It’s so nice to be missed.

I have gotten about 62 emails in the last few days asking why I haven’t been blogging.  Well, actually, I mightbe exaggerating just a little.  By about 62.  Nonetheless, I’m sure all my good readers are wondering where I’ve been.  I have 2 words for you all: Comcast sucks.  I have been battling with them over their crummy “service”, which isn’t really “service” so much as “no service.”  Things sort of went downhill and I fired them.  It went really downhill when the customer no-service representative told me that I would have to pay a $42.95 disconnect fee.  That pretty much did me in.  But that’s all behind us now and I have Embarq.  We’ll see how it goes.  Since I got DSL, I had to get a home phone number for the first time in about 7 or 8 years.  So far, the only people who have called me are Nevada Call and Tempus Resorts.  I’m pretty sure those are pseudonyms for government spies.  Didn’t Valerie Plame go by the name Nevada Call for a few years back in the late ’90s?  You would think that after she made such a fuss about everybody finding out she does at-home secretarial work for the CIA, she would make sure that her number came up “private”.

Luckily for the great State of Missouri, our state legislature has been hard at work (unlike Comcast).  Today (or maybe yesterday, I have no sense of time), they declared it a violation of employees’ civil liberties to be forced to have a microchip implanted in their heads (or wherever the heck an employer would implant a microchip) as a condition of employment.  Now, you may be asking yourself, “Is this really a problem?  Wouldn’t it be more productive for the state representatives to focus on problems such as the sorry state of the highways and bridges in Missouri?”  Well, obviously, you are not all that bright if you had to ask yourself such a ridiculous question.  Of course the microchip issue is important and of course a good deal of time should be spent discussing the issue.  Even State Representative Jim Guest thinks so.  He said he “…doesn’t know of any Missouri employers who are doing that, but it is important for states to get in front of the issue and regulate how radio tracking technology can be used.”  Which makes total sense.  The legislature is obviously ineffective at solving problems that currently face our state, so why not try to solve problems that haven’t been invented yet?  According to some, there is almost no voluntary market for microchip implants (I can’t imagine why) so employers will probably start pushing requirements for employees to get the chip any day now.  Rogue bands of employers must be regulated before they get the power to have more information than the state government (members of which would probably just lose it anyway).

And for those of you who end up on my blog through the google search “how to tell if the government is tracking you” (that’s a true story, I get about 3 hits a week from that search): if you have to ask, you’re being tracked.  (Wasn’t that an artistic use of a colon?)  They are trying to track you like a dog!  It is imperative that you go to your safe room NOW.  There is no time to lose.  Next thing you know, the Clintons will be putting subliminal messages in the chips…”Vote for Hillary.  Vote for Hillary.”  Or maybe they will just program them to play “Devil With the Blue Dress On” over and over and over until you go insane wondering about what the word “is” means.  You know the drill. 

In their effort to track me, the government had a DishNetwork satellite installed on my deck.  What?  You don’t think that’s enough proof?  Well, how is thisfor proof?  My DVR is set to record every single episode of “The Holy Rosary With Mother Angelic”.  I’M NOT EVEN CATHOLIC!  I’m sure it’s because George W. Bush had his secret spies follow me to a wedding I attended over the weekend at a Catholic Church.  Think about it.  A good Methodist goes to a Catholic wedding and suddenly out of the blue three days later gets a satellite installed that just happens to be recording every episode of “The Holy Rosary With Mother Angelic”.  Obviously, there is something not on the up and up.  I blame global warming.  Or is it George Bush?  Hillary?  Now I’m confused!  They’ve scrambled my brains!

Speaking of drills’, did you know that there i’s a whole entire movement to do away with superfluous’ apostrophe’s?  I really do’nt see any need for that.  Apostrophe’s are great!  We need more of them!  Some people just want to spoil everybodyses’ fun!

(That last paragraph really had nothing to do with your employer’s efforts to track your every move; I have just wanted to use the phrase superfluous apostrophe for several days now and the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself.)

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Assless Chaps and Inappropriate Gifts.

I am not making this up.  Not that anyone would ever accuse me of making up something this stupid, but I feel an overwhelming urge to clarify that.

We got invited to a 3^rd birthday party for our friends’ kid. Well, actually, we didn’t get invited; our 9 month old daughter got invited so we are going with her since she can’t walk and we don’t think she’d really enjoy laying in the grass by herself while all the other kids pee – I mean play – in the pool. Although, she’d probably be just fine with it. She could eat all the grass she wanted and then crawl over to the other kids and bite them. But I digress.

We got invited to a birthday party so I went to that great discount giant in the sky – Wal-Mart – to get an appropriate birthday present. It’s unusual for me to buy the kids’ presents because my husband is always afraid that I will buy the kid something like *gasp* a bookand he thinks the kids need toys. Personally, I think he just likes to pick out toys.  Anyway, I was wandering the fishing aisle and didn’t see anything that struck my eye so I headed for the toy aisle. As soon as I hit the toy aisle, I remembered why I had so long avoided it in the first place. There were little heathens running around like they had ants in their pants pointing lasers at each other and their parents and screaming and hollering and oh man it was awful. Plus, boy toys are just no fun at all. Boys used to have cool toys like dump trucks and Matchbox cars. I was looking for walkie talkies.  Really, what could be cooler than walkie talkies?  (Even coolness-impaired meknows walkie talkies are cool.)  Do you think they had walkie talkies? No. The closest thing they had was “FBI Spy Gear” which required the child to put an ear piece in his ear and speak through a mouth piece.  What the heck?!  What ever happened to a good old GI Joe green walkie talkie set?  So I wandered around through the Diego the Dork stuff and Spongebob Pervert Pants paraphernalia for awhile then I happened to turn the corner – that’s when I saw it…

It was like the heavens had opened up and a ray of sunshine was lighting up this particular corner of the toy shelves.  Well, actually, it was more like a tacky neon sign with arrows pointing to the shelf and 3 foot tall letters that read “BUY THIS!” and a scantily clad lady image raising and lowering her leg – very inappropriate for a toy aisle.  (Yet, strangely, not nearly as inappropriate as the gift I was about to buy for a 3 year old.)  It was a whole entire shelf full of……

 

 

 

 

 

 …wait for it…

 

 

 

 

 

…..ROCKETS! And, better yet, they were on sale!  So I got a 3 year old a rocket.  I’m a terrible friend.

Speaking of gifts, I am reminded that, for several weeks, I have felt another overwhelming urge to share something with you.  There’s this little thingie (that’s the technical computer geek term for it) on my blog that shows me which websites people clicked my link from to get here.  (I’m pretty sure that sentence just made 82 English teachers somewhere faint.  Or it would have if I had 82 readers.)  There was one link that I didn’t recognize (and I’ll be danged if I can find it again which means you’ll just have to take my word for it) so I did what any reasonable young white woman would do…I clicked on it. 

Suddenly (because I have high-speed internet), I found myself looking at a website about how to make your own chaps.  Imagine my great joy when I saw a link to my blog on their site!  Imagine my great confusion as I explored and saw it was, indeed, a site on how to make your own chaps.  Really?  Chaps?  I’ve never worn chaps in my life!  Except that one time, but let’s pretend that didn’t happen.  (And, to be quite honest, I’ve always lived under the delusion that anything that happens while you are inebriated doesn’t count.)  To tell you the truth, I had really held out hope that it was one of those sites that tell you which blogs you should visit because they are terribly amusing and you will kick yourself if you miss even one post, ever.

So there I was pondering the meaning of life and what happenstance would lead me to have a blog linked to a “How to Make Your Own Chaps” website and wandering aimlessly around Etsy.com (well, to be honest, I was mostly wandering around Etsy, I’m not really one for deep philosophical thoughts about how small the world is and what chance of nature brings two blogs together); and that was when I found it.  (There.  That semicolon was for all you English teachers, sort of redemption for making you faint earlier.)  One of the most awesome sites everto get notecards featuring snotty half-rabid woodland creatures!  (Surprisingly, or not, snotty half-rabid woodland creatures are right up my alley.)  Scotiamade’s shop on Etsy is awesome!  (Warning/Disclaimer: you will spend money there.  I dropped 20 bucks just a couple weeks ago.)  http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5341195  Then do you know what I saw?  Here’s a hint.  What I saw next confirmed for me that the assless chaps link was simply meant to be…

While I thought it was cool that things had lined up in such fashion, it also made me a little nervous.  I mean what if it was the US government that lined all this up to lure me into some sort of assless chaps trap?  And how did they know that I was thinking about assless chaps?!  That’s when I became completely freaked out.  So I went and made some chaps out of aluminum foil and lined all my pants with them. 

Thanks for letting me use your artwork to illustrate one of the mysteries of the universe, Scotiamade.  It really helped clear a lot of things up for me.

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To Be Funny Like Johnny Virgil.

I wish I were as funny as Johnny Virgil on 15 Minute Lunch (I’m a computer dumbass and can’t figure out how to post a link – so here is the url: http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com).  I wish I was cool enough to come up with a pseudonum like Johnny Virgil.

The things that people google to get to my site are kind of kooky – but nothing like what takes them to 15 Minute Lunch.  There’s no way that “spread eagle” or “dance cover letter to a resume” can even come close to competing with “granny porn without tongs”.  So it turns out that, not only am I not as funny as Johnny, but I don’t get nearly as many head cases googling my blog.  (Doesn’t the phrase “googling my blog” sound like something the old pervert at the bar would say?)

All I can do is find funny signs and post them here in the hopes that you will get a small chuckle. 

Pictures of this flea market in Springfield, Missouri were sent to me by a sharp-eyed reader named My Mom. 

I asked her if she picked anything up for me.  She missed my sick sense of humor, but did give me a “Joys of Jello” cookbook that she found there.  I’m a bit afraid to touch it though.  Do you think rubbing it with Lysol would be enough to prevent the need for antibiotics?

Then we have what appears to be a spurned lover in charge of the signs for the Pleasant Hill Memorial Building.  I would have given a million dollars to be there when the preacher asked if anyone had any objections. 

Incidentally, the back side of the sign said, “Brad and Tiffany Early Reception”, but that side is hard to see from the street.

This particular school parking lot is satellite parking for a local Baptist Church and their preacher apparently disregards the noon deadline for ending a Sunday service so I had to take the picture sideways.

Do you know what is most disheartening about a school misspelling words on the official school sign?  I went to this school.  For 2 years.  Granted, back then it was called Pleasant Lea Junior High and I don’t choose to remember much about those years.  But I went there, by gosh.  Not only that, but I think I placed in the school spelling bee.

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Altered CD Notebook or Journal.

Well, you surely know by now that I have a real thing for altering items – particularly this huge pile of CDs that I get in my junk mail!

Here’s my version of an altered CD notebook that you can use to write down notes and random quotes that you’d like to remember for whatever reason (cough cough scrapbook page cough cough).

My Crop-A-Dile punches right through the CDs and the stack of paper (I cut the paper using my Creative Memories circle cutter).  That reminds me, if anyone wants to send me a Making Memories circle cutter, I’ll be glad to trade you a picture of gun shot pink plastic flamingos for it.  A book ring binds the journal together nicely – I finished it by tying ribbons around it so it wouldn’t look so stark.

Be prepared for some shameless self-promotion…this item is for sale in my Etsy shop.  Just click on the Cinnamon Toast Girls link that you see to your right. 

 

Items used: 2 CD’s (1 on front and 1 on back), Mod Podge, Crop-A-Dile, miscellaneous ribbon scraps, book ring from hardware store, Making Memories Garden Party patterned paper, Bazzill cardstock, Making Memories clip, Heidi Swapp Florals in Kiwi and Dark Pink, Bazzill Collection Polished Pebble in Lip Gloss.

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Taking Chicken Little to New Heights.

One day, on my way to work, I drove by a new billboard.  After I passed it, I thought to myself, “Self, was that an old man wearing wings?”  So the next day, I paid closer attention.  That day, I asked myself, “Mary [I like to shake it up sometimes], is that an advertisement for a terrorist organization?”  The next day, I vowed to remember the website on the billboard long enough to get to a computer and check it out.  When I did, I discovered that it was in Spanish.  I like to think I am moderately fluent in Spanish, so I did what any other white girl with 2 years of midwest high school Spanish under her belt would do.  I looked at the pictures.  From the pictures, I deduced that it was an emergency preparedness site put out by the US Homeland Security Department.  But I never saw any pictures about what to do in a terrorist attack, so I could never reconcile “Terrorismo” to the old guy with the wings.

Today, after weeks of quandary, I finally remembered to snap a picture and have my friend translate it for me.  (Usually I have to translate Spanish into English for her, but I thought she might need the extra practice.)

According to my friend, this billboard translates to, “Terrorism?  The help is not going to fall from the sky.”  Personally, I was less confused before she translated it.  What the heck does that mean?  And I still don’t understand the wings.  Is this guy supposed to have been a victim of terrorism?  Or is he supposed to be the non-existent magical help from the sky?  Cause I have to say, he looks rather too scared to be much help in case of an attack.

Of course, it sure makes the sign that shares the billboard with him a lot funnier! 

I used to think that the old guy had the same expression on his face as the egg.  But now I believe the old guy is thinking, “Crap.  I’ve been looking to the sky for help with random acts of terrorism and all of a sudden a giant egg thinking about egg cannibalism comes flying at me.  I didn’t even know chickens could fly!”  Or maybe he’s thinking, “I sure could go for an Egg McMuffin right now.”  It’s hard to say.

He looks a little terrified of the giant cannibal egg.  I can’t say as I blame him much; the egg is bigger than his head.  Maybe he’s worried that because he has wings now he is actually a chicken and the egg might be his offspring.

I guess there are some things better left as a mystery.  I’m going to leave the connection between “Terrorismo” and “I’m lovin’ it” alone for now.

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6 Pounds of Bologna and 28 Glue Sticks.

I admit it, I love Costco.  From the moment I take the adult sized cart that is actually tall enough for me to push without looking like a hunchback on dope to the moment I proudly show my receipt to the lady at the exit to prove I’m not stealing anything, I walk around on a super-wholesale-size high.

I love to wander the aisles and find all the things I never knew I needed.  Like the 6 pack of scissors I bought at my last trip.  Or the time before that when I bought 150 yards of brown satin ribbon with pink polka dots.  Do I have any clue why I need to add 6 more pair of scissors to my already vast scissor collection?  No.  Do I have any clue as to how I will ever use 450 feet of brown satin ribbon with pink polka dots in this lifetime?  No.  The important thing though is that I can say I own 52 pairs of scissors, acquired 6 by 6, and 450 feet of brown satin ribbon with pink polka dots for which I only paid $7.49.

Today I bought a case of fake eggs.  When I was trying to shove them in the freezer, all I could think was, “What the heck was I thinking?  I only like farm eggs.  How will I ever use an entire case of egg beaters?!  By August?!”  I guess I’ll just have to make some more Hungry Girl onion rings. 

I’m rather proud of myself for bypassing the package of 28 glue sticks.  I had it in my hand.  I really did.  Then I thought, “Self [that’s what I call myself is Self], what are you going to do with 28 glue sticks?  You don’t use glue sticks.  You hate glue sticks.  You can’t even smoke them.”  Then Self’s alter ego said, “Yes.  But a true professional scrapbooker like Lisa Bearnson or CD Muckosky wouldn’t think twice about buying 28 glue sticks.  Especially for the low low price of $14.99.”  Luckily, my saner self had stayed sober this afternoon and she won out.  It makes up for the 6 pound package of bologna that I bought.

My only disappointment with Costco is that they have gone to the super concentrated high efficiency laundry detergent.  Supposedly the half-size bottle will still wash the same 3000 loads of clothes – or whatever it is, but it is not nearly as satisfying to heft 2 gallons of laundry detergent into the mutant cart as it is to heft the jumbo 4 gallon bottle.  I feel so much cooler when my biceps bulge while loading the big bottle.  Plus, the little bottle doesn’t make the bunny huggers snub me like the gigantic one does.

I also recently learned that you can buy all your funeral paraphernalia at Costco.com.  I am not making this up, you can purchase your casket and the requisite accessories online.  And their prices are very reasonable.  I have to say, I’ve been to the casket room at the funeral home and I think buying online is a much better way to do it.  I was contemplating where to store my new casket when my husband suggested I keep it in the garage so he could use it to take naps until such time as it is needed.  It’s probably cheaper than a new bed.

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Wanted: A Good Woman or a Mediocre Calculator.

I don’t know if any of you ever go on www.craigslist.com to kill time, but I’ve been known to.  There’s a section called “Best of Craig’s List” that is totally fabulous.  This has to be my all time favorite Craig’s List listing though.

 

PINK PLASTIC LAWN FLAMINGOS

Date: 2008-04-17, 2:31PM MDT

three pink plastic lawn flamingos, the momma, the daddy and two
babies. in good shape except the momma has a bullet hole. will
trade for a good dog or weed eater, will also consider any kind
of alcohol as long as it ain’t been opened up. 

 
          Location: falcon

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

PostingID: 646113248

It makes you wonder, why doesn’t this guy trade his flamingoes for a calculator?  Or maybe he could trade his old calculator for one that comes up with 4 when he enters 2 plus 1 plus 1. 

I also wonder how good a dog would be to trade him for pink yard art.  Flamingoes are right pretty and all, but I don’t think I’d trade my best friend for them.  And why does he need a weed eater?  If he takes the yard art out, then there won’t really be anything to weed whack around, will there?

Does the stork bring baby flamingoes?  Where do baby storks come from?
Don’t falcons eat storks and flamingoes?

Who shot the mama?  Did the babies witness it?  Were they traumatized?  Because I don’t want any traumatized flamingoes in my yard.  That’s probably a good way to get rabies.  I bet the falcon did it.

I wonder if the flamingoes would be happy at my house.  I think I could give them a home.  I could even probably figure out a way to plug mama’s gunshot wound.  Sadly, I can’t let loose of my beer and the only weed whacker I own needs to have the carbeurator rebuilt.  Did you know weed whackers have carbeurators? 

Anyway, if there’s anyone closer to me than Colorado who would like to trade me 4 pink flamingoes for a weed whacker with a whacked out carbeurator, give me a call.

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What the US Government Doesn’t Want You to Know.

It’s the electronic edition of Farenheit 451.  Our own United States Air Force has blocked access to my blog from their airmen in Afghanistan.  How do I know this?  My friend, The Chief, has been deployed over there and she told me that she cannot access my blog.  Why would the USAF block access to my blog?  The only explanation I have is that it is somehow related to the fact that I will never vote a Democrat into office – so I’m sure the Clintons are working to keep me down.  Now that Hillary has dropped out of the race, she has all kinds of time to flag dissenting blogs.  What’s that you say?  I’ve never written anything controversial or political in my blog?  That doesn’t matter.  The Clintons have eyes everywhere.  They are probably even tracking you right now.  You better delete your cookies so they don’t know you’ve been visiting my blog.

You know what the most ironic part of it is?  I’m definitely a patriot.  I love this country.  I love our soldiers.  I love everything about this land except my high taxes and all the entitlement programs.  Sometimes I think we forget what our soldiers do.  I think we say we support them, but it becomes a cliche.  We see so many yellow ribbon magnets that it somehow loses its efficacy.  We don’t stop to think what those yellow ribbons really mean.

When I drive through neighborhoods and see the blue stars in some of the windows – I swell with pride for those families.  I also say a little prayer for them.  No matter what Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton say, I am proud to be a fellow countryman of these men and women.  If all hell breaks loose in this country, like it did on 9/11, then I want to know that it is American soldiers who are protecting my family.  I want to know that if, God forbid, something happens to my husband and me, there will be an American soldier there to give care and aid to my baby girl.

I know you can’t see this, Chief, but know that we are thinking of you and praying for you every day.  We pray for all our soldiers, airmen, and seamen.

For everyone else, I dare you to look at these pictures and tell me our soldiers, airmen, and seamen are not good and honorable men and women.

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