Posts Tagged ‘Random’

Let me walk you through a typical evening at my house.

Kid:  What’s for dinner, Mommy?

Me:  Hmmm … How about lima beans and bologna?  I know it’s your favorite!

Kid:  Yay!  There’s nothing that can’t be improved by adding lima beans!

Me:  You’ve been really good today.  I think I’ll put some pineapple on top as an extra special treat!

Kid:  Yay!  You totally rock, Mommy!

Okay, well maybe it doesn’t happen exactly that way … but it might!


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I have an affliction that I believe many of my fellow countrymen live with.  Namely, I am bombarded with a ridiculous multitude of information on a daily basis; some of it useful, some of it not as much.  For the sake of self-preservation, I have learned to tune out the information that is not a top-priority in my little world.

And, as I only have one child and she isn’t yet school-aged, I did not file the tax free date in my memory bank.  As far as self-preservation goes, that was a huge mistake.  I do not believe I am being overly dramatic when I say that it was a mistake of Biblical proportions.

You see, my blue pen dried up.  And I really needed another blue pen.  Like I said, I had not filed the tax-free information in my head before I proceeded to Target this afternoon.  It seemed, somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, that there were more than the usual number of mini-vans in the parking lot.  But I was too busy scanning the horizon for crazed gunmen (as is my habit) to fully register the extra automobiles.

I went back to the school supply area – much like a lamb is led to slaughter … What I found when I got there was so horrifying … so awful … so … well, words fail me … (unlike ellipses, which never fail me).  What, you ask, was so terrifying that I was reduced to running for my life from my local Super Target?



Mothers were weeping, children were screaming, I even saw one man pulling out his hair and begging for mercy from Above.  2 women were fighting over a package of washable markers – disheveled hair being pulled, fingers being bitten.  It was truly something I hope never to witness again.

One unfortunate child was crying huge sad tears because his mother was making him buy, of all things, Rose Art brand crayolas!  Yuck!  Who wants those anyway?  I hope the boy won that argument; I really do.

It did not go unnoticed by this blog author, however, that my replacement Cricut blades are not considered “essential” by our illustrious government; and, thus, I had to pay sales tax on them.  Which is just shy of a tragedy of Biblical proportions.

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I have some … quirks.

Namely, I tend to laugh hysterically at things that no one else gets.  Which can be pretty embarrassing when I’m in the grocery store randomly laughing because I’m standing in the exact spot where I first discovered two little boys braying like donkeys 6 months earlier.  Or because I remember Amy Poehler in an episode of “Parks and Recreation” saying her niece’s name was Torple.  Torple cracks me up.  I think I want to name my next child Torple.

It’s always a good time when I go into a public bathroom where a mother is attempting to calm a child throwing a tantrum.  That is like a comedic gold mine for me.  I like to go up to the woman, nod with a sympathetic look, and then say, “Wow.  That must be embarrassing.  I’m glad my child never behaves like that.  Ever.”  And then laugh hysterically.  Sometimes, for a little added genius, I’ll give her some BS piece of parenting advice, “You haven’t been giving little Junior his daily dose of bunny seed essential fatty farm gecko oil have you?  tsk tsk tsk!  I would also recommend a grasshopper essential eyeball herb supplement; you can find it in liquid form at any health food store.”  That’s the best.

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On my recent post featuring curled hot dogs and bow tie pasta, reader Frenchymms posted the following comment:

How exactly does one get hotdogs to curl?

I was intrigued.  So Meat Galore and I experimented … if you cut the hot dog into quarters longways and then microwave it, it curls up.  Now you know how to make curly hot dogs.  You are very welcome.


Real Simple this month had a section on how often one should launder one’s clothes.  According to Real Simple, jeans only need to be washed after every 4th to 5th wearing.  I never knew I was so much dirtier than the average person – because if I didn’t wash my pants any more often than that, they could probably stand on their own.  Have you ever wondered if Martha Stewart is some kind of ghost writer for Real Simple?


I read other people’s blogs for a few reasons: they make me laugh, they inspire me with craft ideas, or I like to spy on them from the comfort of my own home.  Therefore, I find it very frustrating when a blog I read to satisfy my voyeuristic tendencies has a post to the effect of, “I’m going through a lot of stuff right now,” and then doesn’t say what all the stuff is.  It should be against the law to say that if you aren’t going to elaborate!


I’m going to put “how to curl hot dogs” in the tag for this post.  I anxiously await to see if anyone ever Googles that.

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It’s pretty much common knowledge that crazy people have a magnetic attraction to me.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I go somewhere, at least one weirdo approaches me and says or does something … well, weird.

It’s like I have a shirt on that says, “I Love Crazies!” but you can only see the writing if you are, indeed, slightly off your rocker.

My daughter recently had a diaper rash that wouldn’t clear up.  The pediatrician suggested rubbing Monistat on it.  Because I love my daughter so much, I went to Target to buy her some.  Do you think I went to the check out line with a discreet cashier who would simply ring it up and put it in my bag?

If you said yes, then you obviously skipped the first two paragraphs of this post.  Here’s how it went.

Cashier:  I always wait until the end to put stuff in the bags because my spine is messed up.  I got rear-ended the other day.  Well my spine was messed up before that but whiplash isn’t helping.

Me:  I’m sorry to hear that, I hope you get to feeling better soon.

Cashier:  [holding up the Monistat for all 4 people behind me in line to see] I don’t envy you this!  I used to get these all the time!  Like, even if I changed my soap I would get one.  But then I got an emergency hysterectomy and now I don’t get them anymore.

I just turned bright red, paid the lady, and ran out.  But once I was safely hidden away in my car, I suddenly discovered that I had a burning desire (excuse the pun) to know one thing.  What the heck does she do with her soap?!

A couple months ago I went to Texas.  I was just outside Houston (in Humble, maybe?) and stopped at a convenience store to get a drink.  Okay, and maybe a donut.  But just a small one.  Who should be in the donut department but some guy who was giving me a contact high from the pot fumes.  Finally, I made my way to the counter and who should be in front of me?

No, not the Target cashier.  But that would be funny!  It was some woman I don’t know.  She was telling the cashier at the convenience store that the floor mat in front of the door was a tripping hazard and if she fell that she was going to sue the store.

I would not have thought anything about that exchange (well I would have rolled my eyes at the drama queen) except I went outside, turned my GPS back on, and saw this:

Lawsuit Lane.  And, no, I am not making this up.  I am not nearly smart enough to Photoshop something like that, nor is my imagination good enough to dream it up on my own.

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This is what I had for dinner tonight.  It’s Chicken Stuffed with Shrimp Etouffee.*

(This is a photo from the chicken website.  I wish I had those green dishes!)

Doesn’t it look delicious?  I will say this – it totally was.  I bought it from my local Future Farmers of America for a fundraiser back in November.  When I cut into it though, I felt like this woman (remember her?):

Except I was hollering, “Where’s the shrimp?!”  That isn’t the disturbing part though.  I only told you that part so I could bring up the little old lady from the Wendy’s commercials.  And because I like to keep you on your toes.

The disturbing part was the chicken itself.  It was entirely boneless … except for the wings!  It was like a humongous boneless chicken breast with 2 random wings stuck on it.  Almost like prosthetics for chickens.  If you’re going to go to the trouble to remove all those bones, why not remove all the bones?!  Yick.  How do you think that development meeting went?

Guy A:  I have this awesome idea for boneless chicken breast stuffed with shrimp etouffee.  But I just feel like it’s missing something.

Guy B:  I know!  We have some extra wings lying around that Hooters refused shipment on.  Let’s stick them onto your gourmet chicken!

Guy A:  Yes, let’s!  That is the most brilliant idea I have ever heard!

*I don’t want to give the name of the manufacturer since I’m making fun of the chicken even though it really was delicious and I don’t want people to think badly of the company.

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Time Warp.

The Holiday Inn Express has always driven me crazy.  Don’t get me wrong, I have never had anything but good experiences at Holiday Inn Expresses.  What drives me crazy is the name.  Do you sleep faster there?  Do they check you in faster?  If they can check you in faster, then why don’t they just have all the Holiday Inns check you in faster.  Do they think some people like to take a long time to check in?

Anyway, I hadn’t been thinking about Holiday Inn Express all that much until tonight when we passed a YMCA Express.  What the heck?  Does time warp so that a 30 minute workout only lasts 10?  Because, to be quite honest with you, I could totally get into a 10 minute workout that had all the benefits of a 30 minute workout.

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