Why do I want to put hand-sanitzer in ______?

This is something that happened while at my old job, which reminds me...I forgot to tell you I started a new job which is why I've been silent. Since new job actually requires me to be present, I may be posting less. Wish me luck!

As I was waiting in line for my overly-mayo'd sandwich, I started to zone out. When I zone it looks like I'm staring. In the past, many-o-men have thought I was into them because of this unfortunate trait and now it just pisses my husband off...

Again, as I was standing in the cafeteria line, draped over a high counter, an impulse popped into my head: Put hand sanitizer into your eye.

Wait! What? No! That would really, really hurt. Isn't that like pure alcohol? Ack, I am disgusted by this suggestion.

Yeah, put some hand sanitizer into your eye. Go ahead, take some. It's right there. See it.
I did see it. And I have to tell you, it's not like I actually hear voices - it's that thinking thing you do in your head that doesn't make any noise.

I silently pondered my level of craziness and started looking around for clues. Why, oh why subconscious do you torture me??? And then I saw it: "Iris" brand hand sanitizer.

I thought, "That's not a good name, it's totally suggesting I put that all over my iris. puh. may as well have named it pupil. oh wait, maybe it's after the flower. but no, that's dumb because how appealing is a sanitized flower? they need to rethink they're branding."

These are the kind of wacky associations my brain makes daily. You know what they say about idle synapses...

How the eff am I supposed to fit that in my purse, Steve Jobs!

iPad for giants...

And that’s how I forgot ALL ABOUT whoever it was that hurt my feelings…

I like to think of myself as a pretty tough chick…that hates confrontation. Say something mean to me and chances are I will be shocked (Whyyyyyyy?!?! Why would you say that to meeeee?) but will continue to smile serenely and seethe inside. I know, it’s healthy.

The next part is the best part because usually one day to three weeks later, I will have a conversation with you, but you won’t be there. I will be there and my mirror will be there but not you. I hope you enjoy hearing what I think of your comment and/or outrageous behavior while I curl my hair or put on eyeliner because that’s when I feel most comfortable addressing your actions and their effect on me.

And that’s exactly what I was doing this morning when I let it slip. The confrontation doesn’t always happen in my head…sometimes a really great one-liner slips out. It’s like a jab. BOOM! If the person I am fictionally confronting were in front of me at that moment, they would be awe-struck, speechless! I feel righteous and oh so, so smart.

This morning I happened to say my perfect shame-inducing comeback out loud and then realized. “Oh shit. Matt is sleeping and the door is cracked! He may have heard me.” Shhhhhhiiiitttt. I said that last part out loud too.

“What do I do, what do I do?” I thought as I looked around. My cats must have sensed my panic because they suddenly moved, and like a T-Rex, my eyes darted and then fixated on them.

“That’s it! I was talking to the cats! They are always bothering me in the morning, it’s perfectly plausible!”

During this “aha! moment”, they looked up at me confused (slightly more than normal) and innocent. Their wide eyes and precious faces make me regain (editors note: this is iffy) sanity, “I can’t believe that just happened. And Matt didn’t even hear me. That was close!”

And that’s how I forgot ALL ABOUT whoever it was that hurt my feelings.

This really isn't a blog post, but it's fun

Exactly the type of CraigsList ad I love to flag...

FLAGGERS!!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2011-02-16, 2:30PM PST
Reply to: comm-6ujax-2218334945@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I AM SOOOO IRRITATED WITH FLAGGERS! I AM NOT EVEN TRYING TO POST ANYTHING HERE. JUST LOOKING AND THE MINUTE I SEE SOMETHING I MAY BE INTERESTED IN, IT'S FLAGGED! I'M NOT A WEIRDO! THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH WANTING A FULL BREED DOG!!! SO STUPID!! QUIT FLAGGING STUFF IDIOTS!!!!

•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Blogger's Note: Apparently, CraigsList doesn't allow people to sell their dogs on the site, which is a good way to stop puppy mills so good on yah CraigsList! The Rescue Groups have taken over and this person is getting a heaping helping of it...or it would seem, anyway.
And no, there is nothing wrong with wanting a full-breed dog. That's why there are registered breeders...
Dogs do not equal shit you sell on CL to make money.







PostingID: 2218334945

Unidentified Member...

So my last blog post was about my favorite shows’ best moments and now one of those moments has collided with our actual lives!

It all started yesterday when Matt decided to cut through a gas station to avoid traffic (tsk, tsk Matt). He saw a cop and decided that his idea was no longer a good one and parked to avoid a ticket. Since he was parked, he decided to go into the store and pick me up a treat, which I was pretty stoked about later when he presented me with this:

Lucky Charms Cereal Bar...So good...but keep reading...

Anyway, he saw a green truck that piqued his interest and the bald guy with sunglasses who got out of that truck did so even more. Matt walked right up to him and said:

Matt: Hey, are you a game warden?
Warden: Yes, I am.
Matt: You’re on that show! (Wild Justice)
Warden: Yep.
Matt: Awesome. Well, I don’t usually get star struck but my wife and I love your show and really appreciate everything you guys do.
Warden: Thanks, man.
Matt: No, problem. HEY! Did you ever identify that penis?!

If you haven’t read my last blog: Beef Tongue! Tout Suite!, you won’t understand that final question. But, to my loyal readers (if I have any), the answer is: deer.

Just a reminder: HUG YOUR LOCAL GAME WARDEN!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, FOO'!

Beef Tongue! Tout Suite!

One thing that made the sting of returning from Maui more bearable was opening up my DVR and seeing what we snagged. Our queue looked something like this:

Dog Whisperer (18)
Wild Justice (14)
American Idol (4)
Glee (3)

Since I've been back to enjoying my shows I thought I would dedicate this blog to some of my favorite moments.

1. Puck from Glee saying, "Get back on the field, tout suite!"

I wasn't sure if everyone caught this but hearing a jock yell a French phrase to motivate the football players was funny. I can just imagine people saying to themselves, "What the hell is toot sweet?"
If you don't know Puck, here are some pictures:
  
   

The first one is normal. The second one is awesome and I found it here.

2. Unidentified Penis on Wild Justice

Nat Geo describes this series as following the lives of California’s Game Wardens, on call 24/7, as they defend against human threats to the environment, endangered wildlife, and the cultivation of illegal drugs. 

This show is pretty good. They caught one guy who allegedly "screwed" a dead wild hog (yeah, that's fucked up) and poached a prize elk. They are constantly busting tweakers with guns (thanks for that) and one bad-ass warden strapped bear feet to *his own* feet to walk around and throw off tracking dogs ultimately leading gall bladder bear poachers right into his path. Seems like a fun job; I would like it except for the tweakers part. Those fuckers make ME jumpy.

With all of those awesome situations, it is hard to pick my favorite but it has to be when all the wardens got together in San Francisco's China Town to bust shops selling illegal animal parts. They found a great deal of trafficked pieces but the best was the "unidentified penis". No one seemed to know what kind of animal originated the 7" long dehydrated penis and seeing the officer carry it down the bustling street between his thumb and forefinger was fantastic. Even more captivating was the warden who described deer, bear and tiger penises and why this could not possibly be a penis of those species. They had to take it to the lab.

Also, these guys rock. Who WOULDN'T want to watch a show featuring that guy?

3. Beef Tongue song

HUGE Top Chef fan. I've seen all but the first season. Matt and I must have something prepared and ready-to-eat before we sit down to watch otherwise we start drooling and it gets very ugly.

Besides Fabio being our all-time favorite (we seriously want to kick it with that guy), we enjoyed the clip below from the All-Stars episode. Enjoy....tout suite! It's catchy and may get stuck in your head...

Beef Tongue Song

One email you certainly don't want from your boss's boss...

Subject: fyi

Just so you know when you said “this was the biggest waste of time and I’m glad I’m on mute or I would be fired” guess what you weren’t on mute….

Blog note: This wasn't from my work but it still made me squirm inside. All I have to say is you're in some hot shit, buddy.

My computer is broken so I am writing you this post from the next cube over...

It’s the last day of work before vacation. I will be in Maui in fewer than 24 hours (if the plane doesn’t crash…if it does, this will be awkward) and I figured my last day of work before I leave would be a piece of cake. The Universe mixed up my hopes again with what would be the most annoying thing and I got to work to find the Blue Screen of Death.


I immediately dial the IT guy. “Um, turn it off then back on.” Alrighty, thanks. (I had already done that.)

Aside: I repressed the urge to say, “Um, are you going to fucking fix it or not?” and settled on “alrighty, thanks”.

This time it booted up but the fan is going so haywire that it sounds like it’s a) going to fly away or b) explode.

After 2 hours, we finally got it working…

I went home for lunch and came back and my computer was off…again. A coworker turned it off because it was making the scary noises. I booted up again and it’s been “loading [my] personal settings” for about 2 hours.

Thank you for letting me vent. I will sit in quiet reflection of your sacrifice in Maui…tomorrow.

Should I Work for Free....?

This was passed along to me by a co-worker. I LOVE flow charts. Click the link, I promise it's safe...

http://www.shouldiworkforfree.com/clean.html

The only “totes” I need to speak of are bags…

I am sad to report, I can’t stop saying “totes”, “abso” and “obvi” (translations: totally, absolutely and obvious). I was an English major but clearly (obvi), I am powerless against e-slang…omg, I just did it again…and again. I think it’s contagious/viral …yikes. Oh well, at least I will mortify my 16-year old brother around his friends. See, knowing these kinds of things is useful afterall!
I would love to see the OED 200 years from now for“totes” :

total (adj.) late 14c., from O.Fr. total, from M.L. totalis "entire, total" (as in summa totalis "sum total"), from L. totus "all, whole, entire," of unknown origin. The noun is 1550s, from the adj.; the verb is 1716, from the noun; meaning "to destroy one's car" first recorded 1954. Total war is attested from 1937, in ref. to a concept developed in Germany.
tote "to carry," 1670s, of unknown origin; originally attested in Virginia, but OED discounts the popular theory of its origin in a W.African language (cf. Kikongo tota "pick up," Kimbundu tuta "carry, load," related to Swahili tuta "pile up, carry"). Tote bag is first recorded 1900.
totes (pl.) plural of tote bag; “bag” being dropped first recorded in 1910; “totes” (short for totally) first recorded in 2003 on Urbandictionary.com by user “Jenn”.

The above (with the exception of what I obvi added) was taken directly from etymonline.com <---- go there.

This doesn't mean I don't *believe* in the Internet...

I am being stalked…this isn’t the first time, but I find it to be more annoying than scary. My stalker – Tom’s Shoes Banner Ads!


I thought, “I might like a pair of Tom’s Shoes” the other day and that’s when it started. I innocently Googled them then went to the official website to buy. (By the way, they’re like $9 for shipping – such a rip).

I like the concept of “One for One” and the shoes seem comfy. I then went to Nordstrom.com and took a peek; turns out they were slightly cheaper and there’s a store near me so I closed the browser and ended my pursuit of shoes…

Then, it started happening…I noticed it but thought it just might be a coincidence but then how could it be? How could it be? It seemed like almost every website I visited was postered with Tom’s Shoes ads! I thought, “How can Tom afford this sophisticated level of targeted advertising? Isn’t he just busy with children in developing countries giving away extra shoes?” Apparently not. Tom’s Shoes is a fucking machine!

Now I know the Internet is a made of magic and I’ll never fully understand how it all works, but I am creeped out simply by the scope of the thing! And no, I don’t want you explain it to me. Seriously. So don’t.

I just like imagine little invisible spies that can fly and report back to Internet Headquarters…which is kind of like the Emerald City but in pastels, not jewel tones, and the Easter Bunny is Oz except he’s like legit but not like a “person” rabbit, just a giant, doe-eyed rabbit that is terribly effective when it comes to marketing stratagem.

Here’s a sampling of what I’ve endured:

Websites visited and reason (for fun):

OMG! – I wanted to read all about Mila Kunis and Macaulay Culkin’s breakup; actually I didn't even know they were together...eeps.
National Geographic – Getting a subscription for my Papa for Christmas
Ellen Degeneres’ Show – Writing her to help stop slaughter of dolphins in Taiji, Japan
Gearjunkie.com – Reading about a new kind of dog collar
Apartmentfinder.com – I don’t know how, but it popped up in my browser (Easter Bunny! shaking fist)
Dailykos.com – Learn about recent Court action on Proposition HATE

I went to Nordies and got them anyway. I’m not scared of you, Easter Bunny OR Tom! To my readers: I’m weak, don’t hate me! Editor's Note: Since I started drafting this, the ads have suddenly disappeard...spooky.




Beans says: "What's in the box? What's in the box?" like Brad Pitt in Seven.



I haven't seen that guy whisper ONE time...

I have a new obsession...Cesar Millan. For those of you who don't know, he is the DOG WHISPERER. His show is on the National Geographic Channel which I just got through one of those cable deals that reels you in and rips you off in the long run...

Every time Matt comes home, I am parked on the couch watching the show. I pause and rewind to show Matt Cesar's techniques and I like watching the dogs' tails to see if they're up or down. Unfortunately, now I relate everything (even human affairs) to dog behavior and psychology. And guess what? *This* week is DOG WHISPERER WEEK which is tantamount to Shark Week for nerdy girls like me.

When I get obsessed with something, Matt is automatically affected since our apartment is so small and it's pretty much guaranteed I am monopolizing either the TV or the computer.

I haven't hit my bottom on this obsession so it's not tapped out but this phone/texting convo between Matt and I last night is definitely getting me there:

On phone:

Me: Yeah, we...um...I'm watching TV...
Matt: Did you say we?
Me: Uh, I don't know, probably. I mean...I don't know what I said. I probably did because I am distracted.
Matt: So, there's no one over there?
Me: No one that will be here when you get home anyway, he he he.
Matt: Awesome. See you soon.

Via text:

Me: Btw, by "we" I meant me and Cesar....Cesar Millan.
Matt: Tsssssttt!
Me: You "tsssstttt"!
Matt: Don't make me roll you on your side.

And then I submitted.

Cesar, Junior and Daddy.

Merry Meatmas to all and to all a good night!

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Being a butcher's wife is the coolest...

It's totally okay to sculpt animals out of other animals...

Sad Charlie Brown walking.

On Thanksgiving, Matt and I tried to go to the Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World super-mega crazy store, but they were closed. Sad.


We were returning from visiting his family and were enticed from the freeway by a giant, glowing sign … enticed by the promise of ammo, fishing poles and the beautiful art we call taxidermy.

But again, we were denied entrance.

Instead of walking through the 25-foot door adorned with about 1,000 antlers and two bucks fighting (no, I am not shitting you), we turned around and did the sad Charlie Brown walk all the way to the movie theater to see Harry Plopper 7 v1.

I was pretty excited to see HP, but less so when about six teenage girls and a mother who looked like a *really old* teenage girl sat in front of us.

Something you should know: Matt and I are strict movie non-talkers. You can whisper, fine. Just stop talking. Now.

I don’t know if it’s because of or in spite of this trait that we almost always end up seated near people who narrate the entire film. Or they say what’s going to happen before it does. Or laugh really loudly at parts that aren’t funny.

Anyway, after I heard them wantonly jabbering for about two minutes, I told them to “sssssshhhhhhh.” And if you’re thinking I am uptight, I have to say that I was thanked for doing so by other patrons during the credits.

At other points, Matt asked them politely to shut it and I *may* have cursed. I don’t remember. I was trying to watch a movie.

As we were walking out to the car, discussing how obnoxious they were Matt stopped in his tracks and then asked me: “Hey, were those chicks all wearing bumpits?”

I paused for a moment to ask myself, “Did my husband just inquire about bumpits?” and then I said, “Oh, you mean those hair-volumizing inserts? Why yes, I think they were.”

I’m f*cking with you. I didn’t say that. I burst out laughing at him. The end.

You broke my heart.

Super-awesome Christmas gifts for your kids (if you want to damage them).

1. Tauntaun Sleeping Bag

Looks cozy enough, but then I thought: "Tauntauns are NOT for sleeping in! They are for riding in extreme weather conditions on Hoth. Han Solo had to make an executive decision under extreme pressure in a life-or-death situation and THAT’S HOW Luke Skywalker got inside that tauntaun. I just really think this kind of thing sends the wrong message…sleeping in guts…gross.

2. “First Act Discovery” Recorder

As if the availability of thongs for your 12-year old daughter isn’t horrifying enough this was the packaging choice they went with? Someone get me my pitchfork.

3. Sperm Shoes

Okay, they’re not really sperm shoes but evidently that is their shoe’s logo. I guess it makes sense because sperm like to race one another and ultimately speed is rewarded. Stop imagining!

Read this book. No really, read this book.

I just finished "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle" and despite having "Oprah's Book Club" stamped on the front, it has actually now become my third favorite book of all-time. In future blogs, I will be posting passages from my favorite novels. But below is why you should definitely read this book by David Wroblewski:

Edgar

THIS WILL BE HIS EARLIEST MEMORY:
     Red light, morning light. High ceiling canted overhead. Lazy click of toenails on wood. Between the honey-colored slats of the crib a whiskery muzzle slides forward until its cheeks pull back and a row of dainty front teeth bare themselves in a ridiculous grin.
     The nose quivers. The velvet snout dimples.
     All the house is quiet. Be still. Stay still.
     Fine, dark muzzle fur. Black nose, leather of lacework creases, comma of nostrils flexing with each breath. A breeze shushes up the field and pillows the curtains inward. The apple tree near the kitchen window caresses the house with a tick-tickety-tick-tick. As slowly as he can, he exhales, feigning sleep, but despite himself his breath hitches. At once, the muzzle knows he is awake. It snorts. Angles right and left. With-draws. Outside the crib, Almondine's forequarters appear. Her head is reared back, her ears cocked froward.
     A cherry-brindled eye peers back at him.
     Whoosh of her tail.
     Be still. Stay still.
     The muzzle comes hunting again, tunnels beneath his blanket, below the farmers and pigs and chicks and cows dyed into that cotton world. His hand rises on fingers and spider-walks across the surprised farmyard resident to challenge the intruder. It becomes a bird, hovering before their eyes. Thumb and index finger squeeze the crinkled black nose. The pink of her tongue darts out but the bird flies away before Almondine can lick it. Her tail is switching harder now. Her body sways, her breath envelops him. He tugs the blackest whisker on her chin and this time her tongue catches the palm of his hand ever so slightly. He pitches to his side, rubs his hand across the blanket, blows a breath in her face. Her ears flick back. She stomps a foot. He blows again and she withdraws and bows and woofs, low in her chest, quiet and deep, the boom of an uncontainable heartbeat. Hearing it, he forgets and presses his face against the rails to see her, all of her, take her inside him with his eyes and before he can move, she smears her tongue across his nose and forehead! He claps his hand to his face but it's too late - she's away, spinning, biting her tail, dancing in the moted sunlight that spills through the window glass.

National Geographic will accept anyone into their society. Even me.

The Officers and Board of Trustees have enrolled ME as a member of the National Geographic Society and I've got proof...

See...



Okay, so that's not my real name...just a "pet" name from my loving husband. He's such a sweetie.

I love National Geographic. So much. It's the only magazine I read cover-to-cover.

But, I gave up my subscription due to the recession. I  mean $15 a year here and there really adds up. So for me, it was back to stealing old copies from the doctors' offices.

Here is a picture of my loyalty...my goldenrod, heavy, dusty loyalty... which wasn't as strong as it looks:


What? You don't like my foot high stack of NG's dating back to 2005? I don't like you then.


In July, I decided I had suffered long enough and asked Matt for a new subscription for my birthday.

It was a glorious day when the first edition arrived, all wrapped in recyclable plastic. I put the first book aside for the honeymoon but couldn't help it and ripped open the next one I saw. King Tut was totally inbred and crippled...read all about it!

Anyway, I started reading and a flood of emotion came over me. I was feeling guilt and then anxiety...what had I been missing? I frantically flipped to the back and saw a crossword...I LOVE crosswords. I was pretty much melting at that point. "How long has NatGeo had a crossword?" I asked myself. "Whhhhyyyyyy did I cancel my original subscription???"

The worst thing of all: It's been a purely love relationship. Who leaves a good thing like that? Again: What was I thinking??? All this was pouring through my mind as I opened the folded Gulf Oil Spill insert and in my focused thinking, while my brain was trying to puzzle out my quandry, I was distracted...

I should have been paying attention, though...I should have thought about what might BE on that insert.

Touche National Geographic. I will never leave you again.

P.S. Who KNEW there were effing sperm whales in the Gulf of Mexico?...AND Giant Squid??? That is now the scariest place on Earth nearest to me.

Come on guys, really...ewoks?

I can't stress enough...STOP PUTTING WEIRD SHIT ON YOUR VEHICLE. It's like a bad tattoo and you will just regret it later. Below you will see case in point:

Your creepy dog paintings look like ewoks with cat ears...

Slot #12

I got home at midnight on Friday and just after turning into my parking lot, I saw this:

At first I panicked, then I was all, “oh wait, I park over here” and turned left. Then I thought, “holy crap, is that whipped cream?” craning my neck to see the words. And then “Wonder what they did to get that?”

Okay that last thought wasn’t very kind but it was late and I had been kind all day long.

I searched my mind, “Slot #12, Slot #12…I have no idea who parks in Slot # 12.” I just couldn’t remember.

Regardless, I considered getting out of my car to clean it off (somehow) but then my instinct for self-preservation kicked in and stopped me, “hold it one minute...there’s either a pack of crazy bitches around here or a jealous dude who would consider my disembodied head to be the perfect addition to his street art” so I jammed out of my car and ran for the front door.

The next morning my friend came to pick me up for brunch. It was around 11 am, so I assumed the writing would be gone but I was wrong. Apparently, Slot #12 didn’t even come home last night…not good for your case Slot #12.

The words were still in tact, glistening in the sunlight. If there was a chance to do anything at all to help, it would have surely been then. But instead, I took a picture (see above) and pointed it out to my friend.

Friend: Wait, what am I looking at?
Me: Wait for it…a little closer…there, see it!
Friend: Oh, my.
Me: Yeah, right? I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time.
Friend: I am just really impressed with how neat the writing is.
Me: I know, it doesn’t seem hurried or angry. Just kind of: “Dirty. Whore. Slut. No Big Deal.”
Friend: Well, that would upset me.
Me: I know I do feel bad for her. What if we put some glitter on it? Glitter makes everything look happy! It might lessen the blow.
Friend: Let’s go to brunch.

Two days later, Matt and I were putting some summer stuff away into our storage unit near Slot #12 when we saw the *actual* Slot #12 arrive home.

Now, I hate to be judgmental but she did look a little, well, “hard”. She was wearing a black corset top, light-colored bell-bottom jeans and those really high platforms often referred to as “stripper shoes”. Her eyes were black with liner and mascara, so overall she more or less resembled a Bratz doll. Matt was silently encouraging me to talk to her by mouthing “Go on, that’s her, that’s her”, bobbing his head in her direction. I was mortified. After she went into our building I said, “What the hell are you doing? She’s probably totally embarrassed. I’m not going to talk to her about it!”

In retrospect, she might not have been embarrassed at all. God bless her, she held her head high as she got her mail and she should.

Here’s why: I am pretty sure most, if not all of us, have done something to warrant being called those names or have aroused that kind of anger in another with our actions. I could be wrong, she might be innocent of such but I don’t think Slot #12 will ever tell.



Since I couldn't add glitter in real life, I made this picture to make me feel better.