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.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
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.
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.
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.
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.
--------------------------------------
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.
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.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Internet BS
Remember way back when I was concerned about the 4 legged chickens?
Luckily those sad animals seem to have been rescued. Or eaten. I'm not sure since the Internet seems to have lost interest in them.
Don't worry too much about it though because the Internet has something else you should feel bad about.
Danish people are awesome and show serious respect to their elders.
Not us though. We are horrible and should take a long hard look in the mirror. Or some other soul searching activity. Staring out a window on a rainy day perhaps? Maybe sitting quietly at a coffee shop while you drink you bitter mochachino?
This is the picture that has been popping up all over social media again.
Notice anything amiss? Out of place?
Remember the part where they said this was in Holland? You know. That country that speaks DUTCH!!
Yeah I don't speak any Dutch either but I know they don't call a post office a POST OFFICE!
So of course being the eternally cynical person I am when it comes to the Internet I questioned the validity of this picture.
So off I went to search the World Wide Web hoping that Snopes would have something.
Imagine my surprise when I found this:
Luckily those sad animals seem to have been rescued. Or eaten. I'm not sure since the Internet seems to have lost interest in them.
Don't worry too much about it though because the Internet has something else you should feel bad about.
Danish people are awesome and show serious respect to their elders.
Not us though. We are horrible and should take a long hard look in the mirror. Or some other soul searching activity. Staring out a window on a rainy day perhaps? Maybe sitting quietly at a coffee shop while you drink you bitter mochachino?
This is the picture that has been popping up all over social media again.
Notice anything amiss? Out of place?
Remember the part where they said this was in Holland? You know. That country that speaks DUTCH!!
Yeah I don't speak any Dutch either but I know they don't call a post office a POST OFFICE!
So of course being the eternally cynical person I am when it comes to the Internet I questioned the validity of this picture.
So off I went to search the World Wide Web hoping that Snopes would have something.
Imagine my surprise when I found this:
'Dementia village' inspires new care
It's real!! Seriously. This is the news story from 2013 on CNN! CNN people. No one is infallible but CNN is at least slightly more reliable than most other Internet news sights. Plus since the story is 2 years old it's not like people haven't had time to dispute it.
Crazy right?
I'll just be sitting in the corner sipping my tea while I rethink my world view.
Monday, August 24, 2015
First Day of School
Today is the first day of school here.
So far we have one missed bus, one forgotten pair of glasses and some confusion as to where we were going first thing in the morning.
There were backpacks stuffed with pencils and binders and composition books. Not to mention enough tissues and hand sanitizer to prevent the zombie apocalypse.
(I can't imagine why there are crazy super lice)
All in all not a bad beginning to another school year.
Let's see where we stand at the end of the first week.
So far we have one missed bus, one forgotten pair of glasses and some confusion as to where we were going first thing in the morning.
There were backpacks stuffed with pencils and binders and composition books. Not to mention enough tissues and hand sanitizer to prevent the zombie apocalypse.
(I can't imagine why there are crazy super lice)
All in all not a bad beginning to another school year.
Let's see where we stand at the end of the first week.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Hypothesis Test Conclusion
You know that feeling you get when you think you are reasonably good at something but then you are forced to be judged? That twisting in your gut? That moment when all your self confidence leaves?
Like when you create something and then you put it out into the world to be judged? (not like on YouTube, those people are trolls and they live to be cruel)
Like a blog or something like that?
Actually this isn't about the blog. Although of course the fact that I am writing in the blog means that the above statement isn't true.
That's confusing.
But why should today be any different.
Actually I'm talking about singing.
Have I mentioned before that I do it a lot?
Like all the time. In the house while I'm cooking or cleaning. When I mow the lawn or clean the cars. When I'm painting, or building, or clearing the gutters, or any number of other things. (I seriously do all these things because I'm that good.)
I LOVE music and I'm not sure how anyone gets anything done without it.
Right now there is some fantastic Jazz on thanks to SONGZA. No singing and typing. I have a hard enough time expressing myself.
In the car I'm the worst. Singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. God forbid you get stuck next to me at a red light. For some reason I've never cared about that. It's not like I'm going to see those people again. They can judge away.
The last time I sang in public though was 8th grade. I sat on a lone stool in the middle of the stage in some ridiculous peasant skirt and sang Bette Midler's Wind Beneath My Wings.
I know right? You can just picture the awesomeness of it. Hard to imagine I was ever that cool.
So I'm not going to do the math but that was a LONG time ago.
Now I've sang in the car with my friends and at parties where the music is so loud I could sound like a dying pig and no one would notice. People have said nice things but I've always shaken them off. They are my friends after all. It isn't as if they are going to say cruel things even if my voice resembled the howling of goats.
At least I'm pretty sure they wouldn't. They aren't the type of people to offer false compliments. Or maybe they are but I have such a high opinion about myself I can't fathom that everyone else wouldn't think I was awesome too?
Either way no one has ever begged me to stop.
So this past weekend there was a big party for a very special lady. We seriously had planning meetings and a god damn sign up genius to make sure everything was perfect. and for entertainment we had a karaoke machine. I mean an honest to god karaoke machine with the lyrics up on screen and microphones and everything.
How can this not be fun?
When you know you aren't any good you don't care about being silly and having fun. It's not like we were auditioning for The Voice. This was all in good fun.
That is of course unless you think you have a half way decent voice. It's a truth you've always held but have never tested for fear that someone would prove you wrong. That someone would crush your little hypothesis.
But then you do. You sing without the mic because you really don't need the amplification and not only do your friends say nice things (seriously starting to wonder if they would lie or not. Note to self. Wear an UGLY dress next time out and see if anyone says anything) but their husbands do too.
So you get to keep that secret little fantasy where you totally could have been a professional. Serious. I'm just one chair turn away from being the next Kelly Clarkson. If Blake or Adam heard me you just know they would turn their chairs.
Or I'll probably just go back to singing in the shower.
Either way it's a pretty awesome life so I'm not going to complain.
Like when you create something and then you put it out into the world to be judged? (not like on YouTube, those people are trolls and they live to be cruel)
Like a blog or something like that?
Actually this isn't about the blog. Although of course the fact that I am writing in the blog means that the above statement isn't true.
That's confusing.
But why should today be any different.
Actually I'm talking about singing.
Have I mentioned before that I do it a lot?
Like all the time. In the house while I'm cooking or cleaning. When I mow the lawn or clean the cars. When I'm painting, or building, or clearing the gutters, or any number of other things. (I seriously do all these things because I'm that good.)
I LOVE music and I'm not sure how anyone gets anything done without it.
Right now there is some fantastic Jazz on thanks to SONGZA. No singing and typing. I have a hard enough time expressing myself.
In the car I'm the worst. Singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. God forbid you get stuck next to me at a red light. For some reason I've never cared about that. It's not like I'm going to see those people again. They can judge away.
The last time I sang in public though was 8th grade. I sat on a lone stool in the middle of the stage in some ridiculous peasant skirt and sang Bette Midler's Wind Beneath My Wings.
I know right? You can just picture the awesomeness of it. Hard to imagine I was ever that cool.
So I'm not going to do the math but that was a LONG time ago.
Now I've sang in the car with my friends and at parties where the music is so loud I could sound like a dying pig and no one would notice. People have said nice things but I've always shaken them off. They are my friends after all. It isn't as if they are going to say cruel things even if my voice resembled the howling of goats.
At least I'm pretty sure they wouldn't. They aren't the type of people to offer false compliments. Or maybe they are but I have such a high opinion about myself I can't fathom that everyone else wouldn't think I was awesome too?
Either way no one has ever begged me to stop.
So this past weekend there was a big party for a very special lady. We seriously had planning meetings and a god damn sign up genius to make sure everything was perfect. and for entertainment we had a karaoke machine. I mean an honest to god karaoke machine with the lyrics up on screen and microphones and everything.
How can this not be fun?
When you know you aren't any good you don't care about being silly and having fun. It's not like we were auditioning for The Voice. This was all in good fun.
That is of course unless you think you have a half way decent voice. It's a truth you've always held but have never tested for fear that someone would prove you wrong. That someone would crush your little hypothesis.
But then you do. You sing without the mic because you really don't need the amplification and not only do your friends say nice things (seriously starting to wonder if they would lie or not. Note to self. Wear an UGLY dress next time out and see if anyone says anything) but their husbands do too.
So you get to keep that secret little fantasy where you totally could have been a professional. Serious. I'm just one chair turn away from being the next Kelly Clarkson. If Blake or Adam heard me you just know they would turn their chairs.
Or I'll probably just go back to singing in the shower.
Either way it's a pretty awesome life so I'm not going to complain.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Sleeping (perhaps it's my superpower)
Did you know I'm am a hateful person?
No?
Hmmm. Triple S thinks so.
Okay, he doesn't think that all the time only when it's bedtime.
Hmmmmm, That could be the beginning of a completely different blog. I'd better clarify.
He thinks I've made a pact with the Devil because I can fall asleep in 30 seconds. Seriously. Doesn't matter what time it is or how tired I am, I've always been able to pass out like I was shot with a horse tranquilizer. Although I've never tried it I'm convinced I could sleep standing up.
In addition to this fantastic quality I can also sleep through just about anything.
Time for an example.
Triple S is a volunteer at the local fire department and as such he has a pager. Not like one the cool kids had in the 90's. This thing is ridiculously loud and noisy.
For obvious reasons it must be loud. Think about the worst alarm clock you've ever had and magnify it by ten then throw in a howling monkey and one of those internet famous screaming goats and you will be some where close to the level of annoying this thing achieves.
Did I mention it vibrates? Of course it does because if the screaming banshee like noise isn't enough the fact that it can also shatter glass with it's vibration will make sure you know someone needs help. It's like the bat signal but less cool and way more ear splitting.
Now imagine it going off at 2 am and the person you are sleeping next to getting out of bed, getting dressed and leaving your home.
Now imagine that you don't wake up.
Yep. Nothing. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. In fact it's so bad that I've woken up in the morning and harassed Triple S about being lazy only for him to inform me that he was gone from 1am till 6am at a fire.
Yup. Didn't know that happened.
It's more complicated than that though.
The following is a list of things that have woken me up:
The dogs collar jangling
The kids using the bathroom (upstairs and at the other side of the house)
A kitchen timer going off in the garage
A car idling on the street
Small daughter falling out of bed
A dead battery on a smoke detector
You know the beep that goes off every minute? I'm sure your heard it. Our fire alarms are all hardwired with battery backups. Which is handy because it's not like you can't have a fire if there's no power.
But batteries die and of course this doesn't happen at 4 in the afternoon. It's always at 4 am. When everyone if snuggled tightly in bed. Dreaming about lollipops and rainbows.
So I was forced to wander around the house trying to pinpoint the sound. FYI I would make a really shitty DareDevil. Seriously I'm thinking about getting my ears checked. Well not to see if they work; obviously they do. Wait is there a test to see how well your echolocation works? Is that a real thing?
Probably not and I'm way too lazy to google it right now.
Feel free to do your own Web MD search but try hard not to convince yourself you have cancer of the ear.
Conclusion: I got the dam thing off the ceiling and took out the battery but of course it was still beeping. I was going to smash it with a hammer because when I'm tired I tend to think like the Hulk but Triple S suggested I just put it in the garage. Please note above. Although he wouldn't have to hear it I was sure the dam thing would still sound as loud as the tell tale heart (YEAH NERDY BOOK REFERENCE). Luckily as I walked it out to the garage it stopped.
Here is the other thing that drives Triple S insane. After all this fun I crawled back into bed and was asleep in 30 seconds. Yup. Right back out like I hadn't just been wandering around the house in the middle of the night climbing ladders and cursing technology.
PS the battery was replaced the next morning and fire detector was put back on the ceiling. Serious side note. Fire detectors can only save your life if they are working and installed properly.
Wait!!! I just had a brilliant thought. Why isn't the battery in my fire alarm a rechargeable one that is continuously charged by the power? Seriously why isn't this a thing?
That's how your car works. It's also how my garage door opener works. See it's already a thing. Someone just needs to apply it to the fire alarm industry. Get on this smart people!
No?
Hmmm. Triple S thinks so.
Okay, he doesn't think that all the time only when it's bedtime.
Hmmmmm, That could be the beginning of a completely different blog. I'd better clarify.
He thinks I've made a pact with the Devil because I can fall asleep in 30 seconds. Seriously. Doesn't matter what time it is or how tired I am, I've always been able to pass out like I was shot with a horse tranquilizer. Although I've never tried it I'm convinced I could sleep standing up.
In addition to this fantastic quality I can also sleep through just about anything.
Time for an example.
Triple S is a volunteer at the local fire department and as such he has a pager. Not like one the cool kids had in the 90's. This thing is ridiculously loud and noisy.
For obvious reasons it must be loud. Think about the worst alarm clock you've ever had and magnify it by ten then throw in a howling monkey and one of those internet famous screaming goats and you will be some where close to the level of annoying this thing achieves.
Did I mention it vibrates? Of course it does because if the screaming banshee like noise isn't enough the fact that it can also shatter glass with it's vibration will make sure you know someone needs help. It's like the bat signal but less cool and way more ear splitting.
Now imagine it going off at 2 am and the person you are sleeping next to getting out of bed, getting dressed and leaving your home.
Now imagine that you don't wake up.
Yep. Nothing. Not even a grunt of acknowledgement. In fact it's so bad that I've woken up in the morning and harassed Triple S about being lazy only for him to inform me that he was gone from 1am till 6am at a fire.
Yup. Didn't know that happened.
It's more complicated than that though.
The following is a list of things that have woken me up:
The dogs collar jangling
The kids using the bathroom (upstairs and at the other side of the house)
A kitchen timer going off in the garage
A car idling on the street
Small daughter falling out of bed
A dead battery on a smoke detector
You know the beep that goes off every minute? I'm sure your heard it. Our fire alarms are all hardwired with battery backups. Which is handy because it's not like you can't have a fire if there's no power.
But batteries die and of course this doesn't happen at 4 in the afternoon. It's always at 4 am. When everyone if snuggled tightly in bed. Dreaming about lollipops and rainbows.
So I was forced to wander around the house trying to pinpoint the sound. FYI I would make a really shitty DareDevil. Seriously I'm thinking about getting my ears checked. Well not to see if they work; obviously they do. Wait is there a test to see how well your echolocation works? Is that a real thing?
Probably not and I'm way too lazy to google it right now.
Feel free to do your own Web MD search but try hard not to convince yourself you have cancer of the ear.
Conclusion: I got the dam thing off the ceiling and took out the battery but of course it was still beeping. I was going to smash it with a hammer because when I'm tired I tend to think like the Hulk but Triple S suggested I just put it in the garage. Please note above. Although he wouldn't have to hear it I was sure the dam thing would still sound as loud as the tell tale heart (YEAH NERDY BOOK REFERENCE). Luckily as I walked it out to the garage it stopped.
Here is the other thing that drives Triple S insane. After all this fun I crawled back into bed and was asleep in 30 seconds. Yup. Right back out like I hadn't just been wandering around the house in the middle of the night climbing ladders and cursing technology.
PS the battery was replaced the next morning and fire detector was put back on the ceiling. Serious side note. Fire detectors can only save your life if they are working and installed properly.
Wait!!! I just had a brilliant thought. Why isn't the battery in my fire alarm a rechargeable one that is continuously charged by the power? Seriously why isn't this a thing?
That's how your car works. It's also how my garage door opener works. See it's already a thing. Someone just needs to apply it to the fire alarm industry. Get on this smart people!
Monday, July 27, 2015
3 Hour Tour
So I've mentioned in the past that I went to Boat College.
Obviously there are so many day to day practical applications when this comes in handy. I'd list them right now but you non boat college graduates would get bored and nobody wants that.
It also leads to request to "captain" someone else's boat. There was talk of this exact thing on one of our girl's night out but as it so happened the weather didn't cooperate and we were forced to drive to the restaurant like common folk.
This time though, mother nature was on our side as I arrived at the dock. There was some conversation about the "finicky" nature of the boat. An explanation of the "tricks" to get it to start.
Sure enough it didn't turn over the first time. As I had never been on this boat before I trusted said owner to advise me on the throttle, clutch and gear shift.
Sadly she was misinformed and that didn't help the situation. Eventually we got it started and headed out to sea. Ok we headed out to Lake but that just doesn't sound as good.
There was talk of anchoring near "invisible island". So named by the children because as you approach it you can't distinguish it from the mainland until you are right on top of it.
The anchor proved uncooperative (are you sensing a theme?) and we instead decided to "beach" it. That of course proved to be an easy enough task and we were soon settled and enjoying swimming, jumping and rolling in the sand.
We chit chatted with the other people who had also "beached" themselves. Basically it was a lovely day on the lake.
That held true right up until we needed to leave. Some of you smart people might be able to guess what happened. But for everybody else don't worry. I'm going to tell you. That is the point of this blog after all.
It wouldn't start.
GASP!
I know I was shocked too. Luckily one of the nice people offered to tow us home. (People are so nice here it's very weird.)
Plans were made about how we would get off the island. How they would attach to us. How he would direct them to our dock.
What is it they say about plans? No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.
I guess in this case the enemy was the sea (or the lake, whatever.).
Side note. Right now I can't stop thinking about George from Seinfeld telling the story about pulling the golf ball out of the whale's blow hole.
"The sea was angry that day. Like an old man trying to send back soup at a deli."
Back on point. No sooner did we leave the shore than the dog jumped off and tried to swim back to land. Yup! Luckily there was a group of campers. They weren't any help but one of their counselors was. He grabbed the dog and swam her back to the boat where I pulled her aboard.
The piece de resistance was of course that as we approached the dock I dove into the water with the rope in my teeth to the cheers of all the children. Okay I didn't have the rope in my mouth but just picture it? It would have been epic right? Maybe with some kind of harpoon in my hand?
The kids didn't cheer but they were impressed.
At the end of the day no one was hurt, nothing was damaged(the boat had a dead battery), and everyone had a fun day so all in all a successful adventure.
Win Win Win.
Obviously there are so many day to day practical applications when this comes in handy. I'd list them right now but you non boat college graduates would get bored and nobody wants that.
It also leads to request to "captain" someone else's boat. There was talk of this exact thing on one of our girl's night out but as it so happened the weather didn't cooperate and we were forced to drive to the restaurant like common folk.
This time though, mother nature was on our side as I arrived at the dock. There was some conversation about the "finicky" nature of the boat. An explanation of the "tricks" to get it to start.
Sure enough it didn't turn over the first time. As I had never been on this boat before I trusted said owner to advise me on the throttle, clutch and gear shift.
Sadly she was misinformed and that didn't help the situation. Eventually we got it started and headed out to sea. Ok we headed out to Lake but that just doesn't sound as good.
There was talk of anchoring near "invisible island". So named by the children because as you approach it you can't distinguish it from the mainland until you are right on top of it.
The anchor proved uncooperative (are you sensing a theme?) and we instead decided to "beach" it. That of course proved to be an easy enough task and we were soon settled and enjoying swimming, jumping and rolling in the sand.
We chit chatted with the other people who had also "beached" themselves. Basically it was a lovely day on the lake.
That held true right up until we needed to leave. Some of you smart people might be able to guess what happened. But for everybody else don't worry. I'm going to tell you. That is the point of this blog after all.
It wouldn't start.
GASP!
I know I was shocked too. Luckily one of the nice people offered to tow us home. (People are so nice here it's very weird.)
Plans were made about how we would get off the island. How they would attach to us. How he would direct them to our dock.
What is it they say about plans? No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.
I guess in this case the enemy was the sea (or the lake, whatever.).
Side note. Right now I can't stop thinking about George from Seinfeld telling the story about pulling the golf ball out of the whale's blow hole.
"The sea was angry that day. Like an old man trying to send back soup at a deli."
Back on point. No sooner did we leave the shore than the dog jumped off and tried to swim back to land. Yup! Luckily there was a group of campers. They weren't any help but one of their counselors was. He grabbed the dog and swam her back to the boat where I pulled her aboard.
The piece de resistance was of course that as we approached the dock I dove into the water with the rope in my teeth to the cheers of all the children. Okay I didn't have the rope in my mouth but just picture it? It would have been epic right? Maybe with some kind of harpoon in my hand?
 |
| I have no idea what this diagram is for but it's awesome. |
The kids didn't cheer but they were impressed.
At the end of the day no one was hurt, nothing was damaged(the boat had a dead battery), and everyone had a fun day so all in all a successful adventure.
Win Win Win.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Friendship is Blinding. Like the SUN
Tonight I got to go to dinner with some of my favorite people in the world and as is usually the case the cell phones came out to take photos.
We like to commemorate our outings with pictures. Regular ones and the super obnoxious selfie kind.
The birthday girl asked for final approval on any photos that might be posted and everyone else chimed in that they wanted the same privilege.
Now this isn't to say these ladies are vain. That is truly not the case but most people like some say so over what goes out into the world to represent themselves. I chimed in that I didn't care. That everyone should be aware of this based on what I myself would post.
Then a wonderful thing happened. One of my amazing friends said she didn't think I had ever taken a bad photo.
Although we deal in sarcasms and jokes most of the time this was a sincere compliment. It is my opinion that this is much more a statement about our friendship than my extreme photogenicness.
As proof I offer up these fantastic photos of myself from this awesome evening.
We are quick to judge everyone we meet on first glance. We have read countless studies about how attractive people have an easier life. How blondes have more fun or how dressing nicely gets you treated differently.
I'm sure all of this is true. I can think of numerous times someone has proven my preconceived notions wrong.
We say beauty is only skin deep but we should add a caveat. Beauty is only skin deep in friends.
Covered in sweat or dressed in our Sunday best. Smiling we are always beautiful.
We like to commemorate our outings with pictures. Regular ones and the super obnoxious selfie kind.
The birthday girl asked for final approval on any photos that might be posted and everyone else chimed in that they wanted the same privilege.
Now this isn't to say these ladies are vain. That is truly not the case but most people like some say so over what goes out into the world to represent themselves. I chimed in that I didn't care. That everyone should be aware of this based on what I myself would post.
Then a wonderful thing happened. One of my amazing friends said she didn't think I had ever taken a bad photo.
Although we deal in sarcasms and jokes most of the time this was a sincere compliment. It is my opinion that this is much more a statement about our friendship than my extreme photogenicness.
As proof I offer up these fantastic photos of myself from this awesome evening.
 |
| because I'm classy I'm licking salsa off my phone here. |
 |
| this is obviously my "see food" face |
 |
| here I am imitating the gen Xers ( or gen Y? I really have no idea what they are called) |
 |
| Are you supposed to look up or down when taking a selfie? |
I'm sure all of this is true. I can think of numerous times someone has proven my preconceived notions wrong.
We say beauty is only skin deep but we should add a caveat. Beauty is only skin deep in friends.
Covered in sweat or dressed in our Sunday best. Smiling we are always beautiful.
 |
| a smile is better than any makeup. |
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Kryptonite/Hair
First before I start talking about myself I have a question.
Is there another superhero besides Superman that has such a well known weakness?
Sure the Green Lantern has yellow stuff. (you know you totally knew that)
I really can't think of anything else off the top of my head.
Time Out while I search the Internet...........................
I'm back. Guess what? There is nothing else memorable. Although I will mention that I just learned the original Wonder Woman could be trapped if a MAN bound her hands. That is some serious sexist Bravo Sierra. Glad that is no longer the case.
Okay after that little nerd interlude let's get back to me.
Have I told you I have a "Kryptonite"?
Time Out again. Did you know Krypton is in spellcheck but Kryptonite isn't? WTF?
Back again. About my Kryptonite (seriously. how is this not in spellcheck?).
I'm going to tell you but only because I doubt there are any super villains that read this blog. They are much more into TUMBLR and VINE.
It's my hair.
You know that stuff that grows on top of my head? Yeah.
I HATE WHEN ANYONE TOUCHES IT!!
Is there something more yelly than bold caps? Maybe underlined too?
Seriously. I HATE IT!
Underlining was too much! I always go too far. Live and learn.
It was one of the multitude of benefits to having short hair: no one touches it. But now in some sort of sick sadomasochistic move I'm growing it out. Don't say I'm overreacting. Have you ever grown out short hair? It's like one bad middle school hair cut after another and now to add insult to injury people feel like they can touch it.
"Ohh it's curly." Like that fact that my hair has curls means you should touch it.
PS it doesn't. These are the same people who touch pregnant lady's bellies I bet.
Right now I still have enough patience to remain calm and not slap anyone but we are quickly approaching the day when I'll black out and when I finally come out of my Hulk like rage someone will be lying at my feet wondering why and I'll have to explain to a judge that it was a totally provoked attack. "She touched my hair." Best. Defense. Ever.
I guess this is more of a public service announcement. Or maybe a warning...
If you've gotten away with it in the past. Count yourself lucky but remember one day the sleeping lion is going to wake up and you are going to pull back a bloody stump.
Gosh those are some serious mixed metaphors. What ever.
You get it right?
Hands off the hair!!
I love you Internet! Don't ever change. There is nothing you don't have!!!!
Is there another superhero besides Superman that has such a well known weakness?
Sure the Green Lantern has yellow stuff. (you know you totally knew that)
I really can't think of anything else off the top of my head.
Time Out while I search the Internet...........................
I'm back. Guess what? There is nothing else memorable. Although I will mention that I just learned the original Wonder Woman could be trapped if a MAN bound her hands. That is some serious sexist Bravo Sierra. Glad that is no longer the case.
Okay after that little nerd interlude let's get back to me.
Have I told you I have a "Kryptonite"?
Time Out again. Did you know Krypton is in spellcheck but Kryptonite isn't? WTF?
Back again. About my Kryptonite (seriously. how is this not in spellcheck?).
I'm going to tell you but only because I doubt there are any super villains that read this blog. They are much more into TUMBLR and VINE.
It's my hair.
You know that stuff that grows on top of my head? Yeah.
I HATE WHEN ANYONE TOUCHES IT!!
Is there something more yelly than bold caps? Maybe underlined too?
Seriously. I HATE IT!
Underlining was too much! I always go too far. Live and learn.
It was one of the multitude of benefits to having short hair: no one touches it. But now in some sort of sick sadomasochistic move I'm growing it out. Don't say I'm overreacting. Have you ever grown out short hair? It's like one bad middle school hair cut after another and now to add insult to injury people feel like they can touch it.
"Ohh it's curly." Like that fact that my hair has curls means you should touch it.
PS it doesn't. These are the same people who touch pregnant lady's bellies I bet.
Right now I still have enough patience to remain calm and not slap anyone but we are quickly approaching the day when I'll black out and when I finally come out of my Hulk like rage someone will be lying at my feet wondering why and I'll have to explain to a judge that it was a totally provoked attack. "She touched my hair." Best. Defense. Ever.
I guess this is more of a public service announcement. Or maybe a warning...
If you've gotten away with it in the past. Count yourself lucky but remember one day the sleeping lion is going to wake up and you are going to pull back a bloody stump.
Gosh those are some serious mixed metaphors. What ever.
You get it right?
Hands off the hair!!
I love you Internet! Don't ever change. There is nothing you don't have!!!!
Monday, June 8, 2015
Getting Rid of Satellite Helped Me to be a Better Parent.
Just not the way you think.
A few months ago Triple S and I agreed we were paying WAY TO MUCH for satellite TV. This isn't to say we didn't like it. Because we certainly did, but the bill just kept getting larger and the number of shows we were watching was getting smaller and smaller.
So we cancelled and got a streaming box and a digital antenna. (unless there is a chance I'm going to get something free I'm not plugging any name brands!)
Yeah. Old school rabbit ears. (although they are hidden in the attic so no one knows.)
That way we could keep watching local channels and the fabulous b team news.
That is what Triple S and I call the local news. If you are from the New York tri state area and you have since moved to small market news location then you know what I'm talking about. It's like watching high school Shakespeare. Sure they may get all the lines right but it isn't the same.
When we finally severed the satellite link we started discovery new things. Well actually old things but they are new to us again.
Sunday morning The Monkees are on. It actually holds up. It's still silly and fun and it makes you smile.
The best part though is Saturday's line up.
1966 Batman
1975 Wonder Woman
1966 Star Trek
Better still is the fact that my kids are excited about watching these. When they found out Star Trek was on netflix they started a marathon.
As a parent you are supposed to share the world with your kids. Teach them about the important things and that is why I feel like I am totally winning as a parent.
You can teach your kids sharing and kindness. I'm sticking with nerd topics only.
A few months ago Triple S and I agreed we were paying WAY TO MUCH for satellite TV. This isn't to say we didn't like it. Because we certainly did, but the bill just kept getting larger and the number of shows we were watching was getting smaller and smaller.
So we cancelled and got a streaming box and a digital antenna. (unless there is a chance I'm going to get something free I'm not plugging any name brands!)
Yeah. Old school rabbit ears. (although they are hidden in the attic so no one knows.)
That way we could keep watching local channels and the fabulous b team news.
That is what Triple S and I call the local news. If you are from the New York tri state area and you have since moved to small market news location then you know what I'm talking about. It's like watching high school Shakespeare. Sure they may get all the lines right but it isn't the same.
When we finally severed the satellite link we started discovery new things. Well actually old things but they are new to us again.
Sunday morning The Monkees are on. It actually holds up. It's still silly and fun and it makes you smile.
The best part though is Saturday's line up.
1966 Batman
As a parent you are supposed to share the world with your kids. Teach them about the important things and that is why I feel like I am totally winning as a parent.
You can teach your kids sharing and kindness. I'm sticking with nerd topics only.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Still Your Mind
So this isn't the first time I've talked about trying to be a fitter me.
Recently though, I've switched up some things. Including Yoga in my routine to try and balance the abuse I take at Krav Maga. Or trying to see how many dichotomys I can include. Who knows.
It's really hard to know why I do anything.
So back to Yoga. It's great. All Namaste and stretching.
I've always been a reasonably flexible person but Yoga is something else. There are always a few ladies who can totally human pretzel themselves but none of this is important.
What is important is Shavasana.
Yeah yeah yeah. I know we don't all speak Yogi.
It's the rest at the end of class and apparently the "hardest practice" in yoga. At least that is what the instructor always says.
FYI everything in Yoga is a "practice" kind of like medicine.
The point it just to lay there and clear your mind.
The second part of that sentence is the hard part.
My inner monologue while I tried to "count my breaths" (that is how we are supposed to stay focused on nothing, if that's possible), is very disjointed.
I think most people probably have a hard time shutting down their to do list and the things that they are currently worrying about. Normal things like college funds and dry cleaning pick up.
Not me. Not that you are surprised by this.
So here is a peak inside my mind while I am trying to keep it still.
1 2 3 4 exhale
1 2 3 4 inhale
think about nothing. think about nothing.
Nothing
Nothing
Is this what it was like for the Ghostbusters?
I'm feeling pretty sympathetic to Ray right now.
back to breathing stupid.
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
nothing nothing
be still, chill. veg out. Like Broccoli.
Can you imagine what it would have been like if he had thought about a unicorn?
breathing, counting, breathing, counting
relax
relax
My mind is blank
Blank Blank
Tabula Rasa
Latin is weird. Not as weird as Shakespeare but weird.
There is no Shakespeare stuff in my house. Maybe I should search pinterest for a project?
Dammit!
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
I should totally write a blog about the fact that I can't stop thinking weird stuff while I am supposed to be meditating. Wait is meditating the same as Shavasana? Because sometimes we do both and they are separate things? Although They feel the same except one is when I am sitting and one and when I am laying down.
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
Oh she's wringing the bell. We're done. toe wiggling time!!!
Would it be considered META that I am now writing a blog about how I was thinking about writing a blog and now you're reading that blog?
Either way. At no point did I think about my to do list or what I was going to cook for dinner or if I had left the porch light on that morning.
So good luck the next time you have to clear your mind. Hopefully the fate of the world won't rely on your ability to think about nothing.
Recently though, I've switched up some things. Including Yoga in my routine to try and balance the abuse I take at Krav Maga. Or trying to see how many dichotomys I can include. Who knows.
It's really hard to know why I do anything.
So back to Yoga. It's great. All Namaste and stretching.
I've always been a reasonably flexible person but Yoga is something else. There are always a few ladies who can totally human pretzel themselves but none of this is important.
What is important is Shavasana.
Yeah yeah yeah. I know we don't all speak Yogi.
It's the rest at the end of class and apparently the "hardest practice" in yoga. At least that is what the instructor always says.
FYI everything in Yoga is a "practice" kind of like medicine.
The point it just to lay there and clear your mind.
The second part of that sentence is the hard part.
My inner monologue while I tried to "count my breaths" (that is how we are supposed to stay focused on nothing, if that's possible), is very disjointed.
I think most people probably have a hard time shutting down their to do list and the things that they are currently worrying about. Normal things like college funds and dry cleaning pick up.
Not me. Not that you are surprised by this.
So here is a peak inside my mind while I am trying to keep it still.
1 2 3 4 exhale
1 2 3 4 inhale
think about nothing. think about nothing.
Nothing
Nothing
Is this what it was like for the Ghostbusters?
back to breathing stupid.
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
nothing nothing
be still, chill. veg out. Like Broccoli.
Can you imagine what it would have been like if he had thought about a unicorn?
relax
relax
My mind is blank
Blank Blank
Tabula Rasa
Latin is weird. Not as weird as Shakespeare but weird.
There is no Shakespeare stuff in my house. Maybe I should search pinterest for a project?
Dammit!
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
I should totally write a blog about the fact that I can't stop thinking weird stuff while I am supposed to be meditating. Wait is meditating the same as Shavasana? Because sometimes we do both and they are separate things? Although They feel the same except one is when I am sitting and one and when I am laying down.
1 2 3 4 inhale
1 2 3 4 exhale
Oh she's wringing the bell. We're done. toe wiggling time!!!
Would it be considered META that I am now writing a blog about how I was thinking about writing a blog and now you're reading that blog?
Either way. At no point did I think about my to do list or what I was going to cook for dinner or if I had left the porch light on that morning.
So good luck the next time you have to clear your mind. Hopefully the fate of the world won't rely on your ability to think about nothing.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Lillian Smith Jr (is not a real person)
For the last few weeks Triple S has been dealing with a back issue. I say that like it's a minor thing but sadly it wasn't.
12 years ago Triple S managed to land himself in the care of a back surgeon. If you are following at home he was still in his 20s! Yeah. It wasn't cool then and it isn't cool now.
But that isn't the point.
In the last few weeks we have seen doctor after doctor as we were passed up the ladder from GP to specialist to surgeon.
As we sat in the waiting room of the surgeon's office Triple S and I were discussing if the MD was a he or a she when we noticed a diploma on the wall. As is standard on diplomas the doctors name was written. (Aren't you glad I explained this part? Seriously? Just in case you have never seen or received a diploma of your own. Or you are an alien from another planet.)
The doctor was a "third".
It was at this point I told Triple S I was sure our doctor was a male.
He agreed of course because I'm always right or he was in a lot of pain or maybe it was the painkillers? It's hard to be sure but either way he said I was right.
Of course I'm right. No one has ever met a Sharon Mckenzie III. Or a Jennifer Stein Jr.
Sure you can say it's because women still usually take their husband's name so it wouldn't be a true "junior" but we know that isn't the real reason.
Actually I don't really know what the real reason is but it is surely one of those purely male things.
PS
So I wrote this about a week ago and then started reading The Imperial Cruise. It's a book about President Teddy Roosevelt and the lead up to WWII. In the book it talks about how he sends his daughter just to keep his name in the papers but unless you like WWII none of this matters.
What does matter is that her name is Alice Roosevelt. Like Alice Roosevelt the second. As in that is also her Mom's name? WTF Teddy! Way to prove me wrong from beyond the grave.
No one say anything to Triple S.
12 years ago Triple S managed to land himself in the care of a back surgeon. If you are following at home he was still in his 20s! Yeah. It wasn't cool then and it isn't cool now.
But that isn't the point.
In the last few weeks we have seen doctor after doctor as we were passed up the ladder from GP to specialist to surgeon.
As we sat in the waiting room of the surgeon's office Triple S and I were discussing if the MD was a he or a she when we noticed a diploma on the wall. As is standard on diplomas the doctors name was written. (Aren't you glad I explained this part? Seriously? Just in case you have never seen or received a diploma of your own. Or you are an alien from another planet.)
The doctor was a "third".
It was at this point I told Triple S I was sure our doctor was a male.
He agreed of course because I'm always right or he was in a lot of pain or maybe it was the painkillers? It's hard to be sure but either way he said I was right.
Of course I'm right. No one has ever met a Sharon Mckenzie III. Or a Jennifer Stein Jr.
Sure you can say it's because women still usually take their husband's name so it wouldn't be a true "junior" but we know that isn't the real reason.
Actually I don't really know what the real reason is but it is surely one of those purely male things.
PS
So I wrote this about a week ago and then started reading The Imperial Cruise. It's a book about President Teddy Roosevelt and the lead up to WWII. In the book it talks about how he sends his daughter just to keep his name in the papers but unless you like WWII none of this matters.
What does matter is that her name is Alice Roosevelt. Like Alice Roosevelt the second. As in that is also her Mom's name? WTF Teddy! Way to prove me wrong from beyond the grave.
No one say anything to Triple S.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Dear NC Drivers
It's Spring here (actually it's spring everywhere it's just the weather that's different). This means it's getting warmer and flip flops are coming out.
It also means rain. Lots and lots of rain.
I'm not complaining about rain. I love it. It makes the flowers grow and it makes the pollen go far far away.
What I don't like is how it affects the drivers down here.
Before I complain about 'locals' I want to talk about how much I love my adopted home. North Carolina is awesome. The weather, the people, the biscuits, the sweet tea.
It's all great on most days.
I'm even cool with the ridiculous way we handle the snow down here. It's rare and I get that no one is going to have enough practice for a mastery of the skill of snow driving.
Totally okay. I'll stay home and laugh at the ridiculous rush of people to get bread and milk because an inch is being predicted.
So you totally get a pass on the lack of snow driving skills.
But what about the rain?
Seriously. Why can't you drive in the rain? For the last fours days I have been trapped behind car after car doing at least 5 miles under the limit while my windshield wipers are still on intermittent.
Traffic has been ridiculous and the roads are barely damp.
It rains all the time. You should know how to do this.
Wait. I'm having an AHA moment!!
Is this a NASCAR thing? I know they can't race in the rain. They even have jet powered blow dryers for the track to dry the asphalt. I know this because a few years ago some guy crashed into one and it EXPLODED! Seriously. That happened.
Okay here is some knowledge. Your car does not have racing slicks. You have tires with treads that help you grip the road even when it's wet. Yes hydroplaning is a real thing but not when it's only drizzling.
Speed up people. You're making me want to find out how harsh the road rage laws are down here.
It also means rain. Lots and lots of rain.
I'm not complaining about rain. I love it. It makes the flowers grow and it makes the pollen go far far away.
What I don't like is how it affects the drivers down here.
Before I complain about 'locals' I want to talk about how much I love my adopted home. North Carolina is awesome. The weather, the people, the biscuits, the sweet tea.
It's all great on most days.
I'm even cool with the ridiculous way we handle the snow down here. It's rare and I get that no one is going to have enough practice for a mastery of the skill of snow driving.
Totally okay. I'll stay home and laugh at the ridiculous rush of people to get bread and milk because an inch is being predicted.
So you totally get a pass on the lack of snow driving skills.
But what about the rain?
Seriously. Why can't you drive in the rain? For the last fours days I have been trapped behind car after car doing at least 5 miles under the limit while my windshield wipers are still on intermittent.
Traffic has been ridiculous and the roads are barely damp.
It rains all the time. You should know how to do this.
Wait. I'm having an AHA moment!!
Is this a NASCAR thing? I know they can't race in the rain. They even have jet powered blow dryers for the track to dry the asphalt. I know this because a few years ago some guy crashed into one and it EXPLODED! Seriously. That happened.
Okay here is some knowledge. Your car does not have racing slicks. You have tires with treads that help you grip the road even when it's wet. Yes hydroplaning is a real thing but not when it's only drizzling.
Speed up people. You're making me want to find out how harsh the road rage laws are down here.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Surrealist
So I'm pretty sure I've talked about my love of weird and nerdy t shirts before.
Although according to some stupid style blog I am no longer allowed to wear ironic t shirts. (Screw you. I refuse to grow up, I AM NOT OLD.)
Whatever. They're not the boss of me.
That's why I bought this t shirt the other day.
So cool right?
You can get one here if you want to be as cool as me.
I'm guessing right about now you're confused. I'm guessing this because no one said anything about my weird shirt when I wore it.
Introspective moment: Is it possible that my weird t shirt obsession is just a thinly veiled cry for attention? NOPE. That seems unlikely. Pretty sure that's what this blog is for.
No one. Not even the amazing Triple S, who usually gets my weirdness.
So here comes the schooling (this is ironic because I'm talking about teaching you something while using poor grammar. That's funny 101 kids. So is explaining why something is funny.)
Salvador Dali had a pet anteater that he would take for walks!!
Okay so that isn't why you might know him He was also kind a big deal in the art world. Painted a bunch of 'melting' pictures that looked like they came straight from the mind of the kind of man who would have a pet anteater.
Pure crazy town. This one is called the Persistence of Memory because that makes total sense. He also hung out with Picasso! Picasso people! Oh and he has his own museum. Sure it's in Florida instead of Paris but I'm pretty sure it's still a big deal.
I had a poster of one of his paintings in my room at Boat College. Because when you wear a uniform every day and are only allowed one poster and one picture in your room you need to pick something that lets everyone know you are insane. Or at the very least borderline loopy. Dali is clearly the best choice to convey this message.
So there you go. Now go forth and put this knowledge to good use. Like getting another crown on Trivia Crack.
Although according to some stupid style blog I am no longer allowed to wear ironic t shirts. (Screw you. I refuse to grow up, I AM NOT OLD.)
Whatever. They're not the boss of me.
That's why I bought this t shirt the other day.
You can get one here if you want to be as cool as me.
I'm guessing right about now you're confused. I'm guessing this because no one said anything about my weird shirt when I wore it.
Introspective moment: Is it possible that my weird t shirt obsession is just a thinly veiled cry for attention? NOPE. That seems unlikely. Pretty sure that's what this blog is for.
No one. Not even the amazing Triple S, who usually gets my weirdness.
So here comes the schooling (this is ironic because I'm talking about teaching you something while using poor grammar. That's funny 101 kids. So is explaining why something is funny.)
Salvador Dali had a pet anteater that he would take for walks!!
I had a poster of one of his paintings in my room at Boat College. Because when you wear a uniform every day and are only allowed one poster and one picture in your room you need to pick something that lets everyone know you are insane. Or at the very least borderline loopy. Dali is clearly the best choice to convey this message.
So there you go. Now go forth and put this knowledge to good use. Like getting another crown on Trivia Crack.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
15 years
15 Years ago today I married Triple S.
Actually we didn't get married for another 15 days but that's a story for another day.
Today is the day I wore the dress and we said romantic stuff while everyone watched so we will count it as our anniversary.
It was wonderful but that isn't what I wanted to talk about today. Today I wanted to talk about what I thought I wanted and what I got.
I remember counting the days till our first anniversary because then we would just be regular married people. Regular. Normal. Married. People. Not newlyweds.
That was what I wanted.
More than anything I wanted my regular life to start.
On our first anniversary Triple S and I went to a lovely French restaurant. We ate escargot and dined by candlelight. It was romantic and wonderful. Then we went home and ate frozen, year old, cake.
Is that still a thing? It really shouldn't be. that cake was GROSS! But we had a few bites. Enough to ensure tradition was followed before throwing it away.
I remember thinking regular life was going to start now. My normal life.
I'm not sure what I thought that meant. Maybe eating breakfast together while solving a crossword puzzle? Maybe going on road trips to see the world's biggest ball of twine?
Clearly I had no frame of reference. That was why I wanted it so badly.
It's been 15 years. A few moves, a bunch of job changes, some adorable kids and too many ridiculous things to list. Nothing has been 'normal' or 'regular' and that has been the best part.
What Scott (Triple S) has taught me is that it really doesn't matter what you are doing and where you are but who you are with.
I'll gladly spend the next 15 years with him. Probably more than that if I'm lucky.
So thanks for the life lesson and everything else. <3<3<3 Happy Anniversary husband of mine!
Actually we didn't get married for another 15 days but that's a story for another day.
Today is the day I wore the dress and we said romantic stuff while everyone watched so we will count it as our anniversary.
I remember counting the days till our first anniversary because then we would just be regular married people. Regular. Normal. Married. People. Not newlyweds.
That was what I wanted.
More than anything I wanted my regular life to start.
On our first anniversary Triple S and I went to a lovely French restaurant. We ate escargot and dined by candlelight. It was romantic and wonderful. Then we went home and ate frozen, year old, cake.
Is that still a thing? It really shouldn't be. that cake was GROSS! But we had a few bites. Enough to ensure tradition was followed before throwing it away.
I remember thinking regular life was going to start now. My normal life.
I'm not sure what I thought that meant. Maybe eating breakfast together while solving a crossword puzzle? Maybe going on road trips to see the world's biggest ball of twine?
Clearly I had no frame of reference. That was why I wanted it so badly.
It's been 15 years. A few moves, a bunch of job changes, some adorable kids and too many ridiculous things to list. Nothing has been 'normal' or 'regular' and that has been the best part.
What Scott (Triple S) has taught me is that it really doesn't matter what you are doing and where you are but who you are with.
I'll gladly spend the next 15 years with him. Probably more than that if I'm lucky.
So thanks for the life lesson and everything else. <3<3<3 Happy Anniversary husband of mine!
Thursday, March 19, 2015
WTF Amazon!
Obviously Amazon is awesome. Especially if you have a prime account. The free movies and music are whatever. I have netflix I don't need your pity Amazon! But 2 day shipping?
Hell yeah!
Do I need this book/sneaker/sticker/coffee/charger/whatever thing? Maybe but it can be here in two days so ...... Yes please send it to me.
Back on point.
Did you guys know I LOVE obnoxious t shirts? Nerdy or weird or full of ridiculous fandom love.
I love them. I wear them to work and to the gym.
Most people who see me on a regular basis have noticed this about me.
It isn't unusual for someone to send me something like this on FB.
They come in the form of texts too.
Usually Triple S is mentioned in the hopes that he will get creative and everyone will get cool new t shirts.
It's happened before.
These were all made by the amazing Triple S
This one is for our fantastic Alma mater!
OMG I am so far off topic. Not that this is shocking to you. Certainly this is something that is a regular problem.
Any who....... Origin story over!
I was on Amazon, amusing myself by looking at t shirts, and I decided to see if there was anything Krav Maga related.
WTF Amazon! Every thing, all the time, isn't about men. You sexist pig. I hate you!
Phew. Deep breaths. It isn't fair for me to judge Amazon like that. Let me change my search parameters.
Much better. Look at those pants. So cool.... Wait one minute. Did you just suggest I search for "women krav maga" in "men's boxing clothing"?
You're a misogynistic a-hole!
I'm never ordering anything again. I'm going to cancel my subscription. So not cool. It's time to take a stand. Just like Patricia Arquette did. Yeah! Girl Power!
Ohhhhh. How much is a box of Cadbury eggs?
I was totally kidding about that stuff above. I'm just going to write an angry twitter post and get a hashtag started. #sexistamazon!
Lets do this ladies.
Hell yeah!
Do I need this book/sneaker/sticker/coffee/charger/whatever thing? Maybe but it can be here in two days so ...... Yes please send it to me.
Back on point.
Did you guys know I LOVE obnoxious t shirts? Nerdy or weird or full of ridiculous fandom love.
I love them. I wear them to work and to the gym.
Most people who see me on a regular basis have noticed this about me.
It isn't unusual for someone to send me something like this on FB.
It's happened before.
OMG I am so far off topic. Not that this is shocking to you. Certainly this is something that is a regular problem.
Any who....... Origin story over!
I was on Amazon, amusing myself by looking at t shirts, and I decided to see if there was anything Krav Maga related.
Phew. Deep breaths. It isn't fair for me to judge Amazon like that. Let me change my search parameters.
Much better. Look at those pants. So cool.... Wait one minute. Did you just suggest I search for "women krav maga" in "men's boxing clothing"?
You're a misogynistic a-hole!
I'm never ordering anything again. I'm going to cancel my subscription. So not cool. It's time to take a stand. Just like Patricia Arquette did. Yeah! Girl Power!
Ohhhhh. How much is a box of Cadbury eggs?
I was totally kidding about that stuff above. I'm just going to write an angry twitter post and get a hashtag started. #sexistamazon!
Lets do this ladies.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
I Need a Child Psychologist. STAT!
No not because I act like a crazy child.
You guys are not very supportive. Seriously I try and blog and all I get is grief.
Just kidding. You guys are the best.
So It's year three of my adventure as a preschool teacher. Once again I have lucked out in the student department. I have kids that are sweet and listen (well, listen as well as anyone can expect a group of four years olds). They try new snacks without complaining and know how to make one hell of a collage with glitter and pipe cleaners. Seriously Picasso would be jealous.
Basically they are tiny awesome humans.
EXCEPT for one thing,
When they all sit down I ask them a question in the negative form or the affirmative.
Examples:
Raise your hand if you DON'T like grapes.
or
Raise your hands if you Do like grapes.
Either way they all raise their hands. Not because they all do or don't like grapes but because they are insane. Or at least that is my conclusion but I'm not a child Psychologist. Hence the title of today's blog.
Do they not get the concept of a the need for only some of them to answer?
You know what? I'm going to let it slide. Trying to figure out how the mind of a 4 year old works seems a bit futile plus they are raising their hands and not calling out. I'm counting that as a win.
Yeah me!
You guys are not very supportive. Seriously I try and blog and all I get is grief.
Just kidding. You guys are the best.
So It's year three of my adventure as a preschool teacher. Once again I have lucked out in the student department. I have kids that are sweet and listen (well, listen as well as anyone can expect a group of four years olds). They try new snacks without complaining and know how to make one hell of a collage with glitter and pipe cleaners. Seriously Picasso would be jealous.
Basically they are tiny awesome humans.
EXCEPT for one thing,
When they all sit down I ask them a question in the negative form or the affirmative.
Examples:
Raise your hand if you DON'T like grapes.
or
Raise your hands if you Do like grapes.
Either way they all raise their hands. Not because they all do or don't like grapes but because they are insane. Or at least that is my conclusion but I'm not a child Psychologist. Hence the title of today's blog.
Do they not get the concept of a the need for only some of them to answer?
You know what? I'm going to let it slide. Trying to figure out how the mind of a 4 year old works seems a bit futile plus they are raising their hands and not calling out. I'm counting that as a win.
Yeah me!
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
little green bag (notebook)
All the best intentions.
Right?
Remember when I told you all about my cool new green notebook? Remember I was going to write all my brilliant thoughts down in it? I'm of course so brilliant that I needed two books.
All of this should be familiar to my faithful readers.
As of right now there is one thing written in my book.
One thing.
It's a note about growing out my hair. I actually have half a post saved but I'm lazy right now and I don't want to deal with finding the pictures that I need so it's sitting in the draft folder for a bit longer.
I'm not sure why I thought I was missing out on so many ideas. Cocky much?
Instead you are getting this which is so clearly just a filler post but hey it's something right?
I need some serious inspiration. Suggestions?
Happy Wednesday.
Right?
Remember when I told you all about my cool new green notebook? Remember I was going to write all my brilliant thoughts down in it? I'm of course so brilliant that I needed two books.
All of this should be familiar to my faithful readers.
As of right now there is one thing written in my book.
One thing.
It's a note about growing out my hair. I actually have half a post saved but I'm lazy right now and I don't want to deal with finding the pictures that I need so it's sitting in the draft folder for a bit longer.
I'm not sure why I thought I was missing out on so many ideas. Cocky much?
Instead you are getting this which is so clearly just a filler post but hey it's something right?
I need some serious inspiration. Suggestions?
Happy Wednesday.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Did you know you can pin other people's pins?
Of course you can. What the hell else do you do when you get sucked into the black hole that is Pinterest. Certainly you aren't about to start any projects because we know that is going to end poorly. Instead we just look at pin, after pin, after pin of pallet furniture and CD bird baths.
That isn't the point though.
I thought Pinterest was all about single girls assembling ridiculous expectations for their future house and their future wedding. Turns out apparently it's more about nerd love and carpenter envy.
I'm of course using only the latest in scientific research to prove this.
By research I mean the alerts I get from Pinterest about my account.
This is the number one thing people repin. Lovely isn't it? Did you know Triple S is a handy guy? Seriously. He can build something like nobodies business. He didn't build this but he was looking for inspiration for our fireplace wall so I of course went to the place where people go when they want to give themselves a complex about how uncrafty they are or how their house will never be featured on the internet. Pinterest!!
That's not the point though. The point is that this is the number one thing about my pinterest account that people like.
This is the second thing.
Nerd's love pinterest. PS the above is from Marvel's Agents of SHIELD. Obviously this is a show I watch obsessively. Phil Coulson is my spirit animal.
Nothing about that above statement is shocking to anyone who has been paying attention.
Okay. That's enough of this blogging silliness. I wonder how much Doctor Who stuff is on Pinterest?
And just in case you were curious my green notebook is still blank.
Nerd's love pinterest. PS the above is from Marvel's Agents of SHIELD. Obviously this is a show I watch obsessively. Phil Coulson is my spirit animal.
Nothing about that above statement is shocking to anyone who has been paying attention.
Okay. That's enough of this blogging silliness. I wonder how much Doctor Who stuff is on Pinterest?
And just in case you were curious my green notebook is still blank.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
My Little Green Notebook
Welcome to my blog.
Did you know that some bloggers update theirs blogs more than once a week?
Crazy right? Yeah I thought so too. I guess I just don't lead a very exciting life. Part of the problem is also that when an idea pops into my head I think to myself that I am possibly the cleverest person ever, surely I will never forget this very clever idea.
Guess what. I forget them all the time. I remember that I had an idea but for the life of me I can't remember what it was.
Hence the title of this blog. The kids and I went to the bookstore the other day and you know how they load the sides of the check out aisle with crap they want you to buy? Yeah Of course you do.
Well I bought something.
Now I would have a tiny notebook to write down my brilliant thoughts.
FYI I didn't buy two thinking that I would have so many brilliant thoughts that I would fill up the first one and would require a second one. They came in a two pack.
Either way I'm ready to write some stuff down.
Please note you can add a reward for if it's returned. Sadly although I think my thoughts are beyond priceless I'm not willing to offer 10's of 100's of pennies as a reward so it will just have to be Karma.
I would like to say that these notebooks bode well for increased posting but lets be honest, that isn't likely.
Did you know that some bloggers update theirs blogs more than once a week?
Crazy right? Yeah I thought so too. I guess I just don't lead a very exciting life. Part of the problem is also that when an idea pops into my head I think to myself that I am possibly the cleverest person ever, surely I will never forget this very clever idea.
Guess what. I forget them all the time. I remember that I had an idea but for the life of me I can't remember what it was.
Hence the title of this blog. The kids and I went to the bookstore the other day and you know how they load the sides of the check out aisle with crap they want you to buy? Yeah Of course you do.
Well I bought something.
FYI I didn't buy two thinking that I would have so many brilliant thoughts that I would fill up the first one and would require a second one. They came in a two pack.
Either way I'm ready to write some stuff down.
I would like to say that these notebooks bode well for increased posting but lets be honest, that isn't likely.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
I know 35 Thousand People
Today is Thursday and it is my weekly routine to enjoy lunch with my favorite female people. You might remember I've talked about this before because it was at our regular lunch outing that I was vividly reminded of my past life of 9-5 grind.
Today though as I walked into the restaurant I glanced around. A quick headcount lead me to a startling realization.
I KNOW TOO MANY PEOPLE.
I counted. There were 23 people seated and eating and I knew 10 of them. That's almost half.
FYI I looked up the population of my town and as of 2013 it was 34,887.
We've lived here for 4 and half years and apparently I know 17,000 people. At least that is what I'm assuming based on my extensive knowledge of statistics and other analytical math.
That's too many! Too, too many!
So that's it people. No more saying hello to strangers. I'm done. I've maxed out.
Sorry new neighbors, new gym goers and new parents at the schools. I'm full up.
As a side note I also saw a man I'm going to refer to as hipster Sea Captain. I got a really blurry picture but I'm not going to post it based on the above tirade. I'd feel pretty bad if it turns out that he is someone's son.
Yes of course, I know he is someone's son, I guess what I mean is that he might be someone I KNOW's son.
And if that isn't some serious Freudian self centered insanity I don't know what is. :-)
Today though as I walked into the restaurant I glanced around. A quick headcount lead me to a startling realization.
I KNOW TOO MANY PEOPLE.
I counted. There were 23 people seated and eating and I knew 10 of them. That's almost half.
FYI I looked up the population of my town and as of 2013 it was 34,887.
We've lived here for 4 and half years and apparently I know 17,000 people. At least that is what I'm assuming based on my extensive knowledge of statistics and other analytical math.
That's too many! Too, too many!
So that's it people. No more saying hello to strangers. I'm done. I've maxed out.
Sorry new neighbors, new gym goers and new parents at the schools. I'm full up.
As a side note I also saw a man I'm going to refer to as hipster Sea Captain. I got a really blurry picture but I'm not going to post it based on the above tirade. I'd feel pretty bad if it turns out that he is someone's son.
Yes of course, I know he is someone's son, I guess what I mean is that he might be someone I KNOW's son.
And if that isn't some serious Freudian self centered insanity I don't know what is. :-)
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Old Technology
Triple S and I just spent some quality time upstairs sorting through all the extra cords we have from years of chasing the ever upgrading technology demon.
You know the one I'm talking about. where as soon as you buy something they tell you about the "new and improved" version that will be available in just one more week.
Giant TV's gave way to flat screens and then flat TV's.
 |
| From the side this thing is ten feet deep. |
We love gadgets in this house. Do you sell something cool and fancy that can bring me one step closer to a robot run home? Then I'm interested.
Examples of our craziness include being on the waiting list for the first tivo that was Direct TV compatible. Sure DVRs are common place now but back then the concept of recording your shows and fast forwarding through the commercials was insane. God how I loved that thing.
Although I never had a T Mobile sidekick I did have one of the first camera phones. Sure the pictures were so blurry it was hard to tell if I was sending you a picture of my foot or my dog but it was still a picture I was sending by phone.
I know if you are young you are reading this like I'm insane but this is my generation's "uphill both ways" speech.
"When I was a kid we had to get up to change the channel."
FOR REAL.
The point of this isn't to talk about technology though, it's to talk about this:
 |
| To prove it's real that is my wedding photo in the background. |
Remember I told you we had this camera and that I used it to take pictures on my honeymoon back in 2000? Yeah well Triple S found it in the pile of random cords.
Apparently we truly never throw anything out.
PS I'm typing this from my new Christmas present. A touchscreen laptop. Because I do love a cool gadget and apparently Triple S loves me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
Normally I hate people who rush the holidays. When I see Christmas decorations up in October I get very annoyed. But I'm going to b... -
Now that I have your attention. It's been a fun filled few days. What started as a tummy bug and a missed day of school ended with... -
It does scare people sometimes. So I moved. I've mentioned it before . To a wonderful planned community. The houses are lovely exampl...