Have you ever stood behind the back of a jet, like a really huge commercial one, as they fire up? No? Yeah see there is a reason those guys wear those noise blocking headphones. How do I know this you ask? I know this because last night I experienced the very same sound at the premier of High School Musical 3. I am here to tell you that if you pack an entire movie theatre full of girls aged 6-16 and then show a picture of, mention or think of Zac Effron...the collective SQUEEEEEEEEE that follows will make your ears bleed.
Life would be so kick ass if we periodically broke out into perfectly choreographed song and dance routines. At the very least, it would keep my friends from looking at me uncomfortably when I do this now.
While I can't do math, I know all the lyrics to roughly a million songs. It seems like God decided that all the brain space that normally gets devoted to math would be used to store the words to songs like "Safety Dance."
I have cut back on spending. Did I give up my cleaners or gym membership? No, I am not ready to be that much of a grown up yet. But I am trying to feed us out of our pantry rather than going food shopping. Sounds reasonable, until you take a peek at the contents of the pantry. It is chock-full of things that seemed "interesting." Apparently, I only go shopping when I am hungry, or feeling creative. So we have lots of candy and condiments I can't pronounce from places I cannot find on a map. Well that stuff, and the things in the back...Last night I fed my husband something from "the back" beef tossed in expired teriyaki and udon noodles with frozen veggies that may or may not have been used as an ice pack. We did not die - so it is back to the pantry shopping next week.
Hubby and I watched Nim's Island immediately followed by the DVR recording of Friday night's presidential debate. Later I woke in the middle of the night from a dream in which the CGI pelican from the movie, Galileo, had circled over the candidates, chattering and cawing at particularly ridiculous remarks. At least he signaled his displeasure verbally...because the only thing more unpleasant than politics as usual is politics with pelican poop.
Hummingbirds do not hitch rides on Canada Geese, which would be awfully cute if it was true, but sadly, no. I wish it was true...but you know my motto: Science Before All. (That is nowhere near my actual motto, which is much closer to Bring Me Candy.)
If you've ever hidden leftover pizza, called to lecture your husband (who has found the pizza and taken it to work) about how just because you work at home, that doesn't mean you don't need lunch, then piled the kids in the car and driven 20 miles to retrieve the pizza, you might be a stay at home mom. Who is dieting and is furious that the cheat food is gone, damn it!
I drive a manual car; a stick shift. This is a need. Whenever I drive an automatic, I feel superfluous; more like a passenger than a driver. Driving, my friend, Wes' car with its fancy power steering, cruise control and automatic transmission - requiring the use of a big toe and a single finger to operate - I feel lazy, as if I should be embroidering cushions or stuffing envelopes in my spare time.
Why do people in the government lecture us on how we need to practice the thrifty spending/saving habits of our parents and grandparents? Why don't they admit that the main reason our forebears didn't use too much credit was because they couldn't get any? Essentially, the government (which should be safeguarding our economy) unlocked the doors to a candy store, invited everyone in, and is now acting appalled that people ate themselves sick.
I can't remember jack. One of the things about ageing, besides saggy boobs and WTF hairs, is you begin to surprise yourself with how that heavy sonofabitch sitting on your shoulders stops functioning at optimum levels.
Last week Victor said the best place to mug someone would be right when they walk out of a movie theater because they'd be all squinty from the sunlight and I said that I'd totally be a better mugger because I'd rob people at the Fair and he was all "This isn't a contest. I'm not actually going to mug people" but I think he just said that because he knew I'd win because A) people always have lots of cash at the fair for the rides and B) because I'd exchange half their money for ride tickets and explain that they would have just blown the rest on fattening funnel cakes anyway so technically I'm doing them a favor. Plus people are happy at the fair and happy people are less likely to stab you.
My six year old son climbed up on my lap and asked, "Mom, why did God make me, and why did He make you, and why did He put me here?" I said, "Well, God made you to be my son, and He made me to be your mother. And, He must love me very much because I sure am lucky to have you. I wouldn't want any other little boy in the whole world to be mine." He replied, "Oh...but, can I get another Mom?"
I came close to being crushed to death this morning by my rolling bookcases. One of my senior citizen volunteers didn't realize I was in between them looking for a copy of Gossip Girl I knew I had stored somewhere, and started pushing the bookcases together. My shirt got snagged on the corner of the shelf and suddenly, very quickly, my face was crammed against a classroom set of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and my left ribs were crushed by an oversized atlas of North America...Finally I managed to rip myself free, twisting my ankle in the process...I haven't come that close to death since 2005, after a harrowing adventure in re-shelving books.
Yesterday as I walked through the ER waiting room I stopped in my tracks at the magazine rack - sitting there prominently among the donated periodicals was a magazine called "CRAP". Well, I THOUGHT it said "Crap". Obviously my dyslexic brain was at it again. In fact, the magazine was titled "CARP". Carp. "The magazine for Canada's Association for the 50 Plus." Um, someone needs to inform them that DOESN'T spell CARP. I think it should be CRAP. As in "Holy, crap! I'm 50!!"
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