the descent....

Ok, my descent into hell began at Big Lots.

We were undercharged for a Bratz doll. We stood right there basking in our "good fortune." And since then, I have gotten bumped back further and further in the line at the Pearly Gates. And am risking being ejected from park completely.

It's like evil is addictive.

I lent someone at work my Miss Kelly Clarkson Breakaway CD (while I listen to the bonus material...which is REALLY good for remixes and such)---ok, I don't understand a lesbian not owning all of Kelly's CDs...but that's a different topic. Well, bless her heart, she wips out these headphones that look like Princess Leah honey buns.

The giggling begins. I can't help it. I haven't seen headphones like that since my momma took me to the Green Stamp store many many moons ago.

Giggling continues.

Ok...worse than the big ole headphones is the indention they leave in her hair when she takes them off. Some recessa-Annie with a boufant looking 'do. I couldn't help it. I had to blurt out "very retro hairdo."

More giggles (only from me...with death-glare from her)

Ok, to top it off, she keeps having to giggle the cord of the headphones because they are cutting out.

When the highlight of your workday is laughing at coworkers....it's not right. And yet I worry...what if everyone at my new job is normal and I have no one to laugh at. Nah....couldn't happen. I saw plenty of prospects while I was interviewing for the job.

Does everyone laugh at others like this, or am I really that evil?

this one's for the scarf

Last night I went to my kid's band concert. It always amazes me at how many people mill around and get in your way while you are watching. As my Sweetie would tell our dog "ok...pop a squat." It's like watching the extras from The Stepford Wives mill about. And, of course I'm sitting there thinking "If my hair looked like that, hun, I'd find a secluded corner to sit in and quit parading about like a donkey on parade."

(I always find it funny how when I say "my kids" a lot of people ask "are you a teacher?" No....just a former breeder, there are a lot of us out there. Those gays!)

My mother found me at the concert and sat beside me. Bless her heart, I DO NOT like her perfume she wears now. I long for the days of Beautiful. Or, hell, even Gorgio (although, to me, it smells like it's covering Vodka breath...I think it was Kitty Dukakis' fave...no, wait that was Oscar de la Renta...it covers the rubbing alcohol smell). For Christmas I got her some Beyond Paradise....it's not what she wants but what I want for her. Some people have to be poked and prodded into having better taste.

And...bless her heart, she bathed in the perfume she had on last night. My sinuses slammed shut like a beartrap....even before the first clarinet squeaked out of tune (ok....they KNOW they are going to be in a concert, it's not the time to be chinzy with reed). So....there I was holding my breath with my eyes watering. Couldn't get worse.....until the Nutcracker Suite started. My mom felt the need to name off the nationality of each dance as the music began. By the third one I was ready to mouth "I don't care" to her (because I, unlike her, don't talk during performances). But I didn't want to steal her glory, so I just rode it out.

I did have to tell her last night "oh, little closed minded woman" at one time. Those foreigners....gotta love 'em. Well...her at least...she's my momma.

Speaking of my momma.... She calls me at work today about something real random and talks for like 10 minutes. Typically when I call her about something important, I can barely finish the first sentence and she's like "ok, goodbye" click. Many a time I have stood there with my mouth hanging open thinking "I KNOW I was not just dis'd by my momma!"

Randomness (like that wasn't already):

What is up with all the old people on the road lately? Did they start a new open-door policy at the Old Folks' Home? And...why do they feel the need to drive slow in the left lane on the highway. As I pass and glare, I picture my parents driving the car....and feel HORRIBLE. But it passes and I want to ram their asses into the median.

Why is it they run you over at the mall, knocking all the Gap bags and AE totes outta your hands, while they are speed-walking....and yet drive like they have died and are rolling to a stop?

More random:

I thought my hair looked really good today. Then I started to worry that it looked more like I was President of the Hair Club for men. Then someone at work told me that my hair looked great today ( wasn't even fishing...she just offered it up). I felt good for about 5 minute. Then I looked at her hair and started to worry. I keep wanting to ask her if she thinks her looks great too....give me something to gauge the compliment by.

But it's Friday (praise Jebus), and me and my baby havin' Vegan Tacos for din-din....life don't get much better than this. :)

(you owe me a scarf picture...I'm just paying it forward)

Stayin' inside the lines

This morning on my way to work I thought about a coloring book we put together in the first grade. It was “My Book Of Famous People.” Ok….the only thing I can think is that my life was flashing before my eyes. Which adds up, since right after that, traffic totally stopped and I almost bought the car in front of me (and the car behind me ended up beside me on the shoulder).

Two things trace back to that damn coloring book (which I still have somewhere…packed away and never unpacked, move after move).

There is a picture I colored of Miss Shirley Temple. I apparently chose to outline her teeth with a black crayon.

The teacher’s comment was “MARK, WHAT HAPPENED TO HER TEETH?!!!!!”

Firstly, now I see why, to this day, I HATE when people use multiple exclamation marks. It’s just rude. Period. My last boss always wrote messages on post-it notes and put multi exclamation marks. I wanted to cram them right up his…..

Secondly, I don’t color outside the lines. I stay inside the lines…..and play it safe. And yet choose to use a black crayon. What’s that about? I don’t know…maybe to emphasis that I am inside the lines. Or maybe to say “Screw You, I’m inside the lines….whatchagonnadobitch?”

To answer the teacher’s question, “MARK, WHAT HAPPENED TO HER TEETH?!!!!!”

My guess would be she didn’t brush the damn things.

(and to think...it only took me 33 years to think that one up)

Yesterday I was filling out a little survery --- which, in all honesty, I live my life to do. It asked about overused phrases. I realized that all I use is overused phrases. I'm like a Chatty Cathy doll, I only know 5 phrases and use them over and over throughout the day. Only, it's more like a Potty Mouth Patty doll.

Potty Mouth Patty's phrases consist of:
whatchagonnadobitch
I'm not impressed
You wanna know what the f*ck about that (recently pulled from the archives)
booty check
ok, am I on crack or ....
and then there is....
shut the f*ck up (usually under my breath, while at work...and you have to get a full lip curl on the "f")
and, for those times when "I'm not impressed" just doesn't do the trick, there is THE stare that says SO much more (and could win a stare off, hands down).

So, if one of those is not an appropriate response (or, sometimes even when it is inappropriate), then it's likely I won't respond to you.

I realize Potty Mouth Patty seriously needs her mouth washed out with soap. I need to start carrying a bar of Dial on me.

I'm friendly....dammit....

I'm friendly dammit...just misunderstood.

Ok. I pass a coworker today and say "HEY." Totally ignored. I ask her where another coworker is. Totally ignored again. Raising my voice "I SAID HELLOOO." Finally, it registers.

What is wrong with this picture? (I aks her) You have a "smiley face" and I don't.....but I am SOOO totally friendlier than you.

I'm friendly people, dammit.

Having to raise my voice to be heard makes me think of my childhood. I was raised in a house of women (except for my dad, of course...but he wasn't there too often), and a house of loud German and/or half-German women none the less. LOUD peeps. So, I was used to being talked over.

I am accused of being too quiet. Maybe the rest of the world is just too damn loud. :)

I ain't stupid.....many a time I have seen how my one sister's really big mouth has gotten her into trouble. Silence is golden...it keeps your ass outta trouble.

Now, whenever my coworker passes, she says (real loud and overexaggerated like) "HI MARK."

I'm not impressed.

I've Sealed My Fate......

....I will never ever get a "smiley face" recognition at work. One little lapse into a moment of evil, and I have been reminded, again, why I am not a smiley face co-worker.

Someone I work with is on Prednisone for a rash. She is worried she is ballooning up (common effect of Prednisone). I was like "oh my God, what if you start to look like Jerry Lewis." I know this is Pure Evil....but just the thought of it made me laugh to the point of tears (making it even more evil). Then I, through my tears, had to find a picture on the internets to laugh at.

So....had I sealed my fate yet? Well, I wanted to make sure...so, then I was like,

"ya know....like punk'nhead."

So, now everyone is calling her Pumpkinhead (timely for Halloween at least).

And....we are having a Level Orange Hostility Alert whenever I walk past.

A Poem....by W

This is a poem made up entirely of actual quotations from George W. Bush, arranged, for "aesthetic" purposes, by Washington Post writer Richard Thompson. A wonderful poem like this is too good not to share. A testament to literacy in the age of Every Child Left Behind.





MAKE THE PIE HIGHER!



I think we all agree, the past is over.

This is still a dangerous world.

It's a world of madmen and uncertainty

And potential mental losses.



Rarely is the question asked

Is our children learning?

Will the highways of the Internet

Become more few?



How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.

I am a pitbull on the pant leg of

opportunity.



I know that the human being

And the fish can coexist.

Families is where our nation finds hope,

Where our wings take dream.



Put food on your family!

Knock down the tollbooth!

Vulcanize society!

Make the pie higher!

Make the pie higher!



(Pass this on. Help cure Mad Cowboy disease)