And Then I Rescued a Dog That Was Not in Need

So the other day I thought I was a hero. You see, I rescued a dog. Me! Not B, but me! Me!

I was driving to meet my family for breakfast when I noticed a small Yorkie in the grass by the road. I waited a minute to see if there was an owner nearby.  When one didn't appear, I rounded the corner and got out of my car. 

The dog was excited to see me and she had tags.  What a score, I thought! I can just quickly return her to her owners. Unfortunately, there were no owner info on the tags, only shot info and she appeared to be very far from home. I scooped her up and off we went.

She had no chip when scanned by the vet.  They called her vet, but it was closed for another half hour. I decided to take her home to get her some water. It was then that my neighbor pulled up and said "THANK GOD!"

It was his father's dog that he was watching.

I "rescued" my neighbor's dog.

Rescue fail.

How was I supposed to know? Well, in that moment of revelation, a few things collided in my mind at once:

• B told me the neighbor was watching his dad's dog and that Nevada was obsessed with it, but when I asked him what kind he only said "small."
• My neighbor was out when I left the house in his backyard.
• The dog was on his property outside the backyard.
• I briefly thought about asking the neighbor if he knew whose dog it was, but just figured it was too far from home for him to know.

Lesson learned?  Only dogs that do not need help will approach me. 

 

That Is Not My Coat, Unless It Is My Coat, Then It May Be My Coat

Sometimes I like to act all wifey and take in B's dry cleaning for him. This is usually after he nags me. A lot.  

This was the case recently when B asked me to take his long formal coat in for a dry cleaning. Okay, maybe he asked me the last time he wore it. That would be in the winter. Yes, that season before spring. Ahem.

So I took it in. Eventually I got it out.  The timing of all that is irrelevant to the story. You know what is relevant?  B claimed I came back with a different coat.

I brought his coat home and hung it on our valet in our closet.  It hung there for weeks.  I asked B what he wanted me to do with the coat and he said to put it in the downstairs closet, which I did.  Two days later, I am outside in the garage (hanging out, not working - let's be real), when B came out wondering what I did with his coat:

B: Where's my coat?

Me: In the front closet.

B: No, it's not.

Me: Yes it is. I put it there myself.

B:  NO, IT'S NOT.

Me: Oh, right. Someone came, broke into our house, left no evidence, AND ONLY STOLE YOUR COAT. I forgot.

Then I stalked to the closet and pulled out his coat with a big triumphant swoosh while saying in my head "Voila!".  B then insisted the coat was not his. We both looked at the coat, and I remarked "Um, what?"

Then B started saying a bunch of words all at once. I recall hearing "small claims court," "expensive," "Ralph Lauren," and "you better do something about this."

Too bad I was going out of town for a couple of days. I left B with the unpleasant task of accusing the dry cleaner of swapping his coat for a shorter, lighter and less expensive coat.

However, before that could happen, we revisited the issue. I had convinced B it might be a girl's coat. This struck me as funny.  He decided to try it on. Guess what?

It fit.

And it looked like his coat.

And when I asked him to check inside for a size, guess what he found?

A Ralph Lauren patch on the inside man's pocket.

Guess who didn't go back to the dry cleaners after all?

   

*B would like to say that this blog don't write itself as if he intentionally created the above scenario.

**This occurred before I started writing the blog again, so yeah.


Three years ago today:  Piss and Pine? Sounds Like a Candy...

If It Is Going to Be a Bad Day When You See a Werewolf, What Happens When You Are Standing Barefoot in the Cold?

Remember about a week or two ago when I said I had a bad day that started with a werewolf sighting?  Well, I topped myself without even trying.  Every week it is my job to take out the recycling on garbage day.  If I was not the hugest procrastinator around, I would do this the evening before.  That, however, is not in my nature.  So I do it the morning of pickup.  I had the routine down to a science, or so I thought.

You see, our front door does not self lock. Neither does our back door, but for an entirely different reason.  Often I have told friends, family, and delivery men not to worry about the door shutting or slamming behind me, "it won't lock me out."  You know what this means, right? IT FLIPPING LOCKED ME OUT.

Of course that would be the morning I elected not to wear socks or shoes despite the fact that it was under 50 degrees. I was also in a tshirt with wet hair having just gotten out of the shower.  No keys. No phone. No mad survivor skills.

It was 6:30 a.m.

It was dark. It was cold. I was PISSED. I think I said something like "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" I looked around our very dark neighborhood. No one was up. And if they were, what where they going to do for me?  So I go to the back where we have a spare key in a lockbox. I don't know the code.

I DON'T KNOW THE CODE TO GET MY OWN SPARE KEY TO MY OWN HOUSE.

And it is dark and I cannot see. And I have no shoes. Did I mention that?  

I go back up front to see if I can force the door open and see the hip neighbor guy taking his garbage out. I run over there with my lockbox and scream "DO YOU KNOW THE CODE TO THIS?"  Sadly, he did not. But his wife did because she lets Jersey out for us occasionally. He invites me inside and then says "Are you not wearing any shoes?" 

I DIDN'T PLAN THIS YOU KNOW!!

So I got in and ready for work, although I never really got warm again. When I got to work I sent B a text that said:

FYI - Should you go outside with wet hair and no shoes on, you will get locked out in the dark having forgotten the code to the lockbox.

To which he replied:

Don't worry. I know it.

There is a lesson here folks.  Teach your dog how to open doors. Because, as it turns out, the door was not even locked.  The door handle on the outside just wasn't working properly. Had Jersey pushed down on the inside door handle, I could have gotten in. Instead she ran from window to window wondering what fun I was having outside.  I was having a blast. An arctic blast.

Tomorrow is garbage pickup day. What are the odds that I:

1. Wear shoes
2. Wear a sweatshirt
3. Lock myself out
4. Remember the code
5. Learn any lesson from all of this

I better start training Jersey right now.

Crime Watch Wenesday - It Probably Isn't Wise to Make Threats on the Phone to Companies that Tape Calls Regularly

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday is proof that it is probably not wise to threaten anyone over the phone.

A man phoned his insurance company and threatened to shoot the employees despite the fact that he did not know who they were and despite the fact that they were actually located in a different state. He was upset about his insurance being cancelled despite the fact that he had stopped paying for it. He threatened to shoot them twice and then followed up with a statement to the effect that they could call the CIA, the FBI or the "asshole in the White House" but he was going to blow someone away.

Whoa, whoa, whoa partner.  You have taken this a bit too far. "Call the CIA"? Like the CIA has a phone number where an insurance company can just dial in and say some lunatic insured is threatening to blow them up. That is not even CIA territory.  

As for the "asshole in the White House," you are going to have to be more specific. You could be talking about anyone from half the Senate, half the Congress or the guy that walks the President's dog. 

Really, though, what is the big deal? You got insurance and then you stopped paying for it and they canceled it. If you want it back PAY FOR IT.  If you don't, go about your business.  Imagine if someone came to your place of business and demanded something without paying for it.  Would you just give it to them if they threatened to shoot you? Or would that be a robbery?  Did you just threaten to rob your insurance company? You know they don't have a giant safe with cash like a bank, right?  That is only in the movies.

Speaking of movies, have you ever seen the movies where the main character's every move is being watched, the government listens in on his phone calls, and inevitably his entire identity is wiped out? I won't go so far to say that your identity will be wiped out dear sir, however, you should note that none of those characters actually threatened anyone. They were just minding their business.

You, on the other hand, have actually threatened people. Over the phone. At an insurance company. Where they routinely tape every call.  I am sure you probably gave them your full name and address too.

Who you gonna call now?

I Cannot Operate This Phone. It Is Too Modern.

The other day, B wanted to go to a certain Mexican restaurant which is our favorite nearby. I thought I had a coupon for it which is an even bigger score! And I did.  The only problem was the "other day" was actually the fourth of July. We are so anti-American.  So B put me in charge of calling the place to see if they were open.  I soon found, however, that the last four digits of their number was TACO. Brilliant.  Not so brilliant was the fact that they did not give the number/letter translation in their ad like most places do.

After studying my Blackberry for WAY too long, I realized I could never figure out how to call this place. When B got out of the shower, I discussed this with him:

Me: I found a coupon for the Mexican place.

B: Good. Are they open?

Me: I don't know. I cannot call. My phone is too modern.

B: What are you talking about?

Me: My numbers don't have letters and their letters don't have numbers!

B: Um. WHAT?

Me: I don't know what TACO is in numbers.

B: I don't know what the hell you are talking about. Are we eating or what?

Turns out, peeps, you can Google ANYTHING. And thanks to Wikipedia, I was able to translate TACO into numbers to call the restaurant. Don't ask me what the translation was as I have already forgotten. I have more important things on my mind like singing "Double rainbow, double rainbow, What does it MEAN?"  Have you seen that video yet? If not, watch below:

That guy is WAY too excited about that rainbow.  Of course he isn't on drugs, just very emotional and in tune with the earth.  Now check out this auto tune song:

I dare you not to sing that all day.

Suckas!

Crime Watch Wednesday - Don't Use Your Own Cellphone, GPS is a Bitch (Except Vicki - I Love Her)

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday is a special Mom edition. Apparently, there are wacky criminals in my Mom's hood as well and she was sweet enough to share her local paper with me. This incident serves as a warning to all would be criminals - make sure you don't use your own cell phone in the commission of a crime.

A man was arrested shortly after robbing a pizza delivery guy. The police were able to find the suspect so quickly because he used his own cell phone to order the pizza. Oh, and then they just tracked him directly to his house where he admitted he was guilty.

I bet the pizza wasn't even cold.

Seriously. He apparently had the good sense to not have the pizza delivered to his house, but didn't think twice about using his CELL PHONE, you know that thing that runs on towers with signals and tracking, to order the pizza? Sadly, the article did not give the exact details of the crime. Happily, I am willing to recreate it for you:

Criminal: Yeah, I'd like to order a small pizza. Just cheese.

Pizza place: That'll be $5.00. Would you like that delivered?

Criminal: Yep, bring it right away. Also, I need you to bring a lot of change. I only have a $50 bill...I mean a $100...I mean a $200 bill. Yeah, bring a lot of change.

Pizza place: Um, okay.

{An hour later even though it was supposed to be 30 minutes or less}

Pizza man: Here is your small cheese pizza.

Criminal: Gimme all your money sucka!

Criminal: I know you have at least $200

Pizza man: I have $20.

Criminal: Whatever sucka

{Five minutes later at criminal's residence}

Police: You are under arrest.

Criminal: How did you know it was me?

Police: We traced the number you used to order the pizza and you were here.

Criminal: You got me copper! I confess.

GPS* - leading people around the world and stopping criminals in their tracks. GPS rocks. Especially Vicky. Is she still listening?

*I don't even know if GPS is what is used to track a cellphone, but I bet it is. Vicky is too wise to not be used for such important functions as catching criminals.**

**Seriously, is she still listening?

Crime Watch Wednesday - The Gift that Really Isn't a Present and Also Doesn't Require Police Intervention

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday illustrates that unwanted gifts can be a "crime" at least in the victim's eyes.

A resident called the police after her recently adopted dog brought a "gift" into her kitchen in the middle of the night. Suspecting the gift was a live mouse, she trapped it under a pan, and naturally called the police. The police responded quickly. Their investigation revealed that the mouse was actually a baby bunny. They then attempted to return the bunny near the area where they believe the dog picked it up.

And this is why I don't take the dog out to pee in the middle of the night. Also, I like my sleep. Seriously, though, I am a baby. If Jersey brought me a "gift" of a mouse I would F-REAK out! There would be screaming. There would be dancing around. More screaming. Some jumping. And then probably a silent scream. You know the one? Mouth wide open, bulging eyes, no sound. Yep. That sounds about right.

You know what WOULDN'T happen? I wouldn't call the police. Somehow it would never occur to me to call the police to deal with my rat.* Oh, I also have a husband so I would probably wake him. If I didn't have a husband, I would probably call my Dad (Hi Dad - LOVE you). Or just totally abandon my house. Hell, I have been known to abandon an entire floor of the house over a bug.

Really, though, I don't know what is worse - the fact that the woman called the police or that they called this an "investigation." What did they investigate? They looked at the "rat" and saw it was a "bunny." I hope they didn't have to take a lot of notes or interview a lot of people.

The best part though is the last part. They attempted to return the bunny to the spot they thought the dog got it from. Now how in the heck would they even begin to know that? Having my own recently adopted go, I am pretty sure if I tried to get Jersey to show me where she got a rabbit she would do one of three things (1) wag her tail while attempting to lick my face, (2) pee, (3) immediately lay down and go to sleep.

I think I'll just stay inside.

*See? I have already escalated it from a mouse to rat. I am so dramatic.

Of Birthdays, Gas Cans and Limited Internet

I have to hurry up and write this post because B has informed me that he wants to get on the internet "soon" and our router is broke so only one of us can be on at a time. What kind of shit is that? And it was my birthday yesterday. So technically this is my birthday week and I should have ALL of the internet time I want, but apparently not.

So I know you are thinking I probably had a magical birthday filled with laughter, presents, sleeping in and cupcakes. Alas, that is not true. Although I often fancy that is the life I lead, in reality my birthday was like any other day save a few things.

First, unlike my friend who works for the county and gets her birthday off as a HOLIDAY, I had to go to the office. The plan was to leave early. I also went in late because, face it, if you can't sleep in a little on your birthday, when can you? (P.S. the answer is all of the other days this week and last. I seem to have a problem).

My one colleague and I had a meeting at noon so off we went. Before we left, however, we planned on going to lunch after and even planned the place and exactly what we were having. We were already starving. As the meeting finished, I looked down and saw that the office called. Then the office called my colleague. Another colleague was stranded on the freeway because her car ran out of gas.

I repeat - her car ran out of gas. On.The.Freeway.

She is in her late 40s. Too old to run out of gas. Too old to run out of gas four times in the last six months. So, yes, we had to go rescue her. No, she was not nearby. Yes, she called us 18 times during the drive to keep us updated. No, I was not amused. By then we were RAVISHED. When my colleague asked her how this happened she thanked us for coming but then told us not to ask anything else because she was cranky.

I WAS CRANKY. And starving. Sigh.

I ate lunch at 2:00. I left the office at 4:00. Least productive day ever and it wasn't even that fun. On a side note, I texted B when we were on the side of the freeway and my two cohorts were messing around with the gas can.* He responded with "at least you know your way around a gas can. Smart ass.

Two weeks ago, I decided to go fill up my tank. I took Jersey for the ride because B was mowing the lawn and she was playing chicken with the mower. B insisted that I fill up the gas can for the mower. He quickly showed me how to open it and sent me on my way.

Yeah, I couldn't open it when I got there. I drove back home, told him, listened to him sigh, then he opened it and MADE ME GO BACK. Jersey and I were not amused. Later he told me that he would never come rescue me if I were out of gas. I just laughed and told him I would find some man to do it. He responded with:

"Oh, like today."

I didn't even try, mister. I didn't even try.

*No, I did not get out of the car to assist with the gas can. I told them it was too dangerous as my side was on the traffic side. Later my one colleague told everyone that I said "I'm not getting out to do shit." I didn't say that, but it sure does sound like me.

Um, Your Baby Sounds Like a Furnace and I Am Pretty Sure That Is Not a Good Thing

Today I had to go to the doctor. You know, THAT doctor. The one that wants you to say "Ahhh" with parts other than your mouth. Yeah, I just grossed myself out with that one.

In any event, I had a bunch of time to kill while dressed in a gown with the opening facing front and a piece of paper over my lap. As in 30 minutes worth of time. Did I mention it was freezing in there?

As I was studying the poster that explained the various parts of a vagina*, I realized that I could hear an ultrasound happening next door. This was not surprising as there were about 50 pregnant women in the lobby when I arrived. So I listened to the WOM WOM WOM sound and thought to myself:

You are witnessing a little life growing and a little heart beating. How precious.

Then I thought:

Wow! That heart is beating fast.

Followed by:

That heart sounds like a train. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT BABY. WTF PEOPLE? IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE??

Then I got distracted when I heard that my doctor had a phone call and began to think I might have to frickin' call into work if this first thing in the morning appointment went any longer when I realized that damn ultrasound sound was STILL GOING ON. So I thought:

That is one hell of a long ultrasound.

And:

That can't be right.

And it wasn't. You know why? It was the frickin' heating and cooling in the building making that noise.

THE FURNACE.

Yes, I totally thought the furnace was an ultrasound.

The doctor eventually came in, heard the story and immediately revoked my female gender card.

But first he made me open wide.

*The more you know...

Thanks! I Think I Will Take the Stairs...All Eight Flights. Okay, Maybe It is Only Three, But You Get the Point.

Ever since I got stuck in an elevator while at court, I have been extra cautious to make sure it doesn't happen again. Of course, one really cannot control these things. However, there are certain things you can do to minimize any potential problems like staying in the front, not getting on an overcrowded elevator, taking the stairs.

Now, time makes the memory quite distant. Heck, even when I got stuck and vowed never to step foot on an elevator again, I took an elevator down a mere hour later. Denial is a beautiful thing. Since that event, years ago, I have gone on elevators more times than I can count without a second thought.

Until the other day.

I was chatting with a guy I work with when he told me this story:

Did I tell you I saw a guy trapped in our elevator? I was heading out and went to push the button when I look down and see fingers coming out of the elevator. Then I saw a head. The guy looked at me and said "Can you help me?" So then I took the stairs.

After I stopped laughing from the image of fingers coming out of the elevator and a small voice saying "Can you help me?", I managed to ask him if he sought any help for the guy before he went down the stairs and he assured me that he told our receptionist to call someone.

That was the beginning of my thoughts that I should take the stairs. Yesterday the wiseness of that idea was confirmed. I got on the elevator with two guys from my floor:

Guy1: Do you know Adolph?

Guy2: Not really.

Guy1: Well he got stuck on the elevator last week between two floors.

Me: I heard about that! He was sticking his fingers and head out.

Guy1: They didn't get him out for two and a half hours.

TWO AND A HALF HOURS? Are you kidding me? Then my friend at work told me that he heard that the guy got himself out by prying open the doors and jumping UP. PRYING HIMSELF OUT. I about had a heart attack right there. I went home and told B it was only stairs for me from now on. Thank goodness we are on the third floor.

So this morning I went to work chanting "Stairs, stairs, stairs" in my head. Come to find out you can go down the stairs, but not up. They are locked. LOCKED! For our safety or something. Don't they realize that for MY SAFETY I need to access the stairs. It is a conspiracy I tell you. So I have made some ground rules:

• I will not get on the elevator if I even think I might have to pee
• I will not get on the elevator with more than two people
• I will always have my phone with me on the elevator
• I will always use the stairs whenever I can (sometimes people come out when you need to go up - SCORE).
• I will stop thinking about possible problems

I am armed. I am dangerous. I am fearless.

I need to work on the ground floor.

Crime Watch Wednesday: The One Where I Am the Victim. Or the Perp?

Our Halloween night held more excitement than just passing out candy. While we were waiting for B's sister, brother-in-law and our nephew to come over for dinner and trick-or-treating, I noticed a police car pull around the corner, drive slowly up to the neighbor's house across the street and stop. Being ever mindful of B's constant need to know everything happening in the 'hood, I shouted out:

Me: The cops are at the old lady across the street's house!

B: What are they doing there?

Me: I don't know.

So I sat down on our couch in front of our big picture window and watched, trying to determine what was going on while petting Lil' B and giving the original B a blow-by-blow:

Me: She came to the door.

Me: She is letting him in.

Me: Only one cop.

Me: He is still in there.

Me: This is boring.

B joined me at the window and then we saw the neighbors next door to the old lady head over. B dropped to the floor like he was dodging bombs in Band of Brothers while exclaiming "Now they can only see YOU - the nosy one." Um, okay. Who wouldn't be nosy when there are cops at their neighbor's house? Also, B would be the first one to lecture me on why I did not find out what was going on when there were POLICE ON OUR STREET. This may have happened once or twice before.

The neighbors are only there for a few minutes before they walk back to their house. I conclude nothing is happening and this is really boring when my phone rings. Figuring it is my SIL, I head over there, pick it up to see "private number." The following conversation happens:

Me: Hello?

Voice: Is this Dani?

Me: Yes....

Voice: This is, um, Officer Somebody from, um, your town's, um, public safety department.

Voice: We, um, found a package belonging to you.

Voice: Um, if you tell me your address I will bring it over.

At this point in time I am thinking that it is my friend E playing a joke on me. He does that. Really, the guy sounded unsure of what he was saying and what he was saying was making absolutely no sense to me.

Me: If you have a package for me, wouldn't it say my address on it?*

Voice: Well, the thing is it is difficult to read your address.

Me: Where did you find this package?

Voice: One of our residents found it.

Ding! I swear a light bulb went off in my head.

Me: Are you at the resident's house right now? [said in a long drawn out horror movie kind of way]

Voice: Maybe?

Me: I AM RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET FROM YOU. I CAN SEE YOU RIGHT NOW.

Voice: Oh.

Me: I am coming over.

And so it came to be that my neighbor across the street had one of my packages delivered to her because the number for the address was one number off. Then she called the public safety department because she did not recognize my name and didn't know what the package contained.

And so I walked across the street, to be introduced to my neighbor whom I had never met before, gave the officer my complete name and birth date for HIS REPORT** and then carried my big box back home.

And so I heard the police officer tell another inquiring neighbor "Oh, nothing. Just a misdelivered box."

And how did the officer know where to find me to inquire about said box? MY PHONE NUMBER WAS WRITTEN RIGHT ON IT. Why my neighbor could not have just called me, I will never know. Also? Ten bucks says she forgets who I am by the time this happens again. This will surely happen again.

Victim or perp? You decide.

*You cannot dodge an attorney. We have a knack for stating and asking the obvious.

**Can you believe this did NOT show up in the town's crime watch chronicles? Now, techinically this wasn't a crime, but it is a little disheartening to read a story in the crime watch about a racoon stuck in the basement window that was freed with a dog catcher hook and released to the backyard shrubs and not this story. Come on! It could have a catchy title and everything:

Suspicious Package Forges New Friendship

A local resident found a unique way to meet her new neighbor. When a suspicious box arrived on her doorstep containing someone else's name but her address, the concerned woman called public safety. The responding officer, after confirming the box was harmless, called the phone number on the delivery sticker only to find that the phone was answered by someone right across the street! The neighbors were introduced and the box was returned to its rightful owner.

Of Course I Meant to Put That There...

B likes to think he is much more organized than I am. Having seen my magazine stash, and the messiness of my home office, you may agree. However, I typically can find anything I need. B, on the other hand, well...

B: Where is the cat brush?

Me: I don't know. Where did you put it?

B: Somewhere I wouldn't forget.

Me: Obviously.

Me: Check the shelf.

B: Not there.

Me: Check the drawer.

B: Not there.

Me: And you call me unorganized.

B: I could find if I needed to.

Me: Um, aren't you kind of needing to now?

B never did find the cat brush. I did. Know where I found it? On the floor of the spare room BEHIND a box BEHIND our entertainment center.

Clearly, somewhere he would not forget.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Some Like It Hot

This week's crime watch chronicles highlights our town's finest performing their duties for this town's dumbest:

Police were called for a possible LOS. (That's Left On Stove for all of you non-policemen out there). A woman on her way home from the bar called to say she thought she might have left the stove on and wanted the police to check it out. Despite the insanity of her request and despite the fact that HOURS had passed since she left the stove on, the police responded to the call. An officer was dispatched to the home. Upon an inspection through a window, and having seen (a) the house still standing, and (b) no smoke or flames, the officer CALLED the lady back and gave her the update.

You see, I don't believe this was part of the "Getting to Know Your Neighborhood" package we received when we first moved in. How was I supposed to know that you could contact the police to check to see if you left your stove on? Or that the police would kindly call you back while you are on your way back from the bar so you wouldn't have to fret and could concentrate on attempting to drive sober although you are really wasted. The police better hope we do not have a large closed head/traumatic brain injury population or they will never have a moment's peace. They are known for leaving stoves on left and right.*

Speaking of which, I could have used their assistance on more than one occasion recently, the police that is. If you will recall, the stove that came with our house is from 1952 - the Ropermatic. It is a gas stove with a gas leak. We only just recently replaced it. Safety first, people! Or, in our case, like fourteenth. Anyway, before replacing it, there was quite the procedure to ensure we were not being infused with noxious gas on a regular basis. First, the gas had to be turned off after every use. The routine would be turn gas on, light the burner (Yes you had to manually light it! Hello - it is 1952 in our kitchen! You also had to wear an apron and heels. B looked so cute). When you were done you were supposed to turn the gas off first so that you could see all the flame went out before you turned off the burner, thus making sure no extra gas escaped. Sound easy? Maybe it was, but really not the point. There has been more than one occasion in which I did not comply with said rules.

One day B came home and asked me to come downstairs. I was super excited thinking he had brought me a present. For being wonderful, you know.

B: Come down here.

Me: YAY! Presents {insert clapping}

B: What? Just come down here.

Me: Well, I don't like the tone your voice has taken.

Upon arriving downstairs:

B: Notice anything unusual around here?

Me: {looking around} Well, I don't see any presents, that's for sure!

B: Why would there be presents?

Me: The real question is why AREN'T there presents?

B: DO YOU SEE ANYTHING UNUSUAL AROUND HERE?????

Me: no.

B: Really? NOTHING?

Me: um, NO.

Apparently I was completely oblivious to the burner that was STILL BURNING on the stove. Flames and everything.** I told B it had only been on for 5 minutes, but really it was 15. I am sure B thinks it was 30.

Do you think the police would come if I called them from upstairs to see if the stove was on?

"The call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE"***

*I may have a brain injury.

**Then there was the time I just left the gas on but turned off the burner. B accused me of trying to kill him. Good thing he doesn't smoke...

***Can you name that scary movie during this Halloween week?

****I write about fire a lot, don't I?

Crime Watch Wednesday: Fanning the Flame of Friendship

This week's Crime Watch Chronicles brings us the story of a friendship gone bad and a crime that didn't quite take:

A former friend was found to be a suspect in an attempted arson. A woman came home to find a small puddle of liquid, thought to be lighter fluid, and a burned cigarette under the front tire of her vehicle. Around that same time the woman received a text message from her former friend, who had been harassing her and threatening her for weeks, that read:

"I tried to light on fire ur shit"

Yes, yes you did. You tried to light on fire the woman's shit. But you didn't. You know what else you did? You ADMITTED TO A CRIME. And you did so via a poorly worded text message. That is traceable to your phone number. Apparently, also the phone number used to harass and threaten this same woman for weeks. Now the police are asking for any additional information, but the truth is? They have all of the information they need. They have:

• your name
• your phone number
• your CONFESSION

You didn't start the fire, babe, but you are still going to get burned.

Case closed.

On a side note, who the hell attempts to start a fire, fails, and then announces the ridiculous attempt to their enemy. That would be like firing an arrow at a person while standing behind a tree and then after missing jumping out and yelling "I tried to shoot this arrow through your heart."

No shit, but you didn't.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Where There's Fire, There's a Toothbrush?

This week's crime chronicles brings us the harrowing story of officers successfully putting out a fire started in our neighborhood:

Officers responded to a fire inside a home. They discovered it was a burning electric toothbrush in a second floor bathroom. An officer unplugged it and extinguished the fire. The officers had to gain entry to the fire source using fire axes.

Um, okay. There is a fire. It is a fire from an electric toothbrush. One officer is able to unplug it and extinguish the fire, yet somehow they all had to use axes and chop the place up to get in there? Could they not have, I don't know? TURNED THE DOOR HANDLE? I bet the door wasn't even shut. I bet they were chopping through a plaster wall outside the bathroom when an officer said "hey guys, look I found the source. It is the toothbrush right over here WHERE THE FIRE IS."

Our tax dollars at work here, folks.

How Many Variations Can You Find in 2222?

The other day while in line to buy a Coke Zero, also known as my sustenance, I was behind a woman who decided to play the lotto. Apparently, she was going to play the four number daily lotto, so she said:

Lady: Yes I would like to play 4 twos

Lady: 2222

Lady: Oh, can I get that straight?

Could it be anything other THAN straight? It is 4 twos! For those of you who do not waste your money weekly or daily on the lotto, when playing daily 4 numbers in these parts there are two ways to do it:

1. Straight - so if you play 1234 and 1234 is drawn, you win.

2. Boxed - if you play 1234 and any combination of those four numbers is drawn you win.

The payout for straight is larger than boxed.

Good thing that lady was paying attention. Those twos could have come out in any number of combinations.

She did not buy alcohol in case you are wondering.

Perhaps she should have.

This Door is Closed to You

Yesterday I was sitting in McDonalds enjoying an uber healthy lunch of hamburger, fries and an apple pie when I saw the strangest thing. I was in the back of the restaurant near a door. I sat there and watched a guy outside walk away from the door twice. Both times he hesitated as if he was going to try the door, but he never did. The only thing remarkable about the door was the fact that there was a big yellow sign on it. The sign did not say "do not open" or "out of order." It said to remove your hood for security purposes. The man was not wearing a hood.

Shortly after that I saw a woman walk past me and the door all the way to the front of the building, out the front door and back around the side of the building, past me and past that door. Again, someone else avoiding the door.

Next up was a man and his child. They approached the door and the man said "I bet this is locked." They did not try the door.

So I sat there and pondered.

What made these people not even try to open the door? Was it the yellow sign? Was it the fact that they had tried it before and it was locked? Did they need the exercise of walking around the entire building?

I was tempted to actually exit through the door myself to show everyone it could be done, while shouting:

JUST OPEN THE DOOR!!

Then I realized I was parked out front.

Did You Happen to Lose Your Hair?

Walking out of Walgreens the other day, I noticed what looked like a bunch of hair. Upon closer inspection I found...it was a bunch of hair. Most likely that fake ponytail type hair that you can buy at drugstores, like Walgreens actually.

This begs the question...wouldn't you notice if you lost your hair?

It is not like that time recently that Britney Spears lost a big chunk of hair in the middle of her concert (although that probably hurt a heck of a lot more since hers is glued in), but still. You had a big mess of fake hair on your head. Later you don't. Seems to me you should notice.

Also, although it was kind of the person that found the hair to place it up on the metal thing I saw it on, in case the owner discovered she did, in fact, lose her hair, it was also kind of...GROSS.

Did they know it was hair when they picked it up? Does that make it any better? I think not.

Thoughts to ponder.

Ding Dong the Drapes Are Gone!

I am sure I do not have to post an original picture of our master bedroom drapes for you regular readers to remember how atrocious they truly were. But, for those of you new to the blog, I will post one so you don't have to follow a link.

Look at these beauties that the prior owners left us:

You are loving them, I know it. With that carpet, what is not to love? Well, we hung on to them WAY too long. It was easy - they were there, they fit, they kept out the cold and the light and, more importantly, we did not know what to replace them with.

Until we visited Ikea to buy my desk. Then we found what I thought were the perfect drapes. I immediately walked over and stroked them and declared the shopping trip a victory. Soft, with the gray from the room, but also cream, black and blue. Take a look:

Quite the improvement, right? So you are thinking, well Dani those are awfully LONG. Yes, they are. They only came in one size. You know what that means? Dani has to hem them. Think about THAT for a moment. Dani does not even sew. Lucky for me the Swedish must know this and provided some handy little strips that I am supposed to iron on to hem them. As you can see, I have yet to do this. However, it will be done soon as I keep tripping on the ones by the larger window and I would hate for B to take a big spill in the early morning hours.

And just because I love how they look with the sun shining in, here are some more shots:

This is my favorite - sun and a breeze coming in. So romantic in a conservative stripey way.

Before I could stop him, B sent the old drapes to the great garbage pail in the sky. I thought we should have sent them to Goodwill. B had a different opinion "Who would want THOSE?"

Probably people that were too lazy to get anything else for four months.

You know, us.

Riddles Are Easy When You Cheat

Potbellys always has riddles. I never know the answer even when pressured. They had the same riddle for days last week:

A sundial has the fewest parts of all time pieces. What has the most?

I thought about it once, decided it was making my head hurt and never thought about it again. On Friday, when I was in there, a guy strolled up behind me and said, without any preface:

"I haven't given this much thought but an hourglass?"

Bastard! At first, I thought "What a show off" and then I thought, "why is he so much smarter than me?" Then I realized that a mere moment before, I had heard the sandwich guy ask him "same thing as yesterday?" Obviously he had been in there the day before, read the riddle, and Googled the answer! Sure enough, when I got home, I googled it and found the answer. You know what that means, don't you?

That bastard is STILL smarter than me.

So there you have it...the first real riddle on this site courtesy of a sandwich shop and the answer courtesy of same random guy who cheated with Google.