Saturday, January 17, 2009

What Did You Say??

This is a re-enactment of a conversation that I had with my younger sister (YS). The following is the conversation as I heard it in my mind and may or may not be how it really happened. But this version is funner:

Ring Ring

ME: Hello?

YS: (very loudly and in an exceited tone) I LOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVEEE COOOOAAAAWWWKKKKK!!!!!

ME: (Holy sweet mother of pearl, what did she say?) WHAT?!?!?!?

YS: (again in said loud excited voice) I LOOOVVVEEE CC-AA-WWW-KKK

ME: What the ever-loving hell are you talking about?
(I am now standing in the cat food isle of Wal-Mart and can no longer concentrate on the decision between Fancy Feast and Special Kitty brand cat foods. Somehow words that sound like porn movie lines tend to do that to me. Go figure.)

YS: (speaking at a rapid fire rate and in a loud voice) It’s great! And it comes in all sizes and colors. And I have been sticking it in every hole I could find. It's fixed everything. Dad says he uses his all the time...

ME: SSSHHHHUUUUUTTTT UUUUPPPPP!!!!! At this point I had to interrupt her because what I was hearing sounded like something that was going to send me into therapy for a very, very long time. Seriously, I do not need to know anything in the remotely porn-like-information department from any of my family members. It's bad enought that I have made secret agent trips to the Wall-O-Vibraters* for my friends. I don't even want to go there when it's family!

YS: I love this stuff. I spent the entire day playing with it and if I wasn’t so tired, I would play with all night, but I am just beat.

I am now covering the phone, hiding in the corner of the cat food isle and hoping like hell no one around me speaks English well enough to understand any of the conversation that is coming through the phone.

ME: Oh GAWD!! Please tell me your husband is not in the room while you are telling me this? And on second thought, WHY are you telling me this? I don't need to know about your sex life and SHUT UP about anything sex and Dad!!!

Silence on the phone as I can hear it sinking in that I am not understanding what she is saying.....

YS: WHAT??? Not COCK, you idiot. CAULK. C-A-U-L-K You know, the stuff you use to seal tubs and stuff?** You get it at Home Depot??? Really! Get your mind out of the gutter.

The conversation pretty much died out after that. Then I started thinking about how funny Home Depot could make Caulk. Just think about it:

All the Caulk you can handle!
Now Offering caulk-tales for all the single women.
Hammered and Nailed by the Caulk on Isle 4

Alright, I'll stop. I know. I am just amusing myself on this, but it really was kind of funny. At least in my mind.

*See previous post "Secret Agent (Wo)Man"

**OK, now why she thought that moi of all people would know anything about the Caulk is beyond me? I have ZERO Home Depot gene and my Dad restricted me from using anything fix-it-yourself after I managed to send a 16 penny nail straight out of a nail gun and dead center into a freshly finished tiled wall. My tool belt privileges were revoked forever after we spent four hours fixing that mess.

***P.s. the bloody spell check isn't working for some reason and I am too darn lazy to go get the dictionary. Sorry.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

So Help Me GOD!!

Lord Almighty what the F*CK has this country come to?  Sooooo, let me get this straight.  I am not supposed to offend YOUR delicate civil liberties by discussing, praying about, mentioning, and/or otherwise acknowledging in an oath that I believe that there is SOME form of a higher being other than Homo sapiens?  BUT you can sue me and infringe upon my right to swear to, believe in, pray for, or otherwise publicly acknowledge that I believe someone else is watching over and helping me?  Tell me again why MY beliefs are wrong but YOUR beliefs are right?  Oh I guess you forgot that whole Rodney King plea: "Can't we all just get a long?"  Or that part about not judging lest you be judged your self.  Or that I'm rubber and your glue ~ whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!!  For Jimminy Cricket's sake, who really gives a shit if the man says "so help me God" or if he says "so help me Jimmy Buffet" as long as he says he is going to faithfully serve and defend our country!?!?!

Because if I didn't believe in a higher power, I would have to slit my wrists right now over the thought that F*cktards like this asshat are not part of Satan's big plan and the world really is just going to sh*t in a hand basket all on it's own.  Because, REALLY?!? Who gives a crap which God Obama is going to ask help from as long as he is asking for help for our country, it's people, servicewomen and men, ending THAT war!  And while, yes, I would prefer that he be asking the same God I use when praying for these things, I'm not going to sue him in hope of him not being able to take the OATH of office.

So here's some free advice about dealing with the "so help me God" issue....... JUST DON"T LISTEN TO THAT PART OF THE OATH!!!  Holy rat-f*ck, I solved the entire problem.  If you don't like it you can move to a country where they tell you which temple/church you will worship at and with which idol/God/deity and how many times a day you must worship and if you don't they will whip/beat/crucify you to within an inch of your sorry life "SO HELP ME GAWD/ALLAH/BUDDA/XENA WARRIOR PRINCESS"!!

P.s. this post was brought to you by the makers of Ambein and xanax and their friends at Smernoff.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

That's My Story... And I Am Sticking To It

When the school board pulls me in and asks me why my kids didn't learn a damn thing all year long, I am going to man up and put the full weight of the responsibility right where it belongs....

On the computer screen shoulders of my fellow bloggers.  Thanks to the following people for helping me to get absolutely nothing accomplished in the way of lesson plans, papers read or test graded:

IHoB (who has gone away, but I still give him some of the blame)
Evil Genius and his gal-pal Evil Red
And oh so many more I found from clicking links on these blogs.  

It's because of you funny people that I have nothing to show in the way of inspiring lessons that will motivate juvenile delinquents in training to cast off their bad-willy-wanna-be behaviors and become highly educated, fully employed, tax paying citizens in their adult years. 
And I thank you, each and every one of you.  Because with out you to take the full responsibility for my perfecting of procrastination, I would be forced to admit that I spent the weekend watching re-runs of David Caruso and Emily Procter battle it out for the WORST ACTING Emmy in the Seriously-Not-Needed-Spin-Off Category.*  Not that I did that or anything, I'm just saying it's really all your fault.  You and those meddling blogs you insist on writing.  Except, you IHoB.  You left me crying and broken hearted. Forced to read old posts.... oh Fernando, I will forever dream about what might have been (insert cheesy love song that I can't remember the name of).

Anyway, I have to go watch the entire season of 24 in hopes of redeeming myself with the people at Netflix.  They are beginning to question my taste in DVD rentals.  I think it had something to do with the post-it note I attached to the copy of Starship Troopers II stating something about this being the BEST MOVIE EVER!!  Yeah, drinking and Netflixing = not always a proud moment.  But just so you know bloggers, I will be watching you.  And you had better keep up your end of the responsibility bargain here.  I ain't going down alone on this one. 

*(I was going to attach the best video of Caruso one liners, but I can't figure out how to do that, so follow the link ~ you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll realize that my cat has more acting skills than Caruso.)
P.s. If anyone can help me with Blogger's crappy formating please leave me help in the comments section.  Also, how do I get videos on here? Damn.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Holy Crap!

The other day I was deep in thought. As luck had it, I was deep in thought in my favorite deep in thought place: sitting on the loo.   As I was conducting my business and thinking all manner of very important things, when my eyes wandered around the ceramic surroundings and spied a book. 

Given that my life has become a performance art of multi-tasking, I have to squeeze in things where ever I can... even in the can.

One of the books I noticed sitting in the book bin was a Bible Daily Devotional.  It was then that I had the most insidious thought.  One I think could be worthy of debate amongst the best religious scholars or Notre Dame graduates. (OK, not really, but it would be an interesting to get the Vatican's insight into this ~ Anyone have the number of Dial-a-Pope?)  

I wondered: Do you think God is offended when people read the Bible/Biblical Literature /
Devotionals while performing the bases of human functions sitting on the loo?  I mean, really?  You are in there eliminating the waste from your life when you are struck by the need to get closer to the Almighty?  
Da-da-da-da- just sitting here and oh yeah, "Hi God, I'd like to spend a few minutes in deep meaningful thought with you.  Yeah, I know I am taking a major dump right now, but isn't this the best time to pray for that new job/man/car I have been wanting?  It's not like I am putting You on the same level as, say, my needing to pee, but that I can't squeeze another more fitting moment out of my day to talk with you.  Please don't be offended.  I mean, thousands of people talk on their cell phone while using the bathroom.  I herd a woman the other day at Miami International Airport breaking up with her boyfriend just two stalls away.  So if she can conduct life changing business like that while on the seat, I should be able to have a heart-to-heart one-on-one with the Big Man. Right?"

I know that these two topics of thought in the same blog could be offensive to some, but I don't think I am the only guilty party here.  (He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone. ~ Remember that one???)  So what do you think?  Do you think God takes offense to us using "potty time" as "prayer time"?  What if there is some form of prayer purgatory where you have to pay penitence for your misspent personal time with God?  Like one layer of Dante's Inferno where you stand endlessly in line for the ladies room at some major sporting event while having to watch the line for the men's room sail quickly through.

Maybe, I'm just over thinking this whole thing.  I mean, with all the other sh*t that I have done in my life that I am going to have to answer for on the Big Day, is this sh*t really going to be one of them?  Or will The Big Man just say all is forgiven?