Hello Internet

Hello Internet

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

bumper stickers

The other day I was having a conversation about road rage. A friend was telling me about an article he read that concluded if you had bumper stickers you were more likely to have road rage.  The reason was that by putting stickers on your car it became an extension of yourself, therefore any incident involving the car was a personal affront.

Made logical sense.

SIDE NOTE: Because today I am not being lazy here is the article.

For the record I do have a sticker on my car but I've never had road rage. I've had road frustration or road annoyance but never rage.

this is my sticker. BROWNCOAT!!


I'll pause for you to try and fit that into your world view. I know it's weird. Like finding out the pope likes hunting. Some how it doesn't seem right.


I agree about the sticker making your car more personal. It isn't as permanent as a tattoo but it certainly isn't easy to get off. That is why political bumper stickers confuse me.

Beyond that though is the people who put them on crooked.

You love this candidate SO MUCH you are going to drive around town announcing it to everyone else on the road but you can't be bothered to make sure the dam sticker is straight?

I find this unsettling.

So here is your PSA:

I don't care who you vote for or whether or not you want everyone to coexist (in a religious or sci fi way) or maybe you want to let everyone know Timmy loves soccer. Whatever.

Please, for the love of god, just take 2 extra seconds to make sure you are putting the sticker on straight.

This message has been approved by the committee to stop stupid. Our work is never over so we can never rest.



Saturday, December 26, 2015

Stop Judging me PHONE!!

So my phone has this built in app that tracks my activity. You can enter your weight and your food and water and basically it will tell you when to put the cookie down and walk around a bit.

It will even track your heart-rate and stress level.

At this point I know you are yelling at me that you aren't a Luddite and you are aware of all the cool things phones can do now. I know. Sorry. Just in case.

This isn't a tech lesson though.

This is the rant of a crazy person who talks to her phone.

You see it tells me when I'm on target to achieve my active minutes. The only problem being that I don't normally have my phone on me while I'm exercising so it inevitable yells at me about how lazy I'm being as I'm walking out of the gym dripping in sweat.

Take this morning. 30 minutes jogging on the god awful treadmill (at a pace a snail would sneer at) and just as I finish wiping up my puddle the dam thing tells me I need to pick up the pace if I'm going to hit my goal.

I didn't give the damn thing a goal nor did I ask it to silently judge me.

Piss off Phone.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Friend Interview

No I'm not looking for new friends.

If I were though it would involve a cage match and not an interview. Maybe a singing contest.

I'm talking about me going out with a friend and their friends.

"Don't worry you are going to love them."

"You're going to get along with them great."

Maybe most people believe these statements but I know me. I'm not a regular person. Not normal.

Just because we like the same comedian doesn't mean they will like me.

Notice I just assumed I would like them. Of course. They are friends of a good friend. I trust her judgement. Although I guess that's only a true statement when it isn't about me.

Because I'm a mystery for sure. Not because like everyone else I sometimes question my awesomeness.

Because that would be crazy. Obviously I know I'm awesome. I was just checking to see if you guys were paying attention. Good work. You passed.

It went well I guess. I can be quite impressive when I want to be. Although I did feel a bit like I was offering up my resume at dinner.

So I guess the point of this blog is........

Actually I have no idea. Let's end it like a true 90's kid.

And now you know.


Sunday, November 8, 2015

Grammar Counts

I'm sure everyone has seen all the memes about grammar.

How There, Their and They're is crucial to the survival of the human race.



Even BatDad knows the struggle is real.


There is so much stuff dedicated to this on the internet it's hard to avoid it. And yet people still refuse to accept it's importance.

Luckily there are long suffering nerds like myself who aren't afraid to debate the important topics.

Case in point.

Our drill the other night in Krav Maga included this exercise:



We call this Spiderman.

Certainly if you could look down it would appear as if this lady was bitten by a radioactive spider and gained the unnatural ability to climb buildings. Obviously that is why we call it that.

Irrelevant though because why it's called that isn't' what I wanted to talk about. Of course I got distracted by another superhero origin story because that's what nerds do.

Anyway back on target, the person I was doing the drill with and I were trying to decide what the plural of spider-man would be.

Spiderman's (possessive)

Or

Spidermen? (plural)

Because of course this is the discussion you are going to have while you suck wind trying to kick a pad over and over again before continuing the above pictured torture.  Well maybe that isn't what you would be doing but obviously that is what I was doing. Better still that is what my partner was doing.

Don't you just love it when you find your people? You know the ones with the same brand of crazy as you? It's awesome. 

Our conclusion was that we should be saying Spidermans because we were talking about multiple singular things and not about multiple people or about something that belonged to Spiderman. Although if Spiderman did invent this exercise and named them after himself then I might have to rethink my conclusion.

Anyone want to add their vote?




Of course this is very ironic because I'm sure you know as an avid reader that I frequently make mistakes in this blog. Not intentionally though. So I think that gets me a pass. 

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Assumptions

Sexism is obviously a real thing and anyone who has experienced it knows how horrible it can be. I've been lucky enough that all of my experiences have been very minor.

Being a female is hard. Are you sporty or girly? This is the annoying question that my little girl talks about constantly.

WHY?

Why do you have to pick one? Why are we constantly trying to stick women in boxes? Is she tough or soft? Athletic or dramatic? Labels. labels labels.

I'm not a fan. Not at all.

Saying you are or aren't something implies that you can't be something else. It implies you have to act a certain way. Have to fit inside that box.

It's constant.

Tiny little assumptions that force us to either fight against them or conform.

I spend my mornings helping an adorable group of two years old expand their minds and my evenings learning how to get out of a choke hold.

Does that seem odd?

It shouldn't.

I like to use a hot glue gun and a real gun.

If I were a man I'd be called well rounded. Maybe even a renaissance man.

Instead I'm weird.

Because I love a good superhero t shirt and a pair of high heels.

For some reason we've all decided that women and girls (people too) need to fit into a box. Nice and neat with a set of rules that make it easier to figure out who you are.

Not me. I refuse to do or think or be something just because someone else thinks I should. I refuse to be anything but me whether you like it or not. And I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure my daughter thinks the same.

We all know what happens when you ASS U ME.

Sunday, October 4, 2015

Hot Glue and Paint

Facebook has just informed me that I have been living in my house for 2 years!!! 2 years!!!

That is straight up crazy. 

I've moved a lot. I mean a lot a lot. Like this house is number 15, or maybe 16? I'm getting old so I might be forgetting some places (should I count the times I lived with friends?). This includes all the childhood moves too. As an adult I tried to keep my moving down to a minimum. Probably why we stayed in NJ for as long as we did. (Sorry Triple S)

Whatever. We're here now and it's awesome. 

With moving a lot there are certain things that I always wanted to do right away. Pictures were the biggest thing. I want to start decorating right away too. I feel the need to claim the house as my own. (It's like I'm a dog but with less peeing) Even if I like something there is a part of me that wants to go back to white walls and start over. 

Since this house was new construction everything was "white". Or horrible contractor beige as the case was. Right away we painted the kids rooms. Colin got a nice blue and Natalie got the most ridiculous pink and purple and girl could ever ask for. (Of course now she says her favorite color is blue or black or red, depending on the day.)

Everything was great.

Then I finally caved and joined pinterest

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision for someone like myself. Perhaps I should have just stayed away but people kept posting pictures on FB of all the shit they were going to make. Food and crafts and wedding ideas. It was insane and I finally got sucked in.

Thank god for paint brushes and hot glue guns. 

So I keep busy with "projects." Some fail.  

Some don't though and because I am always so shocked when something turns out good (or maybe I'm a braggart) I want to let everyone know. 

Do you think it would be rude to put post its by all my DIY projects around the house? I mean I could also put a supply list so if anyone wants to recreate it they know how? 

No. That's probably weird. 

DARN. Can I just take pictures and post them on FB? (hahahahhah I've been doing that all along)



--------------------------------------

side note:
This post was almost all about why I wanted to live in a museum. Not like a stuffy building with velvet ropes and audio tours but because I wanted all the stuff in my house to have little brass plates in the corner telling you that I made them or why they are so awesome. And of course by extension I'm awesome.  I changed tactics though.  So you're welcome. This could have been a super obnoxious post dedicated to my amazing house.

Just kidding. It still is that because I'm modest AF.




Monday, September 14, 2015

BRRRR it's cold.

It's happened.

Here in the South the temperature has dropped. And by dropped I mean I can open the windows and begin wearing three quarter pants. Possibly even long sleeves. Certainly not full pants though. It's got to get a lot colder for that level of craziness.

At least for me and anyone else newly relocated to the South from the North.

We don't wear jackets in this family. In fact on the few occasions it has snowed it has been all I can do to get my kids to wear fleece.

Triple S hasn't worn a jacket since we moved here. He's all about the hooded sweatshirts which wreaks havoc on my laundry but that's a story for another day. Apparently he seems to think they are one time use and only about 3 fit in the damn washing machine!

Never mind.

Back to this morning. There were pants and fleece as far as the eye could see at the bus stop. There was panic and fear. There was talk of bread and milk.

OK so that didn't really happen as no one who lives in this neighborhood is actually from the South. But this is the time of year that the true Southerners start to freak out.

They bundle their kids up and dress in ridiculous layers.

Of course all of this seems insane as by noon it's sunny and 85 degrees.


I'm going to smile though because I know the cold doesn't mean the snow is about to start. It doesn't mean salted roads and power outages and closed school.

Okay it totally means closed schools but who cares? I won't have to shovel ever two hours to make sure the snow doesn't get to deep for me to leave the house. HAHAHAHAH.

I wont have to leave my Christmas lights up until April when the ice on the house finally melts and I can remove them. Of course by then the squirrels will have chewed through most of the wires so I will only be taking them down to throw them away.

I don't even have an ice scrapper in my car anymore.  That alone makes me giddy.

I remember The Big Recco used to keep a shovel in his trunk because once he got stuck digging his car out with a three ring binder.

Wait.........

It's possible that was just a story and that the shovel was for other purposes.

Whatever. You know what? The South is awesome.