Thursday, May 31, 2007

You did .... whatnow?

I made myself laugh. Again.

I made an LOL Husband.

Got no idea why super horrific English might be considered funny? Even by the low standards you've come to expect from a simpleton like me?

Check out the pros at:

Friday, May 25, 2007

More Like Me Than I Want to Admit

I had to go to the Dr.'s office this week. I always carve out a 4 hour chunk of time for this. Appointment Smappointment. You will sit in the cold room for 2.5 hours - that way we can be sure you really REALLY want to see the Dr.

And then we will just tease you by asking questions, and telling you the Dr. will be in soon. 30 minutes to an hour later.

That's just the way the medical office, funded by insurance dollars works these days.

I've noticed that in the 4 or something years I've been seeing this Dr. that the office nursing assistants are never the same ones every time I go. This time, there was yet another new lady who, when calling for me, magled my very VERY simple white girl name. For example, let's say my last name is Jones. She pronounced it like this: "Jayyyyeeeoooonnneeeesssss?"

This woman was very kind. For some strange reason I felt very at ease with her. It would soon become apparent that - this was/is because she's a whack-a-doo. (I got that term from a blog I can't remember, or I'd credit it. I adore that word, and really wish I knew who to give the credit to.)

She sat me down for the blood pressure test and said in very broken English "OOOO, I Leeeooooveeeee you sweater! The coooolaaair is mine favorite!" I said "thank you" in the teeniest of voices. The one most strangers get when I am forced to say something back.

She put the BP cuff on my arm and struggled with the stethascope. After a minute of this, she looked me directly in the crazy eye and said "Eeeef shoo ever gheeeet tire of that sweeeter, insteead of gooo will (good will), you keeen seeend it to me!"

Look, just insert LOL cat language wherever she's talking and you will get the idea.

And for a second I actually thought to myself "Gee, she seems to love it. I could probably send it to her if she wanted it?! WAIT, what's wrong with me? She's not even going to be here in 3 months when you have to come back. Stop being retarded and focus on where you will go for lunch today."

She took my BP and declared "Shoo know wha? I tell soooo many people to seeend me their sheeerts, that in 20 year I'm gonna has sooo many sheeerts I won't know what to do!!" She started to laugh at herself - just like I always do. I politely giggled along and secretly wished I'd have asked Mr. Zoom to come to this appointment with me. He HAD to see and hear this for himself.

And then she turned to me and said "DO YOU WANT YOUR TEMPERATURE TAKEN?" in nearly perfect English! NO LOLcat. I said " I don't have a fever? Did my blood pressure result indicate I should take my temperature?" She said "No, it's totally up to you".

And then she tore one of those disposable thermometers out of its little package. Before I could go back to thinking about what I'd be having for lunch, she had it in my mouth. Didn't she just say I could decide and I had decided NO??

My temperature was 97.8. Right where it always is. She stuck me in a room to wait.

About 2 hours later, another nurse came by and asked me all of the same questions that the thermometer wizard had asked.

I'm actually kindof sad that whack-a-doo nurse probably won't be there the next time I go in.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

From the BS Food Group

"Why what do you have there?"


Response to Mr. Zoom after he found me hunched over half a sleeve of Chips A Hoy cookies. Looking a lot like Gollum after stealing the Ring from Frodo.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Bread of Shame. I Make Toast.

Mr. Zoom is my bread of shame.

Now, I don't know that I'm even using that phrase correctly. I recently read a terrific book and the author, I thought, had learned that the Bread of Shame was when someone gave you something you didn't earn. But it wasn't a gift. More of a ... well, shameful possessing of a gift one never should have gotten?

And because I love lobbing crazy phrases at Mr. Zoom when we are talking, I immediately took a hold of Bread of Shame and made it my shorthand for "I don't deserve you." For at least a day, everything he said - I high volume said "BREAD OF SHAME!!" back.

"That can't be you're get out of jail free card, you know."


To prove just how pathetic my attention span is, I failed to find out the true and correct meaning of bread of shame...because I didn't immediately find a hotlink to it in Wikipedia. It was in there as regular text, but who has time to read all of that?

One day last week after getting home from work, I heard Mr. Zoom saying hello to me from the computer room. I got very happy and ran in to greet him. We had conflicting working hours that day, so we didn't carpool. We then decided we were starving, so we were going to get dinner.

I went to get my keys and....could not figure out where they were. This is not abnormal for me. I lose my keys on average of 619 times a month. I generally find them within 30 seconds of realizing they are lost. Generally. This time even Mr. Zoom had to get in on the search, because I was becoming frantic.

We retraced my paths/steps over and over. We went through my purse individually, and a couple of times together. It got so bad I was checking in the refrigerator and cabinets, just in case I had put the keys in there. I then heard "Zoom, come here." I went to the doorway out of the bedroom and poked my head around the corner. Mr. Zoom said "Come over here and pick up your purse." I thought he found the keys inside, so I went over and looked inside. "No...PICK UP YOUR PURSE." I then figured he was tired of looking and we'd use his car instead.

I picked up my purse and my keys were UNDER it, where they had been when I put them on the table and put my purse on top of them not more than a half hour before. I laughed so hard I snorted. I said "BREAD OF SHAME!!"

And now every time something is lost, Mr. Zoom says "Have you checked under your purse? No, I'm serious."

The very next day I was at the office and went to buy my lunch from the lunch lady. I had left my wallet in the car. The reason my wallet isn't always in my purse in the mornings is because I take it out to buy coffee before we leave the house. And I'm constantly forgetting to put it back in my purse.

I e-mailed Mr. Zoom "BREAD OF SHAME! Your wife needs money for lunch. Why? Because she left her wallet in the car again." He kindly brought me a $20 and didn't even give me a lecture about how if I'd put my wallet where it belongs, it'd be with me when I needed it.

Mr. Zoom surprised me with some books he had bought me on his lunch hour one day. I screamed "BREAD OF SHAME!! You know that once I open these books and look at the pages inside they can't go back, right? Are you sure you want to give these to me? BREAD OF SHAME!!"

He's sooooo bread of shame that he should wear a cellophane wrapper, a best by date and a twisty tie thingie to protect his freshness.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

With Apologies to Spider Girl...

Mr. Zoom is at work, I am not. Mr. Zoom might want to stop by the hardware store on the way home for a shield, a long reaching broom, a tranquilizer gun and a bag of Trader Joes Peanut Butter Filled Chocolate Covered Pretzles.

I'm not at the office for typical illness reasons. Those reasons usually require rest, do they not? Well we can totally forget that ever happening again. As I was fighting consciousness with my last gulp of medicine, I noticed a spot on the wall by the t.v. It came from behind a picture on the wall that I used to love.

I've never quite experienced this before. This limp noodle injected with adrenaline feeling. It's not fun. I feel like I chased a bottle of my "calm plane ride" pills with a case of red bull.

You can't tell here, but I've named that picture youvegottobekiddingme.jpg That spider is effing HUGE. I sure hope Mr. Spider and his friends like dvds and what we've done with the place. And his hairy, giant claws in the front can work the remote. Of that, I am sure.

He is not a black widow. He's got a large white spot on his butt. And his legs have red bands on them, although you can't see that here. And way too much fuzz on his GIGANTIC CLAWS. Everything on the web says he's some kind of jumping Philiieeejeebleeedoodah. Doesn't have a web, but prefers to hunt his prey, and he's got FANTASTIC eyesight.

I will now blame Mr. Zoom for earning a living while I had to run away from this thing in our living room. I got pictures by hiding behind our giant t.v. Which is now really Mr. Spider's t.v.

Mr. Zoom will need the shield because I will make him find the spider. Even if it's moved on to another house, I'll make him hunt it down. Did I mention that IT JUMPS! And don't tell me it won't jump on, near or at me. We've all seen the recent story of the little boy with a spider living IN HIS EAR. I might be unreasonable, but even I won't send Mr. Zoom out after a jumping, colorful, hairy christmas tree of a spider without a shield.

The broom he's going to need, because as we've seen before, I will be running in circles an screaming the whole time. I won't keep more than one foot on the ground the entire time, as if that's a guarantee of non-spider interraction. I won't be able to hand him anything. And I'll want to burn the broom after the deed.

The tranq gun can be used on both Me and the Spider. Although I do ask that I get my dart before Mr. Spider gets his. Mr. Zoom can lure me back into range with the Peanut Butter Chocolate Covered Pretzels. He can dart me, the spider and then enjoy his house and t.v. in peace for the first time EVER.

Thursday, May 03, 2007

If I Wore a SubTitle

I know how to cook only two things:

1. Oreos
2. Drive Thru