Click on this–the ad I want you to see will start a few seconds after the link takes you to the site.

https://veryfunnyads.com/ads/25116.html

Hope it doesn’t dampen the mood.

Folks, if you’re feeling down and a slight shade of blue, get your hands on the “Party Train” video by The Gap Band.  At the gym, it was on the gym tv/video station and I laughed through the whole thing.

There are men in Speedos, breakdancing fools, muscle beach scenes.  Seriously, what could be funnier?

Besides that Jerry Fusilli episode of Seinfeld.

It’d be impossible to make it through that video and not come out the other side smiling.  Bet me, prove me wrong, watch the video with a sour face.

Someone I know used that phrase a month ago and I can’t quit thinking about it and laughing out loud.  I love the word boob in that context for some reason.

My old roommate used to hate the word Nipple–I feel like I’ve told you that before.  I can blame such mental weakness on age or MS, I suppose.  Anyway, we lived in a suite and the rest of us found it necessary to use the word nipple as often as possible.  Yes, I was a boob back then.  but I also drank a lot so I can chalk that up to booze, I suppose.

That’s right, nothing’s ever directly my fault.

My weird phobia is snaps.  I can’t stand them for some reason.  Just looking at someone in one of those western get ups, imagining fingers applying pressure to pearly topped snappys makes me shudder. 

I held my breath through four years of snappy baby/kid outfits.  I can’t imagine what happened to me as a child to have snaps make me sick.  TMI?  Sorry.

Hope you have a boob-free day today.

Someone pulls into the coffee shop parking lot and parks across the spaces.  And no one says boo.

Someone, in a daze, sits at a stop sign for a full twenty seconds while others wait and NO ONE beeps or does anything other than wait for the offender to move her ass.  (yes that was me…the offender, I mean.)

Guy working at the coffee shop says to girl sitting there, “I’ll be right back.  Would you mind waiting on anyone who comes in?”

Where do you live?

I just got back from the dentist.  I think I’m one of the few people in the world who likes going to the dentist.  I love the way it feels to have clean teeth, know there’s nothing wrong and you’re free and clear for a while.  That’s how I used to feel after sitting through mass when I was kid.

Out of the three of us on the trip (including me) who were Catholic growing up, none of us are practicing and of our eight siblings–one is practicing.  And 6 out of 11 of those people have switched churches altogether.  That’s interesting to me.

But back to the dentist.  Growing up we had our share of cavities which we had filled, of course.  But it was only a few years ago I found out most people had novocaine (sp?) when they got their teeth filled.  We never did.  Never ever. 

Is that weird?

And I had the best time.

I’ve always known how lucky I am to have a wide variety of friends.  But getting back together with this group is especially special.

We all went to grad school together–16 years ago–then moved to Maryland and lived together as well as taught in the same schools. 

It was the greatest time amidst complete incompetent hell–mine, anyway.  My friends were much better teachers than me right off the bat. 

But we had fun.  And the minute we got together this weekend, we never stopped laughing.

It’s funny to see that although we’ve changed so much, N. still eats her salad by using her knife to shuffle lettuce, etc. onto her fork, the other N. still gets quiet all of sudden, L. still feels sensitive about feeling sensitive, K. still works the word “cootch,” into at least three conversations, and M. can not under any cirucmstances talk without moving her hands.

And most of all, they share a history that they never get bored revisiting, and wouldn’t change when many aspects of it sucked at the time.

It was the first time for us at Deep Creek and the obvious spa choice was booked solid.  So we went to another’spa.”  Turns out it was a glorified hair salon.  N. got her first pedicure ever and was unimpressed.  But, the guy who gave it to her wasn’t actually trained to do it, he filled in for someone and the whole thing sucked.  None our treatments were good for a “spa.”  Not that it really mattered, but it was odd.

Oh well, we’re prepared for next year.

Excuse the mellow, non-funny post, but it’s where I’m at.

 

Well, girls “thirty hours,” actually.  But I’m not complaining.  If it’s longer than that I get major anxiety about leaving.  But this is perfect.

I’m going to deep creek with the five women I went to grad school with and then taught with in MD and lived with there.

It’s been about 6 years since we were all together–for a wedding.  So I can’t wait.  Even the drive there with three of them will be fantastic. Believe it or not.  I’m very sentimental and the last time we drove in the same car from Pittsburgh to MD, we were interviewing for our first teaching jobs and looking for apartments. 

More to come

BEING BEHIND THE TIMES PUT ME IN THE FOREFRONT…

Well.  Due to my inability to use my cell phone for anything other than dialing and picking up phonecalls, I’m actually, apparently, one of the few people left on the planet who has phone numbers memorized.

Okay, I’ll stop patting myself on the back over something so silly.  Silly until your CELLPHONE goes missing!!!

Actually, if I don’t call people much it’s because I haven’t memorized their phone numbers for some reason and I can barely fish through all my contact info (debris, truthfully) to find them and I’m reduced to costly 411 calls.

The Pittsburgh Post Gazette ran an article yesterday about the problem of people not memorizing any of the information they used to.  There’s a booming business in teaching people to remember crap…like phone numbers, where they dropped their kids and left their socks.

Well, goody for me.  I can remember phone numbers, but everything else is periodically wiped from memory. 

And now that I’m done bragging I must confess that it turns out my method for memorizing–I remember the pattern of the numbers on the phone more than the numbers themselves–isn’t the preferred way reasearchers like to see subjects store info.  Yeah, well, it’s all I got.  The little things.

How bad’s your memory?

 

PS–I’m behind in my foundation trials, but rest assured, I’ll be back with more…

Beware of powder foundation.  I knew it was too good to be true.  Whatever it is I bought had sunscreen and promised to go on fast and fresh.  Well, I walked around like the masked woman of Oakmont today.  I whisked the powder over my face and half stuck in my hair line giving me a gray hair look.

And the powder sticks in my lines making me look ten years older than I am.  So, in the garbage for that.

Next, I purchased a self heating cup of hot chocolate.  Folks this is the single worst thing I’ve ever bought in my life.  No exceptions.

I had to press some button that released fluid which then heated the liquid.  When it was hot and time to open it a chemical smell wafted from the container.  But I thought…don’t be hasty now, just try it.  Well it tastes like whatever chemical they used to make it “self heating.”  It’s terrible.  It’s to be avoided at all costs.  I’m talking the only exception is you in your car, off the side of cliff waiting for three days to be rescued. 

I’ll be back with more foundation trials.  I’m working with sponges and liquids tomorrow.  I’m optimistic.  That’s all I can say.

A lot of waiting for stuff, in lines, on the phone, for people who are incredibly sssllllooooowwww.

I got a new computer because mine crashed itself into complete uselessness.  But they forgot to include some CD that I need to get the whole thing going.  This infuriated me beyond words.

Well, I suppose I wasn’t beyond or above four-letter words, but the nice ones weren’t available for my consumption as I spent hours on the phone with “helpers.”

Then after church I went into the bakery to retrieve the bribe to pay off the kids for not embarrassing us and to get chicken salad sandwiches.

Well, this bakery is always packed and it’s a true miracle if you don’t have to wait longer than 15 minutes just to get to the counter. 

But even with that, I wasn’t prepared to get the trainee and her trainer to wait on me.  I was fuming as they fumbled through every element of sandwich making.  I never would have said yes to lettuce and tomato if I knew it involved taking the trainee into the back to show her were to get it, how to cut it and God knows what else they did to my food. 

I scrounged my mind for the person who I knew was somewhere in the world completely irritated with me, who is waiting for something from me…  I know there’s a lesson in all this.  But truthfully, right now, I’m not in the mood for lessons.

I make fun of my housewife skills all the time.  Partly because I don’t think I’m THAT bad at it.  But really, today I accepted I am bad at it.  I can’t keep up with the cycle of cleaning, washing, preparing food, cleaning it up, etc.  Just when I think it’s done, the next thing comes rolling back to do again.  And I always skip some item in the cycle because I can’t bear to do it again. 

I could keep up with it if it was all I did.  If I took great pride in saying come to home, eat off the floors, examine my drawers for clues to organizing the mess that’s YOUR life.  And if that’s what floats your boat then great and count me in the crowd that’s completely jealous of your dedication. 

I want to do two things.  Take care of the kids and write.  Where the F is my freaking fairy Godmother?  Or just anyone bearing pail, scrubby things, and the desire to make someone else’s house neat as a pin.  Because I love a clean house, but I just can’t do it all.

I know.  I’m a grumpy housewife.