Archive for the ‘Really???!!!’ Category

Attention Fellow Garage Patron……

October 8, 2011

Date: Today and going forth until the end of time

Attention Fellow Garage Patrons,

It has come to my attention, as a fellow patron of the Land Down Under, that you may not have been informed as to proper “garage” etiquette.  So, to assist you in your transition or refresh your memory, if you have been here for a while, but have had some lapses in judgement, here are a few tips that might be helpful in your daily parking execution.

* The lines between the spaces are not to be UNDER your vehicle, EVER. Rather, there should be two of those pretty cheesy colored lines on either side of your car. Your car tires should be equidistant from the lines on both sides, not touching them. If I have to go through my sunroof AGAIN to get into my car because you don’t know what equidistant means and can’t park in the middle of the space, I’ll make sure to hop up on your hood to get into my car.  For the record, I ain’t little. Again, BETWEEN the cheese sticks, NOT on the cheese sticks.

*If your vehicle is sticking out of a space marked “Compact Cars Only” by a two and half feet,  your car/truck/bus/moonrover is NOT compact size, and you’re blocking the aisle! Of course, if you like parking in those spaces with your “compact car,” I’ll gladly take off your front end with my big ass SUV as I try to manuever through the garage to get to the space for my big ass SUV. You know the ones not marked “Compact Cars Only.”

*Conversely, if you DO own a compact car, please park in the spaces indicated for your vehicle size.  If your car is in a space that looks like it can fit three more cars in it along with yours (and still not be over the lines-see first bullet), then please troll on over to the spaces for the Matchbox cars.  If those spaces are full, please feel free to call me and I can park your car inside my big ass SUV.  If turned on its side, your car should slide in quite nicely. If driving the new Fiat 500, we can squeeze two in.

*For those veteran parkers, I know were all adults here, but I’m calling “Same Seats!” If you park in a regular space, then park there.  No need to wander over to my usual spot, just cause you want to sit with the cool kids or try something new.  Please note the previous references to the big ass SUV.  If you continue parking in my space, me and my big ass SUV will help you back to your regular one. Beat it, buster! I mean it. To newcomers who accidentally park in my space, you get a one-day free pass. If you’re in my space two days in a row, you will be treated like a veteran interloper. In which case, please reference this bullet from the beginning. Consider this your friendly reminder. And I use the word “friendly” lightly. Very lightly.

I hope you find these tips helpful in assisting you in your daily excursions into the our little slice of combustible heaven.  Thank you and have a pleasant day (not in my parking spot)!

Riding the Line,

Edge

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Pardon The Interruption….

April 19, 2011

Years ago, the children were ensconced at the table eating a snack-good time to head to the Head.  “Eat your snack. I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be out in 5 minutes. Do not disturb unless it’s an emergency.”  I ran into the bathroom, jumped in the shower,  and kicked it into gear to get my whole self clean in five minutes.  I was a pro from back in my boarding school days when five minutes was sometimes all the time we had, and then the hot water would run out. 

2 minutes in, the door bursts open.  “Mom is this purple?” It was Whirling Dervish holding up a skirt.

“REALLY?!  Did we forget that Mommy said “Do NOT disturb!”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Is someone concussed?”

“No.”

“Is someone bleeding? Does someone have a limb off?”

“No.  But Momma is this purple?”

“REALLY???!!! Please close the door on your way out.”

I guess I should be happy, she was outside the shower. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had gotten in there with me. Whirling liked to invade my personal space-a “close talker” a la Jerry Seinfeld.  Her usual M.O. was to wait until I was in the bathroom and then come in and step so close to me that she would be standing in my under garments. yes, IN, my underwear.  And it wasn’t as if she was coming to tell me the kitchen was on fire or anything.  She just wanted to chat.  Mind you she had absolutely NOTHING to say to me while I was not in the bathroom.  I guess her mind got rolling as soon as I sat down on the can.   I would have to politely ask her to back up out of my draws and out of the bathroom.  And off she would go, inevitably leaving the bathroom door wide open, leaving me fully exposed for all the world to see.  And she wasn’t the only one.  Her siblings were just as bad. I got asked all sorts of stuff in the water closet. Can I transform the Transformer back?  Momma, can you get the pony tail out of Barbie’s hair?  Mom, can you sign my permission slip?  Can you get this knot out of my sneaker? And so it went. For years.

My youngest is now 8, so I thought I was done with the interruptions.  They still do it from time to time, but for the most part, they stay out, at least until I turn the water off in the shower or flush the toilet to barge in. Some times tey wait until I have finished brushing my teeth to ask me a question or talk to me.  But no.  Now there’s a new interloper in our midst. Butter Face cometh.

My dog has become the Bathroom Bandit. It doesn’t matter what bathroom I’m in or what floor he’s on. He makes his  way to the bathroom heads on in.  He just opens the door all the way and waltzes right in.  He walks right up to me, looks up, as if to say, “Hey, whatcha doin’?” Then he sniffs my shoes, does his doggy circling ritual and then lays down on the rug. And stares.  I don’t know about y’all, but it’s hard to concentrate with the beast ogling me from below, peeping at me underneath my reading material.

I guess I should be thankful, he doesn’t ask me to deknot his bone.

Routines…..

April 8, 2011

Since I rise before the chickens to do the first round of waking the dead for school, I take Butter Face for his morning stroll through the ‘hood.  Ours is a tranquil little hamlet with great neighbors, who greet each other on the street, awesome families (Shout out to the Pool Ladies Book Club AKA The Mommy Mafia), and regular routines.  There’s the “Walker Lady” who speeds through the neighborhood hoofin’ it to the bus stop on the main road. And the “Beige Man.”  He walks his beige dog, in his beige coat and pants, wearing his brown hat and shoes. Everyday.  And so the routine went yesterday.  Or so I thought.

It was Thursday, Trash Day. It was recycle day as well. And so, Butter Face and I took our usual stroll, weaving through the forest of green cans and bins.  At least for half of us, who use the same trash company. Trash Day is blissfully routine in suburbia.

It was early; the sun wasn’t quite up. It was just casting a pink and orange glow through the trees.  I hadn’t had my coffee yet.  Thankfully,  the dog was on auto-pilot.  He knows the drill- up the street, take a left, walk up the block, make a left, up that street, another left, along one of the main roads, then take a right.  Ahhhh, routine. Go dog go.

We were halfway past the first left, when I saw this from a distance.…..

Here Kitty

 

Oh, look, a cat on the trash can.  I wonder if Butter Face sees him.  He’s not moving-wait!   That’s not a cat!  Is that a bobcat?! What the heck??!!! It’s a stuffed bobcat in a trashcan!

Mesmerized, I had to get a closer look, because really, it’s not every day you see a mounted bobcat on the curb. Right?

Ain't I purdy?

And so my mind went…

Eeeeew,  that thing’s been through the ringer. It’s got fur missing and looks all mangy.  Who HAS this in their house(Clearly, these are neighbors that I don’t know)! Oooh, I wonder if they shot it. And where.  Was it home stuffed or professionally done?  I hope they didn’t stuff it lookin’ like that because that was a waste of money. 

This is way too much to process this early in the morning without coffee.  But I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

 Butter Face, on the other hand, was FREAKED!  He was yankin’ at his leash, he couldn’t get away fast enough.  He would have dug to China through the sidewalk if I had stood there too much longer.

Then my mind went to what the conversation was when contemplating throwing this little gem into the trash….

“Hattie!  You seen my bobcat?  It was right here…. HATTIE!  Woman, where’s m’ bobcat??!!.”

“Willard, it was time. That ol’ ratty thing had to go, sitting in here collecting dust and such. I put him out in the trash this morning.”

“You did what, woman? That was my daddy’s bobcat!”

“You’re absolutely right, Willard.  So, I sent it to be with your daddy.  May they both rest in peace.”

Boy, I really did need coffee.

And Butter Face needed a tranquilizer.

-Routinous Interruptus at the Edge

Boy Logic…..

March 31, 2011

MiniMe in the MiniMan Cave

My 13 year-old son, MiniMe, has recently taken to spouting boy logic, his twist on things.  His utterings seem perfectly rational to him. Me, not so much.  Is  boy logic the definition of oxymoron? Absolutely. So, here was today’s little tidbit, after I told him his efforts at cleaning his room were less than stellar.  “But Mom,” he starts–I had to ask him to wait until I swallowed my coffee before sharing so that the coffee wouldn’t come out of my nose.  I start backing up in the kitchen as he’s walking up on me…..

Mom, it’s like a new car getting dirty for the first time. He smiles a wicked little grin, the wheels in that head turning…..

“Really, how’s that son?”

A new car is shiny, the wood grain dash is buffed and glowing, the carpet pristine.  Then the kids get in.  Juice boxes, baby puke, Cheerios, ice cream, muddy shoes, french fries, you know, kid gunk.

“uh,hunh.” I’m still backing up, nostrils flaring, trying not to laugh.

And then you get the car cleaned.  But is every really the same?  I mean REALLY? No more new car smell, the carpet’s forever stained, the windows are forever smudged with boogers and fingerprints. Clean as you might, there’s still dirt and french fries EVERYWHERE-“

“And soooooo….” The laughing has started and I can see where it’s going. 

Why bother?  I’m mean really, Mom!  That room’s had two other kids in there BEFORE me.  And me and Number1Son together at some point too! The new room smell is long gone.  Soooooooo looooong gone.

 Still laughing, tears welling.

He’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat, all proud of himself, “hunh, hunh, right? Right?  You know I’m right mom.”

Hmmmm. Well, he does have a point.  Boy logic might have some validity after all.  But I’ll never tell him that because his room looks and smells like a  dead goat exploded in there.  He’s 13, ‘nough said.

“Thank you son, for that morsel of wisdom.  Clean up your room, and for God’s sake and everyone else’s, open the windows. Yes, I know it’s 40 degrees outside, put some socks on, you’ll be alright.”

Mommy Logic wins out EVERY time.

-Logically Speaking at the Edge

To Cuss or not to cuss…

March 29, 2011

That is the question.  I swear sometimes, okay a lot. The F bomb is my fave.  It just sums everything up, so succinctly. 

I have been debating about swearing in my blog posts, worried that I might offend the other reader.  And we’re not talking about every single post, but now again, when deemed necessary.  I’ve heard the saying, “Cussing is an indication of the small vocabulary.”  Hmmmm……I’m thinking that was said by someone who just couldn’t come back with a witty retort when getting cussed out himself. Ass.

Growing up, I heard my mother say “shit” and that was only when she forgot something, which didn’t happen very often.  My dad didn’t cuss.  At home.  Craziest thing.  He would not swear at home, but in his office, he would cuss like a sailor. Shitdamnhellfuck was one word.  I think he forgot we were in the conference room when we visited him at work. Damn.

I don’t walk around my house just dropping F bombs or other such homophones (SAT word of the day. Eat that Mr. Small Vocabulary!).  On the occasion that the superheroes are in earshot, I explain to that those are “adult” words and not to be shared amongst friends.

Some folks make up words that they use in place of a swear word, which, really, is lame.  Just say a damn curse word already.  It’s like when cuss words are bleeped out in movies on TV.  We can see their lips moving and know exactly what is being said; so why bother with the bleep?  What’s the point? What the hell???!!!! 

Just go with it. You’ll feel much better.  I bleeping swear.

-Dropping the bomb at the Edge

Live…….

March 28, 2011

I was looking at my wall on Facebook.  I usually don’t pay attention to “Sponsored” widget on the right side of the screen, since I’m usually not interested in who’s sponsoring and what’s being offered. But this time, I happened to glance over at the ad. “Tim McGraw Coming to Jiffy Lube Live!”

Clearly, I was tired because here’s how my thoughts went as I stared at the ad with my eyebrows crinkled up……

Cool, Tim McGraw’s doing a concert.  But at Jiffy Lube???? Tim is kinda big to be appearing at a Jiffy Lube.  Wasn’t he in Vegas last year? He can’t be doin’ all that bad, damn.  And Faith’s workin’, they couldn’t be hard up for money, could they? Oh, maybe it’s one of those local charity concert things. Well, they can’t fit very many people in a Jiffy Lube.  They’re not going to make very much money, what the heck?

After staring at it for a while, It dawns on me.

Ooooooooh Duuuuuuuuh, Jiffy Lube Live is the areeeeena.

Well whomever thought of that name should have thought that name through more, should not have been paid, and should have read, “Eats, Shoots, and Leaves.”

Stupid sponsorship opportunities.

-Lubed the wrong way at the Edge

8 Year Olds…..

March 27, 2011

Big Daddy’s  man cave is full of estrogen.  He’s been relegated to the livingroom to watch march madness and  has to side-step tissue paper and nail polish. He’s not happy but it’s Glamour Rayz birthday, so he’s taking one for the team.  A big one. It’s a spa party sleepover. Ten 8-year-old girls had hair done,  cucumber facials, hands and feet painted, with glow-in-the-dark polish no less. Luckily, since it was a spa party, I served veggies and fruit, along with the chicken on-a-stick. We diverged slightly with m&ms and cheese doodles, but hey they’re 8.

After cake, presents, and a great deal of screaming and giggling, the posse changed into the pjs and ambushed Big Daddy’s man cave with sleeping bags, stuffed animals, and a whole lot of pink. More pink that should ever be allowed in a man cave.  Big Daddy staggered out, “You could have warned me!” “I was going to, but they’re moving too fast. It’s the sugar,” I holler as I run down stairs to contain the madness.  We settled in to watch “Ramona and Beezus.” I’m thinking this is a good movie to hold their attention, so  dim the lights and I park it on the chaise with one of the girls, hoping to catch my breath……

Then Butter Face the Wonder dog comes in and unlike Big Daddy, he isn’t happy about the raucous in the man cave and is not trying to take one for the team.  He saunters over everyone lying on the floor and lies directly on my niece. He likes her sleeping bag. She is NOT pleased. I grab his collar and try to get him to lie on his dog bed behind the Big Daddy’s man chair.  His does his doggy circling thing, but then makes a bee line for my niece.  He has to be escorted from the room. Reset.

Things were going well and then there was some wigglin’ goin’ on down in front. Then there’s more.  I look and one of the girls has slithered into the bottom of her sleeping bags head first and is waving her hand out of that little hole where the zipper starts. And then she sticks her head out of the hole and smiles.  I would have told her to settle down, but I was too busy laughing because she looked like a TOTAL nut cheesing with her head sticking out of her pink camouflage sleeping bag (Pink camo is whole ‘nother blog topic for another day, but I digress).  I get the stink eye from the Pink Ladies for disturbing the movie. Meanwhile “Camo Girl” is still flapping like a bird down. “SHHHHHHHH, quiet down in front!” Order restored. Again.

There’s a scene in the movie where Ramona is talking to her childhood friend, now teenage crush, Henry.  At which point, the girl I’m sitting on the chaise with, who is a tom boy through and through, is the chillest kid on the earth and one of my favorite kids in the world, calmly says, “Sometimes girls get shy about talking to boys when they get older.”

Surprised and amused by the statement, I say,”Oh really, ya think so?”  She replies,”Yep, but they’re easy to talk to when they’re your boyfriend.”

I chuckle. “Really?” and jokingly ask, “You have a boyfriend?”

She nonchalantly replies, “Oh yeah, I have two.”  My jaw drops,” Two???!!!” I started laughing so hard with my mouth closed so as not to disturb the movie that I was shaking.

“Michael and David.  And I’m thinking about gettin’ another one.”  I busted out laughing to the dismay of the Pink Ladies.

Trying not to totally blow my cool, I replied, “well, don’t spread yourself too thin…..”

She shrugged, “hmm, maybe.” 

I’m out.

-Sufficiently Spa’d Out at the Edge

Side Effects Include…..

March 24, 2011

Disclaimer:  Take any and all medications prescribed by your health care provider/s.  I’m not a medical professional, I just play one on TV.  Just yammering on.  Now that’s is out-of-the-way…..

I love how the commercials for meds have a voice quickly rattle off the list of side effects for a particular drug.  And the voice is always sooooo pleasant, particularly while mentioning that eye-twitching, unconscious eating, neck fur, burning, itching, blisters, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fainting, mood swings, heart attacks, strokes, suicidal thoughts, and even death could result. Makes me want to make a bee line to the pharmacy. It’s a wonder anyone takes medication. 

My favorite is the oily discharge.  This one results from taking those fat blocker drugs when working on weight management.  It was also a warning when eating those WOW chip that were fat blockers. Wow is right!  I had thought about trying said weight loss medication, but this particular side effect gave me SERIOUS pause. Humans were not meant to ooze anything. From anywhere.  That would be all I need to be chowin’ down at work, eating some fat blocker chips with my cheeseburger and just spewing like an oil rig in the gulf of Mexico. Mud butt is acceptable on small children, and even then it’s gross.  Yeow!

Nacho lube is not worth ANYTHING  one is trying to get rid of no matter what the heck is wrong with ya. Ever.

-Fat and Happy at the Edge

Weapon of Mass Destruction…….

March 17, 2011

Butter Face

Cute isn’t he?  Don’t be fooled by the floppy ears, and the little eyebrows. This is Butter Face the Wonder Dog and he STINKS! We got him from the folks at Lucky Dog Animal Rescue (www.luckydoganimalrescue.org).  He got us, lookin’ all cute and cuddly.  He did all the adorable puppy things; licking the young superheroes on the nose, chasing the squeak toys, turning his head, and doing those doggy yoga stretches.  I walked out of the kitchen and left the butter on the counter.  Big mistake.  He came around the corner with butter on his chin. Soooooooo, so cute! And then he busted butt.

I knew dogs broke wind.  My best friend had great danes when we were growing up, so I was not new to the doggy gas thing.  But Butter Face was a whole ‘nother story.  My nose hair were singed and I felt light-headed.

People kept asking me if my dog got car sick.  Thankfully, he doesn’t. I’m not sure I could handle my dog barfing in the ride and my superheros really wouldn’t appreciate it either.  Imagine the mayhem that would ensue with the kids trying to jump ship and the dog hoppin’ around in the auto. What he does get while riding in the car is gas. Wicked, WICKED gas.  It is wrong on a whole bunch of levels.

Ya know it’s bad when the humans in the car stick their heads out of the window when Butter Face lets it rip.  He stands with his front paws on the storage compartment between the front seat, looking out the front window, his tongue wagging, leaning on me.  And then Blammo! He drops a bomb that could melt steel.

H-E-L-PUH MEEEEEEEE!  As I gasp for air, I have to slam down all four of the automatic window buttons as my children scratch on the glass trying to escape.  We all lean out the window, trying to inhale fresh air, hoping the toxic waste in the vehicle will dissipate before frostbite or heat stroke sets in depending on the season, before we can clear our lungs. I guess I should be thankful he’s not leaving these foul, malodorous clouds wafting through the house, but the vehicle is such a confined space that concentrates the offense exponentially. Daaaaayuuum!

I’m thinking we should loan him to the armed forces. He could work it like Snoopy, with some goggles and a scarf. Afterall, he is part beagle.  They could strap him on the under belly of a fighter jet and when the time comes, give him a doggy treat, and let him rip it like a crop duster. Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!  He could fall a small country in seconds. He would be the pride of the nation.

Well, maybe not the nation, but we at the Edge would certainly be proud of him.  Stinky bum and all.

Ego Trip……..

January 20, 2011

There was a segment on the news this morning about a woman who was going to sue the mall, at which she is employed, where she fell into a fountain because she was texting and wasn’t watching where she was going. The video from a security camera is shown (repeatedly) and on it you can hear the security guards laughing in the background. In the tape, the woman, luckily with no apparent injuries, grabs her cell phone(can’t leave that!), steps out of the fountain, and quickly exits the camera’s view. Allegedly (I watch enough Law & Order to know I need to put that in there to cover my own hind parts), one of the security guards was allowed to copy the video to a private cell phone.  That guard then uploaded the video onto YouTube. And away it went. As of today, the video has had almost 2 million hits. During the segment alone, the network showed the clip at least ten times. I laughed every time the video was shown.

And so the woman, and her attorney appeared on television this morning indicating that she was pursuing the possibility of suing the mall. She admitted that it was funny and embarrassing, but that the guards did not come to her aid, she could have been hurt, and that it shouldn’t have gone on the internet. I laughed even harder. Was she serious???!!!

Here’s my take on this whole fiasco…..

If this woman was so embarrassed by this experience, why go on national television to exponentially add to the humiliation, to say that you’re suing the mall. Why not just sue the mall? And frankly, her face was obscured on the video, since she was looking down while texting and walking, so why not just deny it if asked. Then it would have been a random video on YouTube, and people would have been none-the-wiser. If she wants to sue someone, maybe she should sue her eye doctor for not testing her peripheral vision. One should see a gigantic fountain in the middle of the corridor, over the top of their phone screen, if her vision is working properly, no? And she worked at the mall, so I’m thinking she’d seen that fountain before. And don’t most of us learn in Kindergarten to, “walk on the right,” not up the middle. Just sayin’……

But there are far better ways to get your 15 minutes of fame. I’m guessing, she feels like a royal moron. But to make herself feel better, she going to take it out on the mall?  Why not sue the fountain company while she’s at it?  I was taught that if someone falls, check to see if she’s okay, and if she is, then laugh. She fell, she got up and ran off, seemingly okay from what we saw on the video.  So, learn your lesson and have a good laugh. Hell, I busted myself up skateboarding(see 2/2010 post-“I Killed Mommy”).  My husband laughed at me, or rather with me, while I was lying on the ground with a dislocated and fractured shoulder.  Granted my incident was not blasted out over the internet, but hey, it’s the voyeur age we live in and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  And will forever be, “Fountain Girl.”

On the flip side, she’s right. However funny the incident, the security guards, a security guard, any security guard, someone official, should have gone to the scene, or tried to locate her to make sure that she was okay.  She could have done more damage, than bruising her ego and wetting up her phone.  She could have cracked her head open or knocked her teeth out.  Luckily, she didn’t. The guards should be embarrassed about not coming to the aid of a mall patron or employee and this only fuels the idea that security guards in malls are of no value and are themselves laughable wastes of space and oxygen. I wouldn’t say if it were my mother, since she won’t even use her phone for making calls, but if it were my mother, I would hope that someone, especially someone whose job it is to at least assist with public safety in the mall, would come to her aid.

There is a scene in the movie, “The Runaway Bride,” that is a reminder to us all.  It’s the scene at the town luau, where the folks giving toasts are taking shots at the main character, Maggie, for leaving more than a few grooms at that altar.  Richard Gere’s character, Ike Graham, gives the toast…..”May you find yourselves the bull’s eye of an easy target.  May you be publicly flogged for all of your bad choices and may your noses to rubbed in all of your mistakes…”

Just because we can post videos of other people making fools of themselves, whether on purpose or not, doesn’t necessarily mean that we should.  After all, it could beyou next time. Or your mother…..


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