivals sans makeup and hair styling. I thought if anyone asked I would say I was dressed as a frazzled mother with too many festivals to attend, but no one asked. I did however get mistaken for a sorority sister. That makes me think that the girls who hosted the festival must be heavy partiers and are often seen about town looking next-morning-rough.

In other news, my family has come through for you guys yet again, by way of constantly harassing me and giving me grief.


I tried to tell my son that I was funny and he didn’t believe me.

Me: I have over 2000 followers on my blog.

Thing 2: Stop it. You do not.

Me: Yes. Yes I do. Because people think I’m funny.

Thing 2: The funniest thing you ever said to me is what you just said.


My husband and I were discussing handwriting analysis.

Me: According to my handwriting, I have about five different personalities.

Him: I think at least two of them don’t like me.

Me: *chortles* I have to write that down!

Him: I like how I gave you ample time to dispute that, but you didn’t.

Me: …cause I think you’re right.


Trying to convince my oldest son that I am the coolest mom he knows.

Me: I’m awesome and you know it!

Thing 1: Yeah, if by “awesome” you mean “hard to love.”


Pedi Egg


How I Found Out I Wasn’t the Smartest Person Ever

When I was a little kid, I was a big nerd. You may be saying, “But, Steph, you are still a big nerd.” Well, you’re right, but I was an even bigger nerd as a kid.

I was also an Army brat and when I was in the third grade we were stationed in Virginia.

Now, I was smart and I knew I was smart cause I’d been in special classes for smart kids. When we moved to Virginia my parents upped the ante and sent me to a special school for smart kids.

I. Was. Pissed. Number one because my brother and all my friends and neighbors got to go to the regular school, number two because my bus ride was really long, but most importantly because I WASN’T THE SMARTEST KID ANYMORE. It was ridiculous.

I was used to getting the highest grades without even trying. Now you’ve got me here reading my Christopher Pike and these kids are devouring The Hobbit. I was out-nerded! I couldn’t stand it.

Christopher-Pike

We switched classes, just like in high school. I hated that. The teachers all wore high heels. I really hated that. I had to do actual work. I really, really hated that.

I would like to tell you that I learned a lesson in how important hard work is and how I struggled to the top of my class and even became class president and made the teachers stop wearing such offensive footwear, but that would be a lie.

Instead I became depressed and cried everyday until my parents finally took pity on me and sent me back to public school where my academic excellence and lackadaisical study habits were received warmly with many ribbons and A+’s.

Don’t judge me. I was nine.*

*I’d do the same thing today.

Were you a nerdy kid? Did you ever feel like you got thrown into the deep end and couldn’t swim? For that matter, did anyone actually throw you in the deep end when you couldn’t swim? I’ve heard that’s a thing.


Search Term Tuesday

Yes, I know it’s not Tuesday, but Search Term Tuesday just has a special ring to it.

search

Sometimes I like to look at the searches that lead people to my blog. People go to Google with serious questions, and Google sends them here where there are no answers. It is sometimes sad and always bizarre.  Here are my top ten favorite searches.

1. Grandmother I’ve pissed myself on purpose – I’m trying to decide who peed. Did grandma pee? Are you trying to figure out how to tell grandma you peed? Commas are important, people.

2.Peeing on myself in the store – obviously, I need to stop talking about pee so much.  Google apparently thinks I’ve cornered the market on accidents.

3. How husbands fuck a maid  – I’m guessing the regular way? I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.

4. Walmart fight I’m next in line – We all know Walmart is a dangerous place.

5. I peed – And we’re back to the pee.

6. Crap my mom says – Now this actually makes a little sense.  If it was one of my children.

7. I pick up hookers tee shirts – I PICKED UP ONE HOOKER!  ONE!

8. Free sex stories of my mom fucked my pet snake – I don’t even.

9. I saw my husband fucking our maid and I did tell them – I feel like my maid story was not helpful to you. Again, my apologies.

10. Why Doberman hump strangers – A question for the ages. Actually, according to my commenters, it’s a dominance thing. You are that dog’s bitch.

What’s the weirdest place Google has led you? Have you ever searched for something just knowing the results were going to be awful? Do you think Grandma peed or what? Let’s not ever speak of the snake one, ever again.


And This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

I’m really, really, incredibly clumsy. I have tried and tried to tell my family that it is a syndrome and not something I can control. They insist on mocking me nonetheless. My goal in life is to own a blowtorch for jewelry making purposes but I persist on this path of self destruction and humiliation and I can tell that it is just never going to happen. If it did, I would probably burn my own face off.

break2

 

This past week alone I have amazed myself and those around me with my gracelessness.

First I was in Walmart, where bad things always seem to happen, just minding my own business, when I saw a clearance sticker. I am a sucker for a good deal. The items on sale were syrups used in making those crushed ice drinks. My daughter had gotten an icee machine for Christmas last year and we’d let her use it about none times since then, because it’s loud and messy and generally a pain in the ass. But. The syrup was on sale. And I thought, she’ll be delighted to finally get to make an icee with flavoring since the one I let her make was just ice with Koolaid poured over the top. I know, I really outdid myself there. Anyway, they had grape and cherry and whatever flavor blue is. I reached in for a red one and KABLAM knocked over about half the display. They really weren’t stacked well, if you ask me. SPLAT! Purple sticky disgusting syrup EVERYWHERE. Now, because I used to work at Walmart about a million years ago, I remembered from their indoctrination tapes that if Jose stole something you should report him, unions are a no-no, and if there’s a spill you have to stand guard over it so no one is injured. So I stood there. And stood there. And stood there. Finally one of those tiny old ladies who surely shouldn’t be working any more wandered by and I corralled her to stand guard while I went to get someone who could actually carry a mop. It was a damned mess, all caused by yours truly.

Next on my list of things to destroy was my brand new tablet. I’ve been moaning for years because my kids have ipods and ipads and galaxy whatevers and I have none. My dad finally took pity on me and surprised me with a Surface tablet. I was so excited. Yesterday I ordered a fancy case for it, because I know myself well. I’d only had it about two weeks and was just finally figuring out how to work it when disaster struck. By ‘disaster’ I mean me. I don’t even know how it happened. One minute I was holding it, reading Motherhood May Cause Drowsiness, and the next it was facedown on the concrete floor. I hoped that all was not lost, but sure enough, that fragile bitch was all cracked up.

These are not the only times that my clumsiness syndrome has caused me to injure myself or break something. Oh, no. There was the time that I dropped something while making pancakes and accidentally stuck my forehead to the pancake griddle. And the time I attempted to jump over a hedge while wearing platform wedges and a fancy dress. That didn’t end well, let me tell you. I once fell down my front steps in the rain while carrying my middle child. He was a baby at the time and somehow I protected him but cracked my tailbone. I’ve broken more toes than I care to count, and I broke my wrists so many times as a child that the hospital started taking me back alone to make sure I wasn’t getting beat up at home. No, sorry, I’m just a goddamn accident waiting to happen.

My mother-in-law knows I collect green glass and she used to give me glassware in that shade, but I would break them one at a time until they were all gone. Now she buys me plastic glasses in a pretty green and I still manage to break those too.

I used to smoke and my friends would always walk on the side of me that did not have the cigarette because I was really bad about burning people, and I have a scar on each finger from burning myself with cigarettes. I guess in light of all this I should be glad about my husband’s “No Fire” policy, but I really feel like he is stifling my creativity.

Are you accident prone? Do you want things even though they might be bad for your health? Do you think a blowtorch is an unreasonable request? We have insurance.