Is It Ever Appropriate to Yell Fore While on the Bathroom Floor?

Last week I was supposed to attend a golf outing with some associates. I was totally looking forward to showing off my super bad golfing skills.  You know, from that one time I golfed. Two years ago. Hey, at least I could hit the ball.  I did much better than even B expected. Although he wasn't there to witness it. So wise.

In any event, despite borrowing some ladies' golf clubs (not using the way too big for me golf clubs of yesteryear) and planning out my outfit (I am a dork), I was ready to go.  Then, without any warning, a hurricane of sickness blew in and quite literally swept me off my feet.  Despite all of the medications I inhaled that morning, I just couldn't do it. One symptom would ease and another would begin. The thought of golfing while ill in 90 degree weather made me, well, ill.  So I bailed.  And I felt bad.

Wise decision.

How do I know this?  Well, because after arriving home from work, B found me sleeping on the bathroom floor.  Maybe with my head by the toilet. I don't know. All I know is I found it cool and relaxing and it made me feel less sick.  It also made B remark:

"Hey there party girl! When's the last time you found yourself in such a position?"

Probably when my appendix was acting up, actually. 

Oh, but the fun didn't stop there.  When we were getting ready to go to sleep that night (my third time sleeping that day), B made sure to ask me if I was going to sleep in our bed or in Jersey's bed (the bathroom floor).

Such a sympathetic hubby I have.

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!

It is Like that Movie Mean Girls Except No One Knows What the Hell I Am Talking About!

The other day I was at a fundraiser with people from work. I looked over and gasped* when I saw a guy that looked like the principal** in Mean Girls. Here, I have a clip below - fast forward to 3:17, unless you really love Mean Girls and want to watch all of the scenes like I do. Word of warning, there is loud music involved with this video for some unknown reason so mute on your speakers would be a good idea.

Principal:

Anyway, back to the fundraiser. Enter the principal guy, but quite a bit taller. Enter my huge gasp. Then enter a big fat FAIL when no one there had ever seen Mean Girls!

Are you kidding me?

One of the greatest movies, in my opinion, and definitely one of the greatest movies Lindsay Lohan has ever been in (and probably ever will be).

I just wanted to scream "BOO! Whore."*** But what was the point? They never saw the movie.

That made me sad. I even found the youngest person there and he hadn't seen it. Yes, he was a guy. But B has seen Mean Girls.

Hasn't everyone? Please tell me that my office is some kind of anomaly and that everyone else on Earth has seen this movie at least once (or 500 times like myself)?

I refuse to believe otherwise.

*I gasp a lot. Seriously. B loves it. He really loves it when he makes me gasp. And I mean that in a totally non-sexual way. Pervs!

**Then they kept asking me what his name is - I don't know! (It is Tim Meadows). Then they would ask what other movies he was in - a lot! I don't know their names! (turns out not that many, but a lot of TV show appearances).

**What's your favorite line from Mean Girls? I want a bunch of Mean Girls comment quotes!!

Jersey Doesn't Like Amish People. Or Horses. Or Both. It Must Be a Dog Thing.

On the drive up north to the cottage* we ended up behind a car with a handicap plate. B has a theory about driving on the freeway behind people with handicap plates, but I will leave that for another day. Perhaps a guest post? In any event, as I was contemplating how to get around this woman, B alerted me to the fact that there was an Amish buggy ahead. Sure enough, there was a horse drawn buggy. It passed in front of the woman ahead of us at which time a dog suddenly appeared out of nowhere from within her vehicle and started barking furiously. B and I laughed and wondered what would make a dog so crazay about a horse drawn buggy of Amish people as as we drove by with Jersey barely even glancing in that direction.

That is, until we had to pass another Amish buggy, this time on the road with us. As soon as we were even with the buggy, Jersey let out a ferocious growl and started barking up a storm, much to our surprise. I may have shouted out something ridiculous like "JERSEY! They are AMISH!" As if that made any sense or as if the dog could understand something that involved.

Here to illustrate is Jersey. She went from looking like this:


Such a sweet, out-of-focus, crooked face. To this:

Ferocious! Too bad she was looking at B when that shot was taken.

Then she went to this:

Where are they?

Let me at 'em.

Okay, maybe she was just trying to get some air and crush B in the process. A 45 lb dog on your lap attempting to stand? NOT comfortable. Also not comfortable? Being jolted awake on a road trip because that same 45 lb dog has climbed over the back seat and is SITTING ON YOUR SHOULDER. Good times.

After passing the second Amish buggy, I pondered about the fact that the woman was driving. B responded with:

B: Perhaps she thinks it is weird that YOU are driving.

Me: Maybe. However, I wasn't born in the 1900s when such things were unusual.

B: Um...you only spent almost your ENTIRE life in the 1900s.

Me: Huh. Whatever.

So we let Jersey take the wheel:

Isn't she a natural?

EYES ON THE ROAD JERSEY! I swear that dog is trying to kill us.

Or maybe just the Amish...

*This trip has given me a lot of material. Cottage trips more often!!

Parenting a Pup 101: The One Where My Husband is in the Dog House Literally

Yesterday was Jersey's 3 week birthday. Technically she is like two months and 3 weeks old, but I am counting her "birthday" as the day we got her. Yes, she was alive for two months prior, but apparently just barely. So, I had great plans to take updated pictures for this event. Those plans went up in smoke when I woke up still sick and too drugged/exhausted/congested to go to work. So after emailing work to let them know, I went back to my drug induced sleep. Too bad work didn't get the email. Hilarity ensued, but that is a story for a different day as I don't feel like typing it all out.

Instead, I have some other Jersey pics for you. B is also a star in these. You see, when we first got Jersey her crate was actually the cat carrier. It was the perfect size for her. However, B seeing a long future and, more importantly, long legs on Jersey, thought a bigger, adjustable crate would be better. And so he found one.

Jersey wasn't sure of the new crate. B, being the good parent, decided to show her that it was a fun and comfortable place to be:

Don't they look comfortable in there? Well, one of them looks sad. I will let you decide which one.

And, if you are in a cage with your dog, you should totally call to your other animals to come see you and gauge their reactions to you being treated like an "animal":

Eventually one animal will come to check you out:

Then you can entice him to come closer by wiggling your finger:

Or sticking a toy banana out while your wife yells "HAVE A BANANA!":

Soon after your puppy will realize the cage is nice and comfy and her place:

Even if you have to talk her into it:

And even if she blends into the dog bed:

B is a good parent and a good sport. Also? This was totally his idea. I just made him sit in there a bit longer so I could grab the camera.

As for Jersey? She is back in the cat carrier. She likes small spaces.

And small cats.

But that is another story.

Why Can't You Set Your Monkey Free?

A couple of months ago, when my Mom and I took a roadtrip to see some family, we also got to see performance art for the elderly. At least by the elderly. At first I thought their coordinated dancing was cute:

Right after the above, the man smacked the woman's ass. I wish I were kidding.

Then, however, I came to find out that it was all an act. Of course, I could tell that it was choreographed. However, I did not know that they came out and did the SAME dance EVERY weekend. Nor did I know that there would be costume changes:

Right after that above picture was taken my uncle turned to my Dad who was playing with a child's toy from the gift shop, and said:

If you put you hand in that puppet, that lady over there will grab her monkey.

Little did we know he was not kidding:

The moral of the story? I like spontaneous, well choreographed, dancing elderly people. I do not like well choreographed, dancing elderly people that appear "spontaneously" every weekend and who have costumes and puppets.

Especially those that are really not good ventriloquists.

Actually I don't like puppets or ventriloquists.

Neither does B.

That's why we are in love.

*Bonus points to those that know where the title of the post comes from.

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.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game...Listen to Me Complain

Well it is no wonder that B doesn't take me to the ball game* too often. First, as you know, I don't really follow sports. Second, I like to discuss what is going on around us, not necessarily what is happening in the game. Third, when I do decide to discuss what is going on in the game, I quickly become an "expert" much to the amusement and/or frustration of B. Here is a prime example:

[Scene: Baseball game around the 5th inning]

Me: Oh GREAT, Smith is up to bat? We are SCREWED.

B: Like you even know what you are talking about!

Me: Oh, I don't know? I DON'T KNOW?

Me: You know he is just going to hit it up and to the left like he does EVERY.SINGLE.TIME and then he will foul out, or whatever it is called, and then all of these men on all of the bases out there? WASTED.

Me: Yes, Smith, you will be WASTING ALL OF THOSE HITS!

Me: I mean, really. Look at his stats - they are AWFUL.

B: You don't know what you are talking about.

Me: Really? Why are his RBIs so low? Huh?

B: They are low.

Me: What are RBIs anyway?

B: {sigh}

*****

[Scene: Later in the same inning]

Me: Now THAT guy has GREAT stats.

B: HE IS ON THE OTHER TEAM.

Me: Huh.

Me: We are SCREWED.

You know what is fun though? When the guy in your row decides to walk down in front of you for the second time and then stop RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE and say "maybe I should have gone the other way" while doing some weird back and forth maneuver RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE that prompts your spouse to say "nice of him to wave his junk in your face" and you to say "thank God he is wearing pants" and thinking what you really wanted to say to the guy was "HEY, I think you left your penis on my face."

Finally, no baseball game is complete unless it is at or below 50 degrees. Seriously, the last three games we went to in different months? FREEZING. Here is photographic evidence:

Yes, I am wearing a sweatshirt AND a fleece AND gloves AND drinking a hot chocolate. You will also notice there is no one around me. That is because they were smart and stayed home and watched it on TV with their heat on.

I love sports.

*Or a football game. Or a basketball game. I am a bit better with hockey. A bit.

Tales from the Courthouse: Pursuing Justice with Grace

The other day I had to go to court on some motion hearings, three to be exact. That is a lot of courtrooms to run between. Luckily, one of my colleagues was there and took pity on me and did one of my hearings for me. He still got out of there well before I did. That was in large part because all three news channels were in my courtroom. Naturally, I was in the hall when that hearing occurred and missed being on TV, but I did get to witness the post hearing interview in the hall. It was a ridiculous law suit, filed on a decades old law that has since been overruled by subsequent law, to which the attorney claimed he would appeal. And he was wearing floods. Nothing like being on TV with too short pants.

In any event, as I was waiting and watching, I thought of all the things that I could post about my trip to the courthouse. I truly thought that the highlight of the day would be the guy next to me that screamed at his associate for a good 15 minutes about a brief using every swear word you can imagine and ending with:

"He had a finger stuck up his ASS? Does that sound consensual?"

No, it really doesn't does it? Well, although quite entertaining, that was not the highlight of my trip.

The highlight would be when I FELL on my HANDS AND KNEES.

IN THE STREET.

In front of an oncoming car and in front of at least 10 people, only 1 of whom asked me if I was okay.

And thereby SKINNED my one knee and bruised the other knee and also skinned my palm (but did not drop my phone - um...yay?).

At the time I did not know about the skinned knee and bruised knee although I suspected it from the pain. After telling the ONE person that asked if I was okay that I was, and after quickly getting up to make sure I wouldn't get hit by the car, I just casually walked to the parking structure like nothing had happened.

It was only as I was changing into the pair of jeans I luckily had thrown into my car that I realized the damage I had done.

That was over two weeks ago.

My left knee is still horribly bruised.

My right knee still shows evidence of being scraped.

And my pride? It is still lying in the street with pieces of my skin.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Go Stick a Muffin in Your Shirt!

This week's crime watch chronicles brings us this interesting tale:

A man took a muffin and two bananas without paying for them from a gas station. He used his debit card to pay for a cup of coffee, however, he had a little trouble when the card was then denied when he tried to buy some maps. As he was leaving, the clerk reminded him that he still needed to pay for the muffin and bananas, but the thief had other ideas shouting "No, I don't!" while running off. He was later detained by police who found the muffin, the bananas, and a few credit card applications in his big bag. He was apprehended on foot in front of another store.

Okay. My biggest problem with this story? Buying fruit from a gas station. That is just gross. I have to wonder though, did the guy finish his coffee before he ran off with the fruit? Because running with coffee is NEVER a good idea. Also, considering he was (1) on foot, and (2) found a short distance away, I am not sure why the maps were needed. Is there some black market in maps that I don't know about?

You know what makes this story really funny to me? It combines two of my favorite things - muffins and bananas. First, the love of muffins comes from the time after breakfast with my Mom when I stuck a muffin in my shirt for some unknown-to-me now reason. I then thought it was funny and walked around like that until my brother exasperatedly shouted "take that muffin out of your shirt!" which just made my Mom and I laugh hysterically. For weeks after that, my Mom would just randomly say to me "oh, go stick a muffin in your shirt."

The love of bananas comes from some video on the internet we saw of some woman screaming and grieving over some person. Although very sad, for some reason it sounded like she was wailing "I want a banana." This turned into "have a banana" for my Mom and me and I say it ALL THE TIME. If she ever tries to say she is not feeling good, I respond with "have a banana." It only bolstered my cure when she had to go into the hospital once and they told her that her potassium was low. See? That was my scientific medical proof that a banana is the cure for everything.

And here is further proof:

Take note.

The Official Legal Argument as to Zombies

I know you are thinking to yourself, how did Dani get the official legal argument on zombies? Does such thing exist? Where did this occur? In court, of course. Silly readers. Where else do legal arguments form? Here's what happened.

After the judge granted my motion without my doing anything beyond uttering my name, I had to make my way back to chambers to get the order entered. I walked in to find the judge's law clerks staring intently at a computer saying such things as "HA HA" and "WHOA." I looked over their shoulders and realized that they were watching the Zombieland trailer. About four minutes later, and after the female attorney behind me had left in disgust, the trailer was over. As the clerks pondered how entertaining and fun that movie will be and where they could find more trailers to watch, one of them happened to see me out of the corner of his eye:

Clerk1: Well, hello.

Me: Hi.

Clerk1: Need to enter an order?

Me: Yep.

Clerk2: How long were you standing there?

Me: For half the trailer.

Clerks collectively: Ohhh....

Me: I think that looks like a good movie, very entertaining.

Clerk2: So you will be going to the premiere?

Me: Probably not the premiere, but at least the movie.

Clerk1: What if the judge orders you to go to the premiere?

Me: What if...the judge...ORDERS me to go to the Zombieland premiere?

Clerk1: Yeah, he likes movies.

Me: But does he like zombies?

Clerk1: I don't know....

Me: Really? Does anyone LIKE zombies? I mean we like to watch movies about zombies but no one is all "Oh I want to be a zombie, those things are cool."

Clerk1: Some people like zombies...

Me: Like who? Everyone likes to watch zombies get killed. Zombies are not fun or nice or cool.

Clerk2: What about Shaun of the Dead.

Me: What about it?

Clerk2: His friend in the end was a cool zombie.

Me: Well, he's the exception.

And then I left with my order.

In other news, for those that like zombies, you can now have your very own lawn ornament. How cool would this look? I am going to convince B we need to buy it.

Lawn ornament - $89.95

Shipping - $15.25

Faces of our neighbors when the wonder who the hell let us buy in this neighborhood? Priceless

Zombie of Montclair Moors (from SkyMall of course!)

Crime Watch Wednesday: And Your Little Dog Too!

This week's crime watch chronicles brings us the tale of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, only drunker. And as a middle-aged man:

Police stopped a man riding a bicycle after he was reported to be shouting "F you" to a bunch of youths outside of a party store. The man was stopped and found to have blood shot eyes, the smell of alcohol and was unsteady on his feet. He admitted he had been drinking. While transporting him to the station the man said to the officers "Just wait - I'll get you...Just wait till I get out and get you..."

No word on whether he was released on his bicycle or whether said bicycle had a little basket on the front.

Chances are it did.

Don't Let Those Chickens Come Home to Roost

My very first boss as an attorney died suddenly recently. Well, it was sudden to me. For him, it was a rare form of cancer that dragged out over several months. I only found out about it because I had emailed him asking him to act as a reference for a position for which I was interviewing. Unfortunately, my last line in the email was "I hope this finds you well." He was not well. His wife responded that he would have been glad to help but that he was dying and only had a few weeks to live. At first I thought it was a joke, but even he wouldn't joke about that. He didn't even last a week after that email.

I attended his funeral which B could not understand. You see, my old boss and I weren't always on good terms. In fact, when I left that office, it was at a hurried pace and into the first job I could find because I felt that I was being pushed out. That was how it worked there, before me and after me. The people would turn on each other until there was no one left to turn on. Another kind of cancer entirely.

However, time heals all wounds. For me that is particularly true. I do not hold grudges well. Perhaps it is because I want to see the good in everyone or because I believe they can change. Mostly it is because I know that you cannot change someone, but can only accept them as they are. I chose, later, to accept my boss for what he was.

What is that you ask? Well, as stated at his funeral, if he loved you there was nothing he wouldn't do for you. I found that to be true. He got me raises, trusted my judgment, spoke well of my work product to others. I am not sure if that would be true at the end of our working relationship, but it did continue later. The last time I saw him was about two years ago. We had lunch and he told me that of all the people he had hired and who had left, I was the only one that ever came back to see him. That was one of the most poignant and saddest things I had ever heard.

So, for the guy who gave me my first job out of law school, who took the leap of faith that I would pass the bar, who never once asked to see me argue in court, and who would send me to seminars on every legal subject out there stating "you need to be well rounded and well versed in ALL life to better your legal career," I went to his funeral. It was beautiful and it was sad. The people that he had fired or that had left on bad terms? They were there as well.

Unlike most funerals, however, his family and friends weren't standing up there painting every thing rosy. They spoke the truth. They told about how he would be on your side if he loved you, but if he didn't or if things changed, watch out. They spoke the good and they spoke the bad. I felt good that no one had to pretend. We could all think about which man it was that we knew and not feel guilty for not thinking of the other one.

But all of that above? That is just background. For this post is to pass along the story that was told by my ex-boss' very best friend. The guy that knew him throughout his childhood and adulthood. The guy that knew him the very best. He told this story:

Toward the end of my boss' days, he would reflect a lot and tell stories. He accepted that he would be going and tried his best to put his house in order. One day he told his friend that many years ago, at the height of practicing law, he found himself in an elevator with a colleague, an opposing counsel. The attorney looked visibly upset and asked my boss for an adjournment of their case. "Why do you need an adjournment?" my boss asked. "I have cancer," said the other attorney, "and I need chemo." My ex boss looked at the attorney and coldly said "well, then an adjournment won't do you any good. No adjournment."

My boss, after telling his friend this story, turned and said "I guess those chickens came home to roost."

I don't think I have ever heard a more telling and thought provoking story. So I pass it along to you, in a moment of seriousness, and urge you not to let those chickens come to roost.

Compassion begets compassion.

RIP MDP.

Office Shorts

It's been a while since I posted about the office. Here are some things I have been collecting:

Partner: The milk of human kindness flows through my veins.

Reply by passerby: Yeah, sour milk.

*

After receiving a warning at work not to download the Blackberry operating system update because there were bugs, the following conversation took place:

Girl: Did you get the email about Blackberrys?

Me: Yep. I didn't download it.

Girl: Should I tell other girl?

Me: No. She has an iPhone.

Girl: What's the difference?

Me: It isn't a Blackberry...

*

So you are calling someone in my office and you get my voicemail instead. I say I am out of my office. I do not say I work for the person you are trying to call yet you feel it is appropriate to just continue on with your message anyway..."Yeah, this message is for so and so, this is stupid and here is my phone number. Oh and tell him it is about this...no wait, it is about this. Yeah, tell him it is about that."

Yeah, I'll get right on that.

*

Girl 1: Can you smell that stinky cigarette smoke on her? (Referencing girl that just walked in)

Girl 2: No but I have allergies.

Girl 1: I think it is because you smoke.

Girl 2: What I can't smell stinky things because I smoke?

Girl 1: Exactly.

*

Secretary to person on phone: "Oh what a weave and the web is tangled..."

*

Partner: Did your clock go haywire?

Secretary: I am not late, am I?

Boss: No, you are early

*

What a boss likes to hear:

Boss: What is on your schedule today?

Employee: You, you and you.

And to Think, I Was Just Singing a Song...

B just called to share the following story of a crazy car accident he witnessed. Luckily, this time he was not involved. Tell me this does not sound like it came straight out of a movie. In B's words:

I was stopped at an intersection two cars back when all of a sudden two cars crashed horrifically in the intersection. They must have hit full force because the one car went up the sidewalk, nearly hit a guy, hit the traffic signal box, which then almost fell on that same guy who was running away and finally crashed into the paint store. A woman with a bloody head jumps out of the car and screams "MY BABY, MY BABY. MY BABY NEEDS TO GET TO A HOSPITAL." Meanwhile, the other car, having hitting a third car which took off, is still spinning around in the intersection. Well technically it is driving itself in a circle because the driver of the vehicle has fallen out the door.

So I run over to where the lady is screaming about her baby worried that I am going to find a dead infant because I can see that both airbags are blown, but when I look in the car I see a 25 year old guy! I thought "that's no baby" at which point she screamed "MY BABY'S BEEN SHOT!!" Apparently she was on the way to the hospital with her shot son when this occurred.

Meanwhile, the other car is still driving in circles with two cars chasing it because there is a child (a real child) in that car as well. The two guys, however, are trying to run around the car and open the door to the car to get the kid out while the car is still moving. I realize that someone needs to stop the car.

I STOPPED THE CAR! Can you believe I ran over there and got in the car and stopped it? All while calling 911. Of course, it almost ran me over because fluids were leaking out of it and I was slipping. At one point I thought "I am going to get run over by this car, won't that be ironic," but I was able to get in and stop the car. I look back at the kid and he looks at me like "huh." Totally calm.

By this time, the cops have arrived. The guy who was shot couldn't tell them where the shooting occurred and they just put them in their car to take him to the hospital. Then his mother starts yelling YOU ARE GOING THE WRONG WAY because she wanted them to take him to a specific hospital. They elected to go to the nearest one.

As the cops sorted it out, I talked to the guy who had been on the sidewalk and told him I was watching him and worried about him the whole time because I saw the lady almost hit him and then saw the traffic light almost fall on him. He then said to me "I know. I was just standing there singing a song when a car came rushing right at me..."

~~~

When B told me he had a crazy story, I don't think I quite pictured that. I am oh so very relieved he was not involved and that no one was seriously injured. I am also very proud that he was able to stop the unmanned vehicle with child in it. There is definitely more than one hero in my family.

Note: B has requested that I describe him as a "man of action".

There you go.

And Now a Word From My Sponsor...

No, not my AAA sponsor silly. My life sponsor a/k/a my Mom. Here is an email that she sent to me three years ago for my "special" day. Enjoy!

HAPPY DAY BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY!!

Many, Many, Many years ago on this day, I had gone to the beauty shop (used to be able to afford it, before I had kids ) and then went to the bathroom .... I knew then that my oven was done baking, but at least my hair would look good. Well, let me tell you....when you decided to break open the shell, my hairdo was the last thing on my mind. It had been in a updo, you know, ratted and lots of bobbie pins, well the pins went flying and I was a big tangled mess. I am sure I looked like someone on LSD that had put her finger in a socket.

And the hours kept going by and you kept trying to hatch. Believe me - that is when you decide you will NEVER have SEX again...No..No..No!

And did you know that minutes are really hours? Yup, it's true ! And to top it off , the damn hospital room had a big round clock on the wall in FRONT of me ....Believe me, the old saying "Time flies by" is sooo not TRUE when you are in labor ..No..No..No..

And of course the Man you love is by your side...but He has a damn radio stuck to his ear listening to a Tiger Baseball Game. I mean - gee, sorry it's taking so long and you can't watch it on T.V...That's when you REALLY decide that you will NEVER have sex again, well...at least not with HIM!

And then...out pops a beautiful little person, screaming and crying like I had a lot of nerve bothering her.

And then they clean her up and calm her down and bring her over to you and you hold her and a feeling of Love you can't describe comes over you.

And then in a little while, you think...Oh My God, I'm a Mother! I don't know how to be a Mother! What am I going to do, I have to take care of her for the rest of my life, what if I am a bad Mother, blah, blah, blah........... and then you really want YOUR Mother, cause SHE knows what she's doing.

But in the end, you figure it out, good days, bad days, mistakes, etc. And in the end you figure out you must have done some things right, cause you sure have one terrific Daughter who you are so proud of, you could burst.

And I thank God everyday for you, any pain would have been worth it.

(although...some of your teen years were another pain in the Dupa )

But I am so blessed, I have a wonderful Daughter (and a wonderful son) ...what more could I ask out of life, I have it all....

I love ya Punkin

Mom

( I won't spoil this beautiful letter by telling you that your Dear Dad is still a Butthead. He took me to Walgreens, need I say more?)

*my favorite part is a toss between my Dad listening to the game while my Mom was in labor and that very last line. Love ya Mom! xoxo

Your Mom Might Be a Lesbian If...

You have this email exchange with her...

Mom: I just used my new Cherry Chap Stick. Is Katy Perry going to come kiss me?

Me: Ha! You are NUTS!

Mom: Have you ever tried it? It is VERY cherry and smells so good. Hell, I would kiss a girl just to taste it.

Me: Please STOP! No, I haven't tried it but I will have to with that ringing endorsement.

Mom: Don't buy it, I have another one over here. The smell goes away pretty quick and I don't want some random girl grabbing you and kissing you although your co-workers might find it interesting.

Me: You are really too much right now. You need Twitter.

And you might be a dork if you have this email conversation later:

Me: Do you mind if I blog about your cherry chapstick email?

Mom: Not at all.

Me: And do you mind if I imply that you might be a lesbian but then say that you are not?

Mom: Nope.

Yes, my Mom is not a lesbian.

Yes, my Mom is hip. She raps AND knows who Katy Perry is.

Yes, I am a dork.

Say What?!?

It is always entertaining to me to look at the search terms for the people that stumble upon my blog. I thought it would be even more entertaining to answer the search terms as if they were questions posed to me:

Old becomes new quotes

I will take a stab at this:

“What’s old becomes new again”

Profound, right? Hope that helped.

"3 envelope pot roast"

Good stuff.

what is three jacks in can you see what i see

I give. What does the question even mean? Three jacks in the can? Three jacks you can see? Do you have a deck of cards? Are you missing a jack? Can you see three? Query solved.

If you are talking about jackasses. There are more than three in this world and they will definitely make their presence known. Sadly, I cannot see what you see, but if you provide me with a picture that would help.

mugs that say who's your santa

I always thought there was only one Santa, but you have proven me wrong by asking that question. Perhaps we can take out an ad or a missing person’s report to find out who exactly our Santa is. Does everyone have their own Santa? Because that would be a lot of Santas flying around and a heck of a lot of reindeer and reindeer poop. This is truly a riddle.

mickey rourke gold tooth

Yes, I believe Mickey Rourke does have a gold tooth. At first I was perplexed as to why he had one, but then I took a second glance at his outfit and it all began making sense. You may want to google “mickey rourke fashion” and that will explain it for you.

"mark wahlberg is short"

Yes he is. That is a fact. It sounds like both you and I, however, were caught off guard as to how short he actually is. I still love him though. You should too.

ponytail gone

This usually happens when you remove the ponytail holder. Do not panic. Wrap your hair with a ponytail holder again and voila your ponytail will be back! It is like magic…but the exact opposite.

new glasses "strong"

I can see from your visit that you know I had this problem. I imagine that most people have this problem with new glasses especially if your prescription changed or if, like me, you decide “prescription mescription” (that’s a technical term), and just go all wild and free without changing your prescription for 6 years. Talk about strong!

"my glasses" thick or blind

I hope if you are wearing glasses, you are not blind because really, what’s the point? Now, if you feel blind when taking off your thick glasses, you are not alone. I can only see things within three inches of my face. Aside from the cats, there is nothing usually that close to my face at all times.

P.S. If your glasses are still thick, look into getting those new superthin lenses. You may still be blind but people will make fun of you less. Unless you are married to my husband. Then you should google “polygamy” while I google “divorce” because there ain’t no Big Love happening around here.

i was blind without my glasses

So was I. Aren’t glasses magical little devices?

judgical indiscretion

I think you meant “judicial indiscretion” because, sadly, there is no such word as judgical. Yes, I made it up. Yes it sounds official. Maybe if more people catch on we can make it word. Want to start a revolution? Or a judgicaloution?

shots pinch needles

Shots pinch and they involve needles. If you feel a pinch but don’t see a needle, you have just been pinched. Probably with fingers. If you get a shot and it doesn’t pinch, you are a tough guy or all the nerves in your arm are dead.

And that, folks, was just the batch that did not involve the word "riddle." Those searches will be addressed on a different day.

Google on!

Of Badges and Glass Eyes

B has a second job. Actually it is probably like a third or fourth job. He has worked numerous jobs since I met him.  I used to do that too. When I was young and did not fall asleep on the couch at 7:30 p.m.   B must still have some of that youth in him.

Anyway, his second (or third) job is as guest relations at a sports arena.  He works hockey games and concerts.  Even though every time he works he comes home grumbling about it, I know he secretly likes it. After all, he has been there for about three years now.   I like when he comes home telling tales of what occurred.  Some of them are just too damn funny.

So the other night when we were out to eat, and B began telling me what had happened at the latest concert (a big band from the 80s that is still going strong today), I knew it would be good. I was not disappointed.   B first started telling me about some cops that wanted special treatment. What they wanted was to get to the main floor, without the proper ticket.  It didn't help their cause, in B's eyes, that they were cops right near our city.  B tells me their exchange went something like this:

Cop: I am a police officer with [city], can't you just let me down to the main floor? [flashing badge]

B:  Are you one of those cops that just sit by the exit to the freeway and nails everyone that comes by?

Cop: Oh no! Not me.  I don't do that.  Please just give me a wristband.

B:  Oh, I see. So your badge entitles you to a wristband?  If you pull me over while driving through [city] and I am wearing a wristband, will that get me out of a ticket?

I like that boy's logic.  B baffled the cop into silence but then took pity on him and let him go down.  Actually, that part of the story was hard to believe considering B does not have a good track record with the police in our area.  You see, before the new car, B had a different car that was totaled on the freeway when some jerk decided he needed to exit RIGHT THEN and cut across all lanes of traffic, into B, and sending B into the side wall.  When Mr. Police Officer arrived on the scene, there were nothing but skid marks.  Jerk left B for dead on the side of the road.  B told Mr. Police Officer his story, only to not be believed.  For some reason, Mr. Police Officer thought that B was lying and had careened himself into the side of the road.  As they sat in the police car arguing (yes B is obviously not intimidated by authority figures), Mr. Police Officer's radio went off saying "we have a call from a driver who witnessed some jerk plow into a guy on the freeway and take off. The person followed the driver home and has identified him."  I believe B's exact words to Mr. Police Officer were "huh. I guess I didn't careen myself into the wall after all."  B's my hero.

Anyway, I was nodding during this story about his job, thinking it was great and wondering if it was worth a blog when B said the following gem:  "Then there was the guy who lost his glass eye."

STOP

I actually said "STOP," reached into my purse and pulled out the notebook where I write such gems to blog about later.  Then I proceeded to say, "Continue..."

B: Yeah, some guy lost his glass eye.

Me: His real glass eye?

B: Yeah, I am really not sure how you do that. We were looking all over the ground. I actually think his girlfriend did it.  I saw them fighting earlier and I think she hit him.

Me: She hit his glass eye out?

B: That's the only thing I can think of.  I wonder if someone will turn it into the lost and found.

Um, WOW. That is all I can say.  The rest of the time I just laugh in my head at the spectacle I imagine occurred.  And I thought losing a contact was bad.

On another note, B told me he was employee of the month this month at the job.  Totally well deserved, especially since he didn't need a sock puppet.

Kudos to you B! You rock!

You Can Call Me Sharon...

Yes, we are still on  Monday.  A lot happened on Monday. After being set free from the office, I drove home chatting with my Mom about not being in the office and other important stuff.  Upon arriving inside I noted to her that we had received a really pretty Christmas card.  It was three trees that stood up.  I looked inside and it said "Merry Christmas from Margaret." I had no clue who Margaret was.  I looked around for an envelope and found nothing. Convinced B must have thrown it out when he opened it, I looked in the recycling - nothing. Looked in the garbage - nothing.  I told my Mom that I must go solve this riddle and would call her back.  After hanging up, I realized I needed to check B's garbage and that is when I found the envelope.  There was no addresses on it so it was clearly placed into our mailbox or door. It said:

Sharon and B

Sharon? Who the heck is Sharon?  It dawned on me then that Margaret is our zany downstairs neighbor.  But where did she get the idea my name is Sharon? It is not even close to my name. And she put it first implying that she was closer to, or knew me more than, B.  Or at least she was closer to Sharon, whomever that may be.

I should not even be that surprised.  This is the same lady that almost burned the house down.  She is also the lady that decided she wanted to get a dog and then decided she wanted to get everyone's permission.  Nice gesture, I suppose, although there are no rules against animals in our complex.  This made for a priceless moment.  First she tried to ask me:

Me answering door: Hello?

Neighbor: I want to get a dog and I am asking everyone if it is okay.

Me: Well I don't see why it would be a problem, but you should really ask B as he owns this place not me.

This was before we were married. I am pretty sure she didn't call me Sharon. And I know I didn't introduce myself as Sharon.  Anyway...

I warned B that she was going to talk to him. He spent the next week dodging her figuring she would just give up.  Nope.  She cornered him in the parking lot one day and he reluctantly rolled down his car window:

Neighbor: I want to get a dog and I am asking everyone if it is okay.

B:  What kind of dog?

Neighbor:  A brown one.

HAHAHAHA - a brown one. I am pretty sure that B meant what BREED of dog, not what COLOR when he asked what KIND.  In fact, he confirmed this to me when he told me she was insane.  Of course he always says that.

So in the end...she got a black and white dog.

Does black and white equal brown?

Maybe Sharon* knows.

*I have told B that he now has to walk around the house yelling SHARONNNNN like Ozzy does.  So far he has refused.